Memories of Tours Bygone
2013 — Innsbruck
Written by James Whitehead
After a very early coach ride from Robinson, and a breakfast of Tim’s chocolate cake at Stansted, we arrived safely at Munich airport where we were shepherded onto a waiting coach to Innsbruck. Reports of the duration of this coach journey vary wildly — but it was long, and we had to provide our own entertainment. Fortunately, on both counts, one wild young bass (who shall remain nameless), still in black tie from a May ball the previous night, proved curiously resistant to various amusing attempts to disturb his slumber.
But soon enough, we were trundling our suitcases down a narrow café-lined street, smiling excitedly to each other as our fetching “Choir of Robinson College, Cambridge” t-shirts elicited a murmur, potentially of recognition, among the locals enjoying their coffees in the warm alpine sun. Any initial doubts about the chaplain’s ability to grapple with earthly logistical concerns were quashed by our arrival at the broad oak door, just around the corner from the very heart of the town, which led into our temporary home. The hostel, a historical building in which we had three separate flats, each with generous cooking facilities and complementary staple foods, was a triumph — and after settling in we set off to explore the city.
Once we’d marvelled at the Goldenes Dachl, a gilded-copper tiled oriel roof that blazes brightly in the afternoon sun, we proceeded to our first rehearsal, at Innsbruck university’s answer to Great St. Mary’s, the Jesuitenkirche. Or so we had expected; the rehearsal actually took place in a recital room in a neighbouring building, where we were joined by Georg Weiß and selected members of his Universitätschor Innsbruck.
Once we’d run through the repertoire for the following day’s service — comprising some fantastic music by various giants of the choral repertoire (Finzi, Fauré, Thurlow, Bruckner, Palestrina, Byrd) — Georg and his choir members kindly took us for dinner at a local restaurant, after which we retired to the local beer hall, Stiftskeller Innsbruck. This charming venue proved to have two complimentary attractions: a selection of excellent German and Austrian beers, served in litre tankards — and a large supply of beer mats. Fortunately for the youth of the world, the students emerged victorious from the ensuing competitions against their elders: Tim’s phenomenal talent for beer-mat-flipping was narrowly trumped by a well-practiced fresher, though his attempts to win back the beer-mat crown continued well into the evening.
After a restorative night’s sleep, we were given the morning to explore further. My especially-enterprising group proceeded to the very outskirts of the city, on foot, in a quest to discover the purpose of a striking hilltop structure (it proved to be the Bergiselschanze ski-jump), and was rewarded with beautiful panoramic views of the city and a preview of the Stift Wilten church at which we were to sing the following day. Once we’d trekked back to the centre we set off for the Jesuitenkirche to rehearse for, and then sing, the university’s end-of-year service.
The church itself is spacious and airy; rich, gold-adorned wooden structures sit against lightly-detailed white walls, while a windowed dome high above the crossing fills the whole space with daylight. Each side of the nave is lined with lavish side-chapels, and overlooking the whole space, at the western end, is a balcony upon which the church organ sits, together with its console.
This led to some practical difficulties, as the choir sang from the opposite end. To make matters worse, there was no line of sight (or mirror system) to allow someone sitting at the console to see a conductor down the length of the church. Fortunately the organ scholars’ excellent musicianship from the loft, and some slightly erratic beating (relayed to one organ scholar by the other), led to a blend so synchronous to the congregation that even Jeremy’s keen ears could detect no delay.
The following two days followed a similar pattern: free time in the morning, an afternoon rehearsal and a late-afternoon service, though the locations and the services differed. The first of these was the abbey church of Stift Wilten, a monastery pre-dating even the University of Cambridge, which was — rather curiously to English eyes – painted red and yellow. Even more curiously, the main entrance is guarded by enormous statues of two local mythical giants, Haymon (who, according to legend, founded the monastery) and Thyrsus. Inside the eye was drawn down the long nave, past numerous side-chapels, to the colourful altarpiece bordered by tall dark gilt-trimmed wooden columns – and then, up to the ceiling, where, recessed inside an ornate alcove flanked by golden angels and lions, Christ is depicted sitting in glory upon Solomon’s throne.
Although the church was equipped with three organs, we were confined to the small (but quite nice) choir organ, which immediately solved the previous day’s synchrony problems. After a Vespers service in which we had to chant alongside the decades-habituated resident monks (and in which the Magnificat setting was taken from Stanford’s Canticles in C, in what was almost certainly a Stift Wilten first) we returned to central Innsbruck to eat dinner (and, for some, drink supper).
