Some people are addicted to caffeine, or endorphines, or nicotine. Me, it's choral music. Especially English cathedral choral music. There's just nothing more soul-stirring than the sound of those little choristers' pure soprano voices reverberating through the rafters. The angels themselves must be jealous!
Last Sunday I drove up to Carlisle Cathedral about an hour north of my house specifically to hear the choir tackle a piece we did in Festival Singers this semester by the contemporary British composer Bob Chilcott, entitled "A Little Jazz Mass." I was so psyched about hearing this glorious composition performed in a setting like that. A church has stood on that very spot since 1133, so for the historical value alone I figured it could be awesome.
Let's just say the choir did their best, but pretty much sucked, bless their hearts. The saints were not stirred. I think it was a matter of being under-rehearsed and, as the cnductor said afterward, the piece was "out of the singers' comfort zone." From the quality of the music throughout the service, I surmise that "Three Blind Mice" is out of those guys' comfort zone, but I was far too kind to tell him that.
Today in York, however, made up for the musical calamity in Carlisle. I got a big ol' choral fix at York Minster, whose choral tradition goes back over 500 years. Boys enter its exclusive choir school as young as 7 or 8 and remain until age 13 (when their voices break).
Besides having a first-rate choir, York holds the distinction of being the first major cathedral in the U.K. to admit girls into its choir school. Only a few times a year do the boys and girls -- and of course the choral scholars, consisting of adult males -- sing together. And today's Evensong service, marking the end of the school term for the students, was one of those joint occasions.
Their rafter-rattling rendition of Handel's majestic anthem "Zadok the Priest" alone was worth the two-hour drive. WOW!! Can I hear an AMEN?! The kids were pumped, it being their last performance before their summer holiday. Moreover, most of their families were there, too, so they were primed to sing their best. And the treble voices had double the strength with both the boys and girls holding forth on the top vocal line.
Everything they sang was simply beautiful and resonant, especially the benediction, a setting of a prayer by John Donne by William Harris. I was blubbering by the end of that one, as were some of the graduating choristers. I got a coveted seat in my favorite spot, in the Quire surrounding the singers, so the acoustics couldn't have been better. Because it was graduation day, the choir's role was dominant in the service.
I happened to be seated next to the mom of one of the little choristers. He auditioned for the choir when he was only six years old -- his own idea, according to Mama -- and admitted when he was 7. Seven! He's now 10. In exchange for performing regularly in the Minster's daily services, he lives at the choir school and receives music instruction as well as all of the basics one would expect in any other top English boarding school. His parents pay a mere 20% of the tuition charged to other students who aren't in the choral program.
Do you know of any seven-year-olds -- or ten-year-olds, for that matter -- who'd initiate the process of contracting themselves to a church to sing in exchange for an education? Or committing to do anything except playing football or computer games or sitting in front of the TV until they're cross-eyed?!
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