Seeing this is a Leap Year, I suppose we should all be gratified at having one more day in which to attempt to pull together all the miscellaneous strands in our personal and professional lives - ha! The day in question was taken up with just as many meetings as usual, at which I made an honest attempt to appear interested, and a rush to complete a candidacy examination for one of our doctoral students. Now on a Saturday, somewhat incapacitated by a wonky swollen knee that severely restricts mobility, I find myself staring at more undone projects, and fending off the inevitable afternoon sleepies. Well, truthfully, I succumbed to the sleepies, and with the aid of the new CBC online Classical music app on my iPhone, was able to catch up on the multiple 1 am bedtimes this week.
Seeing I had not published an entry here since July, after several marooned attempts to reactivate this blog (our Google settings at my home university had changed in the meantime), I am now inspired to utter some inelegant thoughts about one thing or another. Musically this has been an invigorating season, with my symphonic choir the Eaton Singers celebrating its 60th anniversary, of which I've been privileged to have had 30. Our season opened on Nov. 4 with the Beethoven Missa Solemnis, a work I had prepared twice before for the Edmonton Symphony's conductors, but not conducted myself. I had also had the good fortune to perform it twice with Robert Shaw, so it was both inspiring and intimidating to take it on this year myself. Then just a week later, we performed Malcolm Forsyth's (see previous post) A Ballad of Canada with the ESO and Bill Eddins, so a very hectic few months of rehearsal! Now we are working on Handel Israel in Egypt for late April and a Proms concert in mid May.
The Madrigal Singers (university group) have also been having a good year, with an Advent program in late November, followed by a very successful Messiah performance (complete), again with Bill Eddins and the ESO. When I think that, of my 27 choir members, only 5 had sung Messiah before, I am quite proud of their achievement. We are now working on a concert next weekend to inaugurate our new Positive organ (Louder, 2011), which will feature the Bach motet Lobet den Herrn alle Heiden, and Purcell's "I was glad". Two weeks later we have our annual Dinner Concert, and two weeks after that, a guest performance with Pro Coro Canada on a Good Friday concert I will also be conducting. This year's group, with only 12 returning singers, has made superb progress over the year, and I was pleased to remind them at the end of a recent rehearsal that we had not used the piano for an entire 80 minutes, relying completely on tuning forks and tonal memory.
My colleague Debra Cairns and I were quite pleased this past November to receive the Alberta Choral Federation's Patricia Cook Memorial Award for our graduate program in choral conducting which we co-founded in 1989, and which has had nearly 50 Masters and doctoral graduates in that time - most of whom are professionally engaged in choral music across Canada and in several other countries.
One of my favourite pastimes first thing in the morning, over coffee, has been to scan the latest New York Times and Globe and Mail email editions, to enjoy the current political follies in both Canada and the US. Indeed, the whole debacle-filled Republican nomination process has been particularly attractive to the likes of Bill Maher, Colbert and others, resulting in great Friday night entertainment for the rest of us. Now we have our very own developing Robocall scandal in Canada, with the PCs scurrying to find ways to reverse the obvious implications of their technological malfeasance (sending opposition party voters to non-existent polling stations, etc.) I smell some by-elections happening in the near future.
With only 11 cm of snow for all of winter until last week, we really thought we had a pushover of a winter, but alas, 20 cm in two days changed all that, with the resulting sore back and all. Golf season can't be far away though.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Sunday, July 10, 2011
My friend Malcolm
Well, I have not been active on this blog for nearly 10 months. Reviewing my most recent post, it was a brief commentary on some dear friends who had passed away in the previous few weeks. Today, I find myself again wanting to write concerning this city's (Edmonton) and country's (Canada) loss of one of its most illustrious and influential composers, musicians and academics, Malcolm Forsyth. Last September he was diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer. In typical Malcolm style, he fought his illness with courage and determination, but succumbed to it earlier this week.
