Spooky

Ever ready to acknowledge a kindred spirit, Mr Gnome relished a brief but uplifting encounter with Chris Samuel at the recent Community Choirs Festival.

Check Chris's website for a glimpse of his mission to awaken people to the life-enhancing joys and benefits of singing in groups - just for the fun of it.

A brisk glance through his CV reveals the aspect of Chris that most intrigues Mr Gnome.

Chris is a Spooky Man.

That's to say he is a booster, enthusiast, evangelist and, indeed, part-time member of The Spooky Men's Chorale, the incomparable Australian a capella musical phenomenon.

Sparing with his use of the word 'unique',  Mr Gnome has no hesitation in applying it to this quirky, gifted, subversive and massively entertaining ensemble.

Be warned, the Spooky Men will be performing around the UK in summer 2011. More details on their website.

Meanwhile, immerse yourself in spookiness via the men's Youtube compilation.

Ring a ding ding

What was he thinking? Welsh opera superstar Bryn Terfel looks loopily divine in his gloriously OTT get-up as king of the gods Wotan in the Metropolitan Opera's new production of Wagner's Das Rheingold.


And that, Mr Gnome and I confess, is precisely what we love about opera: its unique ability to create a co-existence of the insane and the inspirational, the nutty and the numinous, barking madness and heart-piercing magnificence.

I guess I caught the opera thing at a very early age - and from a bizarre source: a childhood viewing of the Marx Brothers' classic A Night at the Opera, though it was to be years before I felt the visceral impact of a live performance.

Stage 2 infection (the Wagner thing) came in my mid-thirties. Welsh National Opera was performing its Ring Cycle in Bristol. I coughed up for all four shows, and turned up with minimal expectations.

What happened over the course of one short and three very long evenings?

Very, very hard to explain.

Something to do with the coming together of a powerful storyline (earthily human and wildly archetypal) with the music...

The music. Wagner's music. Describing the 'Wagner difference' would take a cleverer pen than mine: soaring, surging, most of the time far quieter than many imagine, earthy, airy, fiery - an irresistible river of sound.

Let's just say that it gets into the bloodstream. And you're never quite the same again.

Like a vampire? Er, I hope not.  Hyper-irritating Tristan and Islode, for example, and dreary old Parsifal leave me cold.

It's a Ring thing. Tragic, strange, funny, complicated, intensely human...

I'll be at the Metropolitan Opera House, New York City, this weekend, to start the journey all over again. Hello Wotan, hello gods, dwarfs, dragons and wild, whooping valkyries....

(All via the magic of HD digital broadcast to UK cinema screens.)

Messiah

To London to hear and see English National Opera's new staging of Handel's Messiah.

One of the most popular works in the classical reportoire, Messiah is customarily produced on the concert platform with formal ranks of orchestra, chorus and soloists.

It's an excellent way to relish the composer's gloriously tuneful score and to be drawn in to librettist Charles Jenner's artful selection of texts from the King James version of the Bible, all of which invite us to ponder the identity and significance of Jesus Christ.

But this is definitely not a static concert performance. A huge cast of chorus, dancers, soloists and children conjure up a series of 'scenes' in which the familar choruses and arias are presented in a stylised, yet instantly recognizable, contemporary urban setting.

The spare design hints at offices, a school, the street, the park - an ordinary world, into which someone extraordinary is breaking in.

There's no attempt to offer a literal presentation of the birth, death and resurrection of Jesus.

But the show is all the more powerful for the obliqueness of the images created on the vast stage of the London Coliseum: small boy, fizzing with energy, runs through the crowd; a young woman finds a stranger has left lilies on her bed; a classically clunky infants' nativity play, suddenly glows with numinous meaning; a young woman lies dying on a hospital bed....

All of the familar choruses and arias are presented in the correct order, magnificently sung by a cracking chorus and top-notch soloists - you can hear every word.

Warner's great achievement, in my view, is to present this great work with such freshness and imagination that it's as if we're seeing and hearing it for the first time.

I have no idea as to Deborah Warner's own belief in the words being sung. But what's beyond doubt is that she believes that they matter - and that the Messiah narrative is beautiful and meaningful and transformative. It makes a difference.

