1990-93 and rather a lot of travelling
Every year since I joined, we had performed Messiah at the beginning of January with the Bournemouth Sinfonietta under a different guest conductor. In 1990 it was changed to a Come and Sing Messiah, open to any member of the public to join in. I took part and told people that I was leaving, but it didn't feel as though it was the end. I said goodbye to my particular friends and promised to keep in touch.
I quickly settled into my new job, even though there was a 50 mile daily commute in each direction. I put my house on the market and started looking for somewhere to live. However it soon became clear that it was not going to be easy selling my place as the housing market had collapsed. After about three months I was getting fed up with the travel and missing my singing. I was still a member of the choir as I had paid my subs so maybe now was not the time to give it up. I knew that a trip to Bern was coming up to sing the Beethoven Choral Symphony with the Bern Symphony Orchestra. So I rang the choir secretary, Donald Sheppard, to see if there was any chance I could sign up for it. It so happened that a committee meeting was in progress and my name had already come up, so that worked out fine.
This was the first overseas trip that had been organised since I had joined the Chorus. A few singers from other choral societies swelled our numbers, and we set off in two coaches with an overnight stop in Calais. It struck me that though I had been in the Chorus 11 years, the number of people I knew more than to just say hello to was only about 8 or 9. By the end of the trip I knew far more, as it was a very sociable bunch. As well as the usual sightseeing we had the unknown luxury of four orchestral rehearsals. We did two concerts, and overall the trip was a great success.
I had by now decided that I would commit myself as much as possible to the Chorus. There seemed little prospect of selling my house in the immediate future. Attending Tuesday rehearsals would add an extra 50 miles or so to my journey, but I felt it was worthwhile. Shortly after the Bern trip there was a performance of Elijah, and though I had not rehearsed it enough to take part in the performance, I planned to sit in the audience for it, until I realised it clashed with England playing in the World Cup.
The 1990/1 season got off to quite a busy start. We opened the Poole Proms with the Beethoven Choral Symphony, then in November we had the Vaughan Williams Sea Symphony at the beginning of the month and two performances of Mahler's 2nd Symphony at the end, first in Poole, then at the Colston Hall in Bristol. The Mahler always has a big audience reaction at the end, but it was even louder than usual in Bristol with a huge cheer going up as soon as the final chord had finished. That always goes down well.
Since Neville Creed had taken over as chorus master, the style of the Christmas Carol Concerts had changed. Geoffrey Hughes had been sufficiently extrovert to act as compere and conductor, but this was not Neville's style. So instead there was always a guest master of ceremonies, and this year it was Roy Castle, who fitted the bill very well. The Messiah reverted to being a proper concert rather than a "Come and Sing", and this year the conductor was Kenneth Montgomery. For a change he decided to perform the whole work rather than include the standard cuts, but he took it at such a speed that the duration was about the same.
I was certainly putting in the miles attending all these rehearsals, but it was worthwhile because the opportunity came to perform Belshazzar's Feast in Winchester Cathedral with Sir Charles Groves. On this occasion I was asked to join the semi-chorus. This was one of my proudest moments in my time with the Chorus.
Later in 1991, we were involved in another Gala Concert opening a new venue, the Plymouth Pavilions. On this occasion it didn't take up so much of our time. It was obviously a long coach journey to get there and I don't think we even rehearsed at all at the venue. It was again a strange combination of performers, including Frank Carson. Presumably because they were not completely sure of the acoustics of the hall, and we were sitting behind him, they turned off the speakers alongside us during his slot. This meant that we could not really hear what he was saying, and we sat there like lemons straight faced while he told his jokes. Our contribution was the Beethoven Choral Fantasy (again!), and the 1812 Overture. This was meant to be the climax of the concert, but the whole thing was running late so they cut out the first five minutes or so of the piece, and the choral introduction we had practiced carefully was not required.
The 1991/2 season turned out to be a significant one in the chorus's history, though it was not realised at the time. In November we returned to Daphnis & Chloe then in February we performed Verdi's Four Sacred Pieces. These are considered to be two of the most difficult works in the regular choral repertoire, and to programme them so close together was described as bad planning. The Ravel didn't go too badly, as enough of the choir had sung it before for us to begin to get on top of it. We performed it twice, once in Poole and once in the Portsmouth Guildhall. By that second experience I was beginning to enjoy it and appreciate the piece, feeling more than I had ever done before that I was part of the orchestra. The Verdi, however, was definitely under-rehearsed, not surprising considering that in the short space of time between the performances of the two works we also had carol concerts and two Messiahs.
From my experience of Verdi, which is mainly the Requiem and opera choruses, he comes across as a composer very sympathetic to the needs of singers. However he rather lets us down in the Four Sacred Pieces. The first movement is an Ave Maria built around a scale that Verdi invented. This is followed by a setting of the Libera Me from the Requiem Mass which was originally written for a multi-composer memorial to Rossini that never got off the ground. It's after this that the problems start, with a Stabat Mater for unaccompanied female voices. The final movement is a setting of the Te Deum for full choir, but the orchestra are again silent for the first part, eventually coming in fortissimo when the choir have had about a quarter of an hour to go flat. We performed it twice, once in Poole, then in Bristol, for which a rather critical review was published.
