Choir Practice

Our constitution states, ‘The choir is a social organisation, with the aim of promoting the love of music and the welfare of its members’, but we take our singing very seriously and many of us practice twice a week. Main practice is on Friday night and Paul, our Musical Director, runs this. On Wednesday evening Geoff, our Assistant Musical Director, works on new pieces and revises known songs to help people catch up or accelerate their learning. Wednesday is a more relaxed evening with only half the choir attending but it can get very intense when we’re ‘note bashing’. Friday night just before seven finds me coming through the main entrance to be confronted by the raffle ticket sellers. For a miserly pound I get the chance to win the all day breakfast. Eggs, bacon sausage, mushrooms, tomatoes and black pudding are waiting for one lucky person to take home for a fry up. In less than three years I’ve won it twice and I’m beginning to feel guilty. Some long-term members haven’t won it once!

I arrive in the practice room to find Roland swooping towards me with his sweets. For a gift of any small change found in your pocket you get to choose two of Roland’s sweets. All proceeds go to the choir fund and the sweets help keep the throat lubricated, at least for the first few songs. Liquorice torpedoes and wine gums remind me of my youth and that seems very appropriate since the rumour is that Roland bought them just after the Second World War!

Finally we settle down to practice. Paul calls us to order and we respond instantly. Well not quite. Given the average age of the choir, the abundance of hearing aids and everyone’s propensity to gossip, Paul has had to learn to be patient. We begin with oohs and arhs as we practice singing vowels and scales and follow instructions from Paul to ‘wrap our mouths round the sound and put our tongues behind our teeth.’ We’re all impatient to start singing proper songs but trust that Paul knows what he’s doing. He tells us that this is improving our performance and he’s the boss. I’ve come to enjoy these exercises and find that by the time I’m finished my teeth feel a lot cleaner!

Paul and Geoff bring very different styles to our practices. Geoff is a ‘carrot’ man whereas Paul knows how to use ‘carrot and stick’ to good effect. Both use lots of praise and humour in bringing out the best in us but Paul works us hard on diction, expression and intonation. Given that most of us live within spitting distance of Featherstone, getting us to be even a bit more refined in our singing is a hard task. Some might say impossible. As for getting us to smile while singing: well all I can say is a lesser man would have given up long ago.

Both Geoff and Paul use the same recipe for learning new songs. Members from each section take turns in listening to a phrase of the song played on the piano and then we repeat the phrase two or three times until the music is firmly fixed in our heads. When all sections have done this we sing together in various combinations: sometimes first and second tenors, sometimes bass and baritones etc. whilst the rest of us wait patiently for our turn. This well-tried system makes it simple to learn harmonies for the songs and even new members find this easy. Learning the words of course is a different matter and that has to be done at home. I have all sorts of weird and wonderful ways of doing that, as do, I’m sure, other members of the choir. It’s the learning of words that I’m certain keeps minds active and accounts for the rapier wit often heard in the choir. Ken in the first tenors often turns to me and says, ‘ The problem with this choir is we have too many comedians.’

The interval arrives and David our chairman stands up to give out the notices. Part of this ritual is announcing whose birthday it is that week and then the piano strikes up and we all sing happy birthday. When the notices are over we form an orderly queue for tea. (People have been known to be trampled!!) We are fortunate to have three ladies, Maureen, Eileen and Joyce, who week after week turn up and make the tea. Proceeds again go to the choir. Biscuits are available and some nights there is even a spread provided, courtesy of whoever is celebrating a birthday. This usually happens on evenings when I’ve had a big dinner but you have to tuck in don’t you? It would be impolite to refuse. The break is always interesting as we sit with the same people and conversation flows. Jokes are told, insults are hurled and we all laugh a lot. There is a great comarardary throughout the choir.

The bell rings and we all scuttle back to our places. Another three-quarters of an hour practice before we go home. Once we know a song reasonably well Paul attempts to refine our efforts. ‘Gentlemen, this is a happy song. You’re supposed to smile. You all look as though you are about to be tortured.’
‘Gentlemen, this is a love song. Try to instil some passion into your voices, if you can still remember what that is.’
‘Gentlemen, this man is singing about going out to conquer the world. You lot sound like you’re going to a wake. Put some life into it.’
Slowly we get the message and the song begins to take shape. We sing with feeling and expression. Softly when we need to and in full voice for the crescendos. The harmonies blend to produce one sound and we all know we are singing well. At these moments I expect that those listening cannot help be stirred by the music and sitting in the second tenor section I can feel elated to be part of all this. It’s no wonder members of male voice choirs live longer than other men. (Or is this just a rumour Paul and Geoff have circulated to ensure we keep turning up for practices.)   D. D.

