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Psalm 23 (for Toby) (arr. Rowley)
Performed by the King’s School Chapel Choir – Auckland, NZ, November 1991

Back when the world was a little younger than it is now, I sang in the chapel choir at my prep school. Recently, an mp3 conversion of a 1991 recording of the choir (complete with tape hiss) has fallen into my hands. Hearing this music again provoked reflection on an important phase in my musical education.

Surprisingly, 18 years later, the cassette doesn’t entirely make me cringe. We were a pretty decent choir – nowhere near the standard of King’s Cambridge, but entirely respectable for a bunch of 10-to-13 years olds. A few flat kiwi vowels rather ruin the Latin of Fauré’s Ave Verum; the phrasing and timing of consonants is a little haphazard, but overall, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

It’s strange knowing that all those unbroken voices now belong to men who are fathers, engineers, lawyers, marketing lecturers and dentists, living in half a dozen countries. One of us has even served tours of duty in Afghanistan. At one time we were all choristers.

My four years in the choir were entirely formative. First of all, we learned performance discipline. We had four 8am rehearsals on weekday mornings, and four sung services a week (3 weekday chapels and 1 Sunday service), all year outside school holidays. In later musical projects, that sense of committment remains: if you’re in the band, you’re part of a team: turn up to rehearsals, and do the gigs. No excuses.

Benjamin Britten – There is no rose from Ceremony of Carols (Op.28)
Performed by the King’s School Chapel Choir – Auckland, NZ, November 1991

For me, one piece we performed stood out from the rest of our repertoire – Britten’s There is no rose from his Ceremony of Carols. It sounded deep and ancient, a hint of a wider musical world that we might encounter in years to come. At 13 years old, singing Britten somehow seemed serious work, like we were actually performing real music, whatever that was.

Hindsight is treacherous. The imagination has a habit of creating links to the past that perhaps aren’t there. But I can’t help believing that a big part of my love for music finds its roots in endless winter mornings spent in chapel, all those vocal exercises, the routine of robing and the inexorable rhythm of the Book of Common Prayer.

We probably didn’t completely appreciate what we were doing at the time, but almost two decades later, all that singing starts to make sense.

Stephen Sondheim – Send in the Clowns
Performed by the King’s School Chapel Choir – Auckland, NZ, November 1991

Dorchester-on-Thames, Oxfordshire

I could talk about all the wonderful people I’ve met in England who I’ll miss when I leave, but that wouldn’t be very English, would it? One must control one’s emotions and remain self-deprecating in all social situations, including when blogging.

So here are five of the best THINGS about the UK that have made my time here unique and enjoyable.  Who knows, maybe I’ll miss these things so much that I’ll come back?

BBC Radio 4 – the best English-language spoken word radio station in the world? Some people accuse Radio 4 of being too white, middle-class, and biased towards the Home Counties.  But nowhere else can you hear John Humphries mercilessly grill  Gordon Brown, follow Sandi Toksvig up the Amazon or get advice on which side of the house to plant your camellia bushes.  Oh, and every night at 7pm Tom Archer will be worrying about feeding his cows.

Beer - more specifically, ale and bitter, which I learned to love through many visits to venerable Oxford establishments such as The Turf and the Lamb and Flag. People must be truly mad to buy Amstel or Fosters when in Oxford. To drink lager in historic and well-oiled pubs such as these would surely be sacrilege. Bottoms up!

Comedy – Like beer, comedy makes life in Britain tolerable.   The best British comedy and humour relies on self-deprecation, wit and a dose of surreal silliness, and there is so much of it to enjoy in the UK.  Personal favourites include Peep Show, the ubiquitous Paul Merton, Never Mind the Buzzcocks, Private Eye and of course I’m Sorry I Haven’t a Clue.

Choral music - I wrote about the long English tradition of choral singing in a recent post.  Even if most English people don’t realise it, English choirs are the envy of the world. Whether you believe the theology behind it or not, sung Evensong must be one of the greatest pieces of English art ever devised.

Sandwich shops – Nowhere else in the world has sandwich shops quite like Britain. I’m not talking about Subway, Greggs or Pret. I mean the little independent shops squeezed into alleyways off high streets, where a husband and wife team (or their Polish assistant) will customise your favourite tuna and sweetcorn sandwich while you wait. Personal favourites include A Patch of Blue in Calne, Wiltshire and the Oxford Sandwich Co in the Covered Markets.

Eustache Du Caurroy – Sanctus

Eustache Du Caurroy – Benedicamus Domino

From the Missa Pro Defunctis by Eustache Du Caurroy
Performed by the Choir of New College, Oxford
From Eustache du Caurroy: Requiem Mass & Motets [emusic] [amazon]

Listen to this music. The writing below does no justice to what you hear. Listen to the music. Ignore the rather pretentious words that follow, words that grasp towards a sincere expression of wonder, surprise and gratitude, but fall far short. Instead, listen.

If you lived in New York, you might write more about jazz or hip-hop. In Dakar you might’ve written about mbalax. As it’s turned out, living in Oxford has offered the gift of (re)discovering choral music. In particular, the New College Choir has featured numerous times previously on this blog.

Last Sunday night was the end Trinity Term and the last sung evensong at New College before I leave Oxford, (yes, I’m leaving – perhaps a subject for a separate post sometime). I don’t depart for another couple of months, but I already know that of all the magic of this strange city, I will miss most of all the evenings spent in New College’s mediaeval chapel.

Photo by Lawrence OP

When they sing at their best, this choir makes the planet stop turning. Their music sounds like falling backwards forever through a stained glass universe, Lux æterna.

When Eustache du Caurroy wrote the Missa pro defunctis for the funeral of Henry IV of France in 1610, the Choir of New College had already been singing in Oxford for more than 200 years.

It’s been a mysterious and wonderful privilege to participate, if ever so peripherally, in a continuing tradition of music and worship that stretches back so far into our past. Thank you, Dr Higginbottom and the boys and clerks of the choir. May others continue to find inspiration in your work and singing. Floreat Collegium Novum.

Born in Tavistock in Devon in 1944, Surman has made a career of reflecting his English heritage through the prism of jazz and improvised music – a theme that started with his work in the Mike Westbrook Concert Band in the 1960s, and continued on albums such as Westering Home (Future Music Records FMRCD 16) and The Amazing Adventures of Simon Simon (ECM 1193).

Two contrasting selections today: Alignment is a solo improvisation recorded in Oslo in September 1991. No Twilight features Surman with John Taylor on organ and the Salisbury Festival Chorus, and was recorded live at Salisbury Cathedral in June 1996. The text is a reference to the Old Testament book of Job.

John Surman – Alignment
From In the Evenings Out There: ECM 1488 [Buy]

John Surman – No Twilight
From Proverbs and Songs: ECM 1639 [Buy]

Let the stars of the twilight be dark
Let it look for light but find none
Neither let it see the eyelids of the morning
(The Book of Job, Chapter 3)