Over at the Liturgy blog, Rev Bosco Peters has a series of posts on the new Revised Grail Psalter. In the first post he links to the full text of the psalter, and laments the multiplicity of translations, though he does say "An English psalter for worship needs to balance accuracy on the one hand with rhythm for proclaiming, chanting, and singing on the other." I don't have the book he recommends as an accurate translation -- though it is inexpensive and I might well look into it. If I am curious about translations I go first to the Psalter Kata Bob.
In a second blog post, Rev Bosco goes on to lament the use of antiphons coming from the Revised Grail Psalter (which is translated directly from the Hebrew) together with others coming from the Latin Mass. In addition to not fulfilling Liturgiam authenticam, which is defined as a translation of the Latin Mass, this leads to a certain lack of liturgical coherence. I am sure that this is regrettable, but as at St Andrew's we use the Common Worship texts it doesn't affect me directly.
In a third blog post, Psalm 2 is appraised with regard to translation and sources; it appears to be something of a mash-up between the original Grail translations, the NRSV, and new translations for the Revised Grail Psalter. Interesting; I don't know how much of this sort of mashing-up is present in other psalm translations. But I thought I might present some other translations of Psalm 2:
There is the 1662 Book of Common Prayer version, of course:
Quare fremuerunt gentes?
WHY do the heathen so furiously rage together : and why do the people imagine a vain thing?
2 The kings of the earth stand up, and the rulers take counsel together : against the Lord, and against his Anointed:
3 Let us break their bonds asunder : and cast away their cords from us.
4 He that dwelleth in heaven shall laugh them to scorn : the Lord shall have them in derision.
5 Then shall he speak unto them in his wrath : and vex them in his sore displeasure:
6 Yet have I set my King : upon my holy hill of Sion.
7 I will preach the law : whereof the Lord hath said unto me, Thou art my Son, this day have I begotten thee.
8 Desire of me, and I shall give thee the nations for thine inheritance, : and the utmost parts of the earth for thy possession.
9 Thou shalt bruise them with a rod of iron : and break them in pieces like a potter's vessel.
10 Be wise now therefore, O ye kings : be learned, ye that are judges of the earth.
11 Serve the Lord in fear : and rejoice unto him with reverence.
12 Kiss the Son, lest he be angry, and so ye perish from the right way, if his wrath be kindled, (yea but a little) blessed are all they that put their trust in him.
There is the "Old Version", a metrical setting of the text by Sternhold and Hopkins:
1 Why did the Gentiles tumults raise?
What rage was in their brain?
Why do the people still contrive
a thing that is but vain?
2 The kings and rulers of the earth
conspire and are all bent
Against the Lord, and Christ his Son,
whom he among us sent.
3 Shall we be bound to them? Say they,
let all their bonds be broke;
And of their doctrine and their law
let us reject the yoke.
4 But he that in the heav'n doth dwell,
their doings will deride;
And make them all as mocking-stocks
throughout the world do wide.
5 For in his wrath he shall reprove
their pride and scornful way,
And in his fury trouble them,
and unto them shall say,
6 I have anointed him my King
upon my holy hill;
I will therefore, Lord, preach thy law
according to thy will:
7 The law whereof the Lord himself
hath thus said unto me,
Thou art my only Son, this day
have I begotten thee.
8 The people I will give to thee,
as heirs at thy request
The ends and coasts of all the earth
by thee shall be possessed.
9 Thou shalt them bruise e'en like to those
that under foot are trod,
And as a potter's vessel break
them with an iron rod.
10 Now ye, O kings and rulers all,
be wise therefore and learned,
By who the matters of the world
are judged and discerned.
11 See that ye serve the Lord above
in trembling and in fear;
See that with rev'rence ye rejoice
when ye to him draw near:
12 See that ye do embrace and kiss
his Son without delay;
Lest in his wrath ye suddenly
Perish from the right way.
13 If once his wrath (but little) shall
be kindled in his breast,
Then only they that trust in him
shall happy be and blest.
There is the "New Version", that is, the metrical setting by Tate and Brady:
1 With restless and ungovern'd rage
why do the heathen storm?
Why in such rash attempts engage,
as they can ne'er perform?
2 The great in counsel and in might
their various forces bring;
Against the Lord they all unite,
and his anointed king.
3 "Must we submit to their commands?"
presumptuously they say;
"No, let us break their slavish bands,
and cast their chains away."
4 But God, who sits enthroned on high,
and sees how they combine,
Does their conspiring strength defy,
and mocks their vain design.
5 Thick clouds of wrath divine shall break
on his rebellious foes;
And thus will he in thunder speak
to all that dare oppose:
6 "Though madly you dispute my will,
the king that I ordain,
"Whose throne is fixed on Zion's hill,
shall there securely reign."
7 Attend, O earth, whilst I declare
God's uncontrolled decree;
"Thou art my Son, this day my heir
have I begotten thee.
8 "Ask and receive thy full demands;
thine shall the heathen be;
"The utmost limits of the lands
shall be possessed by thee.
9 "Thy threat'ning scepter thou shalt shake,
and crush them every where;
"As massy bars of iron break
the potter's brittle ware."
10 Learn then, ye princes, and give ear,
ye judges of the earth;
11 Worship the Lord with holy fear;
rejoice with awful mirth.