My main contact with Malcolm was through our being colleagues in the Department of Music at University of Alberta. Malcolm was appointed to the U of A in 1968, having recently emigrated from his native South Africa. He was on the faculty here for 34 years, teaching in numerous subject areas, including composition, theory and aural skills, trombone (he held a position as principal trombonist in the Edmonton Symphony for a number of years), and conducting the University Symphony Orchestra and its predecessor the St. Cecilia Orchestra. I remember my first meeting with him during my candidacy for the choral position at U of A in 1981, at which he left an indelible first impression as a brilliant and somewhat intimidating presence! Quickly though, I'm happy to say, our friendship grew in those first years as colleagues, and I remember with great fondness the many times we lunched or supped at the Faculty Club (where he frequently teased me for my preference for two desserts rather than one). I also remember vividly the experience of premiering with the Madrigal Singers several choral works he had written a number of years earlier for another choir in the city, which had not yet been premiered for some reason - The Sea (SSAA) and In the Dying of Anything (SATB) - and how pleased and gratified he was for these first performances. Although he was much better known for his orchestral and instrumental chamber compositions (3 JUNO awards), he continued to write choral music as well, and I think it is especially significant that his final major work, A Ballad of Canada, was his first and only work written for orchestra and chorus. Despite his declining health, Malcolm was able to travel to Ottawa in early June to hear this work's premiere with the National Arts Centre Orchestra and a 180 voice chorus comprised of several Ottawa-area choirs. All reports attested to this new work's compelling emotional content, and it received a tumultuous reception from audience and performers at the NAC.
As with other choral and vocal works Malcolm had written over the years, I was flattered that he called on me again here to peruse his vocal writing in this work for its idiomatic and singable qualities. The Richard Eaton Singers will have the good fortune to perform A Ballad of Canada with the Edmonton Symphony and their conductor Bill Eddins in November, and it is just very sad that he will not hear it again.
I was fortunate to be involved with performing two other choral works by Malcolm. He was commissioned by the International Society for Music Education to write a work for the National Youth Choir of Canada, to be performed at the ISME 2000 conference in Edmonton in July 2000. The work, Blow Bugle Blow, is a setting for chorus and wind ensemble of the famous Tennyson poem that begins with "The splendour falls on castle walls". It is a brilliant but very challenging work, and my regret is that it has not subsequently been performed by any other ensemble. I hope to fulfill a promise I made to Malcolm a few years ago that I would record this work for a future CD project. The other work which the Madrigal Singers did record several years ago (with harp duo Julia Shaw and Nora Bumanis) is his Hesperides, a cycle of settings of poetry by the 18th C English poet Robert Herrick. This is a delightfully colourful work, commissioned and premiered in 2003 by the Elora Festival Singers and Noel Edison, which explores the themes of love and lust from the unique perspective of an 18th C cleric who also enjoyed the more ribald and lascivious side of life!
As a colleague at U of A, I came to respect greatly Malcolm's deeply held views on what he perceived to be declining standards of musical training of students for professions in music, and his unerring commitment to raising those standards. Examples of this commitment were numerous, from his development of an excellent aural skills program to his uncompromising approach to his performances of orchestral works with the USO. But my friend Malcolm will also be remembered for his love of life, his raucous laughter, and his fondness for great food and drink (especially wine and scotch). Parties at his house were numerous and legendary for his generosity and sporting good times!
Malcolm, you will be missed! But your music and spirit lives on in those you influenced and touched.