Before we’d even habituated ourselves to this interesting town, we’d reached our final full day in Austria. Fortunately it was set up to be a very special one. Our venue for the day was Stift Stams, also an ancient monastery and these days housing a school; this one, however, was a half-hour drive away which necessitated an early start. Once we’d arrived, we were treated to a tour — which included our first opportunity to see our final choral performance venue. What a treat: a light and spacious church full of colour — from the enormous billowing blue altar screen, with golden statuettes of religious figures suspended in a wrought iron ‘tree of life’, to the exquisite biblical scenes painted directly onto the white vaulted ceiling — and wonderfully different from our red-brick home. The chaplain certainly seemed to find a childlike delight at the sense of empowerment which only an intricately-detailed golden pulpit can give.
After a refreshments break, several of the Robinson students were called off to give an access talk to various assembled Austrian students — which, whilst certainly admirable in spirit, seems highly unlikely to have any dramatic effect on future Austro-Cantabrigian relationships. Drained by a begrudgingly-attended concert for the students and filled with a delicious (and enormous) monastic lunch, we were finally able to start rehearsing for evensong. Since Cistercian monks have little call for the profoundly-Anglican service of evensong, we had — we were informed by our friendly host — the privilege of premiering the service there. No pressure. Fortunately we’d brought our A-game: Tallis’ ever-riveting Dorian Canticles, with a selection of anthems including Stanford’s Beati quorum via and Tallis’ O nata lux. Judging from the feedback we received over several delicious glasses of the monastery’s homegrown, home-distilled fruit Schnaps, we did our choral tradition proud.
It only remained to return to Innsbruck for a jovial final meal; after an evening of good food, drink and company we returned to the hostel for the final time where further eating, drinking and conversation ensued — well into the small hours. One bass, having stayed up late discussing the merits of socialism, somehow got himself locked out of the hostel at around 3am; on finally being rescued and allowed in by an early-riser, he decided that he’d rather join an outgoing mountain-climbing expedition than sleep. Fortunately for all, the ascent was principally by cable-car.
Finally we bade Auf Wiedersehen to Innsbruck and returned home to Cambridge, where we spent a bittersweet final few days together as a choir before bidding many of our number a final ‘farewell’ at their graduation service. Of course, I doubt they’ll stay away for long.
After a very early coach ride from Robinson, and a breakfast of Tim’s chocolate cake at Stansted, we arrived safely at Munich airport where we were shepherded onto a waiting coach to Innsbruck. Reports of the duration of this coach journey vary wildly — but it was long, and we had to provide our own entertainment. Fortunately, on both counts, one wild young bass (who shall remain nameless), still in black tie from a May ball the previous night, proved curiously resistant to various amusing attempts to disturb his slumber.
But soon enough, we were trundling our suitcases down a narrow café-lined street, smiling excitedly to each other as our fetching “Choir of Robinson College, Cambridge” t-shirts elicited a murmur, potentially of recognition, among the locals enjoying their coffees in the warm alpine sun. Any initial doubts about the chaplain’s ability to grapple with earthly logistical concerns were quashed by our arrival at the broad oak door, just around the corner from the very heart of the town, which led into our temporary home. The hostel, a historical building in which we had three separate flats, each with generous cooking facilities and complementary staple foods, was a triumph — and after settling in we set off to explore the city.
Once we’d marvelled at the Goldenes Dachl, a gilded-copper tiled oriel roof that blazes brightly in the afternoon sun, we proceeded to our first rehearsal, at Innsbruck university’s answer to Great St. Mary’s, the Jesuitenkirche. Or so we had expected; the rehearsal actually took place in a recital room in a neighbouring building, where we were joined by Georg Weiß and selected members of his Universitätschor Innsbruck.
Once we’d run through the repertoire for the following day’s service — comprising some fantastic music by various giants of the choral repertoire (Finzi, Fauré, Thurlow, Bruckner, Palestrina, Byrd) — Georg and his choir members kindly took us for dinner at a local restaurant, after which we retired to the local beer hall, Stiftskeller Innsbruck. This charming venue proved to have two complimentary attractions: a selection of excellent German and Austrian beers, served in litre tankards — and a large supply of beer mats. Fortunately for the youth of the world, the students emerged victorious from the ensuing competitions against their elders: Tim’s phenomenal talent for beer-mat-flipping was narrowly trumped by a well-practiced fresher, though his attempts to win back the beer-mat crown continued well into the evening.
