I chose the Royal Blackbird (sometimes just known as The Blackbird) which is Irish in origin. The first stanza, which I set, is below and the full poem, with *a* version of the original melody (not actually the one I worked from), can be found here.

‘Twas on a fine morning for soft recreation,
I heard a fair lady a-making her moan,
Sighing and sobbing with sad lamentation
And crying: “My blackbird most royal is flown;
My thoughts they do deceive me,
Reflection it grieves me,
And I am abandoned with sad misery,
Yet ere death shall bind me,
As true love inclines me,
I’ll seek out my blackbird wherever he may be”.

Many thanks to Pete for suggesting it in the first place.

It’s an Irish folksong, dating back to the 1700s following the expulsion of James II from the throne in 1688. Through a layer of metaphor and symbolism, the later verses reveal an anti-English, pro-Jacobean theme which was strongly felt in Ireland at this time, particularly amongst Catholics. The clouded meaning was to disguise the sentiment so it could still be sung publicly, even in a time of oppression and persecution.

The words of the first verse don’t particularly imply this, and my musical setting of the text therefore embodies a less specific interpretation of loss, grief and despair, the blackbird being a symbol of something precious and personal, now lost. It has a hopeful ending, with a resolve to ‘seek out’ this precious thing wherever it may be.

If you wish to use it in any way, you are free to do so without restriction. Follow the download links:

• The Royal Blackbird arr. TimReader (sheet music – pdf)
• The Royal Blackbird – arr. Tim Reader (recording – mp3)

Kind thanks to the Exultate Singers for recording it last night and David Ogden for allowing me to hijack his choir :-)

Muchos gratitude to Ian also for his generous assistance typesetting it.

Predicated on an accurate-enough observation — that choirs are a breeding ground for temptation, hormones, infidelity and betrayal (though it’s not all fun) — there was some reasonable hope that this might be a half decent, touchingly human drama.

I was wrong; it’s uniformly awful. At least this Guardian review says all you need to know about it.

But I’ll probably tune in next week anyway.

I know it’s hard, night after night, 8 performances a week popping out top As and Bs so I wonder whether he was just tired or having a bad day.

Regular readers — both of you — will recall that I derive much pleasure attempting to pitch the top B at the end of ‘Who am I?” and the A in “Bring him home”.

(If you’re not sure what a (baritone) top B sounds like — or how electrifying — the last note of Thunderball should give you a clue =] )

If it wasn’t a one-off, without wishing to be uncharitable, one wonders why someone is cast to sing a role where many crucial notes are outside his range?

It was just disappointing because I remember the first time I saw Les Mis, on my 18th birthday, and never new people could sing that high!! It was really exciting and I’m sorry for the other youngsters who missed that thrill on Wednesday.

The other minor disappointment was Jon Robyns as Marius, though in fairness that’s largely because, for me, one man owns this role. Actually, Robyns’ singing was really good but his Will Young-esque features didn’t look Marius enough for me, and I didn’t think he played it with the same depth, conviction or awareness as Hadley all those years ago.

Otherwise, a fantastic ensemble performance of my favourite musical — I don’t think there are many West End shows that get a standing ovation nearly every time.

A final gripe, but this time about audiences. I would seem to have shared a similar experience to Stephenfry, as he points out, following his trip to see Rowan in Oliver! –

600 people went to the theatre, not to to see Oliver but to compete in a paper & chocolate wrapper rustling competition. Others came to cough

Similarly, my neighbours in Les Mis talked incessantly throughout the performance, not even in hushed tones but at conversation volume — even in the face of my hints which ranged from the polite (glancing over, leaning forward with finger in left ear) to the blunt (“ShhHHHHHhhhh!”). When I worked out that they were not English speakers it appeared that one was translating for the other I was momentarily mollified… and then promptly more indignant than before: why don’t they buy a programme or read wikipedia like everyone else who doesn’t know what it’s about? Being foreign doesn’t exempt you! Maybe it’s a cultural difference but from my travel experience, I haven’t found anywhere in the world where talking audibly during a performance is acceptable.

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.

* * *

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?”

Another glorious day; those of us of an optimistic disposition are thankful (smug?) we packed shorts and sandals. The coach takes us direct to the cathedral bright and early, in time to start rehearsing at 10. We’re singing music which is, to me at least, a healthy mix of new/old, approachable/challenging.

The Gabrielli mass, for example was new to me (you can imagine my delight when David assigned the Benedictus to a quartet then asked us sing it at sight to the rest of the choir :-p )

Evensong today is Buxtehude Magnificat, Holst Nunc, some Schutz I don’t much care for and is in kraut so can’t remember the name, and Howells responses. The splitting of the canticles over two works/composers makes that feel a longer list than normal and it’s the latter item that’s going to stretch us.