12 Appease the Son with due respect,
your timely homage pay;
Lest he revenge the bold neglect,
incensed by your delay.
13 If but in part his anger rise,
who can endure the flame?
Then blest are they whose hope relies
on his most holy name.
More recently there is the Common Worship version:
1 Why are the nations in tumult, •
and why do the peoples devise a vain plot?
2 The kings of the earth rise up,
and the rulers take counsel together, •
against the Lord and against his anointed:
3 'Let us break their bonds asunder •
and cast away their cords from us.'
4 He who dwells in heaven shall laugh them to scorn; •
the Lord shall have them in derision.
5 Then shall he speak to them in his wrath •
and terrify them in his fury:
6 'Yet have I set my king •
upon my holy hill of Zion.'
7 I will proclaim the decree of the Lord; •
he said to me: 'You are my Son; this day have I begotten you.
8 'Ask of me and I will give you the nations for your inheritance •
and the ends of the earth for your possession.
9 'You shall break them with a rod of iron •
and dash them in pieces like a potter's vessel.'
10 Now therefore be wise, O kings; •
be prudent, you judges of the earth.
11 Serve the Lord with fear, and with trembling kiss his feet, •
lest he be angry and you perish from the way, for his wrath is quickly kindled.
12 Happy are all they •
who take refuge in him.
And then, of course, there is the Latin:
The thing that I find fascinating is that all of these are words I would happily use, in different contexts. I would probably use the metrical settings in congregational worship where people are less familiar with the psalms or with singing chant; the Common Meter texts are easy to sing as a group and the vocabulary is relatively simple, though the translation is a little, er, "free" at times to the point of being quite unsuitable for interfaith gatherings. I would use the Common Worship text for said psalmody as it's nearer than the other examples to the way people actually speak today; I would use Common Worship or the BCP version for Anglican chant, and either Common Worship or the Latin for plainsong, depending on the type of service. Anglican chant can work in very small and intimate services, as I've discovered by attending Evensong at Christchurch Wanstead, but where people want sung, non-metrical psalmody to be performed by a choir and there isn't already a certain familiarity with Anglican Chant, plainsong seems to work better. I don't think I'd like to be limited to just one psalter, and I am grateful for the "multiplicity of translations" which others lament. I'm grateful, too, that in the Church of England we are free to use any translation of scripture that is not banned, subject to the approval of the incumbent as per Canon B5 -- and as yet, no translation has been banned.
Alas, there'll be none of it for me tomorrow morning as we have a gradual hymn instead of a psalm. But that's a post for another day...
Saturday, 22 January 2011
Sunday, 2 January 2011
New Year
Christmas has come (though it isn't gone yet -- not until Epiphany), the various services at church have gone well, my students are still on break, and so I am going away for a few days.
I'm really, really looking forward to it. When I come back the "new" year must begin in earnest, nose back to the grindstone with teaching and rehearsals and practising and oh, some forms to fill out and send off for HMRC, apparently I might need to give them some tacks, but I probably haven't earned enough.
I'm not much of one for resolutions. I already tend toward excessive tweaking, chronic attempts to re-think, re-arrange, improve strategy, and I know that I'm also prone to a feeling of dismal failure if I don't live up to some arbitrary expectation I set for myself. So I'm not going to make any promises of one post per day, or per week, or anything like that.
That said, I would like to write here more. I've struggled to find a voice for this blog for a while now -- since near the end of my degree, really -- and I feel like it would be really good to get something going again.
I'm thinking about what to write. I need to be quite careful in writing about my work teaching, and my work at St Andrew's, because of course there are confidentiality issues in both cases, but are there aspects of it that I should be documenting? I'm not sure which of my other work is interesting; composing is something I tend to post about when I have actually written something, I do try to flag events I'm involved in but often fail to get around to it in time (with very low readership it doesn't seem to be very worthwhile). My recent spate of political or social commentary is not likely to be sustainable, though I don't guarantee I won't rant sometimes. I could write at some length about practice methods, but I don't know that I'd be contributing much; some of my thoughts on music in liturgy may be interesting but I suspect they echo work done by others. I am still keen on doing some more in-depth research into various forms of sung psalmody, but I don't seem to know where to start there either.
What would you like to see me write about here? If you could ask me anything about my work in music what would it be? I'd love some open-ended questions with which to get started.
I'm really, really looking forward to it. When I come back the "new" year must begin in earnest, nose back to the grindstone with teaching and rehearsals and practising and oh, some forms to fill out and send off for HMRC, apparently I might need to give them some tacks, but I probably haven't earned enough.
I'm not much of one for resolutions. I already tend toward excessive tweaking, chronic attempts to re-think, re-arrange, improve strategy, and I know that I'm also prone to a feeling of dismal failure if I don't live up to some arbitrary expectation I set for myself. So I'm not going to make any promises of one post per day, or per week, or anything like that.
That said, I would like to write here more. I've struggled to find a voice for this blog for a while now -- since near the end of my degree, really -- and I feel like it would be really good to get something going again.
