Category: Music

Music, spirituality and religion

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 2 Comments

Is a strong Christian faith essential for writing, performing or appreciating sacred church music? And how much does the music contribute to the spiritual experience of a church service?

I’ve been thinking about these questions since a recent visit to the cathedral which I used to attend regularly as a member of the choir. We sang mainly traditional classical pieces in four voice parts with organ accompaniment. On the day I returned, the organ was not being played and “my” old choir had been replaced by a youth group singing loud upbeat music. They were obviously well trained and enthusiastic and I expect many members of the congregation liked their modern style. But I found the sound more intrusive than uplifting. This confirmed that, for me, music is a vital part of a service.

The British composer John Rutter (born in 1945) would probably agree about this. He has spoken and written in some detail about his attitudes to religion and spirituality. He describes himself as an agnostic, who values the traditions of the Church of England but does not accept all of its doctrines. In one interview he spoke of understanding the universe in terms of a lottery governed by mathematics, rather than by an all-powerful deity. He said he believed in a more general sense of spirituality which can be accessed through the beauty of nature or art as well as through music.

I was curious to find out something about the beliefs of other men (they have all been men) whose choral sacred music I have enjoyed singing. According to the information I found online, some of the greatest classical composers – Bach, Mozart, Handel, Haydn – were devout practising Christians. In contrast, there were others who had been brought up in the Christian faith but had doubts in later life, leading them to explore wider concepts of spirituality. Beethoven was one of these, and more recent examples include Berlioz, Faure, Elgar and Vaughan Williams.

Whether or not they held a conventional religious faith, it seems that many of these men believed in an intangible realm beyond the material world as being the source of music. Having the ability to access this source is a wonderful gift, though inspiration is not enough on its own. The process of composing works that can be performed by other people requires a thorough knowledge of the technicalities of music, and a great deal of hard work.

A few quotes:

Beethoven: Music is the mediator between the spiritual and the sensual life.

Bach: I play the notes as they are written, but it is God who makes the music.

Vaughan Williams: There is no reason why an atheist could not write a good Mass.

Elgar: My idea is that there is music in the air, music all around us; the world is full of it, and you simply take as much as you require.

Haydn: When I think of my God, my heart dances within me for joy, and then my music has to dance too.

P.S. Since drafting this post I have visited London and heard glorious singing during a Latin Mass at St James, Spanish Place.

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The Elgars in the Alps

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 2 Comments

Edward and Alice Elgar 1891

I’m now singing with the Harbour Voices choir on Auckland’s North Shore. Our next concert will include some songs from one of Edward Elgar’s lesser-known works, From the Bavarian Highlands (Op 27). 

I’ve always loved Elgar’s music. In the long-ago days when I was a young single woman with an old-fashioned record player for company in the evenings, I repeatedly listened to the Cello Concerto, Enigma Variations, and the Pomp and Circumstance March No 1 better known as Land of Hope and Glory.

My interest in Elgar grew when I started visiting Malvern many years later. He was born in 1857 into a musical family living in the nearby village of Lower Broadheath. Their modest house is now a small National Trust museum called The Firs.

Elgar’s birthplace

Elgar loved walking on the Malvern Hills, as I do, and perhaps it was the proximity of Alpine walks that led him and his wife Alice to spend a holiday in Garmisch, Upper Bavaria in 1894. 

     

Garmisch

Inspired by the lilting melodies of the folk songs and dances from the surrounding mountainous regions, the Elgars composed From the Bavarian Highlands between them. Edward wrote the music, in the form of songs for SATB voices with a piano accompaniment, and Alice wrote the lyrics. The Dance, with its tuneful joyful rhythms, is followed by the wistful False Love, the soothing Lullaby, and the gently spiritual Aspiration.

For any local readers of my blog who would like to attend the concert, here is the poster with the details. 

Last Night of the Proms – New Zealand style

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ Leave a comment

Along with a big crowd of other British expats wearing red white and blue, I attended a joyful and nostalgic version of the Last Night of the Proms performed with orchestra and choir in the Bruce Mason theatre on Auckland’s North Shore.

The programme began with God Save the King and finished with Rule Britannia, Land of Hope and Glory and Jerusalem, with many other traditional items in between. New Zealand content included the national anthem, a Maori song called A Te Tarakihi, and a film of the Spitfire flying at the Warbirds air show. The soprano soloist wore a series of splendid gowns, one resembling a giant Union Jack. I used to think I hated bagpipes, but the wonderful performance of Highland Cathedral by a pipe band was a highlight of the show.

Towards the end, the hall filled with balloons and streamers as the wildly enthusiastic audience sang along and waved our flags. We all had a good time, and perhaps some of us were left wondering whether the UK or NZ feels more like home.

Learning the piano – with cats

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 2 Comments
Daisy was a major distraction

I am resuming my efforts to learn the piano. I doubt I will ever achieve my ideal of playing Bach with fluency, but it would be nice to be good enough to play simple pieces for my own pleasure. Also, having reached an age when an alarming number of my friends are developing dementia, I hope it will help to preserve my brain power. Studies have shown that playing the piano improves memory, mental speed, concentration, and eye-hand coordination, as well as decreasing anxiety and boosting happiness and self-esteem.

