Thursday, 3 February 2011

The Singer and the Song

Maggi Dawn, looking for debaters on the subject of scripture and translation, asked some questions on Twitter this morning which got me thinking.

@maggidawn: The Message: do you love it or hate it? I'm looking for debaters on the subject of translation
@maggidawn: The King James Version: beautiful or incomprehensible? I'm looking for debaters on the subject of scripture and translation
@maggidawn: who have you read/listened to that has most influenced you on translation and interpretation of the Bible, tweeps?

I have very little familiarity with "The Message" as a paraphrase or translation, and my familiarity with the King James Version is by no means complete. But I am also acutely aware that my Hebrew is very poor and I don't understand Greek at all. When I read the King James Version I think I understand the language fairly well, but I know that isn't true for everyone. If we are going to have scripture available to everyone that means we will need to renew our translations and interpretations as our use of language changes. So I find a certain irony in the existence of groups which believe the King James Version is the only valid scripture, given the Reformation value of accessibility of the text -- despite the situation surrounding the actual translation, which I understand was made with certain goals regarding the status quo in church and politics.

A few years ago I read various books by Karen Armstrong, and was struck by her repeated assertion that in many faiths there has at some point been a tradition of compassionate exegesis. That is, the "rules" are that any interpretation of scripture which is harmful, violent or cruel, is necessarily incorrect. That helped me a lot in coming to terms with a collection of texts which is often contradictory. Indeed, learning to see the Bible as an anthology rather than as one coherent book was also helpful.

As far as interpretation is concerned, there's a great post by the Three Minute Theologian which illustrates the difficulty of scriptural literalism. A musical score contains a certain amount of information about which notes are to be played when, and if you're lucky you get instructions about volume and articulation, too. But all of that must be interpreted in the context of the performance expectations of the time: in some periods there is a great deal that nobody bothered to write down because it was just the done thing, for example repeated phrases having some variation in dynamic. Debussy and Brahms are both composers who wrote a huge amount of what they wanted on the page, so that it is possible to follow their instructions exactly and get a half-decent musical result, but both still require a sense of line and direction, and the knowledge to interpret things like the time signature, which doesn't only tell the performer how many beats there are in a bar but how they should be stressed in relation to one another. Bach left much more to the discretion of the performer. As I commented there, an historically accurate interpretation of music requires study of contemporary performance practice, but an informed contrast to that tradition of interpretation also requires some understanding of how the music would have been performed. Performers always end up interpreting, too.

What is important in the interpretation of music, in the end, is not how correctly one interprets the dots and squiggles, but the impact of doing so on the listener. A very historically authentic performance and one that departs drastically from traditional performance practice can both be moving and inspiring; it is likely that neither will consist only of what is written on the page. The creative interpretation of the performer or performers is an intrinsic part of the music, whether the performance consists of singing, blowing air through tubes, drawing a bow across stretched strings or even putting together instructions for robots to play the music (I refer to various forms of digital music, most of which are so far outside my own area of training as to be incomprehensible to me in their performance techniques).

I'm not a theologian, but I'll go out on a limb here: I believe that how people present scripture in the way they live their lives is a more important interpretation issue than which translation or tradition of interpretation they might use to read it. That doesn't apply only to Christianity, either. Actions speak louder than words and actions are more important than which words you read.

What do we say in our daily actions?

(edited slightly for clarity)

Wednesday, 2 February 2011

Candlemas


By Window: workshop of Franz Borgias Mayer (1848–1926); Photo: Wojciech Dittwald (my own photo) [http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html">GFDL or CC-BY-SA-3.0], via Wikimedia Commons


When to the temple Mary went,
And brought the Holy Child,
Him did the aged Simeon see,
As it had been revealed.
He took up Jesus in his arms
And blessing God he said:
In peace I now depart, my Saviour having seen,
The Hope of Israel, the Light of men.

Help now thy servants, gracious Lord,
That we may ever be
As once the faithful Simeon was,
Rejoicing but in Thee;
And when we must from earth departure take,
May gently fall asleep and with Thee wake.




Tuesday, 1 February 2011

Bucket Bass at London Hackspace

Tuesday night after teaching I wended my weary way to London Hackspace for their social night. I recently joined, since I always have a few more making-random-stuff projects than is good for me and not quite enough time and space to work on them; the idea is that if I can get there regularly enough, I might get on with some of them.

I was locking up my bicycle and saw someone else arrive with some sort of thing on a bicycle; at first glance I had no idea what it was and wondered if it was some sort of carrier. Inside it was explained: this was a bucket bass, strapped to a bicycle. It was duly unstrapped and assembled, and I had a few tries.

I don't really play any string instruments so it was hard going at first. Another London Hackspace sort had very carefully marked the neck of the instrument with lines to show where the semitones would be; that's okay, if you keep the neck tension absolutely constant, but I found it difficult to use this visual aid without losing my bearings. When I stopped trying to do things visually and just listened, I found it easier going. It's certainly an instrument that anyone with a good ear and strong hands could learn, though I think for now I shall resist the temptation to add another instrument to the list of things I feel guilty about not practising quite enough...