I'm thinking about what to write. I need to be quite careful in writing about my work teaching, and my work at St Andrew's, because of course there are confidentiality issues in both cases, but are there aspects of it that I should be documenting? I'm not sure which of my other work is interesting; composing is something I tend to post about when I have actually written something, I do try to flag events I'm involved in but often fail to get around to it in time (with very low readership it doesn't seem to be very worthwhile). My recent spate of political or social commentary is not likely to be sustainable, though I don't guarantee I won't rant sometimes. I could write at some length about practice methods, but I don't know that I'd be contributing much; some of my thoughts on music in liturgy may be interesting but I suspect they echo work done by others. I am still keen on doing some more in-depth research into various forms of sung psalmody, but I don't seem to know where to start there either.
What would you like to see me write about here? If you could ask me anything about my work in music what would it be? I'd love some open-ended questions with which to get started.
Tuesday, 23 November 2010
Building a New Society
At the weekend I met a friend for dinner. She's quite a bit more politically active than I am, not to mention being a trained economist. We are both very concerned about the human cost of the cuts brought in by the current, Tory-led government. But she is concerned, rightly, that my response -- that we must all participate in caring for one another and reduce reliance on state provision -- is unhelpful.
Her objections, as I understand them, are good ones:
1) A simple "I will work harder" approach, where charitable people and organisations take on additional burdens while banks re-instate bonuses, does not address the root of the problem.
2) The state has access to economies of scale which are unavailable to us everyday folk.
3) Relatedly, the state is in a position to be fairer in resource allocation than private companies or charities can.
I can understand the worry that volunteerism is exactly the position the current government is manipulating us into. It's hard not to have a sense of growing dismay as we are asked, again and again, to make more and more bricks as the daily supply of straw is reduced. But my response here is not an endorsement of the cuts, but rather a pragmatic reaction to the way things are. If I don't take action to help the least fortunate, I am colluding in a system that allows people to fall through the cracks. My volunteering at a homeless shelter isn't going to change government policy, but writing to my MP and campaigning in the street are not going to give anyone a safe place to sleep.
The economies of scale available to the government are a strength and I don't propose that we can find an alternative overnight. Specialist care is needed and it is difficult to see how small, locally-run initiatives could hope to meet that need. I know some basic first aid but that doesn't qualify me to treat cancer patients! I don't suggest that state access to specialist care can or should be abolished, especially not in the short term.
However, I also think that some of the economics of scale previously only widely available to the state or to large corporations are, in fact, becoming less clearly limited. Our opportunity to communicate with one another is more extensive than it has ever been. I believe there is huge potential for economies of scale to emerge, and things like Wikipedia are only scratching the surface of what is possible. It's important to note, too, that this is not just about online interaction, not just about kids who haven't left home sitting editing the article on photosynthesis or bloggers prattling away to a nonexistent audience: the notion of a sharp divide between "online" and "real life" is a false dichotomy in any case. We're starting to see this with the likes of Kickstarter and FundBreak which use online crowdsourcing to fund projects which may well be offline. There's a lot of noise at times, but the level of connectivity is incredible and if we can find a way to coordinate our efforts, the government no longer has a monopoly on economies of scale.
Another advantage of state-run rather than crowd-driven care is that it can be administered fairly. If you tick the boxes, you get the benefit -- regardless of your accent, gender, skin colour, sexual orientation, religion or intelligence. At least, that's how it works in theory. In practice, box-ticking systems are systems where people will jump through hoops and it is pretty much impossible to make a selection system complex enough to be completely fair. It becomes paradoxical, because the more complex the system is the higher the barriers to access. If you don't believe this, ask anyone who's had to fill out student loan forms!
I'm willing to accept a certain amount of "waste" from people gaming the benefits system, but another serious problem with state care is that delegating caring for one another to the state -- reducing our obligations to paying tax, voting if we feel like getting involved, and maybe writing to an MP on issues we really care about -- means we can exist in a little bubble of our peers, telling ourselves that the homeless person begging by the Tube station isn't our problem because there is state care available. Far from reducing localism and NIMBYism, I propose that delegating our societal responsibilities onto the state actually fosters the sort of isolated attitude that renders people unwilling to bear the collective costs of supporting one another. Letting someone else deal with the nitty-gritty allows us to reduce our awareness of the interdependence of people and to fool ourselves into thinking that this is actually a pure meritocracy (it isn't) and that we have our privileges because we've worked for them and not because we've been incredibly fortunate. It's never that simple, but we're upstanding citizens who pay our taxes and vote, and so we walk past the woman who is sleeping rough rather than go back to her abusive boyfriend and we congratulate ourselves on having done so well. Next thing you know, you've got the tabloid rags blaming benefits recipients (or asylum seekers, or some other disadvantaged group that receives some pittance of state support) for economic recession and people actually believe it. Sound familiar? It's where we already are. The government we have now is not an enemy of our society: it is a product of our society. We, collectively, have created this monstrosity.
It's up to us to build a new society. That doesn't mean just getting the current government to take proper responsibility for the care of the citizens who elected them (or voted for someone else).
A new society would be one where the government cannot be held hostage by the banks.
A new society would be one where the state works with people, not against them, for the good of all.
A new society would be one where we use financial resources to reduce human costs, not human resources to reduce financial ones.
A new society would be one where we contribute to economies of scale.
A new society would be one where protest works a lot better than it does now.
A new society would be one where we ask, "How can I help you?" rather than "How can I benefit from you?", and where we are not afraid or ashamed to ask for help ourselves when we need it.