After a restorative night’s sleep, we were given the morning to explore further. My especially-enterprising group proceeded to the very outskirts of the city, on foot, in a quest to discover the purpose of a striking hilltop structure (it proved to be the Bergiselschanze ski-jump), and was rewarded with beautiful panoramic views of the city and a preview of the Stift Wilten church at which we were to sing the following day. Once we’d trekked back to the centre we set off for the Jesuitenkirche to rehearse for, and then sing, the university’s end-of-year service.
The church itself is spacious and airy; rich, gold-adorned wooden structures sit against lightly-detailed white walls, while a windowed dome high above the crossing fills the whole space with daylight. Each side of the nave is lined with lavish side-chapels, and overlooking the whole space, at the western end, is a balcony upon which the church organ sits, together with its console.
This led to some practical difficulties, as the choir sang from the opposite end. To make matters worse, there was no line of sight (or mirror system) to allow someone sitting at the console to see a conductor down the length of the church. Fortunately the organ scholars’ excellent musicianship from the loft, and some slightly erratic beating (relayed to one organ scholar by the other), led to a blend so synchronous to the congregation that even Jeremy’s keen ears could detect no delay.
The following two days followed a similar pattern: free time in the morning, an afternoon rehearsal and a late-afternoon service, though the locations and the services differed. The first of these was the abbey church of Stift Wilten, a monastery pre-dating even the University of Cambridge, which was — rather curiously to English eyes – painted red and yellow. Even more curiously, the main entrance is guarded by enormous statues of two local mythical giants, Haymon (who, according to legend, founded the monastery) and Thyrsus. Inside the eye was drawn down the long nave, past numerous side-chapels, to the colourful altarpiece bordered by tall dark gilt-trimmed wooden columns – and then, up to the ceiling, where, recessed inside an ornate alcove flanked by golden angels and lions, Christ is depicted sitting in glory upon Solomon’s throne.
Although the church was equipped with three organs, we were confined to the small (but quite nice) choir organ, which immediately solved the previous day’s synchrony problems. After a Vespers service in which we had to chant alongside the decades-habituated resident monks (and in which the Magnificat setting was taken from Stanford’s Canticles in C, in what was almost certainly a Stift Wilten first) we returned to central Innsbruck to eat dinner (and, for some, drink supper).
Before we’d even habituated ourselves to this interesting town, we’d reached our final full day in Austria. Fortunately it was set up to be a very special one. Our venue for the day was Stift Stams, also an ancient monastery and these days housing a school; this one, however, was a half-hour drive away which necessitated an early start. Once we’d arrived, we were treated to a tour — which included our first opportunity to see our final choral performance venue. What a treat: a light and spacious church full of colour — from the enormous billowing blue altar screen, with golden statuettes of religious figures suspended in a wrought iron ‘tree of life’, to the exquisite biblical scenes painted directly onto the white vaulted ceiling — and wonderfully different from our red-brick home. The chaplain certainly seemed to find a childlike delight at the sense of empowerment which only an intricately-detailed golden pulpit can give.
After a refreshments break, several of the Robinson students were called off to give an access talk to various assembled Austrian students — which, whilst certainly admirable in spirit, seems highly unlikely to have any dramatic effect on future Austro-Cantabrigian relationships. Drained by a begrudgingly-attended concert for the students and filled with a delicious (and enormous) monastic lunch, we were finally able to start rehearsing for evensong. Since Cistercian monks have little call for the profoundly-Anglican service of evensong, we had — we were informed by our friendly host — the privilege of premiering the service there. No pressure. Fortunately we’d brought our A-game: Tallis’ ever-riveting Dorian Canticles, with a selection of anthems including Stanford’s Beati quorum via and Tallis’ O nata lux. Judging from the feedback we received over several delicious glasses of the monastery’s homegrown, home-distilled fruit Schnaps, we did our choral tradition proud.
It only remained to return to Innsbruck for a jovial final meal; after an evening of good food, drink and company we returned to the hostel for the final time where further eating, drinking and conversation ensued — well into the small hours. One bass, having stayed up late discussing the merits of socialism, somehow got himself locked out of the hostel at around 3am; on finally being rescued and allowed in by an early-riser, he decided that he’d rather join an outgoing mountain-climbing expedition than sleep. Fortunately for all, the ascent was principally by cable-car.
Finally we bade Auf Wiedersehen to Innsbruck and returned home to Cambridge, where we spent a bittersweet final few days together as a choir before bidding many of our number a final ‘farewell’ at their graduation service. Of course, I doubt they’ll stay away for long.
