Saturday, 30 July 2011

Reading the riot act or staring into the middle distance

Fr Ray has a post about meeting things in the public square, so to speak.

Round these parts you don't see in the street what what he describes, though blogwise I do not have far to look to find the equivalent.

What does happen to me is that various conversations arise in which I have the three options faced by teachers in the classroom continually.

Everything that happens in a classroom you either:-

condemn - by glaring, pointing, walking towards, raising voice a bit (OK A LOT), giving lines to, detentions to, sending out of the room...
condone - by doing nothing
or encourage, by praising, smiling, giving time to.....

And yes, by condoning you can encourage too. It's potentially the lazy one. In a good school one pupil doing something does nor cause an avalanche, elsewhere the whole place can blow in 30 seconds, or less. It's taken me years not to come down like a house of bricks on one boy who is stacking the contents of his pencil case up into some interesting creation at the end of an exam, on the basis that 25 others will be copying him in seconds, because by and large they aren't going to be. It's like having teaching PTSD. During what my Mum terms, les annees noires, my worst imaginings were exceeded on so many occasions that I'm a little oversensitised.

But this wasn't about work, as such, because the classroom is fine and I have my script for things that I'm not going to have, off pat. Anything immoral, generally comes under, 'Don't make personal comments,' and thankfully not much along those lines occurs, so it never gets to the point where further action has to be taken.

It was about the other times, when I have to be around and a conversation takes a wrong turn and there we are, everyone else is laughing and I'm not, again.

An example. Someone got married and was describing the day. Someone asked after the best man and the bride said, 'Ask X, she knows all about him.' Peels of laughter. X was sitting right there and had clearly spent the night with the best man. I didn't laugh and then it appeared that I was being judgemental, or disapproving, or something bad. Actually, X had recently split up with her fiance and I was thinking how sad she must have been and how awful you must feel to end up (undoubtedly getting very drunk,) and then doing that at a wedding, or indeed at all and for it to be treated so lightly in public. My silence did not go unnoticed and X made a sheepish comment and I mumbled something, whist wishing to be anywhere else.

And so it goes on.

The general culture is not slipping away, what I encounter, is gone.

I was chatting to a guy in an orchestra a while back and he started talking about the scientologists and I was about to make a flippant comment about aliens and spaceships when he said that he'd been into one of their bookshops and got chatting to the people there. He was just at a bit of a loss, really.



And my final anecdote on the, not believing something and believing anything line of thinking, is about the coloured water advert by my local station. Different bottles in different colours called Neuro this and that. Sounds so scientific and plausible and the bottles are a pleasing shape. Have they been blind tested, I wonder? OK have now read a review of them (reading reviews of soft drinks... saddo...,) and they appear to contain a lot of caffeine, apart, presumably, from the one that's supposed to make you go to sleep. I have an interest in coloured water because finding something nice, without being cloyingly sweet, to drink when driving is one of life's many little battles. The bottles look nice. If they were glass my sister-in-law would be saving them up as table decorations.

Anyway, back to the threeway choice. Number 3 is discounted because this is a situation where something bad is being said. This just leaves 1 and 2 as options. I think, contrary to Michael Voris, that 2 does have an effect. People always notice when you do not agree with them, but if you say nothing they will not get why. In Britain out and out contradiction does not go down well. That said, I find that in certain circles, conversations are so nuanced that I don't really know what's going on at all. I need Neuroclear.

Unfortunately, by putting on my invisibility coat and pretending I'm not there, as the conversation goes on around me, Catholicism can retreat a little further from the possibl range of responses and it becomes a little bit more acceptable to depart from Catholic moral teaching. Or maybe X thought better of it. She did look pretty sheepish.

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Jamtastic

A most productive day.

Went to Mass, bumped into Annie Elizabeth who took me back to her place to show me a good time with her quartet of smaller people.

I had a lovely time and was suitably tooled up with an improving book to read and lots of apples and blackberries. I shall start the former later and the latter have been turned into a couple of crumbles and a whole pile of jam.

Blessed Titus Brandsma

A handy biography here.

His final act?

He gave his rosary to the doctor who killed him in Dachau.




If you thought you just saw this on that blog, you did. Three blogs on one dashboard is one too many. Next you'll be reading what I'm singing on Sunday. They keep changing the order in which they appear...

Monday, 25 July 2011

Happy Feast of St James



The thurible in action here.

Sunday, 24 July 2011

MacMillan Mass Review

here on The Chant Cafe.

You sang it in a field in the Midlands - unless you are Scottish, in which case you rightfully got in first.

They mention the publisher thing. Well he is James MacMillan and he is published by B&H. Stravinsky et al are not free. 6 weeks though. The CMAA Journal travels much faster.

During the course of the review, Randolph Nichols mentions my least favourite melodo-harmonic car crash (not that I'm a fan of car crashes, you understand,)of any piece ever, the C# at the beginning of On Eagle's Wings.

He describes it thus

"Kyrie" is the simplest movement and uses the same harmonic and melodic material as the "Agnus Dei". Being the most immediately accessible of the Mass movements, it would seem wise to introduce these two movements first. The opening harmony (a sustained A minor chord underlying a melody line beginning on f-sharp) is reminiscent of the first chord of "On Eagles’ Wings" with it’s non-chord c-sharp resolving to the subdominant chord tone b. In this case, however, the f-sharp resolves a half-step upward and the singer has the advantage of hearing it introduced by the organ. Thus there should be none of the painful intonation offenses that so frequently plague that OEW c-sharp. At the final “Lord have mercy” there is an engaging harmonic turn that momentarily establishes the subdominant “a” as the tonic ending; the organ steps in, however, to reaffirm "e" as the true tonal center.

An F# over an A min chord does not bring OEW to mind to me because that C# has to be plucked from nowhere and forms a tritone with the root of the chord. It is deeply offensive. A pungent dissonance. The guy who taught me fugue-writing would torture anyone writing non-invertible counterpoint by playing the offending bar over and over for everyone to tut over. What would he make of such a crime?

It's a shame also that the terms of reference have to be crummy hymns we avoid playing, though it is funny to read it set down on The Chant Cafe. I would be totally disparaging if my A Level pupils started comparing their set works with crummy contemporary pop stuff, so why do that with James MacMillan? Incidentally, he is an A Level set work composer for OCR... along with Vivaldi and Berlioz, but I'm teaching different ones, alas.

The Colours of Day tetrachord.

The OEW C#.

Naming and shaming.

A day at St Cecilia's




I knew Clare would do the biz with the photos.

Here.

What is not visible in the photos is the expressions on the sisters faces whilst Martina and Jenny were giving us all a little concert, quite amazing. You had to be there. You know the sort of thing.

We are very fortunate indeed to spend and hour with Sister Bernadette and to sing with her.

Singing loudly, singing softly

Yesterday, I sang extremely quietly, trying to match exactly what I was listening to.

Today, I sang extremely loudly to provide a steer as to how it should go, whilst playing at the same time.

Quite how you get some of the former into the latter, I have some ideas about, but not a quick fix.

Tricky.