We Sail the Ocean Blue

What Ho !


Hurrah ! Today was my last official teaching day of the academic year 2009 to 2010. I am pretty bushed, as we say in Yorkshire, but quietly relieved that my music room and I can rest awhile. Of course we have the production of HMS Pinafore in just over 3 weeks, but that is a team effort and therefore the pressures and stresses are more evenly spread!

Much of the hard work is done now, and we are approaching the final push, when all the performers begin to sizzle with excitement. Lots of the cast are legally holidaying at the moment. We have an exclusion zone of the 3 weeks before the show when nobody can miss rehearsals, and the only good reason would be death, and even then I feel certain we could find a place in Act 1 for a dashing and jolly burial at sea - Holidaying, how dare they, you here me gasp!

Around this time in the production schedule, I have what is universally known as my 'annual yell'. This is when the wrath of Ann, and this year the cool young men I inveigled into co producing, (is that proper in Paradise?), will fall upon them like a thunderbolt from the nearest mountain top. It largely terrifies the children, noticably concerns the dependable and committed mature members, and for the most part goes un-noticed by the teenagers who half turn, shrug nonchalantly and continue the serious work of the evening, making life changing decisions about nail varnish.

The choruses are virtually blocked, or set, and the music is flying along like the Tokyo bullet train, and the steam and sweat produced in the rehearsal room would be enough to rival that produced by Old Faithful in Yellowstone Park, and probably smells about as appetising! Most people are giving their all, most of the time, and that is about as much as I can ask!

A few years ago we had a member who was a superb baker, and every rehearsal we had a magnificent and supremely gooey chocolate or coffee cake. She stopped performing 2 shows ago, and I can say hand on heart, that rehearsals fell into a deep slough of despond. The thought of that delectable goo kept us all firing until teabreak, and the sugar rush after the break helped us make it through to the bitter end. The cakes fuelled fortitude and concentration. Type 11 Diabetes came free, as an add on. Oh for a glorious slice.............

The costumes are being made, altered and generally fiddled with, and with each pin or twirl the cast become more animated and begin to 'build their parts up'! The girls preen and although they hotly deny it, the whole bunch of them love the attention.

The chaps like to wear their Naval caps - just for authenticity you realise! Authenticity my foot, they love it, and many a local chap's heart is filled with sea air, captain's daughters' and the threat of a hornpipe! There is a serious jaunt in the ether, and our Jeeves and Wooster, P&O version of Pinafore, complete with Flapper Girls and lots of 'What Ho'ing', is morphing into an organic being before my eyes.

Aye Aye me hearties, and bring out the Grog.

I set off once more for the mammoth drive South tomorrow for another festival, and another dollar. I hate being away at this crucial time in the birthing of the show, but needs must when the devil drives, and earn my living I must!

But I'd rather be yelling.

Winners All

I thought you may like to see this. Smiles all around, especially as a funfair ride in the trailor on the back of the Quad, caused so much shrieking, there will be no voices left for a fortnight! Trophies above the numberplate! They look like Agricultural Awards for growing potatoes and cabbages! The outfits were a little more formal when singing !

Coffee....................................

Fuel for the travelling teacher




I am sitting in a Costa Coffee House in the borders of Scotland. I suspect that I could win at least a regional round of Mastermind, taking as my specialist subject 'The Free Wi Fi Coffee Houses on the Motorways of the UK'

This one is a favourite. It overlooks a small pond with a plethora of mallards each of whom are greatly enjoying the mutual admiration and attention from the coffee slurping and junk consuming public. One young male bird was palpitating with excitement when a small boy approached with a half eaten Raspberry and White Chocolate Muffin, and proceeded to hand feed him. It was a beak shakingly blissful moment for the glossy feathered sugar junkie.

Do ducks who live so close to us 'muffineers' suffer from obesity problems do you think ? Can a middle aged duck who adores Costa Cuisine have a Gastric Band fitted ? Some of these lesser known points of interest and inquiry may never be solved this side of the next few generations of Donald the Diabetic Duck and family !

I still have 250 miles to go, but it is all the pleasant driving up through the mountains and villages which mark my journey back to Paradise. I have cancelled all my teaching for today and tomorrow, so in the great scheme of things it was an expensive festival! However, I will teach on wednesday and then set off once more for my journey to the further most South of England coastline for my final festival of the year.

This year I have allowed myself 4 weeks off in the summer, which will be wonderful! Our Gilbert and Sullivan opera will be done and dusted by July 24th, and then I can stop feeling as if music fills my head, heart and ears 25 hours of every 24 hour day - back to blessed silence again!

One song has been going through my head since saturday, non stop, relentlessly, unendingly, (how many more words for infinity can I find!!), and that is is 'Das Verlassene Magdlein', by Hugo Wolf. It is a small gem, just two pages long, very slow and detailed - thus very hard to sustain. It means The Forlorn/Abandoned Maiden, and this is what Wolf himself had to say about it:

Three days after setting Eduard Mörike's Das verlassene Mägdlein (The Abandoned Maiden) on March 24, 1888, Hugo Wolf wrote to a friend in Vienna, "On Saturday I composed, without intending to do so, Das verlassene Mägdlein, already set to music by Schumann in a heavenly way. In spite of that I set to music the same poem, it happened almost against my will; but perhaps just because I allowed myself to be captured suddenly by the magic of this poem, something outstanding arose, and I believe that my composition may show itself beside Schumann's." It may indeed. The 26th setting of Mörike in five weeks, Das verlassene Mägdlein captures every nuance of the poem from the pre-dawn quiet and palpable sense of melancholy in the piano accompaniment to the aching grief of the soprano's melody that expresses all the sorrow of a woman foresaken by a faithless lover.

The reason it goes through my mind is not only the beauty of the music, but just how hard the young singer worked to achieve the sense of stillness and loss. What an enormous task, but my goodness she brought her own special brand of pathos to the song, and the hall was hauntingly hushed.

Well the coffee is drunk, the cake is eaten, the lbs are comfortably ensconced on some unsuspecting part of my anatomy, so I must depart. Thankfully the sun is now a memory and the rain is here !

I love rain, I love going home, I love Costa Coffee Free Wi Fi!

