We did it!  Nine choirs (including three youth choirs), four soloists, a rather large orchestra (circa 120 players, subdivided into smaller orchestras and brass bands) and Maestro Martyn Brabbins:  together, we performed Havergal Brian’s Symphony Number 1, the Gothic Symphony on Sunday, 17th, July, 2011 at London’s Royal Albert Hall.

It’s about thirty years since it was last performed in the UK (and yes, a scattering of singers in our midst sang at that last performance).  It may be thirty more years before it’s performed again.  The sheer scale of the piece (and attendant costs) make it a major undertaking to bring it to the concert hall.  Even in the Royal Albert Hall, the stage has to be extended to accommodate the performers.

No doubt the audience comprises fans of this little known composer and a whole load of “musos” – especially composers, curious about such an audacious piece.  There is a sense of excitement and curiosity at the beginning of the concert.  Even amongst the performers there are many who have not yet heard the whole piece.  The choristers have not yet heard, for example, the first movements of the piece which are purely orchestral.  Nor have we heard the soloists in full.

There are many surprises.  A glockenspiel solo in the early movements takes my breath away.  Surely it’s the percussionist’s dream – an opportunity to show both the full range of the instrument and the skills and panache of the performer as well as to bring this music to its audience.  It would bear hearing again.  Susan Gritton is superb as she sings from the distant heights of the Royal Albert Hall, requiring a steely confidence as well as fine tone.  She has plenty of both.  Even in the midst of the choir I enjoy the stereophonic effects as different singers sing their separate parts.  I am full of admiration and respect for Martyn Brabbins for taking on a challenge of epic proportions.  (In an introduction to the piece by musicians in Brisbane, Australia, entitled The Curse of the Gothic Symphony, one person describes it as “the musical equivalent of climbing Everest, trekking to the South Pole, sending a man to the moon”).

To reach this point is the culmination of a long journey.  As one of the singers, I am aware that I have joined the road after many miles have already been travelled and still, it’s been hard work.  In the end, the response of my colleagues varies, from those who are glad to be done with this abominable piece to the (albeit tiny minority) who are truly elated.  I sit somewhere in between:  I am totally thrilled to have had this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to perform this piece.  It has taxed me, yes.  It has intrigued me, yes.  I would certainly sign up to sing it again, with all its strange quirks.

Above all, I celebrate this rare opportunity to showcase Britain’s rich choral tradition.  Even without Harvergal Brian, this has been a rare opportunity to bring together a dedicated population of amateur singers and we have collaborated with a great spirit of cooperation and respect.

Now though, it’s definitely back to business.  The ladies of the London Symphony Chorus have a break now, and I’m glad of it.  If you’d like to hear the performance you can follow this link to find a recording.  I’ll be resting my vocal chords and – for a while at least – writing about other things.