My main contact with Malcolm was through our being colleagues in the Department of Music at University of Alberta. Malcolm was appointed to the U of A in 1968, having recently emigrated from his native South Africa. He was on the faculty here for 34 years, teaching in numerous subject areas, including composition, theory and aural skills, trombone (he held a position as principal trombonist in the Edmonton Symphony for a number of years), and conducting the University Symphony Orchestra and its predecessor the St. Cecilia Orchestra. I remember my first meeting with him during my candidacy for the choral position at U of A in 1981, at which he left an indelible first impression as a brilliant and somewhat intimidating presence! Quickly though, I'm happy to say, our friendship grew in those first years as colleagues, and I remember with great fondness the many times we lunched or supped at the Faculty Club (where he frequently teased me for my preference for two desserts rather than one). I also remember vividly the experience of premiering with the Madrigal Singers several choral works he had written a number of years earlier for another choir in the city, which had not yet been premiered for some reason - The Sea (SSAA) and In the Dying of Anything (SATB) - and how pleased and gratified he was for these first performances. Although he was much better known for his orchestral and instrumental chamber compositions (3 JUNO awards), he continued to write choral music as well, and I think it is especially significant that his final major work, A Ballad of Canada, was his first and only work written for orchestra and chorus. Despite his declining health, Malcolm was able to travel to Ottawa in early June to hear this work's premiere with the National Arts Centre Orchestra and a 180 voice chorus comprised of several Ottawa-area choirs. All reports attested to this new work's compelling emotional content, and it received a tumultuous reception from audience and performers at the NAC.
As with other choral and vocal works Malcolm had written over the years, I was flattered that he called on me again here to peruse his vocal writing in this work for its idiomatic and singable qualities. The Richard Eaton Singers will have the good fortune to perform A Ballad of Canada with the Edmonton Symphony and their conductor Bill Eddins in November, and it is just very sad that he will not hear it again.
I was fortunate to be involved with performing two other choral works by Malcolm. He was commissioned by the International Society for Music Education to write a work for the National Youth Choir of Canada, to be performed at the ISME 2000 conference in Edmonton in July 2000. The work, Blow Bugle Blow, is a setting for chorus and wind ensemble of the famous Tennyson poem that begins with "The splendour falls on castle walls". It is a brilliant but very challenging work, and my regret is that it has not subsequently been performed by any other ensemble. I hope to fulfill a promise I made to Malcolm a few years ago that I would record this work for a future CD project. The other work which the Madrigal Singers did record several years ago (with harp duo Julia Shaw and Nora Bumanis) is his Hesperides, a cycle of settings of poetry by the 18th C English poet Robert Herrick. This is a delightfully colourful work, commissioned and premiered in 2003 by the Elora Festival Singers and Noel Edison, which explores the themes of love and lust from the unique perspective of an 18th C cleric who also enjoyed the more ribald and lascivious side of life!
As a colleague at U of A, I came to respect greatly Malcolm's deeply held views on what he perceived to be declining standards of musical training of students for professions in music, and his unerring commitment to raising those standards. Examples of this commitment were numerous, from his development of an excellent aural skills program to his uncompromising approach to his performances of orchestral works with the USO. But my friend Malcolm will also be remembered for his love of life, his raucous laughter, and his fondness for great food and drink (especially wine and scotch). Parties at his house were numerous and legendary for his generosity and sporting good times!
Malcolm, you will be missed! But your music and spirit lives on in those you influenced and touched.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
In Memoriam: Gordon, Bob and Paul
Those of us involved in the music performance and pedagogy profession in Alberta have had to bid farewell to three veritable giants in the past three months. Gordon Hafso, for many years a professor of choral and church music at Concordia University College in Edmonton, and before that a minister of music at a prominent Lutheran church in Los Angeles, passed away in early July. Less than a month ago, Bob Cook, for many years a visionary musician and administrator in the Alberta government who had much to do with the development of music education in this province, died at his retirement home in Montana. Then, this past week, Paul Bourret, a choral conductor and mentor to many in Edmonton and across the province who founded several vibrant choral ensembles in the Columbian Choir program, and was a mainstay in the Alberta Music Festival Association for decades, passed away. It has been a difficult summer for musicians and especially choral musicians who were blessed by the tremendous generosity and vision of these three individuals.