Competition Stress

Well I am as tired as an unusually lazy and elderly sloth on sleeping pills. The festival day was as testing in it's logistical navigation as it was in its musical complexities.

The competitions were spread over 3 venues in the small Victorian seaside town, and I was required in each of those 3 halls at the same time! Now I am quite good at my job, but there is a limit to my ability to multi task, and I reached saturation point by the middle of the hot and humid afternoon, when I found myself on the 14th walk to one or another of the halls wondering where I was going, and what my name was! The latter I did not remember until I woke up this morning and dredged up the required information.................it's Ann ! Triumphant smile!

My singers acquitted themselves beautifully. The Kangaroo was a conquest of tuning, scintillating words and a model of stillness - well done that man! The Junior Recitalists were splendid, and more than exceeded theirs and my expectations, with some glorious performances of early Italian arias and English Song. Michael Head reigned supreme, and the 2 young teenagers sang with beautifully crafted melody and touching poetry.

The adult Recital class was truly spectacular. Entirely made up with aspirant late teen and early 20's singers, and the adjudicator was so impressed with the talent and promise in these young people. There was a particular song from each the 3 placed singers which was a marvelous highlight of the competition.

The winning soprano sang a fantastic and witty performance of Rhyme, by William Walton, which is a tricky and 100 mile an hour setting of Oranges and Lemons. She drove us along with such vigour, such incredible diction and such good tuning - if you knew this song you would understand the need for the last remark! The young Mezzo made at least 65% of the audience sob with her chocolatey and ultra lyrical Fly Home Little Heart by Ivor Novello. It was glorious, and as the adjudicator said, she filled the hall to 'lift off' ! The young, and wonderfully dark baritone gave us a heartfelt 'Whither must I Wander', one of the Songs of Travel by Vaughan Williams, and the final verse was very special.

I have deliberately not specified which pupil was mine, as all three of these extraordinarily talented singers are direct descendants of Betty Middleton, and so, for me, they all belonged to each other.

If we talk 'prizes', then the Paradise stable brought home 7 trophies between them, and more importantly, the prize (I hope) of affirmation of excellent work done, and a sense of where they stand in the world of pre college singing.

I was so proud of them all, and had I arms long enough I would have embraced them in a massive musical group hug!

However, the day took it's toll on me quite dramatically, when having eaten some supper I crashed into bed, felt my innards were still at the stress levels high enough to fuel a small nuclear reactor, and found the nearest bathroom where I could be sick!

Apologies for the surfeit of information! See how seriously I take by obligations!

The Countess and the Camel

Left Paradise early this morning (well early for the 'me' who relocated, and is not braving the early morning commute, thank the Lord!) and 10 hours later we are comfortable and well fed at the house of my oldest friend who had the birthday party concert!

There are a certain amount of nerves in the ether, but we do not sing until saturday, so tomorrow will be a day of rest and relaxation, undoubtedly combined with a fine Whitby fish supper, and the good company of an old pupil of mine who is bringing some of her students to the competition - I am like a vocal Granny, with
1st, 2nd and 3rd generation singers in tow and whilst it also makes me feel a little decrepit, mostly I buzz with pleasure at the sense of full circle, and continuity.

The young woman who is bringing her pupils, was a student of mine in London 12 or 13 years ago. Sensitive and astonishingly artistic, she played a most touching Countess in a youthful Marriage of Figaro I produced for a small professional music festival in West Sussex. She sang the role with such liquid tone quality, the Countess's major aria, 'Dove sono' in Act 3 was a beautiful and quite ethereal rendering for one so young, which I can still hear if I shut my eyes and listen.

Figaro is such a great opera at every level. The youthful singer can bring the qualities needed to give life, enthusiasm, spice and zest to the characters, and more mature singers can bring the depth of life experience. Both versions are perfect in their own world and at their own size. Aspirant young singers, in the hands of a safe teacher can sing mostly anything as long as it is always coached with care and nurturing. Size definitely does not matter in terms of developing voices. Decibels do not rule!

On a slightly odd note, in our long travels today we crossed the Pennines on the A66, and much to our delight and complete surprise, we saw a lone camel in a field ! I thought I was losing the plot, but it was real, and added an air of the surreal to an otherwise sane and rather straightforward journey! What is a camel doing in deepest Northern England? Well obviously it was put there to entertain the excited and delighted small chap in my car, who now probably wants to sing about a 'lonely camel' on saturday instead of the 'kangaroo'!

Now do I know any songs about a camel - or should I write one ? What rhymes with 'hump'......................

The Messiah

A busy day here in Paradise Music Room, and now I must pack for travelling to the competition tomorrow.

Other side of the fence for me - I am normally the judge, but this weekend my lovely and talented pupils must be judged by another.................

Competition is such a funny thing. You either love it or hate it. Some singers really do get their rush from entertaining, making people happy, feeling good about seeing an audience enthralled by the music. For others it is the 'killer instinct' that a bit of healthy competition brings and which gives their performance the edge. I was one of the latter, I was always a trembling wreck if I thought the folk I was singing too were simply there to enjoy themselves ! - but if I had to prove myself, the usually well hidden snarling beast and prize fighter of the vocal battlefield raised it's ugly head and I could fight with more steam than Mohammed Ali.

There is part of me which is not proud of that, and I can truly say it is not my 'normal' nature.

Since relocating to Paradise I am learning about a whole different world of teaching. I have adult students who, to my eternal surprise and delight, want to begin this skill in middle age, and beyond. I am learning that for them, to be immersed in music I have loved and am so familiar with, is a new joy. I am learning not to take the power of music so much for granted. (At last, I hear you say!)

I taught a delightful lady today, who just wanted to have a half hour of being soaked in the sacred music she loves so much. Handel has always been balm to troubled souls, and untroubled souls alike, and we spent a calm and refreshing 30 minutes joined at the hip with The Messiah, especially 'He Shall Feed His Flock' and 'How Beautiful are the Feet'. Handel's music is the very essence of gorgeous melody. His tunes are hard to beat! Many of the most beautiful, as with the ones above, are in 6/8 or 12/8, which is a rhythm he (and other Baroque composers) used for music which has a Pastoral theme. To me it is the very rhythm of the global lullaby. A lullaby for all ages - it does what it says on the tin - lulls us into a tranquil state of mind.

