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Failing to Walk in the Air


Posted in: Dublin, Ireland, Princess

The Princess and I had a very traumatic choir practice the other night. The choir director for the Christmas carol service came (an important man who was far less interested in us than our normal choir director). The choir launched into various hymns (unknown to the Princess and me) in 5 parts. Sitting between the altos and the sopranos, with another three parts going on in the surrounding pews, and with no idea how to read music, I felt that I had zero chance of picking up any of the tunes. I was correct.

“Descant!” said the director. “What,” I hissed to the nice lady beside me, “is a descant?” Oh Lord.

Later one of the younger teenagers sang “Walking in the Air” alone. “That was lovely,” I said to her mother. Her mother repeated it to her and I heard her reply witheringly to her mother’s mortification “Anne, doesn’t even know what a descant is.”

The carol service is on Christmas Eve. The Princess and I are nervous. I think only prayer can help us now.

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Comments

  1. How rude!

    I wish you greatness or that you are so comically awful that people will talk about it for years to come, along with your ignorance of the descant.

  2. Ask your friend Google. He knows everything.
    I have sang in a choir myself as a teenager without knowing how to read music. The only concert i ever did was in psychiatric hospital for Christmas (don’t laugh). I guess the audience did not mind.

  3. They do sound an unwelcoming bunch. Our choir is happy to have anyone join and it’s a bonus if they’re not actually deaf. Plus we get home baking in the interval.

  4. How many tenors does it take to change a lightbulb?
    100. One to change the bulb and 99 to say”why wasn’t I asked?”

  5. Tabliope, I fear the latter…

    Peggy, not laughing, no indeed, far be it from me etc.

    Disgruntled, I think we just joined at the wrong time of the year.

    Jennifer, yes, we have seen some of that in our choir alright.

    Oh everyone, it’s tonight. Keep your fingers crossed for us.

  6. My dad can’t carry a note in a bucket, but he sings every hymn with gusto. The sister who tried to instill the spirit of Vatican II in our parish by teaching us those awful Ray Repp and Carey Landry hymns told us that God didn’t care how good our voices were, but only that we gave it our all. Some choir directors are apparently not of the same mind as God.