Tag Archives: London Symphony Chorus

Belshazzar’s Feast: a moment of truth

About Dorothy,

It’s Sunday, October 28th, and the day of our concert has come. More than 100 members of the London Symphony Chorus join the London Symphony Orchestra and baritone soloist Peter Coleman-Wright. We are getting ready to perform Sir William Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast under the baton of Sir Colin Davis at London’s Barbican Centre.

Belshazzar’s Feast is a staple of the chorus’ repertoire. We have also performed at this venue, with the LSO and with Sir Colin many times before. Even so, the atmosphere is one of anxiety as well as excited anticipation. Our first joint rehearsal, just two days earlier, was far from concert standard. And, because the piece includes entries for the chorus which – even with experience – remain challenging, we anxiously wonder if Sir Colin will clearly signal these moments. It doesn’t help that, during the first half of the concert, chorus members have been blown away by Mitsuko Uchida’s dazzling performance of Beethoven’s fourth Piano Concerto. How can we possibly live up to such a high standard?

As members of the orchestra tune their instruments, I take in my surroundings. The deep chestnut of violins, violas, cellos and double basses show warm and vibrant against the dark black of our concert dress. The latter transforms both chorus and orchestra – the men are suddenly more handsome and slim, the women more elegant. The colourful dress and jovial informality of rehearsal have given way to a disciplined and adrenaline-charged readiness to perform.

The audience applauds as the orchestra’s leader steps onto the concert platform. This is the sign that our performance is about to begin. She is quickly followed by Sir Colin, who takes in the orchestra and chorus with a sweep of the eyes before raising his baton. Audience members stop talking and a hush descends.

A brief statement by the trombones precedes the chorus’ first entry. This is a dramatic and unaccompanied declaration by the tenors and basses, who sing of the prediction by Isaiah: that the sons of Israel will be taken away from their homeland to become eunuchs in the palace of the kings of Babylon. It is a bold entry which sets up the story as well as introducing the chorus.

The men make their entry with both drama and precision. As I hear their confident beginning I notice a release of tension. My inner anxieties give way to a deep engagement with the music. I am ready to sing.

Feasting on William Walton’s Belshazzar

About Dorothy

In 1986, freshly graduated and moved to London, I auditioned to join the London Symphony Chorus. This was a way of continuing to enjoy making music, an activity that was so much a part of my life that I took it completely for granted even whilst knowing that life would be much the poorer without it. Fresh from my audition, I joined the choir to rehearse a piece called Belshazzar’s Feast by William Walton. It was a piece the choir had recently performed and we had just one rehearsal before we joined the conductor and orchestra for our joint rehearsals. It was a terrifying circus ride of a musical experience for the newcomer.

Twenty years further on and the London Symphony Chorus continues gladly to perform Walton’s oratorio despite early predictions of its immediate demise. Legend has it that the early addition of brass bands was suggested by the conductor Sir Thomas Beecham prior to its first performance at the Leeds Festival in October 1931. The bands were on hand for a performance of Berlioz’ Requiem, and Beecham said to the young William Walton: “As you’ll never hear the thing again, my boy, why not throw in a couple of brass bands?”

Frankly, Belshazzar’s Feast is a thoroughly good sing. Arranged for two choirs it offers a strong tonal quality (good tunes!) with vibrant synchopated rhythms. Even with its rich orchestration and baritone solo, the choir is centre stage throughout. The piece tells a story and to tell a story, you need singers. No wonder, then, that it has become a perrenial favourite of the concert hall.

Still the full depth and richness of the story is sometimes lost even in the midst of the music’s own drama and joyous rhythms. This is the story, told in the Old Testament book of Daniel, of the captivity of the Hebrews in Babylon under the reign of Belshazzar. Osbert Sitwell’s narrative, drawing on the Psalms and the book of Revelations as well as on the book of Daniel, tells of the weeping of the Hebrews by the rivers of Babylon even as they are required by their captors to sing of their homeland. Their horror when Belshazzar orders the use of sacred vessels from the temple in Jerusalem to serve wine at a feast is easily lost. The narrative also reminds us of the strange writing that appeared on the wall to announce to Belshazzar that he had been weighed in the balance and found wanting. When Belshazzar’s death follows, the Hebrews’ joyful celebration of their freedom is mixed with weeping at the fall of the great City of Babylon.