This will take you to my favourite recording of The Messiah -
http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B001MT781M/ref=dm_sp_alb?ie=UTF8&qid=1277325395&sr=1-27

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Now I really must go, but before I do - 30 seconds ago one of my pupils sent me some photos with this little sentence hidden at the end. I think you will like it.

'Be kinder than necessary, because everyone you meet
is fighting some kind of battle'

Top G

It was a glorious day in Paradise today. Bright sun, slight breeze and along with the fantastic views of the mountains my solar water heating panels were whirring for all they were worth (lots of w's there!)It was a sunny day in the music room too. There is a moment just before an event, be that a concert, a competition, or a show, when everybody knows their stuff, begins to love it, and feels excited and confident about performing it.

That was the atmosphere today. Upbeat and bouyant, smiley and jokey, riding on a wave of self belief. I love it when song after song is sung to me with real joy and a feeling of gay abandon, and throwing musical caution to the wind!

It all seemed to coincide with the potted potatoes burgeoning to the proportions of an oversized triffid - yippee, lots of sausage and mash come autumn, and the venerable old damson tree looks like an Italian vine heavy with muscat grapes.

The toddler starlings were screaming higher and louder than any singer in the music room, and indignantly beak prodding their exhausted mother, who was trying in desperation to feed herself. Summer with all its resultant bounty was in full flow, in duet with the vocal heights being reached on the other side of the window !

My sweet and ever cheery pupil J who brings her own brand of gladness into our lives came for her lesson today. She relishes every word she sings, and counts each high note as a personal victory. She watches for my reaction, and if I smile she bubbles with happiness (what responsibility!). Today she reached a fine top G, and was unable to resist emitting a huge guffaw of laughter. In an attempt to 'sober up' so she could continue she looked uncomfortably straight faced. I asked her if she was sad, to which she replied, 'No, but I want to smile for ever, so I have to try and think sad thoughts or I will just burst, but Ann, sad is not in here today!'

Days like today are a gift. Unwrap and enjoy.

The Friendly Cow and chums

Ellie at 18

Today, we have 3 more days to go before heading off to the competition. So the final push, so to speak, is full of high adrenalin filled lessons. My jiggling Kangaroo was simply splendid - he did a positive aerobic workout whilst telling the story of the little rabbits laughing at the huge big kangaroo, who got wet in the rain! He then went on to tell me about The Wizard, whose cave is full of books of spells and magic potions. He was clearly delighted with himself - and lets face it, what more could you ask! Oh that we were so easily pleased with our lot!

I always have a slight feeling of regret that I started lessons at 13. There are so many gorgeous songs for small children, and I don't mean belting chest register ballads. I am talking about those by composers like Peter Jenkyns, whose tiny jewels include The Crocodile, and The Snowman, not to mention an utterly divine miniature song called The Friendly Cow. I somehow feel I missed out, and all the huge and impressive operatic arias known to man don't make up for the simplistic joy I see in small people telling me the story of Little Lottie Lester with the big blue eyes, whose chief preoccupation is with telling LIES!

I have a very very old King Charles spaniel called Ellie (or Elvira Haughty Lady to give her the Kennel Club name ) who has for many years lain next to my piano while I teach, and I have so often used her to help coax and relax baby singers of 5 - 7 years old into singing 'so we can wake her up', or 'singing so she can understand the story'. I bet there are lots of you out there who are completely unaware of the magical powers of the dog who understands all. The innocent mindset of the child finds singing to her SO much less daunting that to me. So I am bi-passed, and become just the background music that glues together the child - song - dog, and in being thus side lined, I can watch the confidence grow like an opening flower.

Now, what am I going to do whe Ellie passes on to that great Heavenly dog sofa ? Who will be my channel, and connecting thread with these little ones?

Hang in there Ellie.

Sing to Win (or let it go)

Start, Finish, Carry on!


So what does a singing teacher do on a quiet Sunday? Firstly tries not to have to teach, which does not always transpire. After so many years of teaching and rehearsing almost all the hours God sends, I reckon God would not have a problem with letting me have a few hours back in lieu!

I have an unlikely and curious love of watching athletics, be it Olympic, World, European or Commonwealth Championships. Today was the second day of the European Team Championships, held this year in the sparkly and 'mountain kingish' city of Bergen in Norway.

There is something about the 'of the moment' nature of a race, jump or throw, which is very like the nature of performance. It starts, it happens, it finishes, and there is not a damn thing one can do about it.

The key is in the preparation, both physical and mental. I am always so impressed by the post race interviews with the athletes - they are questioned on TV with the world listening, regardless of whether they have won or lost, and thus have to answer in as much as they can, as to why things transpired the way it did. This seems a fiercely harsh feature in the life of athletes as young as 18 or 19, and a consistently brave way of publicly dissecting ones performance.

As singers we are often shielded from facing the whys and wherefores, and there is so much private brow beating and mental grief when things have not gone our way, or we lost a competition, failed to sing a long prase or successfully hit that blasted top B flat. We call it 'artistic temperament'.

The new Head Coach for Team GB has started to use the American system of pre event pep talk. He stands each athlete up in front of his peers and tells them what is expected of them within their discipline, and what is expected from a mental strength point of view. A young 3000 metre runner of 19 years old said ' I loved it, it gave me such drive, and determination to raise my game'. I suspect many singers would curl up and die. I suspect the 'artistic temperament'card would not hold much water with Mr Big in Athletics!

The ability to pick oneself up after failure or loss is such a important facility in the armoury of a singer. The last performance is gone, never to be repeated and the next one is all that matters. In other words, when it is done, it is done. We need to learn from past ventures, but not to allow them to colour the future performances.

I can remember so clearly being told over and over again that it was what I did in my lesson that mattered - the performance may be good or bad, according to any given circumstance - but the hard work that I did before hand was my propulsion to progress, and that is what made my teacher smile.

The reward was her smile ! The silver cup or the media review was important, but her belief in me was a prize beyond the glitter. I always went on to run the race, and sometimes it was great, and sometimes I sang like a drain, and when I moaned in a depressed and possibly self indulgent way, her reply to that was, ' Right dear shall we get on'.