I was able to attend the memorial services for Gordon and for Paul. What struck me in both cases was the depth of feeling and celebratory spirit that attended both of these services. The music was at times overwhelmingly beautiful and heartfelt, a genuine response from the many singers and players who had made music with these mentors. Celebrations of lives well lived.
I did not know any of them too well, but can easily detect the strong influence they have had on the cultural community we currently enjoy and thrive in. Attending Paul Bourret's memorial service a couple of days ago, I was deeply moved to read a poem written as a Memoriam to Paul by his very close friend, Bob Cook:
Between the miracle of the seed
And the certainty of the stone
There is an uncertain space called life.
It is not measured by the calendar or clock
But rather, by those treasured moments
Which make time useless and space infinite -
As it is when He dwells in us, and we in HIm also.
Rest in peace, gentlemen - you occupied the uncertain space called life with uncompromising vision and courage.
I was able to attend the memorial services for Gordon and for Paul. What struck me in both cases was the depth of feeling and celebratory spirit that attended both of these services. The music was at times overwhelmingly beautiful and heartfelt, a genuine response from the many singers and players who had made music with these mentors. Celebrations of lives well lived.
I did not know any of them too well, but can easily detect the strong influence they have had on the cultural community we currently enjoy and thrive in. Attending Paul Bourret's memorial service a couple of days ago, I was deeply moved to read a poem written as a Memoriam to Paul by his very close friend, Bob Cook:
Between the miracle of the seed
And the certainty of the stone
There is an uncertain space called life.
It is not measured by the calendar or clock
But rather, by those treasured moments
Which make time useless and space infinite -
As it is when He dwells in us, and we in HIm also.
Rest in peace, gentlemen - you occupied the uncertain space called life with uncompromising vision and courage.
Friday, September 3, 2010
Injury
This week I am reminded of the fragility of the body and its linkages - I have been indulging in as many golf games I could fit in before the Edmonton climate says "no more until April" (that could be in a little over a month). This summer has brought me some of the most incredible golf experiences - a long-planned trip to Bonnie Scotland for 12 of us who find a week every summer to escape the normality of our lives for a little excitement on the links. Really the only missing ingredient was the quality of my golf game, which has been abysmal of late. But the courses - St. Andrews (yes, the Old Course), Muirfield, Carnoustie, Kingsbarns, Old Berwick, Gullane - all in one glorious week. I have not walked so many holes in so short a time in my life, and I felt invigorated and ready for more punishment. So when I got home, I took a few days away from the game, then back at it at my home course, Coloniale in Beaumont, which has not been in this good condition in years.
Yes, and finally, the last couple of rounds something approaching a miracle happened - I actually could hit the ball straight and longer than I had in months. It is a fickle business - little tweaks can have such momentous results. I suppose it is a little like music in that respect, and that is why I love it so much, despite it's multitude of frustrations.
Sunday last I played one of the best rounds of the year for me, came home extremely pleased with myself, all the while noting a faint twinge of pain in my right wrist. Ah yes, the wrist I have had periodic troubles with over the past four years - and after several attempts at diagnosis (lunate and capitate bones seemed out of position), x-rays, an MRI, and finally a C-Scan, it appeared to be nothing more than arthritis, a condition I have noted with some alarm as my fingers have steadily been curling on me. The twinge increased exponentially over night, and by morning I was swollen and in severe pain.
I recalled the first time this had happened, also after a round of golf, and it had taken a full three weeks for me to recover the use of my wrist without pain. For three days I have been putting my left hand to extraordinary use for all the normal things we do with two, and I came to appreciate once again how burdensome such situations can be. And the pain...at times unbearable, despite the regular use of Tylenol 3. Well, the swelling is down now, and I can actually type with both hands today. I was feeling quite sorry for myself, as this week I had set aside to prepare a series of lecture notes for a course I have not taught in 8 years. Needless to say, I have some catching up to do.
