I resent that--I was a boy soprano as well.
BP--I actually did a Messiah sing with a group I sing with this past weekend, and it was a lot of fun. It can be challenging music, but most tried their best and we all enjoyed it. Glad you do the same.
And guin, those quartet sings on christmas sound great, especially when backed by one of my favorite instruments. We're doing the entire Christmas portion with a few other pieces (including the Hallelujah Chorus) thrown in. Even though it is a benefit (I do this with this group every year), I usually can get tickets for a few friends, and some of them have never experienced Messiah before (damn modern schools). Like you, I grew up with a lot of this music and consider myself lucky.
andy, that is funny.
How do you recite the 'Our Father'?
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ex-khobar Andy
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Re: How do you recite the 'Our Father'?
I wasn’t going to write about this, but BSG’s post prompted me to change my mind.
The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols which is celebrated in many Anglican/Episcopalian churches (and others AFAIK) is based on an original idea from King’s College Cambridge in 1928. (There is some evidence that King’s stole the idea from Truro Cathedral in Cornwall [Gob’s new home] but the current form of the service is universally based on the King’s format.)
The school where I spent my teenage years held an annual service patterned on King’s and the processional hymn (the choir enters the church and advances to their seats while singing) was always Once in Royal David’s City. The first verse, as BSG said, was sung without accompaniment by a solo boy treble. In 1964 I was there when my little brother (I was 15, he was 13) sang it. Peer pressure being what it is, I was terrified that he would miss a note or fall over and I would of course be the object of derision from my friends. At that age, and in the very hierarchical structure of an English public (=private) school, two years is a generation. He did a nice job, and even my cynical friends told me so. As it happened, the school decided to record that year’s concert and issued a 10” LP (remember them?) which the family has, and routinely dragged out at Christmas to embarrass him. My little brother succumbed to cancer seven years ago: I and the rest of the family were there when he went.
Three years ago we moved here to Columbia MO. It’s a little blue island in the reddest of states. When I came for the job interview (they flew my wife in as well) we arrived in St Louis and drove the 100 miles or so. 20 miles east of Columbia, I saw a turnoff for Fulton MO. Every English schoolboy of the Cold War era knows that Fulton is where Churchill gave his “Iron Curtain” speech - just one of those little pieces of trivia we all knew. Until then I had no idea where Fulton was. At Westminster College, where Churchill gave the speech at the invitation of his Missouri BFF HS Truman, there is a Churchill museum. There is also, and this is the point of this rambling deviation, a Christopher Wren-designed church. After the Great Fire of London (1666) Wren designed the wonderful St Paul’s Cathedral and about fifty lesser churches including St Mary’s of Aldermanbury which was a few blocks from St Paul’s. Many of these were badly damaged during the blitz in 1940; and when Westminster College decided to establish the Churchill memorial, they relocated the bricks and mortar of St Mary’s to Fulton and rebuilt it. I said somewhere above how much I love church music; and church architecture is a close second, especially the great medieval to Baroque cathedrals of Europe. A Wren church in Missouri - who knew? London is littered with monuments and statues of all types but there is no monument to Wren, probably the most talented, and certainly the busiest, architect of the period. But on his tomb in St Paul’s is written - si monumentum requiris, circumspice. If you want a monument, look around. St Mary’s is not, I think, one of his masterpieces: sturdy rather than elegant, but it is still a beautiful place. On Sunday they held a Nine Lessons and Carols Service and this atheist attended, looking forward to the beauty of the music and the setting.
The church was crowded and we took probably the last two seats. But when the processional began with a young woman soprano doing that first verse of Once in Royal David’s City, I could not help but to be transformed in time and place, back 53 years and four thousand miles, to when Nigel sang. They said they might put some pictures on the web: if you ever see them, and there is an old man sobbing in the back, that’s me.
(Edited to correct Winchester to Westminster.)
The Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols which is celebrated in many Anglican/Episcopalian churches (and others AFAIK) is based on an original idea from King’s College Cambridge in 1928. (There is some evidence that King’s stole the idea from Truro Cathedral in Cornwall [Gob’s new home] but the current form of the service is universally based on the King’s format.)
The school where I spent my teenage years held an annual service patterned on King’s and the processional hymn (the choir enters the church and advances to their seats while singing) was always Once in Royal David’s City. The first verse, as BSG said, was sung without accompaniment by a solo boy treble. In 1964 I was there when my little brother (I was 15, he was 13) sang it. Peer pressure being what it is, I was terrified that he would miss a note or fall over and I would of course be the object of derision from my friends. At that age, and in the very hierarchical structure of an English public (=private) school, two years is a generation. He did a nice job, and even my cynical friends told me so. As it happened, the school decided to record that year’s concert and issued a 10” LP (remember them?) which the family has, and routinely dragged out at Christmas to embarrass him. My little brother succumbed to cancer seven years ago: I and the rest of the family were there when he went.