I don't have all the answers about how to create such a society. But I think it goes much further than public protest and much further than reversing the cuts. It involves all of us thinking about how we live, how our actions affect others, and whether it is actually okay to walk on by while someone else suffers. Then it involves us choosing to live in ways that value human life.
It's up to us.
Her objections, as I understand them, are good ones:
1) A simple "I will work harder" approach, where charitable people and organisations take on additional burdens while banks re-instate bonuses, does not address the root of the problem.
2) The state has access to economies of scale which are unavailable to us everyday folk.
3) Relatedly, the state is in a position to be fairer in resource allocation than private companies or charities can.
I can understand the worry that volunteerism is exactly the position the current government is manipulating us into. It's hard not to have a sense of growing dismay as we are asked, again and again, to make more and more bricks as the daily supply of straw is reduced. But my response here is not an endorsement of the cuts, but rather a pragmatic reaction to the way things are. If I don't take action to help the least fortunate, I am colluding in a system that allows people to fall through the cracks. My volunteering at a homeless shelter isn't going to change government policy, but writing to my MP and campaigning in the street are not going to give anyone a safe place to sleep.
The economies of scale available to the government are a strength and I don't propose that we can find an alternative overnight. Specialist care is needed and it is difficult to see how small, locally-run initiatives could hope to meet that need. I know some basic first aid but that doesn't qualify me to treat cancer patients! I don't suggest that state access to specialist care can or should be abolished, especially not in the short term.
However, I also think that some of the economics of scale previously only widely available to the state or to large corporations are, in fact, becoming less clearly limited. Our opportunity to communicate with one another is more extensive than it has ever been. I believe there is huge potential for economies of scale to emerge, and things like Wikipedia are only scratching the surface of what is possible. It's important to note, too, that this is not just about online interaction, not just about kids who haven't left home sitting editing the article on photosynthesis or bloggers prattling away to a nonexistent audience: the notion of a sharp divide between "online" and "real life" is a false dichotomy in any case. We're starting to see this with the likes of Kickstarter and FundBreak which use online crowdsourcing to fund projects which may well be offline. There's a lot of noise at times, but the level of connectivity is incredible and if we can find a way to coordinate our efforts, the government no longer has a monopoly on economies of scale.
Another advantage of state-run rather than crowd-driven care is that it can be administered fairly. If you tick the boxes, you get the benefit -- regardless of your accent, gender, skin colour, sexual orientation, religion or intelligence. At least, that's how it works in theory. In practice, box-ticking systems are systems where people will jump through hoops and it is pretty much impossible to make a selection system complex enough to be completely fair. It becomes paradoxical, because the more complex the system is the higher the barriers to access. If you don't believe this, ask anyone who's had to fill out student loan forms!
I'm willing to accept a certain amount of "waste" from people gaming the benefits system, but another serious problem with state care is that delegating caring for one another to the state -- reducing our obligations to paying tax, voting if we feel like getting involved, and maybe writing to an MP on issues we really care about -- means we can exist in a little bubble of our peers, telling ourselves that the homeless person begging by the Tube station isn't our problem because there is state care available. Far from reducing localism and NIMBYism, I propose that delegating our societal responsibilities onto the state actually fosters the sort of isolated attitude that renders people unwilling to bear the collective costs of supporting one another. Letting someone else deal with the nitty-gritty allows us to reduce our awareness of the interdependence of people and to fool ourselves into thinking that this is actually a pure meritocracy (it isn't) and that we have our privileges because we've worked for them and not because we've been incredibly fortunate. It's never that simple, but we're upstanding citizens who pay our taxes and vote, and so we walk past the woman who is sleeping rough rather than go back to her abusive boyfriend and we congratulate ourselves on having done so well. Next thing you know, you've got the tabloid rags blaming benefits recipients (or asylum seekers, or some other disadvantaged group that receives some pittance of state support) for economic recession and people actually believe it. Sound familiar? It's where we already are. The government we have now is not an enemy of our society: it is a product of our society. We, collectively, have created this monstrosity.
It's up to us to build a new society. That doesn't mean just getting the current government to take proper responsibility for the care of the citizens who elected them (or voted for someone else).
A new society would be one where the government cannot be held hostage by the banks.
A new society would be one where the state works with people, not against them, for the good of all.
A new society would be one where we use financial resources to reduce human costs, not human resources to reduce financial ones.
A new society would be one where we contribute to economies of scale.
A new society would be one where protest works a lot better than it does now.
A new society would be one where we ask, "How can I help you?" rather than "How can I benefit from you?", and where we are not afraid or ashamed to ask for help ourselves when we need it.
I don't have all the answers about how to create such a society. But I think it goes much further than public protest and much further than reversing the cuts. It involves all of us thinking about how we live, how our actions affect others, and whether it is actually okay to walk on by while someone else suffers. Then it involves us choosing to live in ways that value human life.
It's up to us.
Saturday, 13 November 2010
First Fifteen music meme
I wasn't tagged by Phil Ritchie or anyone else, but thought I'd do this anyway...
1) Turn on your MP3 player or music player on your computer.
2) Go to SHUFFLE songs mode.
3) Write down the first 15 songs that come up–song title and artist–NO editing/cheating, please.
Oh, very well then.