A great way to begin another Advent season.

Diva fever

Mr Gnome alerts his friends to the fact that this is definitely not everyone's tasse de the.

The glorious lushness of the songs of Richard Strauss is not universally appreciated. But for many listeners, these works become a bit of an addiction.

This very short song 'Zueignung' is a perfect example. In three verses, the lyric conveys an almost ecstatic sense of gratitude for the life-transforming power of love, each verse ending with 'Habe dank' ('Be thanked.')

Here the great soprano Jessye Norman gives it her not inconsiderable all in a performance that combines total vocal assurance with, well, a thrilling experience of joyful release and benediction.

If you get it, you get it. If you don't, you'll see and hear a big woman make a lot of noise while waving her arms around.

And for anyone who has heard Norman perform on the concert platform, it will be a reminder of the power of this remarkable artist, who, with imperious ease, re-defined the concept of Diva in her glory days of the Eighties and Nineties.

High praise

More than ten years ago, kind friends invited me to a performance of a Handel opera. As it turned out the evening brought surprise that led to rare and lasting pleasure.

During the first act a tall young man strode on to the stage, portraying one of those hard-done-by exiled monarchs, usurped by an evil brother/uncle/cousin, who are two-a-penny in the deliciously dippy world of eighteenth-century opera.

And then he sang.

For me, the clarity, purity and manly strength of that voice brought one of those rare experiences of being unable to tell the music from the music-maker - so perfectly did the one complement
the other, in this outpouring of yearning and loss.

The dodgy storyline, the bizarre posh-Goth makeup, the faux classical setting - none of these mattered in comparison to the music.

Time stood still.

The singer is Andreas Scholl.

And, of course, this may not be your 'thing'....

Dusty

A random internet moment today brought the information that 16 April is the birthday of Dusty Springfield - almost unbelievably it would have been her seventieth.

Here she is as I and countless others remember her in her glory days: elegant, beautiful, - and with that flawless, unique voice and extraordinary musicality that set her head-and-beehive above any potential rivals. (Sandy? Cilla? Lulu? Oh, please....)

And check the hand gestures. Up there with Piaf, in my view.

I saw her perform (with backing group The Echoes) at the Pavillion Theatre, Bournemouth, in the summer of 1967. Callow teenagers that we were, we knew that this one was special - effortlessly cool.

The quintessential Dusty experience? I choose the 1965 LP (we didn't say 'album', we said 'LP') Everything's Coming Up Dusty.

Glorious.

Passion

To Symphony Hall, Birmingham, for the annual Good Friday performance of JS Bach's St Matthew Passion.

I'm a bit of a late-arriver as far as Bach is concerned, kept away for years by the assumption that a soft-hearted Puccini-boy such as me would have little in common with this austere northern genius.

Was I wrong!

Attracted by the fact that the Birmingham performance (a) was in the afternoon, (b) to be given in English and (c) would feature a spacious interval for tea and buns, I decided to take a chance on JSB.

That was twelve years ago. With the exception of one year, I've been back for Bach every Good Friday since.

Those first performances were by the London Bach Choir and the English Chamber Orchestra, under the direction of Sir David Willcocks, for whom this was an experience of profound devotional, as well as musical. significance. The audience was asked to refrain from applause, the performance beginning and ending in silence.

These days there's clapping but, more importantly for this listener, the text is still given in English.

The Matthew Passion was created to be part of a Good Friday liturgy - it's for a congregation, rather than an audience.

At its heart is the simple delivery of St Matthew's narrative of the final hours of Jesus' life, given in clear, wonderfully expressive 'recitative' (sung speech) by the tenor in the role of the Evangelist.

A bass takes the part of Jesus, his words against the background of strings, providing a kind of musical halo.

The narration is interspersed with many choral passages, giving the onstage choirs the opportunity to take on the role of the crowds, calling for the release of Barabbas, clamoring 'Let him be crucified' and, in a moment of great beauty, offering the Centurion's words: 'Truly this was the Son of God.'

