Last night, my choir’s winter concert began with a
performance of excerpts from Bach’s Christmas Oratorio. It started so well. As
the last notes of ‘Christians Be Joyful’ faded away, the tenor took his place
on the platform and launched into the recitative: ‘Now it came to pass in those
days.’
But something was amiss. When the piece came to an end, the
organist lifted his hands from the keys, but the sound kept going. Something
was clearly stuck somewhere, because the church was filled with a dismal groan –
and not from the audience. Like the drone of bagpipes, one valve or tube or
some such was resolutely open and its mournful A-flat would not be silenced.
The decision was made to switch off the organ and go with piano accompaniment instead.
As the air wheezed out of the mighty instrument, the tenacious note finally
breathed its last.
Down on the floor of the church, there was a brief commotion
while the piano was wheeled into place and the stool adjusted to the correct
height – at which point it was discovered that the piano lid was locked.
Clearly, someone had to be summoned. As luck would have it, the Keeper of
the Keys was in the audience. He produced a huge bundle from his pocket, but
none was the right one. Further investigation in the vestry was needed. He
disappeared.
Meanwhile, our valiant Musical Director chatted amiably with
the audience, congratulating our accompanist on his versatility.
The keyholder returned and this time was able to unlock the
piano. The concert resumed, but never has a choir been so glad to reach the interval. Punch and mince pies were dispensed to all and the mood was jovial.
The second half went surprisingly well. It included a couple
of world premieres of pieces composed specially for us: a lyrical setting of
the Magnificat and an intricate Benedictus. Both composers were in the church –
well, one of them was in our tenor section, actually – which was lovely. The new
music went down well. Then we rounded off proceedings with Haydn’s Nelson Mass, which
has a Latin title that is generally translated as ‘music for troubled times’,
appropriately enough.
As the audience left at the end of the concert, I heard one
woman say, ‘They did well, considering how challenging the programme was.’
Damning with faint praise.
Last night's carol concert was lovely. We sang some Northamptonshire West Gallery Carols that had been collected by our President, Stephen Weston, which was a treat in itself. What made it even better was that Stephen accompanied us on his ophicleide, which is an ancient serpent-shaped keyed brass instrument that produces the most extraordinary 