For over two years now I had been commuting from Stourpaine to Swindon, and fitting in rehearsals in Bournemouth as best as I could. At last in early 1992 I was able to sell my house for considerably less than it had originally gone on the market for. I returned to house hunting and quite soon found something suitable in (not yet Royal) Wootton Bassett. The choir were booked to take part in two concerts at the end of May, as part of the Winchester Festival in the Cathedral. The first was a concert of English music, including among other pieces Parry's Blest Pair of Sirens and Vaughan Williams' Towards the Unknown Region, conducted by David Hill; the other was Belshazzar's Feast again, this time conducted by Richard Hickox.
Looking back, I'm not sure how I managed to fit in rehearsals, as other things were going on in my life. At the beginning of April I moved out of my house in Stourpaine, put my furniture in storage, and moved temporarily into a spare bedroom in a colleague's house. Meanwhile my father was seriously ill in hospital in Rugby. I had booked a holiday in San Diego, that I was particularly looking forward to as I had never been to the USA, so I decided to go ahead. However the day after I arrived, my mother called to say that he had "slipped away", so I booked a return flight for the next morning. Unfortunately the plane had to make an emergency landing in Seattle, as there was an anonymous tip-off that there was a bomb on the plane. We were all questioned by the FBI then sent to a hotel and the flight resumed the next morning. I was never particularly worried that I was in danger, just more concerned about my mother. Once I got back I stayed with my mother for the funeral and the rest of the fortnight I was supposed to be in America. I'm not sure of the significance of this, but between my father's death and his funeral three famous people died - Olivier Messiaen, Benny Hill and Frankie Howerd.
Once my house purchase had been finalised, it turned out that the best day for me to move in was the day of the Belshazzar concert in Winchester. I worked out that it was logistically possible for the furniture to be moved in in the morning and for me to make it to Winchester in time for the rehearsal. My mother wanted to help me with the move, so I rang the box office to get her a ticket. I asked the lady what else was on the programme, and she sounded surprised at the question, explaining that it was the Beethoven Violin Concerto. She sounded even more surprised at my next question as to who the soloist was, saying that it was Nigel Kennedy. What had passed me by, presumably having missed a rehearsal when it was mentioned, was that the concert was really about him, and we were probably just the support act. He had announced that this was going to be his last concert before taking an indefinite break from performing, which made the occasion even more significant.
When the day came, everything just about went to plan. The furniture van arrived on schedule, and as they unloaded it I directed everything into an appropriate room, but apart from making sure there was enough bedding in place for when we returned, we did little unpacking. We got to Winchester in time for the rehearsal, and I left my mother to explore the city. The concert was memorable, and the performance of the Beethoven was exceptional. It was a pleasure being involved in a concert with Nigel Kennedy, for whom clearly the joy of performing overrides everything. He even stayed for Belshazzar, or at least he was still around at the end of the concert. The only thing that didn't work out was that when we got back to my new house we had to search through several boxes before we could find a kettle!
In spite of the fact that it was now a four hour round trip to attend rehearsals in Poole, I decided to continue singing with the Chorus as there was an exciting season coming up. In November there were four concert performances of Beethoven's only opera, Fidelio. Then because 1993 was the Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra's centenary, there was going to be a celebratory concert where the Chorus were going to join them for Mahler's 8th Symphony, commonly known as the Symphony of a Thousand. This was a work I had always wanted to sing since I first heard it at a BBC Prom when I was a student.
Then an extra concert was added at short notice. During the summer of 1992 the sad news came through that Sir Charles Groves had died. Because of his strong association with the Chorus and the Orchestra a performance of the Verdi Requiem was arranged, which was an emotional occasion and a fitting way to remember the great musician.
Four performances of Fidelio took place, which involved a lot of driving, but it was worth it for the experience of singing that great work. The first, on the Wednesday was on home territory, in Poole, then two days later we were in Portsmouth Guildhall. Because Friday was a busy day at work, I left it to the last minute to set off, and was beginning to panic as I drove into Portsmouth with less than half an hour to go to the start of the concert and not sure where I was going to park, but at least I was already changed. As I approached the Guildhall I saw a multi-story car park, drove in, found a space, picked up my music and walked briskly to the venue, arriving just in time to take my place in the basses as we walked on. When the concert was over, I returned to the car park only to find that it was locked. There was an emergency phone number which I rang, only to find that it was the police station, and they were not going to do anything to help. All I could do was go to a nearby taxi rank, and ask one of the drivers to take me to a B&B. He dropped me off at one he knew about, and they accepted my explanation as to why all I had was some music. Nevertheless it felt odd the next morning eating my breakfast wearing a dress shirt. The other performances were at the Festival Hall in London, and at the Colston Hall in Bristol, which I really enjoyed, and the travel went rather more smoothly. We were now into December, and an extra carol concert was scheduled for Barnstaple, but I decided to give it a miss.
Everything changed in the new year. At the first practice I attended, it was explained that the performance of Mahler's 8th Symphony had been cancelled, as the expense could not be justified; it was being replaced with performances of the 2nd Symphony instead. Much as I like that work, I had sung it seven or eight times before, and it was the 8th Symphony that I was looking forward to. This was the third time projected performances had fallen through, and it seemed destined that one of my life's ambitions was never going to be fulfilled. It also transpired that all the scheduled concerts for the rest of 1993 involved works that I had sung before. One of the big attractions of singing in the Chorus was the opportunity to perform unfamiliar works. Was it really worth all the travelling? Reluctantly I decided to resign with immediate effect, even though I knew it was going to be very difficult to find a choral society that even approached its standard.
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