Dublin Day 3
One of the things that struck me about Evensong on Saturday was the slick, no-nonsense approach of the liturgy. The prayers were about 3 minutes long which, heathen as it sounds, I think is ample. But even that aside, everything just generally flowed — no pregnant ‘reflective’ pauses (which have the effect of appearing that someone’s forgotten their lines) — in the way that high church should. Very clear Orders of Service, complete with hymn melodies, add to the efficiency that characterises this place.
Eucharist was similarly slick (by which I don’t mean rushed) and overall one of the more enjoyable ones I’ve sung at in a long time. The Gabrielli sat very comfortably for the choir; the Gloria really rocked!
Coffee served after the service but frankly there’s good beer waiting for us the Porterhouse and it would be rude not to spend as much of lunch there as possible.
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We’ve just finished rehearsing for evensong; I’d forgotten just how much I love singing the Howells St Paul’s Service. I’ve been through various phases with this piece, initially obsessed with it but later deeming it to be both overdone and too bombastic and searingly emotional to be appropriate in a liturgical setting. It turns my mind back to my A level music teacher who said that he could barely bring himself to teach Tristan and Isolde (notably the Prelude) to a class of teenagers because of the erotic connotations the music had for him. Similarly (though not in the erotic sense!), it just seemed to me for some time that The St Paul’s service is TOO intense for the setting; we may enjoy singing it, but what do the congregation and clergy make of such outpouring?
The critical reception following first performances of Howells’s canticles gives me some perspective. Eric Milner-White, Dean of York, after first hearing the Gloucester service, commented: “the choir sang it beautifully. It is not a service which can or should be sung on the weekly bill; its intensity is too great. That does not mean we shall seldom sing it but we shall take special pains over it when we do sing it”.
Anyway, I enjoyed singing the St Paul’s enormously on Sunday, with a choir that can do it eminent justice and in a setting where the congregation are sat some distance from the choir stalls probably eased my discomfit. The responses (Howells again) were also a grand old sing, though I confess that by the time Wilby’s Jubilate came round is was too knackered to sing or enjoy it properly. Actually — note to self — next time I pull out HSP, pair it up with with an light-sing anthem.
After evensong we had 2 hours left to explore Dublin before our flight. So we went to the pub again.
At the airport, Judith and David had a snog on the tarmac in full view of everyone (“seeing as no on else is going to”). Sorry guys, but that’s like thinking of your parents doing it!
I thought the quality of banter was at its highest on the return flight, Exultate taking up the back six rows and giving the rugby team a run for their raucous money.
We taxied over to the runway at turtle-neck pace which recalled for me the absurd climax of Liar, Liar and that at this speed it probably is possible to chase an aeroplane on motorised air steps! Another enduring memory will be the steward clumsily stuffing RJ’s tailored Saville Row jacket into the overhead locker prior to take-off with Richard looking on in anguish. Revelling in his expression, I quipped “careful, that’s a fifty-quid jacket!”.
Ian and I got dropped off at the flat about 10 o’clock. Ultimately elevated, but nevertheless slightly flat, we stood at our front doors remarking “well I guess that’s it”.
“Fancy a quick pint?”
Categories: Music, Travel, singing
Comments
Timbo says: Yes but then you do have twice as many children as my parents which at least doubles the age differential ;-)
Nearly left that bit out actually but thought I’d see if it got a rise =]
Judith says: Actually, you’re right. With all those kids I feel pretty ancient. Not to say past it. Better go and put my feet up.
Hey, “like thinking of your parents doing it?”…? Outrageous… I’m not *that* much older than you, Reader. Waiting for you lot to get on with it is like watching paint dry (David’s words, not mine)! The only people who were getting physical were Richard and Ian in the pub, and that doesn’t count because they’re both boys.
Seriously, thanks for the entertaining posts. Dublin was fun.
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