What a woman.

Sweet Chance that led my steps Abroad

One of the most wonderful composers of the 20th Century English Art Song was Michael Head. His life and career was full of accolades, academic success and musical achievements. I have always loved his songs, and was deeply 'dunked' in them when I studied with Betty Middleton, as a greenhorn 16 year old mezzo soprano. They are just so poetic, so lyrical and so descriptive, and whilst knowing nothing about his personal life or character, and from simply singing dozens of the songs, I feel sure he was the nicest of men, and a real grandfather figure !

He was a Professor of Piano at the Royal Academy of Music from 1927 to 1975 ! How many times did he walk up the same stairs as I did, and eat in the (in fairness) less than haute cuisine canteen in the basement, and is it possible in my 18 years there that I even taught in a room which at some point he may have used?! That could be 410, 417, 415, et al! Anyhow my indifferent maths tells me that he worked there for 48 years - what a trooper!

It is only when put in such 'normal' terms I think what a privilege it was to work there and to be a miniscule part of that vast and glorious institution. Every time I entered the imposing front entrance I thought so much about these musicians, who were merely names in musical history prior to my working there, and not warm blooded, living people with hopes ad dreams. I thought so much about how humbled I felt, and how utterly inadequate I was to tread in their corridors!

I teach Head's songs a great deal. They are great exam fodder, and loved by concert audiences for their delightful melodies, and greatly accessible poetry. He was a man who could even take banal or trite words and weave an exquisitely delicate melody around them and in a nano second the whole would become far greater than the sum of the parts.

Festival song setters adore his songs, they appeal to young and old alike, and in this world of rather complex, clever and gruellingly tricky 20th Century music (note I said 20th not 21st!) they are like the faraway strains of musical angels. He wrote in all 124 songs, and some of the gems are 'The Estuary', 'Foxgloves', 'A Green Cornfield', 'Sweet Chance that led my steps Abroad', 'Ave Maria', the dreamy and yet quixotic song cycle 'Over the Rim of the Moon' and many others. Singers of tomorrow, you neglect him at your peril!

How can anyone not feel moved by these words from 'Sweet Chance....':

'A Rainbow and a Cuckoo's song, may never come together again.
May never come this side the tomb.'


To read all about him go to : (it's worth it!)
http://www.lammas.co.uk/michaelhead.htm


At the looming festival for my youngsters there is (very sensibly!!) a Michael Head class, and I was so thrilled today when having a 'real' conversation with 2 born again teenagers about how 'awesome' the song was, and likening it to stuff/books they read, and films the watch. They engaged with such clarity with the words and the musical picture painting, almost as if it were written for them, and not for some antique, sepia tinted and long dead teenager of yesteryear.

a) The secret of immortality maybe ? b) Does it translate into 2010 life ? c) Is it still relevant ? d) Do we still crave beauty ?

Yes to all four questions.

Michael Head - one cool dude.

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To hear a moment of Sweet Chance, go to the site below.

http://payplay.fm/mazurowski1

Breathe Low and Slow

Thursday is my shortest day, and so I spent time having coffee and lunch - well I think I have earned it!

I came home to teach and got involved in a session of breathing technique. Breath - that which we need to live, and which we use every moment of our life, yet which is the single most fiendishly difficult thing to control and harness for an unmiked singer. When the air is gone we are vocally done for. When we are tired and cannot make the muscles work we are vocally........and when we are frustrated and angry, we are vo............and on and on.

The list could go on endlessly, but I think you get the point! Breathing is something we take so much for granted, and yet without doubt, the only time we do it correctly is when we are asleep. Now I have heard (and been to) boring concerts - but snoozing in the middle section of an aria just to help with the breath support would not put many bums on seats!

For me, learning to breathe and support with my abdominal wall muscles (a la Yoga) was a 10 year journey. That is not something, you understand, that I volunteer to an aspirant youngster who thinks the weekend after next is blindingly far away! However, I firmly believe that successful breathing is all bound up with personality, being totally happy in one's skin, and being confident and relaxed enough to fill your own space - however large that may be! And I should know, my space is wonderfully roomy, and would happily accommodate me and a small school of dolphins!

The young soprano who wants so much to master this, needs first to forget how much she wants it and simply allow some mental slow motion. Now that's a big ask indeed! I know she will tackle it intelligently and with an real intellectual appreciation and understanding - did I say she was a soprano?!

Sometimes a lobotomy sounds like a top notch idea.

Would it be illegal in Paradise do you think?!

Stardom

Starburst



Our Gilbert and Sullivan show goes on in 5 and a half weeks. All my teaching career I have loved producing shows. It is the greatest amount of fun, and, of course, the greatest amount of energy output. This year I have craftily managed to acquire the help of two of my professional pupils to 'chorus master' and help with production or 'co produce'.

What a revelation that is. I have, prior to this show, only ever undertaken almost everything myself (does that make me a megalomaniac - if anyone answers that, watch out!), including playing the piano, blocking the moves, designing the set, and buying props on the internet etc..............and of course, the most important element of production - the SHOUTING ! Now I have two handsome, young, cool and energetic young men, willingly - note. WILLINGLY - assisting with all those utterly essential jobs which I am too old/tired/grumpy to fulfil, with their lively jollity and cheeky gags! I feel like an escaped prisoner, a school truant and a complete skiver, and it is great!

Shows are so binding when things go well, that is when one really sees the team element, and when the final burst of show frenzy builds to a crescendo, everyone's world lights up like a beacon. I know that for many performers the end of run depression can be a problem, but I look at it as my fully justifiable holiday, when I can sleep, and then gradually surface to see a clear and clean world. If we lived on the edge of that frenzy and adrenalin for more than a moment we would burn out very fast.

Stardom is a good word for the performing game - we burn brightly for a instant then the light snuffs out until the next time. My grandmother was of the 'don't put your daughter on the stage' squadron, and she thoroughly disapproved of my theatrical career ! I think she assumed it was all vice, sin and 'goings on'.

I think I missed that particular bus, it was more like advice, din, and 'hanging around'. Glamour - not really, Fame - for a few moments, Travel - up and down the M6 from Liverpool to Southampton in November !

But I would'nt have missed it for all the coffee shops in Vienna!