2012 — Regensburg
Written by Alvo von Cossel
Regensburg is a city of delights great and small, coming in tankards of 500ml or a litre. The Choir undertook a cultural exchange, trading services and concerts of lovely English choral music for plenteous sausage, beer and Sauerkraut. Among non-digestible delights were the many beautiful historic churches: we sang in five different churches, four of which were in Regensburg, one in Munich, and each was entirely different from all of the previous ones, ranging from a very plain medieval monastic church (Minoritenkirche) to the very essence of Baroque kitsch (St Maria, Ramersdorf).
The first service, an evening mass in the magnificent and reverberant Niedermünsterkirche, celebrated the blessing of what is likely to have been a Bavarian drinking society's ceremonial flag. Tim had much fun in trying to understand the priest's liturgical commands in his thick Bavarian accent, and I had a great time translating the very same accent into English, so that Jeremy could make sense of his post-service vote of thanks! The second service was a Sunday morning mass in the St Oswald Kirche, a Gothic church which had been beautifully 'Baroqued'. The vicar signalled our entries by reciting the first line of every piece, but what we didn't know was that the sermon was going to be about the Agnus Dei: we were all very startled when he declared "Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi'', without stopping to let us sing! The music for both masses comprised Byrd's Mass for four voices and Tallis' Salvator mundi. The final church service was an Anglican evensong in the Neupfarrkirche, a beautiful protestant church right next to Regensburg's enormous cathedral. The acoustic was massive, and the organ was powerful and reedy: perfect for singing Howells' Gloucester Service and Parry's I was glad!
Once the three services were done, we sang three concerts. The first was a lunchtime busking concert in a large square in town, where we sang some close harmony and madrigals. People enjoyed listening to us, but were clearly too comfortable sitting at their outdoor restaurant tables to come closer! That same night, we sang in the large Minoritenkirche, whose acoustic is almost as large as that of King's Chapel. The programme included Purcell's Te deum and Jubilate, Hear my Prayer, O Lord, and his Bell Anthem. It was a very different experience to sing in such a wet acoustic; Robinson's acoustic is as dry as scorched sandpaper in comparison. We sang the same concert the following night in St Maria, Ramersdorf, a much smaller, but much more impressively ornate church on the outskirts of Munich. Both concerts were incredibly well-received, and I have never seen an audience as enthusiastic as the one in Ramersdorf!
The latter church owns a fragment of the True Cross, we were told by the churchwarden. Universitätsmusikdirektor Graham Buckland made it known that, apparently, if we put together all of the fragments of the True Cross, we could make a ship. This comment appeared to insult the churchwarden, much to the awkwardness of all onlookers!
Fortunately, most of the very awkward moments appeared outside of concerts and services, although we were cursed with a recurring moment of awkwardness… Buckland's University Baroque Orchestra, RUBIO, accompanied us when we sang Purcell's Te Deum and Jubilate. After emphasising the paramount importance of a particular trumpet note that directly precedes the final amen during the rehearsal, both trumpeters forgot to play it during both concerts!
Aside from those two (admittedly very important) forgotten notes, everything seemed to run exceedingly smoothly. When we booked the hostels, we had no idea what we were to expect, but we were always pleasantly surprised. There were rumours that somebody might have to share a room with all of the attending members of University staff, but claims to that effect were thankfully erroneous! Instead, we spent most nights in luxurious five-person rooms, with warm showers and clean bedding.
The final day was spent in Munich, where the Choir split into several smaller groups, each undertaking different touristic pursuits. Most of us, however, spent the day migrating between beer gardens, enjoying the sunshine.
Regensburg is a city of delights great and small, coming in tankards of 500ml or a litre. The Choir undertook a cultural exchange, trading services and concerts of lovely English choral music for plenteous sausage, beer and Sauerkraut. Among non-digestible delights were the many beautiful historic churches: we sang in five different churches, four of which were in Regensburg, one in Munich, and each was entirely different from all of the previous ones, ranging from a very plain medieval monastic church (Minoritenkirche) to the very essence of Baroque kitsch (St Maria, Ramersdorf).
