Several months ago, I found out that Singapore Bible College was going to perform part 1 of Handel's Messiah in December, and they were opening up their choir to community members.
I jumped at the chance. If you open my wish list, you will see that #37 is 'sing Handel's Hallelujah Chorus in choir.' Ever since I first was introduced to this glorious piece of choral music I fell in love and knew that one day--one painfully distant day--I would have a choir to complete this piece of music, and an audience to create an occasion. Sadly--or happily, I haven't decided which--it's not possible to participate in certain arts like choral singing and drama on your own. Of course, with technology's help now you have the marvelous thign which is a multi-part Youtube video, where you can perform a modern day equivalent of the Shadow Clone Jutsu if you're willing to spend hours editing and splicing videos. It's just not the same, unfortunately.
I'd done plenty of infomal choir singing before, but this was on a whole new level. The audition placed me as a soprano, which is what I've been singing as my whole life; but after an overabundance of sopranos was proven, as well as the eyebrow-raisingly high notes of the soprano part (I'm not sure which convinced me) I took the plunge and went to the alto section, clutching my vocal chords gratefully.
Here first of all let me pay my respects to the altos, who may not have to hit high notes, but have to content themselves with parts which often don't sound exactly melodious, if not actually extraterrestial. I was pathetically grateful for the existence of Cyberbass , a website which not only provides free 'Innovative Online Learning for Choral Singers Worldwide' but also a picture of Mozart wearing gangsta sunglasses. Valuable? Priceless.
Getting to hear and work with incredibly talented, professional musicians and singers was something I'd not expected. Neither was a renaissance of my appreciation for classical music. I hadn't really worked at classical music for a while; my violin was gathering dust; and I all along disliked the operatic singing on the CDs my mom loved to play. Perhaps this bias was due to bad childhood memories of Mendelssohn's Elijah, which absolutely terrified me. It sounded like the music of nightmares. I remember stuffing my pillow into my ears and trying vainly to drown out the wails of 'Be Not Afraid' which I felt were deeply ironic.
I was also very impressed by the depth of knowledge and expertise that I got exposed to. I had no idea that E major was the key of joy, something the music faculty people all seemed to know from their cradles. What a privilege it is to be able to study one field of knowledge in such depth--but more on that later. Likewise, the preliminary massages that we gave each other during vocal warm up was something I didn't expect, but came to look forward to (it seems like everyone in the alto section was a musician; no matter where I was seated I found my shoulders under astonishingly strong and agile fingers!)
There is something about choral music which will endure, I believe. There is something about a whole group of people standing there with their eyes fixed on one person and their mouths open, completely focused and engrossed for a considerable period of time in simply the sounds coming out of their mouths; more specifically, the sound as a whole--not just their own voice (you can actually barely hear yourself) but a collective sound in which their ear picks out one familiar strain and pursues it. The more you think about it the stranger it gets. But there it is. And it's beautiful. Amazingly beautiful, in fact. When the four parts come together I feel a little bit of what it's like to fly. I remember writing somewhere that beautiful acapella music made me feel as if my soul was birthing wings. something swelling and bursting out of you, in a glorious, transcendent way, answering some wordless call. All the more beautiful for the simple fact that anybody can open their mouth and make sounds. You don't even need a musical instrument. One moment you could be having a perfectly normal, even banal conversation (read: before rehearsal starts) and the next you sound like a tribe of angels announcing the Last Judgement.
I have one lasting consequence of this experience, at least. I listened to Elijah the other day while I made chocolate chip cookies and was actually able to enjoy and appreciate it. Gone are the chains of prejudice and bad memories of it as a nightmare soundtrack.
And now I will always love the Messiah. Perhaps one day I'll get to sing the second half, including the beautiful I Know that My Redeemer Lives.