MUSINGS ON MILTON ABBEY - 1985
Having agreed to write about the 1985 Festival I was faced with the question, How? To write a report one, ideally, should make notes as one goes along to aid the memory. I did not. Perhaps a critique? These seem to be either of the erudite (i.e. incomprenensible showing off) variety that appears in the Top People's paper, or somewhat lower-browed , such as found in the Telegraph, "The upper register found the sopranos still pure and unsqueezed". From someone who participated criticism is rather presumptious in any case. So I am left recalling to mind the details which made a lasting impression.
The rehearsals started at a slightly later hour this year intentionally! Why is it that with extra time at one's disposal it is necessary to drive even faster to arrive in time to hear the first chord? At any rate it was nice to return home again feeling a 1ittle less frayed at the edges than hitherto, and we did acquire some surprising snippets of learning - such as the history of the trees on the Blandford /Shaftesbury road, from Richard [Hall}, and the secret of successful srevhound racing, from Stephen [Binnington].
There were times during rehearsals when one was reminded, sometimes forcefully, of the nineteenth century ballad, A Lost Chord.
Seated oneday at the piano
Richard clearly was ill at ease,
For the choir was rehearsing Bruckner
And doing but little to please.
The sopranos Were singing too loudly,
Tne altos unsure of the pace
The basses weren't doing too badly,
But the tenors were sunk without trace.
Said Richard, "If this happens Friday
I'll really be down in the dumps."
But surely he need not have worried
For we all, just about, came up trumps.
It's true that a few bits were shaky
But perfection is rarely achieved.
And with Friday's service completed
We all felt extremely relieved.
There were some apt choices of music over the weekend . Surely it was no accident that the Bruckner was followed by Be not for aught regretful? Goethe must have had somewhere like Milton Abbey in mind when he referred to architecture as "petrified music", especially if one takes the colloquial meaning of the word as in refrigerated. No hint here of the fires of Hell! This lack of physical warmth is even more apparent in St.Catherine's Chapel whence the Renaissance Choir repaired on Saturday morning. The music was again appropriate, Wood in the Phryg. The chapel's simple setting - and illumination - make it a rather special place to worship, and one of the highlights of the weekend.
Then a few hours respite for the vocal chords as the musical banquet was continued, first, by three students from the Royal Academy of Music, and then an organ recital from our very own director. It says something for Trevor [Doar]'s digital agility that at the end of the recital he looked as fresh as the proverbial "Bellis perennis" while the hard-worked "turner-over" felt as though she had worn her doublet down to a singlet. Fortunately, sustenance was close at hand.
" A jug of wine, a loaf of Bread - and Thou
(Omar Khayham) Beside me singing in the wilderness -"
Many masses of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were given a thematic unity by being based upon a much earlier tune - usually plainsong but occasionally a secular tune. On Sunday morning the small choir sang Victoria's Mass, O Quam Gloriosum. The title, together with the bright sunny morning, led me to speculate that this was based on an early version of "Oh, what a beautiful morning". I'll bet the composer of Oklahoma would not be prepared to admit that he based it on an early Spanish Mass!
And so to the climax of the weekend - the Choral Concert. For all his quiet charm and gentle humour Stephen is very firm in insisting on precise intonation and exact timing. It was therefore only to be expected the he should have timed the tea break to coincide with the heaviest downpour of the four days.
How satisfying it is to sing to the accompaniment of a good band. Indeed the only failure to provide the requisite support came from the legs of the harpischord. Perhaps in the Magnificat we did not quite match the prilliance of the trumpets - but then a Milton Abbey "cuppa" does not provide the same "spiritual uplift as the Hambro Arms.
Between the Bach and Haydn a piece of inspired programme planning. Poulenc is a composer who combines seriousness and laughter in the same piece, (did I really hear the Dick Barton theme?) and after the concentrated Baroque of Bach and before the more relaxed tunefulness of Haydn the organ concerto provided the perfect transition. Trevor once more demonstrated that
His very foot has Music in'tand Richard revealed another of his many talents - twiddling the taps of the timps.
As he comes up the stairs.
(18th Century ballad)
Monday's events could be an anti-climax and it was certainly hard for the Renaissance choir to "rise" to the occasion for Mattins especially for those who had prolonged the previous evening's festivities. Once more an apt piece of music, Matthias, Lift up Your Heads. Evensong was a sort of "Home Fixture" for former choirboys. Snith and Stanford are femiliar territory and a jolly good sing to round off the choral part of the Festival. At the end one had sympathy for Falstaff in Henry IV part 2:
"For my voice, I have lost it with hallooing and singing of anthems".Finally, and fittingly, it was left to Trevor and his friends to round off the entertainment with a fine concert of music by Beethoven, Brahms and, for lovers of blackberries, Delius.
Alexander Pope would surely have met several kindred spirits since in his Essay on Criticism he wrote:
Some to church repair,They would have spent a weekend of variety, both in style - with music from the sixteenth to the twentieth century - and in scale - from the brilliance of Bach and richness of Bruckner to the quiet simplicity of Compline, but in all parts rewarding.
Not for the doctrine, put the music there.
I ought to end with a list of people to be thanked, but I shall not do so. I would merely ask all those who took any part in causing the weekend to happen and to run SO smoothly to call to mind the faces of everyone as they left and see mingled there the pleasure of the event and regret at its ending.
The Music in my heart I bore
Long after it was heard no more
Wordsworth