Learning Songs!
Singing in a choir is a great joy. At concerts when you know the words of a song and have practised the notes, all you have to do is keep your eyes on the conductor and follow his directions. Nothing to it really. So why aren’t too many people willing to sing on the front row? Knowing these men as I do, I’m sure it’s not because they are shy. I have come to the conclusion that some singers never feel completely confident that they will remember all the words of a song and, as we all know, on the front row there is nowhere to hide!

It does seem that as we get older, it becomes harder to remember things. I recall that as a teenager, I would listen to a pop song two or three times and could sing all the words, even in the style of the artist. It was no trouble for me to be Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison or Buddy Holly. Today, at the age of sixty-two, all that has changed. For someone who can’t remember why he’s gone upstairs, learning the words of a song is a nightmare. So how do I do it?

Reading the words time and time again doesn’t work for me. Nothing goes in. Singing the words time and time again also has limited success. I’ve tried mnemonics, you know, using some sort of association to remind me of the words. Trouble is, not only can’t I remember the words but I also forget what the association is. So I have twice as much to learn and am no better off! I’ve tried reading the words in time to hitting myself on the head, in the vague hope that it will ‘force’ the words in. This works quite well if you enjoy sado-masochism and migraines.

Of course, it’s not all down to my poor memory. Some of the songs we learn are written in archaic or romantic verse. We spend some of our time singing about rippling rills and shady dells and even a gitana whatever that is. The best bet in the second tenors is that it’s a cross between a piano and a guitar but what do we know. Some songs have a language structure that is well passed its sell by date! When was the last time you heard a man say to his children, ‘Come on it’s bedtime because slowly stealing o’er the plain, evening shadows longer grow?’ These words are very beautiful but it would be a lot easier for me to learn something like, ‘Night is coming.’ I don’t suppose songwriters give a second thought for this second tenor who is struggling to learn the words. Then of course there are the songs we sing in German and Russian but don’t get me started on that.

Another problem I have found, particularly with Christmas songs, is that many contain very similar phrases, so if I’m trying to master several songs at once, I start muddling the words to a point where I have invented a whole new song. As Morecambe and Wise so famously said, I’m singing all the right words but not necessarily in the right order.

So what’s the answer? One method is to resort to technology. It’s a little known fact that I have a small organ, which I play with in the bedroom. I bought it from Argos for a mere twenty pound and as an instrument of music it is a disaster. One key doesn’t work at all and playing three or more notes simultaneously creates the most dreadful discord. What it does allow me to do is to play the second tenor harmonies whilst singing the words into a dictaphone: another piece of out of date technology press-ganged into service. The outcome from all my efforts is a tinny, shrill version of what I’m trying to learn. It sounds like one of those recordings, made on a wax cylinder at the turn of the last century, that crackle and hiss. If that isn’t enough to put me off, there are bum notes and wrong words, as I attempt with disastrous results to play music and read lyrics at the same time.
I take this appalling noise with me wherever I go and, when alone, play it time and time again. This is the starting point for the real learning which I am about to embark on.
I start with one small phrase at a time and recite it until I know it or my wife threatens divorce. I then move to the next phrase and repeat the exercise. Often, after learning the second phrase, I go back to find I’ve forgotten the first but I then work on both together.
I can also be found on my exercise bike, which I keep on the landing outside my bedroom, peddling away like mad whilst reciting words. The exercise bike is pretty boring so I’m killing two birds with one stone. My worry in my early choir days was that I would not be able to sing unless peddling on my bike and I thought that if others followed my example we might have to become The Featherstone Male Voice Harriers! I also adopted the practice of repeating words out loud while sitting in cafes and walking around shops but had to give up after the men in white coats started following me.

After three years in the choir I feel I have mastered most of the songs I need to at the moment but am aware that there are hundreds more in the choir’s repertoire. I work a little at a time on each new song and turn up to both Wednesday and Friday night practices. The long serving members of the choir tell me I’m making good progress and will be well on top of things by 2040! They may have to dig me up for that concert! To be fair, I always feel very satisfied when I finally master a song and can sing confidently without music copy. It is then that I realise I’m just a grumpy old man and learning words keeps me alive, by giving me something to do and something to complain about.

NB gitana is a female gypsy.

D.D.