Grrrrrrrr

Paradise is all ablaze today. A pupil. A school. A concert. A teacher quote -'Don't sing that it's classical and they won't like it' Agh!

If you ask a youngster whether they would like to sing a song by Andrew Lloyd Webber or Handel, there can be no prizes for guessing the outcome. Not that I have anything against his noble lordship and business man of mass culture, but when what he does, is chucked at us night and day in the media, and when he gives the ubiquitous 15 minutes of fame to a bevy of fair maidens all dying to be Maria or Dorothy whether they can sing or not, it is fair bet that most school aged folk have never even heard of Handel.

I spent much of my life in 'institution' teaching, be it school or Conservetoire, and I can honestly say, hand on heart, it is all in how you present music to children. If I had assumed that Handel would be 'too much' for them, or Mozart not 'catchy' enough, or indeed if I was afraid of being unpopular with the children, then I might have taken the easy route and chosen the all singing all dancing 'easy' arrangements of music from Abba !

However, being unpopular was not something I worried about too much. I was much more concerned that my pupils/students were given an equal opportunity to taste it all - from Monteverdi to Madonna, from Gilbert and Sullivan to Puccini, via Carousel!

The only way we will ever encourage children to be tomorrows audiences, and to have open minds about music is if we gift it all to them.

I once queried someone who questioned me about introducing 'classical' music to children who 'were betraying their roots' by not singing traditional music exclusively, simply by asking if they and their family never dined on Spaghetti Bolognese ? I felt 100% certain that many cultural dishes were equally enjoyed at supper time.

Get my point?

Music is not exclusive - and oddly in this day and age, that means not exclusive to the more accessible styles of Pop, Rock, Jazz and Musical Theatre. In the olden days we were villified for making music 'exclusive' and that meant Opera or Recital. A turnaround indeed.

If a teachers' expectations of our children are so narrow - what chance do they stand of ever hearing the power of a symphony, or the joy of singing in a huge choir. We retain for ever, what made us excited when we were at school. My entire life's career started because a music teacher in my state school ran a great choir, gave us a love of class singing, and encouraged us so much that later I pleaded and pleaded for singing lessons. Singing does not run in my family, although my father would disagree but since he whistles sharp and sings flat I feel on pretty safe ground in this! But, he recognised that I had been utterly enthused by a certain Mrs Thompson, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Let's offer them everything, and then they can make informed choices. I teach a 'brand new with tags on ' teenager who can sing a beautiful sacred song in a cathedral, play a naughty little bridesmaid in light opera, and go to a rock concert, all in the same month - now that's diversity!

Once again for good measure. Let's offer them everything.

Please.

The Jiggling Kangaroo

''The Kangaroo has started on his Long Long trail, He bounds across the hillock on his Big Fat Tail!'' Great song - Great lyrics!
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Up and running - back to the grindstone - normal service resumed! The sun was glorious today and it was so good to be back at my own piano, with the ever hanging bird table just outside the window. Today a mother starling was feeding a fat and fluffy baby starling close enough for me to touch had I not been teaching of course!

She was not listening to a single crotchet's worth of the singing, as she was much too pre occupied with the babe. Priorities, priorities!

My pace has slowed down to the civilised Paradise speed of '4 songs per hour' (that is 4 Sph), and lots of cups of tea as fuel. Oh Bliss!

Working away is so frantic, and adjudicating is full of consistently intelligent listening. Not, you understand, that I don't listen with all antenna wiggling to my pupils in their lessons.

My day was a complete spread of 8 years old, to marginally older than 8 years old!.....my typical Monday is possibly the widest age range of my week, and boy does it keep me on my toes. Teaching small people is such a combination of fun, crossed with total exasperation, and I would not have a week without a dose of uninhibited and undiluted child, boys or girls.

Being able to see their eyes light up with excitement, or open wide with incredulity when asked to sing about a strange and puzzling marriage between a 'Frog and a Mouse' is food for my soul. Today, a jazzy and upbeat song called 'The Kangaroo' by Alec Rowley, was presented to me with the consummate ease of youth, and all the evidence of much parental imput, and performed largely whilst jigging and jogging a small bounding dance of triumph. (Kangaroo impressions perhaps?)

Actually, moving around whilst one sings definitely makes the body do what comes naturally, and I have spent much of my teaching life proving this point! I cannot ever decide if it is the psychological distraction, and so we 'forget' for a moment how tricky classical singing is, or if the movement frees up the muscles and allows the sound to resonate and ring unencumbered by tension - the weapon of mass destruction for every performer. In the end I imagine it must be a fine combination of both, so keep doing it!

It feels like summer today, the air is warm and the midgies are vengeful in their need for blood, but not when it is sunny, then they hide like nano sized troglodytes and I can keep the doors and windows open. Sometimes I have to give in and close all portals on the grounds of not having the noise abatement society down my throat, due to triple figure decibel levels assaulting my neighbours' ears.

The Kangaroo was not in the least disruptive in terms of noise level, but my neighbours (who are, incidentally at least 100 metres away!) missed a treat not being able to see the jiggle!

Zzzzzz

Having a day resting and recovering before I teach tomorrow................

You remember me saying I was usually so plum tired out, well the brain will not stretch to any more writing, I did a vague add up, and realised I had written approximately 1250 scripts this week. It was a '3 pen festival' !

Spring

The boy Ivor Gurney in 1905 and the only photo of him with a smile.




A taxi driver chatted to me on my way back to the hotel after the big 'Finals' evening. It transpired that he was from Tyneside, had given up plumbing and heating engineering to cab in the city. Then he dropped the bombshell.............I work 4 weeks on and then go abroad for 2 weeks. I stammered a bit and said something along the lines of 'You have a house in France then?' to which he chuckled and said he preferred to tour the world, and in a couple of weeks he was 3 days in Las Vegas, a week in San Fransisco and finally a fews days in New York. Do you get away often he joshed in a smiley sort of way. No, I said. I don't.

On the way home I almost bought a taxi cab.

I think the sort of teaching I do, and that my teacher did and that most of my teaching pupils do is much more vocational than for real monetary return. All my teaching life there have been many pupils in need, and whom I could never have stopped teaching on financial grounds. The need, and the want in driven young people is just too great for me to resist. If they are hungry for music I am willing to go to any lengths to give them as much nourishment as possible. I will never be rich, but I will be happy and fulfilled.