I think of all these things as we prepare to perform Belshazzar’s Feast under the exacting baton of Sir Colin Davis. I hope that you might be there – at the Barbican on 28th and again on 30th September. And whether or not you’re there, I shall be giving my all, to the story of the Hebrew slaves and to the fine music of Sir William Walton.

Celebrating the postings that have yet to be written

About Dorothy, Alternative approaches, ,

Perhaps – only perhaps – it is because I am still new to blogging that I have yet to experience a “dry season” in my posting, a time when the inspiration to write does not want to come.

Today, I walk to Blackheath where I stop for a drink before picking up my dry cleaning. The sun is shining – as it seems to have done only rarely this summer – and I sit outside in the late summer sunshine. My mind is full of the postings that have yet to be written – about midlife and what it means to have reached “half time”, about – ahead of our forthcoming concerts – the story of the Hebrew slaves that underpins Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast, about the session of EFT I had yesterday with my friend Alex, about School Coach, about…, about…, about… It seems that there is no shortage of “abouts”.

I take a moment, ahead of writing about School Coach, to notice all the postings that are forming in my mind, all the postings that I have yet to write.

I celebrate them all.

A new term starts at the London Symphony Chorus

About Dorothy

In the life of the London Symphony Chorus a summer holiday is not guaranteed. Sometimes the schedule continues through the summer, with a tour, for example, or preparations for a late summer prom.

This year, it is less than a month since we sang Janacek’s Glagolitic Mass at the Royal Albert Hall and still you would not know it from the buzz and excitement at our first rehearsal of the new season, like the first day of the new school year.

Chorus members greet each other as they arrive with a fresh welcome which will fade to a nonchalant not-you-again hello as the season progresses, exchanging tales of summer holidays as they go. One member sports his new term haircut and another his beautiful legs following surgery on his varicose veins.

There are new kids in class, who shyly introduce themselves and who are taken under the wings of seasoned members of the choir. Joseph, fresh from conducting in Chicago, indulges us by skipping the warm-up (hurrah!) to go straight to a sing-through of Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast. His stories and comments elicit the exaggerated response of the pantomime audience. There are titters when we are told to quote the code for a forthcoming ticket offer as “London Symphony Chorus members”.

Like the loose community of students who together comprise a school, or maybe the diverse members of an extended family, there are people in the choir who are close, some who see each other only in this chorus and maybe even some who would rather not see each other at all. Still, after a break, we are reminded both of the love of music which brings us together and of the hidden ties which bind us.

Back to school.

Ladies of the London Symphony Chorus

About Dorothy, ,

Having my own business allows a degree of flexibility and still there are choices to be made. Months ago, in the midst of a busy singing schedule, I opted not to sing this week in two concerts of Mahler’s Eighth Symphony at Saint Paul’s Cathedral, recognising the time commitment involved and the challenges of juggling these demands with my work schedule. Still, I opted to support the chorus by travelling today to Tewkesbury Abbey to sing in Vaughan William’s Sinfonia Antartica, knowing ahead of time how exhausted the choir would be today.

So, my coaching schedule has been condensed and I start the day early in order both to prepare for my day trip to Tewkesbury and to be fully present to my coaching clients before I leave. As I travel to meet my singing colleagues I savour the progress of my clients, enjoying the sense of privilege that comes from our work together.

As I board the coach there is much talk of the Mahler concerts and I experience the slight flutter – a sense of loss – that comes with knowing I have chosen to miss two important concerts. Four hours later, the ladies of the London Symphony Chorus arrive in Tewkesbury just in time to rehearse the ethereal siren-song which emanates from the rear of the Abbey at the beginning of the Sinfonia Antartica. We have time to rehearse and to catch a bite to eat at My Great Grandfather’s across the road before returning to hear the orchestra play Ravel’s Le Tomberau de Couperin and Bruch’s Violin Concerto Number 1 before we sing. Alina Ibragimova plays the solo violin with a commitment and assurance beyond her young years.

22 years into my membership of the Chorus I know that whilst we sing together, our memories of concerts are often strictly personal. I have my own special reasons to enjoy singing in the Abbey, and I enjoy these associations as well as the evening’s spirited performance.

We travel into the night to get home. I blog. It’s already time for bed.