On Tuesday evening, I met my symphony chorus for the first rehearsal of the new season. It was an interesting evening trying to make my left hand do two jobs, keep time as well as show some expressivity. Signing some documents at break turned out to be a painful (for me) and amusing (for my choir members) experience.
Oh, and I have a golf tee time on Sunday - our usual foursome. I think I may give it a try!
Yes, and finally, the last couple of rounds something approaching a miracle happened - I actually could hit the ball straight and longer than I had in months. It is a fickle business - little tweaks can have such momentous results. I suppose it is a little like music in that respect, and that is why I love it so much, despite it's multitude of frustrations.
Sunday last I played one of the best rounds of the year for me, came home extremely pleased with myself, all the while noting a faint twinge of pain in my right wrist. Ah yes, the wrist I have had periodic troubles with over the past four years - and after several attempts at diagnosis (lunate and capitate bones seemed out of position), x-rays, an MRI, and finally a C-Scan, it appeared to be nothing more than arthritis, a condition I have noted with some alarm as my fingers have steadily been curling on me. The twinge increased exponentially over night, and by morning I was swollen and in severe pain.
I recalled the first time this had happened, also after a round of golf, and it had taken a full three weeks for me to recover the use of my wrist without pain. For three days I have been putting my left hand to extraordinary use for all the normal things we do with two, and I came to appreciate once again how burdensome such situations can be. And the pain...at times unbearable, despite the regular use of Tylenol 3. Well, the swelling is down now, and I can actually type with both hands today. I was feeling quite sorry for myself, as this week I had set aside to prepare a series of lecture notes for a course I have not taught in 8 years. Needless to say, I have some catching up to do.
On Tuesday evening, I met my symphony chorus for the first rehearsal of the new season. It was an interesting evening trying to make my left hand do two jobs, keep time as well as show some expressivity. Signing some documents at break turned out to be a painful (for me) and amusing (for my choir members) experience.
Oh, and I have a golf tee time on Sunday - our usual foursome. I think I may give it a try!
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Choosing music - the annual ritual!
After a long absence from this blog, I almost feel like a stranger to my own site and the meandering musings that ceased nearly 8 months ago. Now that the concert season is over I'm trying to convince myself that I have lots of time to get back to writing; I can only offer the excuse of sloth in not doing this on a more regular basis. My focus for the past two weeks on choosing music for next year's Madrigal Singers concerts has only been partially successful - we finally have a longer stretch of fairly decent weather in Edmonton, so I have been working (with rather limited success) on the golf swing and wasting time with other self indulgent preoccupations (Facebook, how I loathe thee). But there are deadlines to keep, and after begging my music librarian for a week's grace on her end-of-May deadline, I have two days left to get this hypothetical list together.
I say hypothetical because for a variety of reasons we have had a fairly healthy turnover in the university choir each of the past two years, and next year looks to be following that pattern again. And I am sure I share the same anxiety with many of you - please Lord, could you send me a few good tenors over the summer? Not that the few returning aren't strong, but two don't make a section. So the rep list has several categories, depending on the turnout in Fall term.
Over a month ago all the ensemble directors at Alberta received a rather ominous email from our librarian stating what we all expected: that the budget for purchasing new choral music is severely curtailed for the coming year. She not so subtly suggested that this might be a good year for us to rely more heavily on our existing library resources than on new purchases. It's been very interesting to go back over old programs and lists, and come to realize that there is a ton of repertoire that I would welcome the opportunity to do again - perhaps with the passing of years and accumulated experience, the pieces I've chosen will graciously reveal new ideas and insights interpretively.