I heard a young lady in the Vocal Challange Final who sang so beautifully and with such artistry the hush in the Cowdray Hall was deafening. She sang one of the many setting of the words Spring the Sweet Spring, words by Thomas Nashe 1567 - 1601, music by Ivor Gurney. It is the last in the Song Cycle called Five Elizabethan Songs, most often known as the '5 Elizas'. Some of you may know number 4, called Sleep. He composed these songs in the winter of 1913, under the gathering storm of the first world war. A few months later he volunteered for military duty...and go to :

http://www.ivorgurney.org.uk/biography.htm

if you have the time, and read the life story of this remarkable man, who suffered so much mental illness, and wrote such incredibly beautiful songs.

The 18 year old soprano sang with such delicacy and what gave me goosepimples, was her love for the words. I teach a young man at the moment who also cares a great deal for the poetry, and for me that is often the mark of the singer. We all need to remember when we are wallowing in our lovely sound (!) that the poem came first, the music only lives because the words were born.

Now where can I pick up a cheap secondhand taxi.........................

The Tearful Skylark

Fear is so infectious. The folk around us have such an influence on the dynamic of our lives, and when we are performers the state of mind, and attitudes of those working with us can alter the whole route of that performance.

A Diva makes the others feel inadequate or irritated, or maybe the duet with the Diva becomes unglued. Fear is just the same in children, teenagers and adults alike. I watched tears spread like the flu today. Thankfully it was nothing that I had said or done!

Hang on to your seat and try to keep up - hear we go.......

The Under 9's were singing a lovely little song called The Skylark by Thomas Dunhill. The first small child was ok ish, but a little wobbly and after finishing promptly started weeping quiet tears, possibly of relief that it was all over.

The 2nd little cherub looked a bit puzzled, but gamely got up and started singing. There was a magnificent over sized sniff from singer number 1 and promptly on cue number 2 burst into howls of angst.....and sat down having not quite made it to the end of the song.

Performer number 3 was clearly and visibly shaken, got up to sing and after two and a half bars stopped dead, scanned the room with large and ominously wet eyes, then decided crying was the only option really, and dissolved.

The class was rapidly enroute to death by drowning so we stopped and decided to start at the other end of the seating line, where the infection had not got a hold as yet.

Child number 12 got up next - no, bounced up onto the stage, smiled a beatific smile and said firmly ' Don't worry I'm not going to cry, I like singing'! Performed briskly and with a broad grin (which makes singing a bit tough!) and then we were on the home straight and her vocal antibiotics had cured the fear.

It is a strange phenomenon, but in my own performing and certainly in my teaching I have watched the germ of fear or depression be passed around backstage. I learnt early that the only thing to do was to take away the source of the infection and put them in isolation until the rest have gained back their bonhomie! Hence, I suppose why the Diva has a place to her/him self to dress and prepare. Is it possible, that is where the Star's Dressing Room idea comes from.................and I always assumed it was because I was the leading lady!



The upshot was that they all finished the class eventually and then the little girls all became utterly tame once more and left happy and whistling and ready for that Macdonald's Mini Burger they had all been promised for singing nicely!

The parents and I were wrecks, all desperate for a very strong coffee and a couple of paracetamol ! (or maybe a Gin)

The Music Hall

I survived. It was organised mayhem but I survived. Primary choirs is the day when the adjudicator must use the portable microphone. The Music Hall, as the largest venue in the city is called, has a high stage and seats about 1000, which from 9.30am until 4pm it was filled to busting with small children high on sweeties and the glittering prizes of silver cups!

I was taken aback when a choir appeared on stage, conducted by a smart young man who could not have been a day over 14, (OK I know at my age policemen look like they should be in short trousers!) and proceeded to take a 50 strong choir of 7 year olds through a programme of 2 part songs each of which was about 6 pages long. The part singing was so secure....ah I just slipped into adjudicator speak.....and the children so glued to his conducting, it was like watching a choir of 16 year olds with talent.

It was wonderful, these small children were wide eyed with concentration, glowing with pride, and clearly thought the world of this young man with the red bow tie. How fantastic was this work, I wrote, trying very hard to stop my eyes from filling up. There are young people out there with both the ability and the charisma to make youngsters love singing, and not just because it has a beat and is 'entertaining', or they can wiggle their hips to it. I thanked him after the competition - which they won - and he blushed a deeper red than his bow tie. Every school should have one!

Tonight it was adult classes including Opera and Oratorio, and I got to thinking that when we adjudicate, and stand up and pontificate in a grand way about the opera, or sacred work, we must scare the competitors stiff. I like to think that we build a bond with the singer. When you have heard the same people over a series of days the relationship is something akin to that of a jailor and criminal, we have all the power and they have to sit and take it, but we can also try our best to let them know we want them to do well. We can be cruel, and in the blink of an eye destroy what has taken months to build, or we can build on the good things they do and start from a positive. The main thing is, as I am constantly told ' You are in charge and you can do as you like'.....therein lies the power to make or break. I hope I take that power very seriously, and know that I can give confidence or take it away, with the flash of my pen or one thoughtlessly misplaced word.

That is why I am always so plum tired out after festivals - the sheer weight of all that responsibility. Zzzzzzzzz

Cry Me a River

It was a shorter day of competitions today and I was finished by 5pm. Don't think I am slacking however, for the rest of the week I work from 9.30am to 9.30pm. We adjudicators earn our hotel full English breakfast!

The rain has poured all day today and the granite city buildings have sparkled like twinkling stars. It is the only upside to the wet weather ! The walk to and from the hall is a the calm before the vocal storm, and I really enjoy the brief moments of passing shops such as Next and Waterstones, as in Paradise we don't have much except for the brilliant Co op and some marvelously expensive craft shops! So it is a small foray back into the realms of normality. The noise level however is horrendous, and I always find I have forgotten how disturbing it is to be in shops with pounding music loud enough to strip paint. Thankfully when I say 'normality' I do not mean my NOW normality! Large smile crawls across face.