The first service, an evening mass in the magnificent and reverberant Niedermünsterkirche, celebrated the blessing of what is likely to have been a Bavarian drinking society's ceremonial flag. Tim had much fun in trying to understand the priest's liturgical commands in his thick Bavarian accent, and I had a great time translating the very same accent into English, so that Jeremy could make sense of his post-service vote of thanks! The second service was a Sunday morning mass in the St Oswald Kirche, a Gothic church which had been beautifully 'Baroqued'. The vicar signalled our entries by reciting the first line of every piece, but what we didn't know was that the sermon was going to be about the Agnus Dei: we were all very startled when he declared "Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi'', without stopping to let us sing! The music for both masses comprised Byrd's Mass for four voices and Tallis' Salvator mundi. The final church service was an Anglican evensong in the Neupfarrkirche, a beautiful protestant church right next to Regensburg's enormous cathedral. The acoustic was massive, and the organ was powerful and reedy: perfect for singing Howells' Gloucester Service and Parry's I was glad!
Once the three services were done, we sang three concerts. The first was a lunchtime busking concert in a large square in town, where we sang some close harmony and madrigals. People enjoyed listening to us, but were clearly too comfortable sitting at their outdoor restaurant tables to come closer! That same night, we sang in the large Minoritenkirche, whose acoustic is almost as large as that of King's Chapel. The programme included Purcell's Te deum and Jubilate, Hear my Prayer, O Lord, and his Bell Anthem. It was a very different experience to sing in such a wet acoustic; Robinson's acoustic is as dry as scorched sandpaper in comparison. We sang the same concert the following night in St Maria, Ramersdorf, a much smaller, but much more impressively ornate church on the outskirts of Munich. Both concerts were incredibly well-received, and I have never seen an audience as enthusiastic as the one in Ramersdorf!
The latter church owns a fragment of the True Cross, we were told by the churchwarden. Universitätsmusikdirektor Graham Buckland made it known that, apparently, if we put together all of the fragments of the True Cross, we could make a ship. This comment appeared to insult the churchwarden, much to the awkwardness of all onlookers!
Fortunately, most of the very awkward moments appeared outside of concerts and services, although we were cursed with a recurring moment of awkwardness… Buckland's University Baroque Orchestra, RUBIO, accompanied us when we sang Purcell's Te Deum and Jubilate. After emphasising the paramount importance of a particular trumpet note that directly precedes the final amen during the rehearsal, both trumpeters forgot to play it during both concerts!
Aside from those two (admittedly very important) forgotten notes, everything seemed to run exceedingly smoothly. When we booked the hostels, we had no idea what we were to expect, but we were always pleasantly surprised. There were rumours that somebody might have to share a room with all of the attending members of University staff, but claims to that effect were thankfully erroneous! Instead, we spent most nights in luxurious five-person rooms, with warm showers and clean bedding.
The final day was spent in Munich, where the Choir split into several smaller groups, each undertaking different touristic pursuits. Most of us, however, spent the day migrating between beer gardens, enjoying the sunshine.
2008 — Spain
Written by Dominic O’Connor and Julian Revie
Our tour this year to southern Spain, as ever, was a truly unique cultural and musical experience. We were hosted by the small mountain village of Pitres — population 220 — which is one of the seven villages forming the historic municipality of La Taha, originally a group of Moorish settlements over 5,000 feet high in the Alpujarras, the rugged mountainous region between Granada and the Mediterranean coast at the edge of the Sierra Nevada national park. In this area of extreme mountainous terrain, it is often quicker to walk along the steep but direct footpaths from village to village rather than ride in cars which must drive along circuitous windy roads which cut back and forth along the mountainsides. Indeed, several of us were more than a little green in the face by the end of the precipitous coach ride up to La Taha!
Upon arrival, however, we found ourselves in a true mountain paradise. The Mayor of La Taha had arranged for us to stay in the beautiful new hotel just up the hill from Pitres; from our spacious balconies, we could see out at least thirty miles along the next mountain range, and some of us even slept outside under the wonderfully luminous starry sky. In this stunning alpine setting, far removed from the distractions of technology and the modern world, we were able to spend the entire week directing absolutely all of our energy into our singing and into developing our musicianship and cohesion as a choir. We spent most of the days rehearsing, taking generous breaks to enjoy the gardens and take scenic (but incredibly hot!) walks into the adjacent villages. In the mornings we also had the privilege of taking some group lessons in Alexander Technique from an expert local instructor; this is a form of physical therapy geared specifically towards musicians in which we are taught how to improve our posture in order to properly align our bodies and essentially make music-making easier and more natural for ourselves. After a year of complaining to the choir about their perpetually bad posture, we were relieved to have some expert help in this area!
