Verdi Requiem
I sang the Verdi Requiem this last weekend. Well, me and about 2oo other people. In addition to my church choir, I also occasionally sing with the choir that sings with our local symphony (as usual, details will be left by the wayside). It's all my wife's fault (as are most other worthwhile things I do).
If you've never heard it, it's a great piece of music--very dramatic.
The choir is made up of members of the community as well as students from the seminary under whose wing the choir is organized. The students tend to come and go but among the community people there are folks who have been members for dozens of years.
Dan is one such member.
It is the consensus among the basses who sit around Dan that he needs to retire. He's in his eighties, can't hear, is unsteady on his feet. But he's sort of a gruff old knothead, and no one is about to say to him, "Ever think about enjoying the concert from the other side of the stage?" Least of all our director.
Friday night we did the first of two performances. Dan sat in front of me, dead center stage, and I sat on the back row, a good dozen feet off the stagefloor. In the Verdi, we sit during some of the parts and have to quickly stand to make our entrances when we get our cues. The first couple of these he struggles to get to his feet, relying on the help of the two huskies in tuxedos on either side of him.
Finally on the last one, we all spring to our feet and Dan rears up, looses his balance and starts to topple over backwards, as I'm rising from my seat. There is a great scramble in the back row as we frantically try to catch him, and prevent him from taking out half a dozen Bass II's (including your humble author).
The irony, I thought. To be nearly killed singing a requiem.
If you've never heard it, it's a great piece of music--very dramatic.
The choir is made up of members of the community as well as students from the seminary under whose wing the choir is organized. The students tend to come and go but among the community people there are folks who have been members for dozens of years.
Dan is one such member.
It is the consensus among the basses who sit around Dan that he needs to retire. He's in his eighties, can't hear, is unsteady on his feet. But he's sort of a gruff old knothead, and no one is about to say to him, "Ever think about enjoying the concert from the other side of the stage?" Least of all our director.
Friday night we did the first of two performances. Dan sat in front of me, dead center stage, and I sat on the back row, a good dozen feet off the stagefloor. In the Verdi, we sit during some of the parts and have to quickly stand to make our entrances when we get our cues. The first couple of these he struggles to get to his feet, relying on the help of the two huskies in tuxedos on either side of him.
Finally on the last one, we all spring to our feet and Dan rears up, looses his balance and starts to topple over backwards, as I'm rising from my seat. There is a great scramble in the back row as we frantically try to catch him, and prevent him from taking out half a dozen Bass II's (including your humble author).
The irony, I thought. To be nearly killed singing a requiem.
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