1) Adams: Short Ride In A Fast Machine (Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra)
2) Gregorian chat: Mass VIII - Ite Missa Est (Choir Of St George's Cathedral London)
3) Blow ye the trumpet words by Charles Wesley, tune "Rotherhithe" by I.P. (Brigantia Consort)
4) Kitten Intro (They Might Be Giants)
5) Rachmaninov: Vespers, Op. 37 - 4. O Serene Light (BBC Singers)
6) Bach: St. John Passion, BWV 245 - Und Neiget Das Haupt Und Verschied (Collegium Vocale Gent)
7) Tea Leaf Picking (David Wei He Yin)
8) Morley: Now Is The Month Of Maying (Canadian Brass)
9) Bach: St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 - Aber Am Ersten Tag Der Süssen Brot (Nikolaus Harnoncourt: Concentus Musicus Wien, Arnold Schoenberg Choir, Etc.)
10) Pärt: Lamentate -IX. Risolutamente (Hilliard Ensemble)
11) Bach: Italian Concerto, BWV 971 - 2. Andante (Glenn Gould)
12) Stuck In The 90's (Moxy Früvous)
13) Bach: Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1 - Fugue #18 In G Sharp Minor, BWV 863 (Angela Hewitt)
14) Bach: St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 - Ja Freilich Will In Uns Das Fleisch Und Blut (Nikolaus Harnoncourt: Concentus Musicus Wien, Arnold Schoenberg Choir, Etc.)
15) Tomas Luis de Victoria: Requiem -- Offertorium (Spiritus)
Yes, okay, I listen to a lot of Bach.
I tag Kathryn, and anyone else who fancies a go.
1) Turn on your MP3 player or music player on your computer.
2) Go to SHUFFLE songs mode.
3) Write down the first 15 songs that come up–song title and artist–NO editing/cheating, please.
Oh, very well then.
1) Adams: Short Ride In A Fast Machine (Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra)
2) Gregorian chat: Mass VIII - Ite Missa Est (Choir Of St George's Cathedral London)
3) Blow ye the trumpet words by Charles Wesley, tune "Rotherhithe" by I.P. (Brigantia Consort)
4) Kitten Intro (They Might Be Giants)
5) Rachmaninov: Vespers, Op. 37 - 4. O Serene Light (BBC Singers)
6) Bach: St. John Passion, BWV 245 - Und Neiget Das Haupt Und Verschied (Collegium Vocale Gent)
7) Tea Leaf Picking (David Wei He Yin)
8) Morley: Now Is The Month Of Maying (Canadian Brass)
9) Bach: St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 - Aber Am Ersten Tag Der Süssen Brot (Nikolaus Harnoncourt: Concentus Musicus Wien, Arnold Schoenberg Choir, Etc.)
10) Pärt: Lamentate -IX. Risolutamente (Hilliard Ensemble)
11) Bach: Italian Concerto, BWV 971 - 2. Andante (Glenn Gould)
12) Stuck In The 90's (Moxy Früvous)
13) Bach: Well-Tempered Clavier, Book 1 - Fugue #18 In G Sharp Minor, BWV 863 (Angela Hewitt)
14) Bach: St. Matthew Passion, BWV 244 - Ja Freilich Will In Uns Das Fleisch Und Blut (Nikolaus Harnoncourt: Concentus Musicus Wien, Arnold Schoenberg Choir, Etc.)
15) Tomas Luis de Victoria: Requiem -- Offertorium (Spiritus)
Yes, okay, I listen to a lot of Bach.
I tag Kathryn, and anyone else who fancies a go.
Thursday, 11 November 2010
Carol Service
As part of my work as organist and choirmaster at St Andrew's Leytonstone I am helping organise the annual Carol Service. This year the service will be on Sunday, 12th December at 4.30pm.
Choral singing is great fun, and I've always found it a good way of keeping my spirits up in the increasing gloom of November and December. Why not come and join us?
Rehearsals will be Fri 19th Nov, Thurs 25th Nov, Fri 3rd Dec and Thurs 9th Dec at 7.30pm, at St Andrew's. They're split between Thursdays and Fridays in order to accommodate those who already have commitments on one of those weeknights, and to avoid a clash with the popular Bistro Night at Cafe Refresh, our church cafe. If you'd like to participate but you can't come to all the rehearsals please do get in touch and I'll see if we can work something out!
All are welcome to come and sing.
Choral singing is great fun, and I've always found it a good way of keeping my spirits up in the increasing gloom of November and December. Why not come and join us?
Rehearsals will be Fri 19th Nov, Thurs 25th Nov, Fri 3rd Dec and Thurs 9th Dec at 7.30pm, at St Andrew's. They're split between Thursdays and Fridays in order to accommodate those who already have commitments on one of those weeknights, and to avoid a clash with the popular Bistro Night at Cafe Refresh, our church cafe. If you'd like to participate but you can't come to all the rehearsals please do get in touch and I'll see if we can work something out!
All are welcome to come and sing.
Saturday, 23 October 2010
It's Up To Us
I've spent a lot of time and energy this week thinking about the Comprehensive Spending Review cuts, as well as the recent cuts to science and education in this country.
A lot of that time has been spent cursing under my breath at the Great British Public for voting in the Tories -- did people honestly think they wouldn't be horrible? -- and at the LibDems for selling out and allowing their coalition partners to get away with this. A further chunk has been spent in fuming ire at the banking bailouts of 2008 and the various unpaid tax bills of large corporations. I find it hard to believe that the money so freely given away by the government is justified by the contribution the banks and large corporations make to the economy.
