I go a little bit wobbly at the knees at the sombre and melancholy tones of a group of stout and portly Welshmen as they stand rank upon rank and go through a repertoire of traditional songs and timeless classics.
The hairs on the back of my neck rise and tingle when mixed male and female voices are blended into a sublime sound as they sing through the hymns and anthems of a rich heritage of church and religious music.
At my occasional attendance at school concerts when my junior age children participated in a performance I could be seen pretending to wipe away a speck of dust from my eyes when in fact I was trying to hide genuine tears of emotion.
One of those impromptu moments when a large crowd takes on a singular voiced sentiment has me all but weeping aloud. Even the ragged and coarse output of a football crowd at full volume can be strikingly stirring although never sustainable for more than a few moments.
There is a real soul reaching depth and lyrical beauty in a human voice when it is set free to sing, losing all inhibitions and selflessness. Of course, the best thing about all of the above and more is that it in no way involves me taking part.
In my own early school years I lived in dread of the arrival of the teacher responsible for music at the front of the classroom asking for volunteers for the choir. A few of the chubby kids would immediately gasp and throw up one or more arms in enthusiastic acceptance of the invitation. Some of the naughty boys followed just for an opportunity to get out of mainstream lessons and wreak havoc and mayhem elsewhere on the premises. One or two only with anything like a decent singing voice would also step up and there would be about the same number who thought they could sing when in fact they were tone deaf and monotone.
Their mums and dads had lied to them about their abilities although you could forgive them as they did it in the name of love. My attempts to hide behind others always seemed to pick me out as a definite candidate for the choir and I would inevitably find myself holding a book or song sheet over the lunch break or horror upon horror, in my own precious time after school had finished for the day.
Lack of resources and willing members of staff meant that by senior school there was little attempt to gather together such a group. I was of course thrilled.
The days of choirs seemed to be gone, forever, dead and buried, the song sheet had curled at the edges, rolled up and perished.
I was so, so wrong in so many ways.
Today the intiatives to form a choir are stronger than ever thanks to media broadcasts of random individuals finding a meaning in their lives by joining such groups.
It almost seems compulsory that just about every daily activity involves a choir.
I went to open a bank account. Barclays were getting together a choir of customers and staff.
In the supermarket where I like to find anonymity amongst the well stocked aisles the tannoy announced the intention to form a Tesco Local choir.
In 2014 I was a volunteer on the Tour de France during its Yorkshire stages and one of the first chat room themes amongst my fellow Tour Makers was about starting up a choir.
Again, I can appreciate a good mass sing song but the whole thing is just getting a bit out of hand.
In fact, I should form my own choir and we could specialise in protest songs about singing in a choir.
Volunteers please sign up now.
No comments:
Post a Comment