Over the past 15-20 years or so my focus has been largely on music of the past two centuries, mainly in the unaccompanied mode for this choir. It has been a true adventure, and I'm not abandoning that emphasis at all - in fact, next year I am hoping to feature more contemporary Canadian music than I have in a few years. But over the past few days I've also taken time to explore the vast resources of online materials at CPDL and other sites, and I am bowled over yet again by the vast offerings available to us in choral music, under the most generous of terms. This is not to suggest a sudden decision to abandon today's somewhat tenuous (bordering on critically challenged) music publishing industry in favour of freebies, but budgets being what they are, I'm looking forward to striking a judicious balance between free resources and those that need to be purchased. And hopefully the other resources we all need - willing and talented young singers - will show up in September!
I say hypothetical because for a variety of reasons we have had a fairly healthy turnover in the university choir each of the past two years, and next year looks to be following that pattern again. And I am sure I share the same anxiety with many of you - please Lord, could you send me a few good tenors over the summer? Not that the few returning aren't strong, but two don't make a section. So the rep list has several categories, depending on the turnout in Fall term.
Over a month ago all the ensemble directors at Alberta received a rather ominous email from our librarian stating what we all expected: that the budget for purchasing new choral music is severely curtailed for the coming year. She not so subtly suggested that this might be a good year for us to rely more heavily on our existing library resources than on new purchases. It's been very interesting to go back over old programs and lists, and come to realize that there is a ton of repertoire that I would welcome the opportunity to do again - perhaps with the passing of years and accumulated experience, the pieces I've chosen will graciously reveal new ideas and insights interpretively.
Over the past 15-20 years or so my focus has been largely on music of the past two centuries, mainly in the unaccompanied mode for this choir. It has been a true adventure, and I'm not abandoning that emphasis at all - in fact, next year I am hoping to feature more contemporary Canadian music than I have in a few years. But over the past few days I've also taken time to explore the vast resources of online materials at CPDL and other sites, and I am bowled over yet again by the vast offerings available to us in choral music, under the most generous of terms. This is not to suggest a sudden decision to abandon today's somewhat tenuous (bordering on critically challenged) music publishing industry in favour of freebies, but budgets being what they are, I'm looking forward to striking a judicious balance between free resources and those that need to be purchased. And hopefully the other resources we all need - willing and talented young singers - will show up in September!
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Remembering Gordon and Richard
In Canada we are approaching Thanksgiving weekend, and the weather gods have granted us a preview of the inevitable fate we in Edmonton encounter every year, an early snow. Not much; just enough to force one to reluctantly haul out the faux-sheepskin jacket and faux-leather winter gloves, and wield a snow shovel behind the garage. Tonight happened also to be my first rehearsal night with our university orchestra on a Haydn Creation project (celebrating, with many other choirs, the 200th anniversary of his death). The concert is exactly one month from today in our gorgeous Winspear Concert Hall in downtown Edmonton. The players are doing well, but I was reminded about how many damned notes there are in that piece, and a lot of them in difficult passages! Especially for the violins. Our choirs have been hard at it for over a month now, and despite the classic struggles with the German text (in the Pilkington/Novello edition where it is written below the English text, quite far from the notes), they are already making the occasional unified joyful noise. And all the while, celebrating the exuberant beauty and freshness of Papa Haydn at his very best.
As so often in our lives, these moments of ecstasy in the midst of music making with master pieces (this one describing new life in all its beauty) are often tinged with the sadness of having to watch the passing of dear friends and acquaintances. The past few days and weeks have been particularly difficult, with the loss of several close acquaintances whose lives and talents I had the good fortune to intersect with and benefit from as a conductor. I want to write about two of them.