None of those are useful responses.
I think that the cuts to education and benefits are wrong, but I also think they're very short-sighted. If my neighbour's house is on fire, you can bet I'm going to be there with a bucket trying to help put it out, not only because of any love I might have for my neighbour but also because I know full well that my house is next. Poverty and lack of access to good education don't work as fast as fire, but I know that the world is so interconnected that what affects the poorest in our society will have knock-on effects for the rest of us. Only the rich and very rich can insulate themselves from this with their money.
For the rest of us, I think it's been clear for some time that relying on the government safety net of cradle-to-grave welfare is just not going to work. The government is far too beholden to a financial services industry with not enough regulation to prevent bubbles, and has forgotten about Keynesian economics or about any sort of duty to act on behalf of voters. Single-provider welfare doesn't work because it is so vulnerable to abuse. This is just as true now as when the Church was the arbiter of assistance.
The idea of the "Big Society" that has been waved about is, in some ways, a solution to this. I don't think the current government really believes in it: if they did, they'd be funding Big Society projects to get us started rather than removing vital support from the most vulnerable people in our society. But the lack of government support for the Big Society doesn't mean it's a bad idea in and of itself.
Imagine a society where everyone volunteers for something, or donates a substantial portion of their income to charities. Imagine a society where people can form meaningful friendships with people different than themselves. Imagine a society where if you fall on hard times, there is not just one route to get help but three or four; where everyone is concerned with the wellbeing of their neighbours (near and far -- we are all neighbours), where people are involved in deciding how resources are used, where even the most vulnerable are valued as having something to contribute. Imagine a society where nearly nobody is on government benefits because their communities take care of their needs. That's the Big Society, as I imagine it. I don't think it'll be easy to build, and there are serious issues of competence in relying entirely on volunteerism (but this could be offset by those who don't volunteer but instead donate money). There will always be an element of waste in that there will always be people who game the system, even if that system is actually many systems which overlap. But I do think that the vision of a Big Society where people care for one another and the vast majority of basic needs are met is one that is possible and is worth striving for.
What's interesting about this is that there are parallels in access to information. For most of the 20th century we had mostly one-way broadcast media; that is now changing to networked media. There are advantages and disadvantages of this and it is becoming apparent that the peer selection effect is very strong now compared to the days when one had less choice in one's social surroundings. Rather than the internet being one huge network where everyone pays attention to everyone else, it functions more as a system of networks which sometimes overlap. I'm on the edges of at least two such networks that spring to mind immediately, one full of church folks and one full of geeks, but there are several more.
I don't think the Big Society is going to happen overnight and I don't think that we can expect the current government to lift a finger to help us, but I don't think that has to prevent us working for change. I've been trying to say this on Twitter for a day or two and mostly I am getting compared to Boxer in Orwell's Animal Farm, who, faced with each new difficulty in the fourlegs-led revolution, vows to work harder. I've been told that I shouldn't be trying to take up the slack because that's exactly what our rich Tory overlords want me to do. I've been told that asking Vodafone UK to pay their £6bn tax bill would be fruitless, because our government wouldn't spend that money on benefits for the disabled but on police-state surveillance and guns to kill brown people.
The reason I think this is different is that, while network communication (rather than uneven broadcast) doesn't guarantee democratization of information access, it does make it easier, in the same way that Gutenberg's printing press and increases in literacy brought about huge changes in the society of the time. We have amazing tools for connecting to one another and people are recognising that it's about relationships.
I do think that organised resistance does need to be part of this, and I've signed the statement committing to get involved with that.
I also don't think that my signing a petition is going to have much immediate effect. I don't think that the risks of going ahead with creating a better society outweigh the need to get on and do it. Signing a petition or a statement will not give a homeless person a safe place to sleep. Volunteering with a homeless shelter will. Writing to my MP will probably not change how my high-street bank uses my money, but switching to something more ethical will. That doesn't mean I don't sign the petitions or write to my MP, but it means I do need to think about how my decisions affect everyone else, not just fob them off onto the government.
The government, as far as I am concerned, has proven that it cannot be trusted to help.
It's up to us to build the Big Society.
The government won't enforce tax laws, so it's up to us to withdraw or withhold custom from the worst tax evaders.
The government won't stop banks lending irresponsibly, so it's up to us to provide debt counseling and aid to those who've been wooed into "cheap" credit they can't afford.
The government won't protect disadvantaged people from destitution, so it's up to us to provide food and shelter for those who have none.
It's up to us to teach one another the skills we need to survive.
It's up to us to strengthen the weak. It's up to us to care for the sick. It's up to us to comfort the brokenhearted. It's up to us to protect the vulnerable.
I'm not saying it should be that way, but that it is. Like it or loathe it, it's up to us.
What are you doing to help?
A lot of that time has been spent cursing under my breath at the Great British Public for voting in the Tories -- did people honestly think they wouldn't be horrible? -- and at the LibDems for selling out and allowing their coalition partners to get away with this. A further chunk has been spent in fuming ire at the banking bailouts of 2008 and the various unpaid tax bills of large corporations. I find it hard to believe that the money so freely given away by the government is justified by the contribution the banks and large corporations make to the economy.
None of those are useful responses.