Once we had arrived, we gave one concert each evening for four consecutive nights. Each concert was very different and was in a different venue, and for us, every single concert was a very special once-in-a-lifetime experience with its own unique musical highlights. Our first concert was given outdoors in a garden with absolutely stunning views of the surrounding mountains. We ended the concert just as the sun had set with a Spanish rendition of Edelweiss sung jointly with the local choir of La Taha and accompanied by a local banduria player. Our next concert was also outdoors, in the threshing circle of the tiny village where we were staying, Capilleria. We wore gowns for all of our concerts, and in these outdoor concerts it was a particularly beautiful scene for the local villagers to see a Cambridge choir singing great classical music with our long gowns blowing in the wind, surrounded by the wonders of the natural world. Our concert in Capilleria was especially memorable because of the journey to the threshing circle — four of our male choristers were valiantly carrying a full-size digital piano along the village path for us to use in part of the performance, and just before we arrived at the circle, there was a tremendous cloud of dust that appeared in front of us. We then heard a huge rumbling commotion, and finally from the front of the dust cloud the village shepherd appeared — along with two hundred of his goats! The goats proceeded to swarm the piano and while they seemed to be extremely curious about this novelty, we were relieved that in the end they decided not to eat it. This minor delay behind us, the concert went on as planned to the great delight of the local villagers; we found out afterwards that our concert was probably the biggest event of the year in Capilleria, arguably second only to the annual sardine festival in August.
The ultimate highlight of the week was the concert we gave in the absolutely massive Granada Cathedral, where the Choir truly exploited the building’s 12 second long echo. Hearing the final chords on the words ‘Gaude’, in Kodaly’s arrangement of the ‘Veni, Veni Emmanuel’, ring around the Cathedral and fill its every corner was a moment that none of us will forget. The atmosphere that the choir created with Franz Biebl’s setting of the ‘Ave Maria’ was also a very moving experience and many of the audience knelt down in prayer during the performance. We had a chance on that day to visit the awe-inspiring Alhambra, and the following night we gave our final concert in Pitres church. By this time, word of our choir's visit had spread to several of the nearby villages, and we were thrilled to have a large and receptive audience. Again, the acoustics were incredible, and there were numerous musically magical moments throughout the evening; the audience cheered at the end as though we were rock stars.
Such has been the fantastic music that this newly formed choir have produced this year that we decided it really ought to be captured and shared with the world and following on from the tour was a ripe time to record a CD. After three days of intensive recording in Clare Chapel and a number of days editing we now have a CD of Advent and Christmas music which we are all exceptionally proud of and we feel it really reflects the quality of singing that the Choir has recently achieved as well as capturing the passion and enthusiasm which they have put into the music. The CD opens with Kodaly’s arrangement of ‘Veni, Veni Emmanuel’ (rumoured to be the first British recording of the work) and includes amongst other items Britten’s ‘Ceremony of Carols’, Haydn’s Missa Brevis No.7 (with strings) and Biebl’s setting of the ‘Ave Maria’ as well as Rachmaninov’s ‘Bogoroditse Dyevo’ – the Choir’s favourite!
Our tour this year to southern Spain, as ever, was a truly unique cultural and musical experience. We were hosted by the small mountain village of Pitres — population 220 — which is one of the seven villages forming the historic municipality of La Taha, originally a group of Moorish settlements over 5,000 feet high in the Alpujarras, the rugged mountainous region between Granada and the Mediterranean coast at the edge of the Sierra Nevada national park. In this area of extreme mountainous terrain, it is often quicker to walk along the steep but direct footpaths from village to village rather than ride in cars which must drive along circuitous windy roads which cut back and forth along the mountainsides. Indeed, several of us were more than a little green in the face by the end of the precipitous coach ride up to La Taha!
Upon arrival, however, we found ourselves in a true mountain paradise. The Mayor of La Taha had arranged for us to stay in the beautiful new hotel just up the hill from Pitres; from our spacious balconies, we could see out at least thirty miles along the next mountain range, and some of us even slept outside under the wonderfully luminous starry sky. In this stunning alpine setting, far removed from the distractions of technology and the modern world, we were able to spend the entire week directing absolutely all of our energy into our singing and into developing our musicianship and cohesion as a choir. We spent most of the days rehearsing, taking generous breaks to enjoy the gardens and take scenic (but incredibly hot!) walks into the adjacent villages. In the mornings we also had the privilege of taking some group lessons in Alexander Technique from an expert local instructor; this is a form of physical therapy geared specifically towards musicians in which we are taught how to improve our posture in order to properly align our bodies and essentially make music-making easier and more natural for ourselves. After a year of complaining to the choir about their perpetually bad posture, we were relieved to have some expert help in this area!