Gordon Morash, a journalist who had uncommon gifts as a writer of non-fiction, and especially so when it came to writing columns about his favourite pastimes, books, good food, wine and single malt, was also a passionate and devoted bass in my symphonic choir for nearly two decades. Having grown up in the counter-culture era of Edmonton in the 1960s and 70s, he had honed his craft as a singer in various rock and folk bands, but later in life his passions turned to great solo vocal and choral music. You have all met such singers in your choirs before - the kind who will take the time to bring you a favourite column or article from the New Yorker or The NY Times on some topic related to the work we are studying; the kind who will take the time to write you after a successful rehearsal or concert, and eloquently state their case for having been transported in the moment. Two years ago we learned of his initial diagnosis with abdominal cancer, and his friends in the choir shared both the highs and lows of his epic struggle. My last visit with Gordon came at his re-audition in early June, in which he sang Handel's "Where e'er you walk" (poignant choice, in retrospect), and he looked absolutely fabulous (and sounded great too!) Having been away for much of the summer, I did not have any further contact with him until I heard the shocking news of his rapid decline and death, all within a few days in late August. We celebrated his life and many loves a few weeks later with choruses from Elijah and Ein deutsches Requiem, two of his favourite choral works. At our first rehearsal after his passing, some friends in the choir left an open chair with a copy of the Verdi Requiem (which we open our season with) on it and Gordon's name taped to the chair. He is greatly missed.
Tonight I am further saddened by the loss of a former tenor in my choir, Richard Horch, also to cancer. Richard and I also go back a long ways; even before he was a member of our choir, I had gotten to know him and his dear wife Betty through the local Mennonite congregation I was attending at the time. An organist and outstanding tenor, Richard was one of those indomitable spirits who insisted on finding positives in every situation, and I am forever grateful to him and Betty for their generous caregiving as friends in some rather dark and difficult times. This summer I did have an opportunity to visit him at his home in Abbotsford BC where he had retired a number of years ago, at a time when it was already clear that he would not be long with us. We sat for over an hour listening to a range of choral and organ recordings that his daughter Ruth played. We reminisced about some of his favourite choral experiences with our choir - St. Matthew Passion and the Missa Solemnis, amongst others. We laughed about shared memories. He died peacefully this evening. Rest in peace, my dear friend. This will be a Thanksgiving with a slightly different hue.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
This ephemeral summer...
Well, it has been embarrassingly long since I last wrote an entry here. Various excursions both abroad and in this fair country have come and gone, along with numerous enjoyable (and sometimes frustrating) golf games and relaxing barbecues, have more or less eaten up the remaining months of my leave from my teaching post, and now it is time to harness all the horses (no, I won't push this metaphor any further) and start the annual trek down the choral trail.
Not that the summer was completely devoid of interesting and inspiring choral events. In late June, armed with a somewhat defenseless VISA card with a far-too-high spending limit, I embarked on a two-week cruise (first timer) of the Baltic Sea, aboard a Holland America liner. No, no choral music on the boat (unless we loosely refer to the productions in the theatre, but I won't go there), but the trip did bring with it some interesting brushes with choral history. The first was Copenhagen, our departure port, where a year earlier many choral professionals had gathered for the IFCM's World Symposium on Choral Music. Spending a few more days in that glorious city (getting over jetlag before embarking on the cruise) brought back many wonderful memories of the fabulous concerts and very special friendships renewed. Then, on the cruise, our third port of call was at Tallin, Estonia, a city in which political and choral histories have meshed in such an inspiring fashion over centuries, but in particular during the last several decades. As I walked the wonderful cobblestone streets of the upper and lower towns, I was reminded of my last visit to this city, in 1990, as part of the Stockholm World Symposium event, which had included optional visits to Helsinki and Tallin. At that time, Estonia was still under Soviet rule. Vivid recollections of the glorious music we heard there, including a recreation of the legendary Song and Dance Festivals held there every five years, and a concert of the Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir and other choirs, at which the Minister of Culture made a speech that encapsulated the resolve of these people to find their freedom from foreign rule and oppression, made this day all the more memorable. As many will know, this was the summer for the Festival to occur, but unfortunately I was there a week early so could not attend.