More frequently, though, the choral passages simply invite the hearer to a personal meditation on the significance of the events being played out. This invitation is extended further in six or seven 'chorales' (hymns) in which the original hearers would have joined.

Similar passages for the solo singers continue the theme of transferring these external events to the inner, spiritual world of the individual listener.

For me, the most powerful moment of the entire piece comes immediately after the words 'and he gave up his spirit' and before the opening of the hushed opening of the chorale 'Be near me, Lord, when dying': a silence - long, spacious, profound.

The work's extraordinary power is linked to this constant connecting of the outer with the inner world. History connects with my story. And every time I hear the Matthew Passion, new connections emerge, I discover new aspects. I'm always surprised.

Created for ordinary churchgoers (which meant the whole community), the St Matthew Passion is remains accessible, powerful and beautiful - and popular. I'll be back next year.

Sneaky peek at Sneaky Pete

Ever eager to promote all that's peppy in the world of 'pop music', Mr Gnome is delighted to publicize a splendid 'band' from Somerset.

Sneaky Pete and the Vipers have been been 'gigging' for roughly three decades, enlivening a wide variety of social events with their distinctive blend of 'Louis Jordan, Cajun and R&B - never too purist, and always fun.'

Here's a wee sample, via a deliciously 'raw' video recording.

Hurrah for Sneaky Pete. Here's a link to their website.

Versed past the post

Cheltenham race course was the venue for Mr Gnome's epiphanic encounter with tip-toptasic troubadour Ian McMillan.

The almost shockingly gifted McMillan, accompained by his equally talented orchestra, was performing a selection of songs and verses at the Greenbelt Arts Festival.

Funny. Moving. Witty. Clever. Droll. Tuneful. Punchy. Wistful. Robust. Funny.

Ian McMillan celebrates the hidden stories of those whose stories are rarely told - and makes you laugh, think and, in my case, dash away the occasional manly tear.

Mr McMillan offered an improvised poem (to jauntily soulful accompaniment from the orchestra) based on three topics called out by members of the audience: 'myself', 'British summer weather' and, inevitably, 'gnome'.

The moving epic that emerged, Homerically, from Mr McMillan's lyre depicted Mr Gnome fleeing inclement weather across a wide vista encompassing the delights of both Ibiza and Cleethorpes.

A gnomapotheosis.

The applause was rapturous.

Hurrah for the magnificent Mr McMillan.

And, all you poets out there, Mr Gnome modestly acknowledges his ability to inspire, which is, I guess, a talent - to a Muse.

By the way, this event was sponsored by the Church Times.

Sing out!

Ever eager to celebrate all that's positive and purposeful, Mr Gnome shouts 'Hurrah!' for two crackingly charismatic choirs.

Both have been participants in the BBC's contest Last Choir Standing.

Strikingly different from one another in many ways, these ensembles exhibit the elements that Mr G so enjoys - energy, enthusiasm and, of course, musical excellence.

In addition, there's the indefinable spirit that they communicate - it's clear that singing is so much more than a hobby to these men and women. The phrase 'breath of life' comes to mind.

Click below to relish the infectious chutzpah of the Brighton Gay Men's Chorus, giving 'I Am What I Am' their not inconsiderable all.

And here for the dignified strength of Belfast's Open Arts Community Choir's performance of Labi Siffre's 'Something Inside So Strong'.

Full on

How exciting to be present last week at the east Devon premiere of the musical version of the inimitable 1997 film.

You'd think perhaps that the Sidmouth Musical Comedy Society's production of The Full Monty - The Musical (Broadway and West End) might be a wee bit 'scaled down'.

Wrong! Director, big cast and pit band took book, lyrics and music by the scruff of the neck and gave a magnificently big-hearted, full-on performance.

The standard of singing was tip-top. Casting was equally spot on with the six principals capturing the courage, humour and vulnerability of their characters with skill and panache.

The musical sticks closely to the storyline of the movie, but with the action swapped from Sheffield to Buffalo in upstate New York. The cast rose splendidly to the challenge of American accents.

One sadness. The musical version has cut the key role played in the film by, er, garden gnomes.