As a child I had a few lessons which I didn’t enjoy, though I was glad of them when I started playing again after a gap of several decades and found I still remembered some basics which might have been hard to learn later on. I know it is important to have a teacher to encourage regular practice and progress along the right lines, but it can be hard to find a good one. I have had a couple who were mediocre, and one who verged on the sadistic – I imagine it must be frustrating for skilled musicians to have to earn a living by giving lessons to slow learners like myself. My most recent teacher was excellent but he is no longer available and will be hard to replace.

I have some excuses for failing to practise as much as I should. A major setback was breaking my wrist and being unable to play at all for almost a year. Movement of my right hand is permanently restricted, and it becomes painful if I use it for too long. The other main impediment is the presence of cats. When Daisy (pictured) was alive, she delighted in jumping onto the keyboard and marching up and down, with a preference for the bass. I sometimes wish I could have trained her to play proper duets with me, after the fashion of Nora the Piano Cat whose YouTube videos have brought her worldwide fame. Nora is a grey tabby, adopted as a kitten from a rescue centre and now almost 18 years old – a feline example of the health benefits of playing the piano? One of our present cats, Leo, distracts me by scratching rhythmically on some nearby piece of furniture whenever I start to play. Our other cat, Magic, has no interest in music at all.

“No good deed goes unpunished”

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 1 Comment

Actions intended to benefit other people sometimes backfire. They may be perceived as interfering and controlling, or even have tragic results.

I’ve been thinking about this since watching a brilliant performance of Verdi’s Il Trovatore by NZOpera and the Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra. In the melodramatic plot, set in fifteenth century Spain, Count di Luna is obsessed with the heroine Leonora. But she is in love with Manrico the troubadour, and spurns Luna’s advances. There is bitter rivalry between the two men and eventually Luna gets Manrico imprisoned and condemned to death. Leonora, in what she sees as a noble sacrifice, offers herself to Luna if he will spare Manrico’s life. But when Manrico learns of Leonora’s plan, instead of being grateful he is disgusted and appalled, and denounces her. Meanwhile, rather than give her body to Luna, she has taken poison. Manrico is executed, and Leonora dies.

The old adage “No good deed goes unpunished” often applies in real life. During 2020 and 2021, the New Zealand government responded to the pandemic by imposing a strict system of lockdowns, mandates and border closures to protect the health of the population. These well-intentioned policies did limit illness and death from Covid in the short term, and gained admiration from around the world. But were they justified when weighed against the long term costs? Businesses failed, unvaccinated workers lost their jobs, other diseases went undiagnosed and untreated, old people were confined indoors and prevented from seeing their relatives even when they were dying. Despite continual exhortations to “be kind”, ugly rifts developed between those who supported the restrictions, and those who resented losing the freedom to direct their own lives.

On a more everyday level, think of the dinner guest who volunteers to do the washing up, only to put things away in the wrong place and break the host’s favourite mug.

My conclusion? It’s good to offer help to other people – but only if it’s done with unselfish motives and if they want to be helped.

Changing choirs

~ Jennifer Barraclough ~ 2 Comments

Twenty years ago I joined the alto section of the choir of St Patrick’s Cathedral in Auckland. My previous musical experience had been rather limited – as a child I reluctantly attended some piano lessons, and as a student I sang in the chorus of The Pirates of Penzance. But in 2001 the cathedral choir was open to anybody who wanted to join, no audition required. There were about 30 members. It was all new to me but I sat next to an experienced singer, Marion, who took me under her wing and has remained a close friend ever since.

I loved singing the sacred music, including well-known classics such as Mozart’s Ave Verum Corpus and Franck’s Panis Angelicus, Renaissance motets by composers such as Tallis and Palestrina, and occasionally more modern works such as John Rutter’s Magnificat. I bought a piano, took some more lessons and did well in a theory exam although my practical skills hardly improved.

Apart from the beauty of the music, a benefit of belonging to the choir was meeting people of all ages and a wide range of nationalities including Filipino, Samoan, Korean, Chinese, American, French as well as both Maori and Pakeha native New Zealanders. I was usually the only English person there.

Over the years there were many changes. Old members left, new ones joined, and we had a series of musical directors each with their own different methods. The trend has been towards a smaller group with stricter technical standards.

Belonging to the choir was a wonderful experience but couldn’t last for ever. Others had retired when they turned 70 – I stayed till 74, but was starting to find it arduous. The rehearsals and services were longer than in the old days, transport from home was more frequently delayed, and decreasing stamina made it harder to cope with the physical demands. After breaking my wrist recently I had to take two months off anyway, and then I made the hard decision not to go back. Leaving felt sad, and still does, though I do appreciate having extra free time on Sunday mornings.

I wanted to continue some singing, because I enjoy it very much and it has many proven benefits – physiological, intellectual, emotional, spiritual and social. So I have now joined a women’s community choir, which is more local, and involves attendance only once a week instead of twice. The atmosphere is relaxed and friendly, but some of the music is quite challenging, with songs in various styles from around the world forming quite a contrast to the repertoire at St Patrick’s.