Once we had arrived, we gave one concert each evening for four consecutive nights. Each concert was very different and was in a different venue, and for us, every single concert was a very special once-in-a-lifetime experience with its own unique musical highlights. Our first concert was given outdoors in a garden with absolutely stunning views of the surrounding mountains. We ended the concert just as the sun had set with a Spanish rendition of Edelweiss sung jointly with the local choir of La Taha and accompanied by a local banduria player. Our next concert was also outdoors, in the threshing circle of the tiny village where we were staying, Capilleria. We wore gowns for all of our concerts, and in these outdoor concerts it was a particularly beautiful scene for the local villagers to see a Cambridge choir singing great classical music with our long gowns blowing in the wind, surrounded by the wonders of the natural world. Our concert in Capilleria was especially memorable because of the journey to the threshing circle — four of our male choristers were valiantly carrying a full-size digital piano along the village path for us to use in part of the performance, and just before we arrived at the circle, there was a tremendous cloud of dust that appeared in front of us. We then heard a huge rumbling commotion, and finally from the front of the dust cloud the village shepherd appeared — along with two hundred of his goats! The goats proceeded to swarm the piano and while they seemed to be extremely curious about this novelty, we were relieved that in the end they decided not to eat it. This minor delay behind us, the concert went on as planned to the great delight of the local villagers; we found out afterwards that our concert was probably the biggest event of the year in Capilleria, arguably second only to the annual sardine festival in August.
The ultimate highlight of the week was the concert we gave in the absolutely massive Granada Cathedral, where the Choir truly exploited the building’s 12 second long echo. Hearing the final chords on the words ‘Gaude’, in Kodaly’s arrangement of the ‘Veni, Veni Emmanuel’, ring around the Cathedral and fill its every corner was a moment that none of us will forget. The atmosphere that the choir created with Franz Biebl’s setting of the ‘Ave Maria’ was also a very moving experience and many of the audience knelt down in prayer during the performance. We had a chance on that day to visit the awe-inspiring Alhambra, and the following night we gave our final concert in Pitres church. By this time, word of our choir's visit had spread to several of the nearby villages, and we were thrilled to have a large and receptive audience. Again, the acoustics were incredible, and there were numerous musically magical moments throughout the evening; the audience cheered at the end as though we were rock stars.
Such has been the fantastic music that this newly formed choir have produced this year that we decided it really ought to be captured and shared with the world and following on from the tour was a ripe time to record a CD. After three days of intensive recording in Clare Chapel and a number of days editing we now have a CD of Advent and Christmas music which we are all exceptionally proud of and we feel it really reflects the quality of singing that the Choir has recently achieved as well as capturing the passion and enthusiasm which they have put into the music. The CD opens with Kodaly’s arrangement of ‘Veni, Veni Emmanuel’ (rumoured to be the first British recording of the work) and includes amongst other items Britten’s ‘Ceremony of Carols’, Haydn’s Missa Brevis No.7 (with strings) and Biebl’s setting of the ‘Ave Maria’ as well as Rachmaninov’s ‘Bogoroditse Dyevo’ – the Choir’s favourite!
2007 — Italy
Full review can be found below:
| tours_2007.pdf |
2006 — Northern England
Written by Hazel Sheard
This year's choir tour saw us travel to northern England, to take up the opportunity to sing in some of our country's most spectacular buildings. The sweltering July weather meant that the trip felt nearly as exotic as travelling further afield might have done, with the added advantage of having to travel far less. We negated this however, by doing approximately three laps of Sheffield upon arrival. Having eventually located our hotel, we were able to sample the local cuisine, deep fried broccoli being the stand-out dish, and indeed the local beverages, a task we undertook with great alacrity whenever the opportunity presented itself. Of course, the central reason for the tour was to sing at Sheffield, Ripon, Manchester and Chester cathedrals, and also to sing for the BBC's daily service and a concert to raise money for a local church while in Manchester. We visited York, but unfortunately were unable to sing, though this was compensated for by a climb up to the Minster bells, which despite the terror of heights brought on in several of us, showed us spectacular views of the old city and some great close up views of these most enormous of instruments. Having left an engineer in charge of organising the itinerary, our other venture was to an old textile mill near Manchester. In fact, this turned out to be a fascinating and worthwhile place to visit, and a welcome break in the gruelling programme of singing. The trip as a whole was a great success through dint of great practice, we surmounted the formidable obstacle of the Leighton Mag and Nunc, and we were all brought closer together by the smallness of the single dorm in the faintly seedy backpackers' hostel in Chester. The English cathedrals are some of the finest buildings in Europe and indeed the world, and it was a treat to sing in them. While arguably less glamorous than a foreign jaunt, singing in these great churches is something every chorister should have the chance to do, and it was an opportunity grasped fully by everyone on the trip.