The cruise also took us to the main Scandinavian ports, and although there was not time to scout out and attend any concerts, having opportunities to reconnect with these amazing centres of musical and choral culture was inspiring in itself. After disembarking in Dover, we took a train into London and spent two days there before flying back to Canada. As in past trips, I took advantage of my sojourn in London to hear two Evensongs, at St. Paul's and at the Abbey, and was lucky to hear these two amazing choirs before their summer breaks. An extra treat was enjoying the Abbey choir's Mag and Nunc during what turned out to be a major thunderstorm with lots of hail. The Abbey reverberated with the sounds of hail pelting the vaults and windows, and nearly drowned out the choir at times!!
When in London, expect that you will find at least a half dozen interesting musical events a night to choose from, even in early July. So it was that, checking out the listings in Time Out, the city's most reliable events calendar, I found two choral events to attend. The first was a concert at the Barbican, featuring performances of Fauré's Requiem and A Sea Symphony by Vaughan Williams by a choir I had not heard of before, the Crouch End Festival Chorus, accompanied by what must have been a freelance pick-up ensemble, the London Orchestra da Camera. As it turns out, this chorus of 100+ singers has a very fine reputation, and hearing them I could see why - impeccable intonation, diction and vocal power where needed. The conductor David Temple led with complete assurance, bringing out all the lyricism and drama in both of these beautiful works.
The following evening found me searching for (and eventually finding) St. Andrew, Holborn, to hear one of James MacMillan's more extended choral works, Seven Last Words from the Cross, in an incredible performance by the Scottish Ensemble, the instrumental ensemble that had premiered this BBC commission in 1994, and the choir Tenebrae, all under Jonathan Morton's direction. MacMillan's ability to capture the raw power of Christ's final utterances was highlighted by these forces - once again I was simply awestruck both by the sheer vocal power one usually hears from the British professional choir circuit. This concert, presented as part of the City of London Festival, also featured a commission by Nigel Osborne: Seven words, seven icons, seven cities.
The following morning we found our way to the Russell Square tube station for the ride to Heathrow, and I felt quite gratified to have heard these wonderful performances and services in the space of two days. Quintessential London! And the Proms had not even begun yet...
Shortly after arriving back in Edmonton, I received a series of not so subtle emails from a former student who was singing at the Carmel Bach Festival in California, suggesting I should come down to Carmel for the final week of their concerts. I had considered going earlier, as they were performing Haydn's Die Schöpfung as the Festival's celebration of the Haydn year, and our university forces would be mounting a performance this coming November. So, with little advance planning, I scouted for possibilities of points travel and car rental, and was off to this idyllic location on California's Monterey Peninsula. Naturally, the opportunity to see (and possibly play) some of the great golf courses in the area was an added attraction!
The Haydn was beautifully performed, under Bruno Weil's informed direction, with outstanding soloists and a razor sharp orchestra and chorus. The most pleasant surprise of this trip though was hearing two recitals that involved the student mentioned above, tenor Timothy Shantz, in a concert of Monteverdi, and another former student, soprano Jolaine Kerley (who now teaches voice in our music department at U of Alberta), performing cantatas for soprano and trumpet with strings by Melani and Scarlatti. I must admit to some fairly strong emotions and no small amount of pride, hearing these two outstanding singers at this high-profile festival - I thought to myself, there is no better singing to be heard anywhere. Well done, Tim and Jolaine, and all the others of course.
Returning to Edmonton on August 1, I suddenly realized that I had but a month left before the end of my sabbatical, and much still to do! After a week of family visiting in and around Vancouver (during which I was able to take in a very interesting collaborative concert of the Vancouver Chamber Choir and the touring Taipei Philharmonic Chamber Choir), I found myself more than rested and prepared to get back to full time teaching.
Now, two weeks into the term, all auditions have been completed and choral personnel are in place. There will be more concerts to attend, but it is exciting to again be part of the teaching and learning and, ultimately, performing experience that is so satisfying to those of us lucky enough to be doing this. Having received in full measure, it's time to dole it out and give back in at least equal measure!
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