Songs from the Shows classes are like a vocal minefield. I had 3 of those classes today, of such differing standards it was hard to believe they were all in the same festival and quite possibly the same teachers. Some of the youngest competitors were singing about 3 millimeters from total crash and burn in terms of dangerous chest register belting, and then the 16 - 17 years class was possibly one of the finest I have heard in many years ??? I am ;

a) completely old fashioned about singing technique
b) not afraid to say so
c) autocratic in the way I am sure I am right (ask my pupils!)

Damage is so easily done to young voices, and the 1 in a 100 that can survive the high chest belting that we hear in pop/rock and modern musicals does not validate the giving of deeply inappropriate songs in completely the wrong key to small sticks of 11 years old and 'chancing the consequences'. So I said so. The room was as quiet as the grave. Sometimes I feel as though I am on a crusade to bring back head singing - or in actual fact child singing. It is like all things that pass with childhood, the ability to sing high notes up high in the head is gone very quickly, and if damaged the young voice can never - repeat - never fully recover. Sigh.........................

On the flip side of the coin I heard the most fantastic 'Cry me a River' I have ever heard. She was so in control, and the performance was so stylish it was a stunning example of the fact that good singing is simply good singing. I heard the same girl sing a delightful Caro mio Ben yesterday. Versatility is the key, and a safe teacher of course!

Another day, another dollar, and tomorrow it is a 'gird your loins' day as the morning consists of 14 primary school choirs - Yup that's 14.

I love adjudicating. I love adjudicating. I love adjudicating.

A Singing Marathon

Today I adjudicated upwards of 150 singers. I love adjudicating, and feel it is almost as if I am performing again. The same rules apply - engage the audience, empathise with the audience and speak/sing from the heart. One can also throw in a few cheeky gags if one feels they will accept a joke which is usually at the expense of the blond sopranos in the room!

I heard everything from Under 9's singing Bessie the Black Cat to a 74 year old (I know because he told me!) retired Church of Scotland minister singing a heartfelt Silent Worship by Handel. The wonderful thing about music festivals is that singing and music really is for everyone, whether they begin at 70 or 7.

There were 3 performances of Michael Head's A Green Cornfield, and one young lady I heard was captivating. She 'saw' the song before she opened her mouth, and went on to paint the picture with her eyes as well as her voice. I was riveted from the first note of the introduction.

It is such fantastic experience to 'do' the round of festivals. There is no other way to create so many deadlines for learning, or for putting up with the rough as well as the smooth. I was still competing in them when I was 21 and 22, and it is simply the best way I know of teaching performance skills and humility to my own pupils. The wonderful thing is seeing the singers relax as the day goes on, and after 3 or 4 classes suddenly their nerves are gone and I hear what they can really do. I can never give enough concert performances to my singers, and I can also never give them a concert experience where they can sing 6 solos and a duet! Our concerts would finish at 3 in the morning at that rate.

I was born and brought up in the festival movement, and so have a deep and abiding bond with the ethos of ' friendly competition, and pursuing each other to perfection', and it certainly made a man out of me!

A festival looms for my pupils, and although winning is great (and one can't get around that) the camaraderie and support from 'team Lampard' is the finest outcome of the experience. Actually for my friends and I, about 100 years ago, it was also the meals out, the fun fair, the laughter until you lost your voice and the odd glass of cheap wine..................did I say that?

Th picture is the Cowdray Hall where the singing classes take place all week - yes even the 9 year olds!

Roses of Picardy

On the road once again and up to the granite city in Scotland. After a false start at the Tyne Tunnel which was closed, I had to make a long diversion back to the M6 and 'begin again'.

In the car I was thinking about the short birthday performance the singers gave last night, and what a diverse programme it was. A young baritone in his early 20's sang such a sensitive performance of Roses of Picardy, which is a wartime ballad written by lyricist Frederick Weatherly while he was an army officer in 1916. Set to music by Haydn Wood, it was one of the most famous songs from World War I. This music is oftimes much derided in the modern world of voice repertoire, and frankly it is the singing worlds' loss.

I feel certain that Mozart and Verdi were much derided as old hat 100 years after they were gone, and Bach is a prime example - if Mendelssohn had not championed the cause of Bach think what divine and inspirational music would have gone by the board largely un-noticed! The Edwardian Ballad is a style to be sung with the same integrity and passion with which it was composed. These songs are of an era, and a life (and of course death)just as valid as any other. I found his youthful performance most touching, and even more poignant when thinking about the environment in which it was composed.

On a less serious note, there was a very amusing Papageno/Papagena duet sung with a disgruntled extra soprano who thought it should be her singing - a little poetic licence for the gag value. So our rather more than usually 'cool' Papageno took both girls back to his nest!

Mozart would have been thrilled!

The Passage Bird's Farewell

Singing has always brought me wonderful friendships, which on the whole have lasted a lifetime. Tomorrow, some past and present students of mine with be giving a performance for my oldest friend and past duet partner as part of her birthday party. It will be an outside Glyndebournesque evening in her magnificent garden which has a river and rolling lawns as the backdrop.

Somehow, when one performs the bond with fellow performers is a very honest one. When the nerves kick in one sees the real person, the frightened person and the person who is totally dependent upon their fellow team members. If you can get through that honesty (and often bad temper - but never me you understand - watch the nose grow!) to the cameraderie and unspoken trust, then the friendships are real winners.

This particular friend was my duet partner when we were girls, and competing in the very Music Festivals at which I now adjudicate! We won lots of trophies in many competitions, and sang a great deal in concerts, but long after that was all done what we really 'won' was a life long relationship which has moved through all the major events of life.

She told me not to bring my silly 'arty' ways, when my post duetting theatrical life became too 'darlingy', and I made her see that Benjamin Britten had some value - even if you could'nt whistle the tunes! (Honestly what a philistine!)

We sang a gorgeous but simple duet called 'The Passage Bird's Farewell' by Mendelssohn, and we even bought matching dresses in pink and green flowers - we must have looked like something out of 'Hair' the original version! However the sound was a little less raucous! Now that must have been in 1970..................
I have given the self same duet many times to pupils, but none was more colourful than our psychedelic version!

We all need bringing down to earth sometimes and for that I always rely on my curly headed soprano pal!