I’ve done the Howells responses only once before, that was ten years ago. Now I know why: they’re rock hard! Even the cantor parts require an extremely on-the-ball singer (thankfully we had Mr Bacon at the helm). By the afternoon, we had them almost nailed and they’ll be fine for Sunday. Impressive work.

At lunchtime we found our way to the Porterhouse on Parliament Street which appears to be the only place in Dublin to get real ale. Worth the expedition though — for both the ales and the food. Best burgers most of us have had since our last visit to GBK. Lovely layout too, lots of levels.

All in all a good evensong, though there’s something about Latin canticles and a German anthem that leaves me a little lukewarm. Perhaps it just detracts from the quintessentially English nature of choral evensong.

Saturday evening was lighter on gastronomic quality (Richard could nearly turn his plate on its side without the gravy moving) but high on ‘craic‘. At the Brazen Hussy after evensong, Sue made yours truly sink a pint of (very fizzy) Paulaner and later doing a similar thing with Ian a la the Whose Line is it Anyway “helping hands” routine. There was also some man-love but the less about that the better.

We persuaded the coach to take us back a little earlier and were able to enjoy the dying minutes of the balmy day sat out on the lawn and enjoying some final Sols/whiskey/whatever’s your poison.

Meanwhile, mine and J’s attempts at giving the choir something to gossip about are failing miserably…

The theme of the airport wait and flight was the tight-fistedness and no-frills-ness of Ryanair. Having not flown with them before I was somewhat in the dark but only too happy to join in the banter (“you mean you’d like to breathe oxygen in the cabin?” / “ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to land in Dublin; any passengers wishing to alight, there will be a 10-euro surcharge”). Once on the flight I soon realised what they meant. All the same, return to Dublin for £100 — no complaints from me. The only nuisance is all the security checks, the compulsory disposal of anything over 100ml and the slightly over-familiar man-on-man frisking. But you’d get that with anyone, so moving on…

We arrived and the weather was a noticeable few degrees higher and few clouds sparser than Bristol and actually felt we’d flown a good distance further south.

Our coach took us to the quaint theological college, where we were greeted by Angharad catching few rays on the green relaxing on the mildly incongruous beer garden furniture.

A 10-minute turnaround and we were back on the coach heading towards town to Il Vicoletto for the evening mean. It’s getting on for 9 o’clock and all these connections are seriously encroaching on beer time!

Sitting with the Seal (and as ever seeking his approval) one felt obliged to drink the right colour wine with dinner (ergo WHITE. Sulk). Mind you he ordered us a pretty crisp Pinot Grigio which was hard to argue with. The food here was delicious and, in over-priced Dublin, great value at 35 euros for 3 courses (I had: bruschetta, sea bass and tiramisu).

We were just in time for a pint at the Lord Ed — the regular lay clerks’ haunt — opposite the cathedral. No real ale but when in Rome and all that – I had a Guinness (the first of many). It was OK. Didn’t taste like the divine elixir that was promised but good all the same. Never mind sea bass — a few more pints of this and I’ll be a C-bass myself in the morning.

Back to the college and – startlingly – straight to bed!

Zzzz

That was Toby’s Easter morning greeting, rousing me from my slumber — not unrepresentative of our exchanges of the past two weeks which have been almost exclusively in Blackadder or Fry and Laurie quotations.

The early rise was in aid of singing Eucharist at the cathedral, and regular readers may recall this being my chance to redeem myself after a shameful vocal display on Friday.

More good music and another big sing (which I wasn’t really up to still, but…): Langlais Messe Sollenelle and Worthy is the Lamb/Amen, otherwise known as the finale from Handel’s Messiah.

I really enjoyed it, and was more satisfied with my own contribution, but it wasn’t until Sunday afternoon when I opted to listen instead of sing (Toby’s paternal and holy commitments kept us from comfortably making the evensong rehearsal) that I realised what a first-rate cathedral choir this is, and what potential they have under the new leadership of Joseph Nolan. They sang Noble in B minor (apparently one of his favourites – hmm…) and all five of VW’s Five Mystical songs.

I cycled to and from Perth to here this; about 25k round trip and good preparation for my visit to Rottnest Island on Thursday — and my intended cycle round the perimeter of the whole island.

In the meantime, a few tactical stretches ahead of tomorrow’s Surf Camp might be wise…

• Exquisite feast of Lenten polyphony – Allegri miserere, Tallis Lamentations, Sheppard Media Vita.
• Excellent choir, a mix of pros and gifted amateurs and a talented new director of music.
• Beautiful building and an honour to participate in Holy Week worship in a foreign land.