Apart from that, ten out of ten. Hurrah!

Devoted

The spectrum of music inspired by the Christian gospel is, praise the Lord, of infinite variety.

At one end are, I guess, Handel's Messiah, Bach's St Matthew Passion and Gregorian chant.

And at the other....?

Well, never having heard the musical content of this album, I can't judge this arresting contribution from Uncle Les and Aunt Nancy, not to mention the elegantly dressed Randy.

But the cover art is, I feel, truly, truly special and, in its way, rather glorious.

And I'm certain that, out there somewhere, are middle-aged people with reason to be grateful to Les, Nancy and wee Randy.

And, en passant, a prophecy: I predict that within five years Nancy's upswept specs will once again be the height of chic....

Thanks to Brett for bringing this to my attention.

Fountain of Tears

I'm probably the last one to do so, but I have just discovered the composer Osvaldo Golijov.

And what a composer - on the evidence of his oratorio/opera Ainadamar (Fountain of Tears), his music is richly romantic, dramatic, expressive and full of melody and beauty.

I was lucky enough to hear this work's UK premiere last night at Symphony Hall, Birmingham. I confess I was drawn, not by the opportunity to hear a new talent, but because of a rare chance to hear the work's star performer, the glorious American soprano Dawn Upshaw.

Ainadamar is based on the life and legacy of the left-wing Spanish poet and dramatist Federico Garcia Lorca, who was murdered by fascists in 1936.

The piece lasted eighty minutes and my normally feeble attention didn't waver. It was scored for small-scale orchestra, augmented with two guitars, a women's chorus and a subtly integrated succession of recorded sound effects.

But above all it was the beauty and passion of the musical storytelling that gripped me. Glorious.

Find out more about Osvaldo Golijov if you wish, or read a review of Ainadmar.25 April
My enthusiasm for this piece has not been diminished by the drubbing it received from the London reviewers. Here are the thoughts of the Telegraph's Rupert Christiansen.

Songlines

Roughly eighty singers raised the roof of Leamington Spa's parish church last night performing celebratory songs from around the world - to a house-full audience.

Conducted by the charismatic Bruce Knight (festively costumed as a shepherd, foreground above), this is no ordinary stand-and-deliver choir.

For a start, there are no auditions and no printed music is used. The singers learn by listening, repeating and gradually building up the layers of harmonies under Bruce's cheerful, encouraging guidance.

Many of the singers have never sung in a choir before, having had negative experiences at school or eleswhere.

The HB, an enthusiastic recent convert, never believed that singing was something he could even begin to think of enjoying. It was definitley for 'other people' - the musical ones.

But Bruce's choir is based on the inclusive principle: 'If you can walk, you can dance; if you can talk, you can sing.'

Liberating, or what?

Finding a voice, and liberating his inner bass has been one of the top experiences of 2007.

By the way, the concert raised money for the excellent devlopment charity WATER AID.

Mr Gnome scrubs up

On drab winter days Mr G cheers himself up with memories of his summer ramblings, which this year included an August outing to the Glyndebourne opera festival.

He relished the tea room (top notch), the restaurant (spiffing), and the glorious gardens with their artful air of laid-back carelessness that belies year-round labour.

In fact he enjoyed every aspect apart from the music.

The opera was Wagner's Tristan and Isolde, in a production that had the reviewers salivating as they dished up the superlatives.

In the past, Mr G has throughly enjoyed the epic, surprisingly tuneful journey of Herr W's Ring Cycle (sounds like something from Hotpoint?), which comprises buckets of human interest and quite a few laughs along the way.

Tristan is, by contrast, a chuckle-free zone - and a massively long sit-down. The few passages of gorgeous music are separated by hours of doomy musings by the desperately un-engaging eponymous lovers. 'Oh, get on with it!' Mr G was tempted to mutter.

Worst of all for cheery, positive thinker Mr Gnome, the show is saturated in negativity: death, doom and desperation are its key themes.

Mr G hopes to return to Glyndebourne one day - possibly for an invigorating dose of Puccini....

For Mr G's video experiment, go to archive and check his very first post....