I think that the cuts to education and benefits are wrong, but I also think they're very short-sighted. If my neighbour's house is on fire, you can bet I'm going to be there with a bucket trying to help put it out, not only because of any love I might have for my neighbour but also because I know full well that my house is next. Poverty and lack of access to good education don't work as fast as fire, but I know that the world is so interconnected that what affects the poorest in our society will have knock-on effects for the rest of us. Only the rich and very rich can insulate themselves from this with their money.
For the rest of us, I think it's been clear for some time that relying on the government safety net of cradle-to-grave welfare is just not going to work. The government is far too beholden to a financial services industry with not enough regulation to prevent bubbles, and has forgotten about Keynesian economics or about any sort of duty to act on behalf of voters. Single-provider welfare doesn't work because it is so vulnerable to abuse. This is just as true now as when the Church was the arbiter of assistance.
The idea of the "Big Society" that has been waved about is, in some ways, a solution to this. I don't think the current government really believes in it: if they did, they'd be funding Big Society projects to get us started rather than removing vital support from the most vulnerable people in our society. But the lack of government support for the Big Society doesn't mean it's a bad idea in and of itself.
Imagine a society where everyone volunteers for something, or donates a substantial portion of their income to charities. Imagine a society where people can form meaningful friendships with people different than themselves. Imagine a society where if you fall on hard times, there is not just one route to get help but three or four; where everyone is concerned with the wellbeing of their neighbours (near and far -- we are all neighbours), where people are involved in deciding how resources are used, where even the most vulnerable are valued as having something to contribute. Imagine a society where nearly nobody is on government benefits because their communities take care of their needs. That's the Big Society, as I imagine it. I don't think it'll be easy to build, and there are serious issues of competence in relying entirely on volunteerism (but this could be offset by those who don't volunteer but instead donate money). There will always be an element of waste in that there will always be people who game the system, even if that system is actually many systems which overlap. But I do think that the vision of a Big Society where people care for one another and the vast majority of basic needs are met is one that is possible and is worth striving for.
What's interesting about this is that there are parallels in access to information. For most of the 20th century we had mostly one-way broadcast media; that is now changing to networked media. There are advantages and disadvantages of this and it is becoming apparent that the peer selection effect is very strong now compared to the days when one had less choice in one's social surroundings. Rather than the internet being one huge network where everyone pays attention to everyone else, it functions more as a system of networks which sometimes overlap. I'm on the edges of at least two such networks that spring to mind immediately, one full of church folks and one full of geeks, but there are several more.
I don't think the Big Society is going to happen overnight and I don't think that we can expect the current government to lift a finger to help us, but I don't think that has to prevent us working for change. I've been trying to say this on Twitter for a day or two and mostly I am getting compared to Boxer in Orwell's Animal Farm, who, faced with each new difficulty in the fourlegs-led revolution, vows to work harder. I've been told that I shouldn't be trying to take up the slack because that's exactly what our rich Tory overlords want me to do. I've been told that asking Vodafone UK to pay their £6bn tax bill would be fruitless, because our government wouldn't spend that money on benefits for the disabled but on police-state surveillance and guns to kill brown people.
The reason I think this is different is that, while network communication (rather than uneven broadcast) doesn't guarantee democratization of information access, it does make it easier, in the same way that Gutenberg's printing press and increases in literacy brought about huge changes in the society of the time. We have amazing tools for connecting to one another and people are recognising that it's about relationships.
I do think that organised resistance does need to be part of this, and I've signed the statement committing to get involved with that.
I also don't think that my signing a petition is going to have much immediate effect. I don't think that the risks of going ahead with creating a better society outweigh the need to get on and do it. Signing a petition or a statement will not give a homeless person a safe place to sleep. Volunteering with a homeless shelter will. Writing to my MP will probably not change how my high-street bank uses my money, but switching to something more ethical will. That doesn't mean I don't sign the petitions or write to my MP, but it means I do need to think about how my decisions affect everyone else, not just fob them off onto the government.
The government, as far as I am concerned, has proven that it cannot be trusted to help.
It's up to us to build the Big Society.
The government won't enforce tax laws, so it's up to us to withdraw or withhold custom from the worst tax evaders.
The government won't stop banks lending irresponsibly, so it's up to us to provide debt counseling and aid to those who've been wooed into "cheap" credit they can't afford.
The government won't protect disadvantaged people from destitution, so it's up to us to provide food and shelter for those who have none.
It's up to us to teach one another the skills we need to survive.
It's up to us to strengthen the weak. It's up to us to care for the sick. It's up to us to comfort the brokenhearted. It's up to us to protect the vulnerable.
I'm not saying it should be that way, but that it is. Like it or loathe it, it's up to us.
What are you doing to help?
Sunday, 17 October 2010
Travel time and time travel
This morning feels about a million years away! Really, I only had two main events today, but the day felt much longer.
I started with a Gregorian Chant workshop put on by RSCM EEL. I wouldn't ordinarily have gone to something like that with such short notice -- I got an e-mail about it on Thursday -- but it was led by Nick Gale, director of music at St George's RC Cathedral, and it was close to home at Our Lady of Lourdes Church in Wanstead. Our first chant of the day was not Gregorian but Ambrosian chant, a setting of the Gloria. It dates from around 400 CE, and it was interesting to see how the later additions to the text of the gloria were clearly of a different musical pattern than the earlier text. There was also quite a lot of actual Gregorian chant, including some things that might be useful for Advent.
