ONE of the very first services that I took was a carol service for 500 soldiers on the local army barracks. A small Hammond organ was borrowed from an officer’s house and wheeled right into a huge warehouse in front of the assembled men. The valiant organist, bundled in coat and scarf, did his best, but was no match for a regiment determined to sing as fast as possible because block leave began as soon because the service was over.
In the tip, he stopped playing altogether, and the soldiers carried on at ever-increasing speed until a general collapse ensued. The organist and I still bear the emotional scars, and I actually have been each respectful and barely wary of church musicians ever since.
Music in churches is available in very many iterations, essentially the most common being that delivered by the organist. These venerable survivors of many a “recent in post” vicar’s enthusiasms and musical initiatives can control a complete community, and needs to be treated with respect. Very often volunteers, they play on stoically, no matter the dimensions of the congregation or its ability to sing, determined to squeeze the last note out of a humid and neglected instrument, giving up only when the variety of broken stops exceeds the usable, or when the last singer is silent.
They might be the minister’s best support, warming up chilly souls and fanning the spark of community into life, or their worst enemy, playing at an unsingable speed and in an unimaginable rhythm, sabotaging the strongest bass and crushing the hapless soprano.
Organists may come solo, or with a choir — again, a possible blessing who have to be treated with the best of care. The best choirs enhance worship in lots of wonderful ways, not only musical, offering support and encouragement to organ scholars, curates, and recent incumbents alike, their presence lending a gravity to each occasion.
THEN there may be the band: a species most frequently to be present in town churches, as rural communities way back discovered that one guitar and a mouth organ don’t a musical delight make. Some bands find it difficult to play quietly; others feel quite strongly that every little thing, including the sermon, can be higher with some backing music.
Trailing wires is usually a hazard, and it’s a undeniable fact that the amp might be in just one place (often in front of the altar). Bands are great fun, nevertheless: aspirational for the younger members of the community, and able to livening up even essentially the most stolid members of the congregation.
No organist? No band? Not even a solitary recorder, whistling plaintively at a lopsided music stand while attempting to keep the hymn book open at the correct page? The days of CDs are long gone, gone with their individual dents and dings — to which the regular congregation grew accustomed, enabling them to miss out half a line and pick up again in perfect harmony, while causing distress to the occasional “live” organist who couldn’t understand why everyone was now singing two bars ahead.
Instead, we will rejoice in Spotify or its cousins, amplified by a Bluetooth speaker (WiFi permitting — intermittent is the worst). Choose between music only, or a ghost choir boosting up your three singers, encouraging or silencing the remaining in response to personality. The only danger here is segueing by accident into your personal music list, startling the more vulnerable with the 1812 overture, or Drake’s latest rap offering, in response to your taste.
I HAVE known some more offbeat musical offerings which have added spice to the on a regular basis offering. Steel pans are energetic, fun, all-age, but mostly noisy. The glass harp is fragile (as can also be the case with its performer); peculiar harps, ditto, with the drawback that they’re difficult to maneuver, emotional, and almost not possible to listen to in a big space. Full orchestras have a lifetime of their very own, often swamping the worship, which shouldn’t be all the time a superb thing, but, perhaps fortunately, they rarely make an appearance at a daily church service.
Cathedral music is, in fact, in a league of its own. Everyone must have the chance to be bathed in the luxurious chords of a very excellent, professionally trained choir, accompanied by an organist for whom music is their life and hours of practice are a joy reasonably than a trial. We sit humbly within the pews, our prayers and musings elevated within the presence of such harmony, wistfully aware that nothing will sound the identical again, but secretly relieved, also, that such high standards should not for peculiar people, and, at the tip of the service, we will retreat back gratefully to our own off-key renderings.
“Where there may be devotional music, God is all the time at hand together with his gracious presence.” So said J. S. Bach, and I remain grateful to all of the musicians, organists, choirs, and bands I actually have known for all of the uplifting, inspiring, harmonious, glorious, and hysterical moments that they’ve offered within the service of God.
The Revd Dr Sally Welch is Vicar of the Kington Group within the diocese of Hereford.
‘As good as kick-boxing’ (Amelia, 8)
ST MICHAEL and All Angels, Kingsland, plays a vital part within the lifetime of the village, offering a big selection of services and events for all ages and a level of community engagement unusual on your average rural church, due largely to the energy and commitment of the Rector and her leadership team. But essentially the most unusual feature of St Michael’s is an entire set of steelpans, all arrange and able to go.
For the uninitiated, the steelpan is formed from a 200-litre industrial drum, the pitch of the notes dictated by the dimensions of the cylindrical a part of the drum. “Dents” hammered into the playing surface are tuned to the Western musical scale, and played using rubber-tipped sticks. While the origins and age of this instrument are disputed, it’s the official instrument of Trinidad and Tobago, and far of the music traditionally played has a calypso rhythm.
Prebendary Julie Read began her working profession as a music teacher in Shepherd’s Bush, where she first learned, after which taught, the skill of steelpan-playing, even performing within the Notting Hill Carnival procession. Arriving in Kingsland eight years ago, she discovered a fellow enthusiast in Sue Green, who led the band within the church primary school. With donations from a supportive congregation, Julie bought 14 pans at a greatly reduced price from a Manchester music shop, and, with great commitment, drove to the first school every Friday afternoon to borrow the ultimate 4 pans to make up the complete complement, before a legacy enabled the church to purchase their very own.
The first tranche of pupils kept playing until the demands of GCSEs brought their music to a halt, but they’ve been followed through the years by many others. Every Friday evening, the church constructing echoes to the sounds of “O when the saints” and other tunes, bashed out, kind of in harmony, by a bunch of enthusiastic villagers. The atmosphere is relaxed and joyful; the shortage of heating is insignificant when the corporate is nice and the activity level is energetic. Players would not have to give you the option to read music, because the notation is exclusive to the band, helped by Julie’s ability to transcribe almost any tune into something joyful and playable.
An all-age activity that encourages people to have interaction with recent experiences and provides a chance to turn out to be acquainted with the constructing and its people, the band is an example of the incumbent’s sharing their very own individual gifts with the community, to the advantage of each.