Flowery dresses rule ! But you will never see the photo!

Song Free Zone

Today is a Song Free Zone. Some days I just have to have silence! My ears need to recover from the daily battering, which, although it does not sound like it is actually a compliment - when the voice is resonating well and ringing in a forward place, it hurt the old ear drums! So oddly, the better a student gets the more painful it is for my ears!

Silence is fantastic, for me it is like a runner resting their legs. Sometimes when I am conducting 35 well trained voices I feel as if my whole body vibrates with the sound. Maybe some eminent scientist should do a study on those vibrations, except they would probably find out that it destroys some vital organ - so maybe not!

I am travelling away to work, via a party! So today is all about complete quiet in the car over the mountains where the radio signal is very poor anyway, or a bit of gentle Radio 4.

I have often taken my students away for concerts, tours, opera visits etc. and if there were more than one car full my car was always considered the 'boring car'. There was a 'cool car', and 'wierd car' a 'family car' etc. etc. but I allowed NO Walkmans' ( early days!) no tapes/CD's only conversation - boy was I popular....actually it still applies today! I drive alone alot!

Silence is very important for any musician, and there is a beautiful song one of my calm and sensitive ladies is singing at the moment called 'Hand Eyes Heart'. It is the 3rd one in the Vaughan Williams Four Last Songs, with words by his 2nd wife Ursula.

The last line says 'Where music and silence meet, and both are heard' Wow.

So off on the M6 again a bit further, in a cocoon of quiet.....Oh hang on I need to rev up for The Archers!

Spring Sorrow

The sun was glorious today, and all the time I was teaching the birds were feeding from the feeder hanging just by the window in my music room. I joke sometimes and tell my pupils that it gives me something to watch if I get bored - actually it has the exact opposite effect! They perch on the edge of the feeder and cock their heads and listen, and as they listen I wonder what exactly they are listening too, and can I hear it?!

Siskins abound here, and I want you to look very carefully at the photo of the Siskin. His tongue is UP ! Flatten it and touch your bottom teeth - do these birds know nothing about singing!!

Do they prefer sopranos, or tenors, do they hear sharp or flat, or more likely do they think they have competition on the mating front!

All the years I worked in London I never saw any daylight in winter as I was on the
4th floor of a wonderful Victorian building, where the round window in my teaching room was higher than the students when they were standing - no distraction you see!

In summer we baked/broiled/roasted - (see I know the terms I just can't make it happen in the oven!). Now I can listen to the strains of Spring Sorrow by John Ireland, with all it's hope for the buds bursting in spring, and watch it unfold before my eyes - paradise indeed.

Spring Sorrow, a great little gem, with words by Rupert Brooke, written in 1912. The melody soars up for the phrase 'I never thought the spring would come.....or my heart wake anymore' It is 3 pages of the most perfect English Art Song, and I have taught it many times. The more mature singers understand the sentiment, and the young singers allow the tone to vibrate with anticipation. 50% from each and we would have the perfect singer!

On the whole I think I prefer the little imperfections each brings to the song, to make it their own!

Sorry John!

The Heart Worships

One of the most satisfying elements of teaching is when a former pupil decides to carry on the torch and keep the whole thing going. Sometimes I think that the numbers of truly good, old fashioned technical singing teachers diminishes by the year. Myself and my colleagues grow older and we must eventually be replaced by young blood. I try my best to carry on the tradition of my first and truly amazing voice teacher. She was both inspirational and motherly at one and the same time, and I owe all that I am vocally to her fantastic teaching and musical influence.

Now three of my former pupils are carrying on the teaching style and so the tradition of the Middleton stable goes on - that is the finest compliment, and the most gratifying feeling one can have. Many of my former pupils now earn their living through singing, and appear in all the major opera houses, and concert halls, and they too make me very proud. Maybe more about them later.....

Holst's song ' The Heart Worships ' is a stunner, so evocative, heartfelt, and lyrical. Today a young teenaged baritone told me it was his favourite song ! It is so difficult to keep the tone bouncing and supported at the ends of the three opening phrases, but with the .....THINK - BREATHE - SING..... mantra burnt into his brain since he was twelve he will achieve the requisite lightness of tone yet with intensity. The final phrase is ' Silence within ', what an impossible concept for a young person, yet when one adds melody and glorious scrunchy chord sequences even the most volatile teenager will feel the sentiment.

Thanks a bunch Holst, for writing something more than The Planets !

The Singer

I've sung, and I've taught singing, and the latter has always brought me much more pleasure.

How can that be, I hear you say - the applause, the travel, the gorgeous frocks......well, all that is wonderful and has it's own reward of achievement, being given affirmation from audiences and peers, but teaching is another level of personal fulfillment.

Yesterday I taught a sweet and somewhat serious 7 year old who learns songs as quickly as a starving lion devours it's catch, and two ladies of a certain age who in their time with me have gone from 'I can't possibly do that' to passing their Grade 8 exams!

Today amongst others, I tackle two very talented teenagers and a young lady who has brought a breath of spring into my music room with her own brand of fun, dedication and the ability to conquer problems which simply humbles me.

Having spent the best part of my teaching in a junior conservetoire in London, 10 years ago I relocated to a 'remote' island off West Scotland. Remote ! Well there is a lie if ever I heard it!
The community is warm and inviting, and before I could say ' I may have retired....?' I had a teaching practise as big as the proverbial Bournemouth! Talent was oozing out of every mountainside, and heading my way.

So what will I teach today? A festival looms, so a great deal of repertoire to be learnt, and one song in particular stands out. The Singer by Michael Head - a glorious unaccompanied song which paints a wondrous picture of the itinerant musician passing into a life and just as quickly passing on. If you have read the Gerald Durrell book ' My Family and other Animals' then this song has to be about the Rose Beetle Man, who communicates with his flute - read it! Communicates is the word - and today we tackle the ever present problem of teenagers and showing emotions. She can do it, and is beginning to enjoy the feeling of telling the story and doing so in her own time, mostly we are bound by the piano accompaniment, but 'The Singer' is almost barless, and treated in that way has a magical and timeless feel in performance. Immaculate enunciation and a freedom in the Fa la la's and we are almost there!

Bring it on!