But.

I sang like a git! (which isn’t as strong a word as I’d like to use but my parents read this) I mean really, really shamefully. No tone, no technique, cracking on every other note. My 13 year old self would have done better!

All a result of my aforementioned cough/sore throat, and quite a scare actually (what if I’ve done permanent damage?), enough to keep me away from the beer for a few more days I can tell you.

Thankfully I could redeem myself on Sunday morning (they’d already asked me before hearing my yodelling din!) and I’ll write more about the choir and cathedral then when I’m feeling a bit less grumpy about the whole thing.

Huff.

This last week I’ve managed to tick off a further two from the 40-something which I’m currently half-way through. And what titans they are.

Durham was my first destination, singing with the Dionysus Singers the weekend before New Year.

Due to ‘staff shortages’ I ended up singing countertenor in the hitherto unknown (to me) but pretty tasty Puer natus est nobis, a mass by Tallis. It felt so comfortable, and I don’t believe I offended too many ears, that I’m consequently contemplating a choral career change. More on that another time…

Then just yesterday, I was in Norwich singing with the Cathedral Consort + friends, under the auspicious direction of David McKee. Norwich is widely thought to be a long way from just about anywhere civilised but with the traffic on your side and the occasional flexible interpretation of the speed limit, it can be done in just 4 hours from Bristol. And however long the commute, it’s one of those cathedrals that justifies it the minute you arrive.

Actually, I’m full of praise for Norwich as a city in general. For somewhere that might appear to be something of a backwater it appears to “have everything” with the added bonus that no one seems to have latched onto this making houses prices so low that my friends Dave and Sarah have bought, as their first property, a 4 bedroom semi.

Two moderately humorous things about “Dionysus”: when I enquired of a regular as to the meaning of the name, I was told it was the Dionysus is the Greek god of wine. In a rare moment of erudition I remarked that I thought that was Bacchus. After some debate we concluded that one must be the Greek god and the other Roman. Actually they are one and the same (both Greek).

The other, I learn reading up on him is that he was said to be womanly or “man-womanish”. Decidedly fitting if act on my bass to alto conversion!

I grow more convinced that the only way to achieve great things is to set goals. It seems a bit contrived in adult life, but writing down and making a commitment to where you want to be in, say, a year’s time seems to be about the most sure-fire way of arriving there.

Last January I wrote 10 new year resolutions and I’m pleased to say I stuck to them.

Running

I began running on 4th January in order to lose some weight. By 4 Feb I ran my first 10k and in September my first half marathon. The principle reason was vanity (needed to lose a stone – which I did) but there were a whole host of secondary benefits which I wouldn’t have accounted for

• increased fitness and motivation
• increased well-being; fresh air and exercise are the world’s best-kept secret health remedy
• exploring my local environment, including Leigh Woods, the Portway, the Downs and the Pill cycle path
• sense of achievement

Jazz piano

I’ve wanted to get back into playing generally but in particular I wanted to learn some jazz piano, since I was a kid. So in September I contacted Jason Rebello and had my first jazz piano lesson. I’ve also had the good fortune to get involved in accompanying the Bristol Cabot Choir so am keeping my hand in with the classical stuff too.

English

In the summer I decided that I want to further my education in an area unrelated to music or web. Initially I looked into A level courses for Maths or Physics but got lured by English Literature. And boy am I glad. To date, we’ve looked only at Carol Ann Duffy, King Lear and Emma but it’s been worth the course fees already. A whole world of culture hitherto unknown.

Professional

My employers, Futurelab, have had a successful year and I’m proud to be able to see my role in that. We relaunched two websites, Futurelab and Enquiring Minds and they are amongst the best web projects I’ve worked on in my 5 years in the trade. I also got to work with two world-class web agencies: Nameless in Bristol and Clearleft in Brighton. Futurelab are pushing and pushing me and whilst it sometimes feels like a slog, I’m grateful for the skill I gain from being here. Not to mention beer buddies :-)

Table tennis

2007 will be the year of the table tennis tournaments!

Singing

What an awesome year for singing! Spem in Alium three times, Gerontius and the Kingdom as part of Bristol’s Elgar Festival, and Three Choirs in Exeter with Wells and Bristol. I took my own choir to St David’s for a weekend of singing, boozing and all-round bon homie. Stacks of pics and anecdotes on the website.

General

So sure, the summer was a washout and England nosedived in the football again. But these things don’t matter. Sure, McLaren’s lot don’t have many goals to look back over in 2007 — but I do.