I enjoyed the workshop immensely. After that I was off to a Harvest Supper at St Mary's Addington, where I was to play the serpent and the piano as part of the entertainments. The journey was quite horrific; I was kindly offered a lift by another workshop participant who lives near Addington, and as it had only taken him about 45 minutes to get to Wanstead in the morning I accepted. Unfortunately the southbound Blackwall Tunnel was closed and we spent about two hours on Blackwall Tunnel Approach. I couldn't even get out and take public transport until after we'd cleared the start of the tunnel.
I got there in the end, though, and the entertainments hadn't yet started. Phew! My piano playing was accompanying two friends singing "Misalliance" by Flanders and Swann. I was still a bit rattled after the journey and my hands were shaking badly, so I didn't play as well as I might have, but we got through okay and the audience loved their singing -- and acting! Later on was the serpent number. The choir had rehearsed "O God, my heart is fixed, 'tis bent", a metrical setting of Psalm 57 vv7-11 from the London Gallery Quire book Your Voices Raise, but we hadn't had a chance to play it together at all; it went well. The tune is "Lynn" by Uriah Davenport (1690-1784) and the words are from the New Version of Tate and Brady (1696). I had left my notes for the brief chat about the serpent and about West Gallery music at home, so forgot large parts of them; hopefully I didn't baffle people too much. I closed that set with a brief rendition of "Fly Me to the Moon" for reasons which I won't go into here. I have found that, anachronistic as it might seem, some of the jazz standards work remarkably well on the serpent. Possibly it's because I'm so accustomed to playing vocal basslines.
Then it was just the long journey home again... given the earlier transport problems, I accepted with some trepidation a lift as far as East Croydon station from a choir member, and though there were indeed some roadworks and a detour it was smooth driving all the way there. Then came the train, and the tube, and the rail replacement bus, and the walk home.
Dates for music I have sung/played today:
~400BC
18th century
20th century
Types of transport I have used today:
walking
Tube
private cars (not mine -- I don't drive!)
bus route 15
Docklands Light Railway (a sort of train)
London Overground (another sort of train)
Croydon Tramlink
British Rail
TfL rail replacement bus.
Clearly what I need is one of these:
No wonder the day felt long. It's far past my bedtime now, though; I've got to get up in the morning to play the organ at church.
I started with a Gregorian Chant workshop put on by RSCM EEL. I wouldn't ordinarily have gone to something like that with such short notice -- I got an e-mail about it on Thursday -- but it was led by Nick Gale, director of music at St George's RC Cathedral, and it was close to home at Our Lady of Lourdes Church in Wanstead. Our first chant of the day was not Gregorian but Ambrosian chant, a setting of the Gloria. It dates from around 400 CE, and it was interesting to see how the later additions to the text of the gloria were clearly of a different musical pattern than the earlier text. There was also quite a lot of actual Gregorian chant, including some things that might be useful for Advent.
I enjoyed the workshop immensely. After that I was off to a Harvest Supper at St Mary's Addington, where I was to play the serpent and the piano as part of the entertainments. The journey was quite horrific; I was kindly offered a lift by another workshop participant who lives near Addington, and as it had only taken him about 45 minutes to get to Wanstead in the morning I accepted. Unfortunately the southbound Blackwall Tunnel was closed and we spent about two hours on Blackwall Tunnel Approach. I couldn't even get out and take public transport until after we'd cleared the start of the tunnel.
I got there in the end, though, and the entertainments hadn't yet started. Phew! My piano playing was accompanying two friends singing "Misalliance" by Flanders and Swann. I was still a bit rattled after the journey and my hands were shaking badly, so I didn't play as well as I might have, but we got through okay and the audience loved their singing -- and acting! Later on was the serpent number. The choir had rehearsed "O God, my heart is fixed, 'tis bent", a metrical setting of Psalm 57 vv7-11 from the London Gallery Quire book Your Voices Raise, but we hadn't had a chance to play it together at all; it went well. The tune is "Lynn" by Uriah Davenport (1690-1784) and the words are from the New Version of Tate and Brady (1696). I had left my notes for the brief chat about the serpent and about West Gallery music at home, so forgot large parts of them; hopefully I didn't baffle people too much. I closed that set with a brief rendition of "Fly Me to the Moon" for reasons which I won't go into here. I have found that, anachronistic as it might seem, some of the jazz standards work remarkably well on the serpent. Possibly it's because I'm so accustomed to playing vocal basslines.
Then it was just the long journey home again... given the earlier transport problems, I accepted with some trepidation a lift as far as East Croydon station from a choir member, and though there were indeed some roadworks and a detour it was smooth driving all the way there. Then came the train, and the tube, and the rail replacement bus, and the walk home.
Dates for music I have sung/played today:
~400BC
18th century
20th century
Types of transport I have used today:
walking
Tube
private cars (not mine -- I don't drive!)
bus route 15
Docklands Light Railway (a sort of train)
London Overground (another sort of train)
Croydon Tramlink
British Rail
TfL rail replacement bus.
Clearly what I need is one of these:
No wonder the day felt long. It's far past my bedtime now, though; I've got to get up in the morning to play the organ at church.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)