It’s months since tickets for our concert on Sunday evening sold out so that I didn’t send the usual alert to friends. I’m not sure whether it was the lure of the programme – Elgar’s Cello Concerto followed by Mozart’s Requiem – or the prospect of having Sir Colin Davis as our conductor, or Tim Hugh as soloist, that made the programme so attractive. Last week I checked and found a lone ticket (a ‘return’) – just one – available.
As a chorus, we have been rehearsing assiduously for a performance from memory. This is something we rarely do so that the question “how do I learn a piece from memory?” is as important as the intricate detail of the piece itself. Some members of the soprano section were taking steps well before Christmas, using our travelling time (to Luxembourg and Paris in December) to go through the score again and again. I have been less assiduous, though I did take advantage of a recent day trip to Edinburgh to go through the score in some detail. Mainly, though, my strategy has been to sing without a score in rehearsals and to notice what I can sing with confidence and what details I need to revise.
Who’s idea was it to put us through this challenge? It was Simon’s – that’s Simon Halsey, newly recruited to the posts of Chorus Director of the London Symphony Chorus and Choral Director of the London Symphony Orchestra. Simon clearly has a strategy – or perhaps one should say any number of strategies. He has brought a kind of musical OCD to our preparation, diving into all sorts of details, letting us know where we need to improve and how. He has also planned a generous number of rehearsals. In the run up to the concert we have rehearsed on Tuesday and Wednesday before meeting our conductor on Thursday and rehearsing again with the full ensemble on Friday evening and Saturday and Sunday mornings. By the time we sing on Sunday evening I feel confident that I know the piece well and that my neighbour on the podium knows it even better. I am also grateful for Simon’s advice to save our voices for the concert.
Some time ahead of the concert, we learn that Sir Colin will not be our conductor. This is not entirely a surprise (we know he has been ill) and is met with a mixed response – much beloved of chorus members, we are both disappointed not to be singing with him and pleased that he is taking care of his health. In his place, we have Yutaka Sado, who worked for a number of years as assistant to Leonard Bernstein and Seiji Ozawa and with whom we are working for the first time. Sado’s sweeping gestures in full flow remind me of Bernstein’s grand style of conducting and, at the same time, I am grateful to him for his assiduous support of the chorus, bringing us in throughout the piece. The orchestra violins seem to be taking more notes than I have ever seen before, conferring with each other throughout our rehearsals. Perhaps they want to do a good job (and indeed they do). Somehow, though, the description of a class of school children testing their supply teacher rings more true.
And what of the concert itself? The programme is magnificent. Tim Hugh plays the Elgar with great assurance and I find myself bathing in Elgar’s rich soundscape. In the Mozart, I find Daniela Lehner’s mezzo-soprano rendition rather forced but otherwise enjoy the ensemble of soloists. Andrew Foster-Williams’ breath control in the Tuba Mirum is, well, simply boasting – anyone for a pint of bass? Elizabeth Watts and Maximillian Schmitt both bring a fine tone. Singing in the chorus I feel confident and assured and enjoy the richness of the piece, including the contrasts within it. I am pleased to have saved my voice so that I am able to bring power and emotion to the Dies Irae and lightness of touch to some quiet corners in the Rex tremendae and the Confutatis maledictis.
Waking up on Monday morning I have a particular reason to savour this performance. The news reaches me, not unexpectedly, that my uncle has died. In my heart, I dedicate this performance to him and hope that he may, indeed, rest in peace.