Monday, 31 January 2011

Muse musings

I seem to composing better for people and occasions than for competitions. Maybe I haven't entered enough competitions to gather accurate data from which to draw such a conclusion. However, despite putting a lot of work into it, I wasn't really happy with my entry for the St Paul's competition in June. The last few weeks I've had in mind the King James Bible Composition Awards, which I scrape in as being young enough to enter. But despite taking time to select texts that are important to me and putting in a lot of effort, I just wasn't getting anywhere with that, either.

On Thursday, I happened across a text that had a specific memory attached, with particular people involved, though they probably don't remember same details I do. It's a fond memory, and thinking about those words and how they (or another translation of them) were used on that occasion, I found myself composing quite easily. I think it unlikely that I'll win this competition based on what I've written, but it's worth a try, and I feel positive about the music as something that will be useful in a liturgical setting. I won't post it online until I know the competition results, since that sort of publication could disqualify me.

That said, the process of writing a piece for someone or for a special occasion is also one that can be quite fraught. Until I've found the right words, I worry frantically about whether I'll be able to find them in time. I try to keep texts in reserve, I often make a few false starts before finding something that's just right. So perhaps my problem is not that I write for people better than for competitions, but that inspiration is not something I can control, just something to which I can try to remain alert and open.

Next up, I'm meant to be writing a Mass setting to use at St Andrew's. Watch this space...

Sunday, 30 January 2011

"Go quietly to bed"

Sunday evening, I had the privilege of singing Compline with the choir at St Mary's Addington. I started attending services in the parish once in a while in order to visit a friend of mine who is Curate there, but the community -- and especially the choir -- has become a real resource for me. As an organist working in a C of E church but who doesn't come from an Anglican background it's been excellent to be exposed to some of the standard repertoire from the rehearsal side as well as hearing it sung in services and, eventually, joining in and even conducting from time to time; they also did me the honour of singing a piece I composed. I've always been made very welcome and if the journey from Leytonstone weren't so silly I'm sure I would want to be there more often.

Anyway, Compline. I hadn't ever attended a Compline service before, not even a said one, so this was a new experience for me, though I'm familiar with the general shape of the liturgy. I've had a bit of a brush with chant notation in other contexts, and it's pretty straightforward to read if you're already good at transposition, so that wasn't a problem for me. I struggled a bit more with the psalm pointing but once I got the hang of it that was also straightforward. The service was by candle light, and very atmospheric. Choir and cantor sang well; that sort of unaccompanied unison singing is harder to do well than you might imagine, but the pitch stayed pretty stable throughout and I think the timing was good.

Compline is the last Office of the day and it is traditional to go quietly to bed afterward, without speaking and certainly without any cavorting about. I can certainly see how after singing the service in the cosy intimacy of St Mary's, going home quietly and to bed without further ado would be quite welcoming even if it meant a fairly early night. That option was, alas, not open to me: my journey from Leytonstone to Addington had been by bicycle, then train, then tram, and so on the way back I did the same in reverse (well, I didn't ride the bicycle backward, that doesn't work...). I wouldn't say I was cavorting, exactly, but even on a Sunday night in London one must keep one's wits about oneself on a bicycle. Still, I'm very grateful for having had the opportunity to go.

Saturday, 29 January 2011

Organists Online birthday celebration

Saturday afternoon I attended the Organists Online ten-year anniversary event, an Open House at Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church.

It was good to meet other organists; we tend to get quite wrapped up in our own work, being all busy at around the same times on Sunday mornings, and if I didn't go out of my way to speak to some in other parishes I could easily not meet any at all.

The programme included talks and mini-recitals as well as a buffet. I didn't attend the entire afternoon, but the talks about the organ in the church, and about the Small Choirs website were interesting and informative.

I was sorry to miss some of the playing, but the standard of what I did hear was superb. The organists were on a video camera with the footage projected on two screens in the front of the church -- one of the few times I've seen projector screens used suitably inside a church ;) -- which meant that I could see their technique for myself. It was interesting seeing the difference between Cherry-Willow Pauls's very fluid, rounded movements and David Aprahamian Liddle's absolute economy of movement. It's rare that I meet an organist in their natural habitat and even rarer that I get to watch them carefully while they play, so this was an excellent opportunity for me.

I do hope there will be another one!

EVENSONG AS HARDY KNEW IT

In the final year of my degree I decided I needed to do more singing, and one thing led to another...

I am delighted that we'll be singing and playing Evensong at a church not too far from where I live! It makes carrying the serpent much easier. Playing from the gallery is a treat, too; many galleries have had so many bits of pipe organ added that we can't get into them.


EVENSONG AS HARDY KNEW IT

A special service of Evensong with the

London Gallery Quire

Hear the leading exponents of West Gallery music, the psalmody heard in parish churches and non-conformist chapels during the Georgian period, sung from the West Gallery of one of the finest, most unspoilt Georgian churches in England – St Mary's Wanstead.

Sunday 6th February 2011 at 6.30pm

ST MARY'S CHURCH

Overton Drive, Wanstead E11 2LW


All welcome