This year's choir tour saw us travel to northern England, to take up the opportunity to sing in some of our country's most spectacular buildings. The sweltering July weather meant that the trip felt nearly as exotic as travelling further afield might have done, with the added advantage of having to travel far less. We negated this however, by doing approximately three laps of Sheffield upon arrival. Having eventually located our hotel, we were able to sample the local cuisine, deep fried broccoli being the stand-out dish, and indeed the local beverages, a task we undertook with great alacrity whenever the opportunity presented itself. Of course, the central reason for the tour was to sing at Sheffield, Ripon, Manchester and Chester cathedrals, and also to sing for the BBC's daily service and a concert to raise money for a local church while in Manchester. We visited York, but unfortunately were unable to sing, though this was compensated for by a climb up to the Minster bells, which despite the terror of heights brought on in several of us, showed us spectacular views of the old city and some great close up views of these most enormous of instruments. Having left an engineer in charge of organising the itinerary, our other venture was to an old textile mill near Manchester. In fact, this turned out to be a fascinating and worthwhile place to visit, and a welcome break in the gruelling programme of singing. The trip as a whole was a great success through dint of great practice, we surmounted the formidable obstacle of the Leighton Mag and Nunc, and we were all brought closer together by the smallness of the single dorm in the faintly seedy backpackers' hostel in Chester. The English cathedrals are some of the finest buildings in Europe and indeed the world, and it was a treat to sing in them. While arguably less glamorous than a foreign jaunt, singing in these great churches is something every chorister should have the chance to do, and it was an opportunity grasped fully by everyone on the trip.
2005 — Moravia
Written by Hazel Sheard
The 6 day choir tour to Southern Moravia, which spreads itself in verdant glory across the Czech-Slovak border in the benevolent shadow of the Carpathian mountains, was definitely a highlight of the year for all of us singers. Apart from the cheap beer and bright sunshine, (keystones, naturally), we had the opportunity to sing in a plethora of elaborate, echoing Roccoco churches to audiences effusive in their reception of our efforts. We even sang a mass from a church in Bratislava that was broadcast live to several million people on Slovak radio. Aside from scheduled performances, we got to sing in the Archbishop's Palace in Kromeriz (CZE), where Amadeus was filmed, in an abandoned castle in Trencin (SLV) and in a succession of churches, just because. (Locus Iste never again?!) In fact, I think the only place we didn't sing was the glass factory, where instead a few of us got to use our lungs for blowing glass! We ate - not always knowing exactly what it was we had ordered, we drank - not always knowing exactly it was we had ordered, and we made merry in musical fashion, to our own and local accompaniment. Simon acquired a harem; several people acquired hangovers; we all had a great time, and we all learnt a valuable lesson about the effects of drinking Czech moonshine in the small hours.
The 6 day choir tour to Southern Moravia, which spreads itself in verdant glory across the Czech-Slovak border in the benevolent shadow of the Carpathian mountains, was definitely a highlight of the year for all of us singers. Apart from the cheap beer and bright sunshine, (keystones, naturally), we had the opportunity to sing in a plethora of elaborate, echoing Roccoco churches to audiences effusive in their reception of our efforts. We even sang a mass from a church in Bratislava that was broadcast live to several million people on Slovak radio. Aside from scheduled performances, we got to sing in the Archbishop's Palace in Kromeriz (CZE), where Amadeus was filmed, in an abandoned castle in Trencin (SLV) and in a succession of churches, just because. (Locus Iste never again?!) In fact, I think the only place we didn't sing was the glass factory, where instead a few of us got to use our lungs for blowing glass! We ate - not always knowing exactly what it was we had ordered, we drank - not always knowing exactly it was we had ordered, and we made merry in musical fashion, to our own and local accompaniment. Simon acquired a harem; several people acquired hangovers; we all had a great time, and we all learnt a valuable lesson about the effects of drinking Czech moonshine in the small hours.