Three years ago we moved here to Columbia MO. It’s a little blue island in the reddest of states. When I came for the job interview (they flew my wife in as well) we arrived in St Louis and drove the 100 miles or so. 20 miles east of Columbia, I saw a turnoff for Fulton MO. Every English schoolboy of the Cold War era knows that Fulton is where Churchill gave his “Iron Curtain” speech - just one of those little pieces of trivia we all knew. Until then I had no idea where Fulton was. At Westminster College, where Churchill gave the speech at the invitation of his Missouri BFF HS Truman, there is a Churchill museum. There is also, and this is the point of this rambling deviation, a Christopher Wren-designed church. After the Great Fire of London (1666) Wren designed the wonderful St Paul’s Cathedral and about fifty lesser churches including St Mary’s of Aldermanbury which was a few blocks from St Paul’s. Many of these were badly damaged during the blitz in 1940; and when Westminster College decided to establish the Churchill memorial, they relocated the bricks and mortar of St Mary’s to Fulton and rebuilt it. I said somewhere above how much I love church music; and church architecture is a close second, especially the great medieval to Baroque cathedrals of Europe. A Wren church in Missouri - who knew? London is littered with monuments and statues of all types but there is no monument to Wren, probably the most talented, and certainly the busiest, architect of the period. But on his tomb in St Paul’s is written - si monumentum requiris, circumspice. If you want a monument, look around. St Mary’s is not, I think, one of his masterpieces: sturdy rather than elegant, but it is still a beautiful place. On Sunday they held a Nine Lessons and Carols Service and this atheist attended, looking forward to the beauty of the music and the setting.
The church was crowded and we took probably the last two seats. But when the processional began with a young woman soprano doing that first verse of Once in Royal David’s City, I could not help but to be transformed in time and place, back 53 years and four thousand miles, to when Nigel sang. They said they might put some pictures on the web: if you ever see them, and there is an old man sobbing in the back, that’s me.
(Edited to correct Winchester to Westminster.)
Last edited by ex-khobar Andy on Sat Dec 16, 2017 4:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: How do you recite the 'Our Father'?
That story put a lump in my throat; I’m glad my memory triggered you to share it. Condolences on the loss of your brother; holidays are so bittersweet as the ones we love most begin to leave us. 
For me, it is far better to grasp the Universe as it really is than to persist in delusion, however satisfying and reassuring.
~ Carl Sagan
~ Carl Sagan
Re: How do you recite the 'Our Father'?
Indeed, but you do have some wonderful memories of him linked with wonderful music. Thanks for sharing.
It is funny, but I think music can trigger memories. A few year ago my daughter and I sang Panis Angelicus at a service; it was a song I never recalled singing before but when we practiced it brought back some wonderful memories of being a boy soprano in a Brooklyn church. For some reason the choir master there took an interest in me and from a very young age (before I could read, probably around 3-4) worked with me on singing (probably because I had a good memory for a kid--I could hear something played once or twice and get the tune--I could also memorize words (even foreign ones) pretty easily). I think one of the first things I sang in that church was Panis Angelicus (although I had no way of remembering that because I learned the Latin words by rote and couldn't recall them or the title), and when we practiced it all came back to me--the song, the choir director who taught me so much (although I wish I could recall his name), even that church and the people in it. At least for me, music can raise long forgotten memories and feelings, and it appears I am not alone.
It is funny, but I think music can trigger memories. A few year ago my daughter and I sang Panis Angelicus at a service; it was a song I never recalled singing before but when we practiced it brought back some wonderful memories of being a boy soprano in a Brooklyn church. For some reason the choir master there took an interest in me and from a very young age (before I could read, probably around 3-4) worked with me on singing (probably because I had a good memory for a kid--I could hear something played once or twice and get the tune--I could also memorize words (even foreign ones) pretty easily). I think one of the first things I sang in that church was Panis Angelicus (although I had no way of remembering that because I learned the Latin words by rote and couldn't recall them or the title), and when we practiced it all came back to me--the song, the choir director who taught me so much (although I wish I could recall his name), even that church and the people in it. At least for me, music can raise long forgotten memories and feelings, and it appears I am not alone.
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Sue U
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Re: How do you recite the 'Our Father'?
When I was a teen and thought I would pursue a career in music, I played in a number of orchestras and small ensembles at churches and halls around the region doing Christmas and Easter performances, playing everything from the banal to the sublime. (Mozart's Requiem at Easter was always my favorite.) After a 35-year hiatus, I returned to playing music this year and joined the regional pops orchestra, and it has really brought me back to those days of my youth. On Wednesday about 20 of us from the orchestra backed up a chorus of fifth and sixth graders at a Christmas concert that I am sure broke every rule of separation of church and state with its program of explicitly religious carols and hymns:
It was very sweet. We'll be violating the First Amendment again on Sunday, with the entire orchestra, if any of you are in the area and want to pony up 10 bucks.
It was very sweet. We'll be violating the First Amendment again on Sunday, with the entire orchestra, if any of you are in the area and want to pony up 10 bucks.
GAH!
Re: How do you recite the 'Our Father'?
Sounds great Sue, and a lot of fun. Enjoy!