February 2014.
I've found the album that our school choir recorded in 1975.
It's a vinyl LP, with a cover photo of all of us on the stairs of the Adelaide Festival Theatre.
On the back of the cover, someone calls Rex Stacy is quoted as saying:
"I stumbled upon this happy group of girl choristers quite by chance one Saturday, having been diverted to a special flight, bound for Adelaide, and returning the choir after a triumphant Sydney performance.
So effervescent was their enthusiasm that the Captain of the aircraft requested a "Command Performance" in flight, which duly took place high above Terra Firma, to the delight of both passengers and crew.
This recording captures the professional charm of traditional choral arrangements which have earned the choir much success and praise at home and in interstate championships, under the baton of Pembroke School Music Director - Colin Curtis, coupled with brilliant renditions of modern song arrangements stylishly penned by producer/arranger Alan Slater.
When one considers that the average age of the singers would be a mere 15-16 years, such spine-tingling performances become even more incredible.
I feel certain that your enjoyment in listening to this choral selection will match the satisfaction which was experienced in hearing the finished master tape, from the sheer joy of SING, and the magical tapestry of LARK IN THE CLEAR AIR to the melodic splendour of SHENANDOAH."
I had completely forgotten about that in-flight performance, but now the memory of it returns, along with the excitement of winning the competitions.
This was my introduction to the world of musical performance. I went in at age 11 and finished at 17. Listening to this album makes me marvel at the discipline that was required to get 70 girls to sing like this.
It also reminds me why, when I returned to singing a few years ago, I tended to sing exactly what was written, rather than "intepreting" the song (a skill I have had to learn). In choral-world, "unison" means unison; no voices must be out of place. Pitch, harmony and rhythm must be perfectly accurate. If you can't reach the note, shut up and let the girl next to you carry it.
You must always blend in with the others.
Which presents a challenge when performing solo - I have had to get used to being the main attraction.
I also remember how we sang these songs on "auto-pilot". We had to memorize every song; no sheet music was allowed at performances. I don't remember working very hard to learn the songs; it just happened week by week. I didn't think much about the meaning of the words. This may have been a good thing because some of the lyrics were a bit strange. "Because" by the Beatles came straight from the psychedelic age. And there were several massive songs by Hungarian composer Zoltan Kodaly. These were intricate, spectacular arrangements of traditional folk songs telling of peasants' celebrations on various religious holidays - quite outside the realms of our own experience. One of these songs, ("Whitsuntide") is seven minutes long; it had to be embedded deep in your brain.
Lyrics in English, French, Latin, Hungarian - we learned them syllable by syllable. We had no "connection" to the words, but it didn't seem to matter, as we won competition after competition.
When we produced "the goods", the moment felt spiritual.
The album has lost a bit of its sparkle in the conversion to digital, but there are still some magical moments.
I'm singing the bass line.
Click to listen to choir song: "Wainamoinen Makes Music"
I've found the album that our school choir recorded in 1975.
It's a vinyl LP, with a cover photo of all of us on the stairs of the Adelaide Festival Theatre.
On the back of the cover, someone calls Rex Stacy is quoted as saying:
"I stumbled upon this happy group of girl choristers quite by chance one Saturday, having been diverted to a special flight, bound for Adelaide, and returning the choir after a triumphant Sydney performance.
So effervescent was their enthusiasm that the Captain of the aircraft requested a "Command Performance" in flight, which duly took place high above Terra Firma, to the delight of both passengers and crew.
This recording captures the professional charm of traditional choral arrangements which have earned the choir much success and praise at home and in interstate championships, under the baton of Pembroke School Music Director - Colin Curtis, coupled with brilliant renditions of modern song arrangements stylishly penned by producer/arranger Alan Slater.
When one considers that the average age of the singers would be a mere 15-16 years, such spine-tingling performances become even more incredible.
I feel certain that your enjoyment in listening to this choral selection will match the satisfaction which was experienced in hearing the finished master tape, from the sheer joy of SING, and the magical tapestry of LARK IN THE CLEAR AIR to the melodic splendour of SHENANDOAH."
I had completely forgotten about that in-flight performance, but now the memory of it returns, along with the excitement of winning the competitions.
This was my introduction to the world of musical performance. I went in at age 11 and finished at 17. Listening to this album makes me marvel at the discipline that was required to get 70 girls to sing like this.
It also reminds me why, when I returned to singing a few years ago, I tended to sing exactly what was written, rather than "intepreting" the song (a skill I have had to learn). In choral-world, "unison" means unison; no voices must be out of place. Pitch, harmony and rhythm must be perfectly accurate. If you can't reach the note, shut up and let the girl next to you carry it.
You must always blend in with the others.
Which presents a challenge when performing solo - I have had to get used to being the main attraction.
I also remember how we sang these songs on "auto-pilot". We had to memorize every song; no sheet music was allowed at performances. I don't remember working very hard to learn the songs; it just happened week by week. I didn't think much about the meaning of the words. This may have been a good thing because some of the lyrics were a bit strange. "Because" by the Beatles came straight from the psychedelic age. And there were several massive songs by Hungarian composer Zoltan Kodaly. These were intricate, spectacular arrangements of traditional folk songs telling of peasants' celebrations on various religious holidays - quite outside the realms of our own experience. One of these songs, ("Whitsuntide") is seven minutes long; it had to be embedded deep in your brain.
Lyrics in English, French, Latin, Hungarian - we learned them syllable by syllable. We had no "connection" to the words, but it didn't seem to matter, as we won competition after competition.
When we produced "the goods", the moment felt spiritual.
The album has lost a bit of its sparkle in the conversion to digital, but there are still some magical moments.
I'm singing the bass line.
Click to listen to choir song: "Wainamoinen Makes Music"
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