Choral Confection

Downtown Rochester is not exactly a place I want to be wandering about in the evening. Why would the Houghton College Choir book itself in St. Mary's downtown? Wouldn't it have made more sense to align with a Methodist Church in the area instead? Someplace with adequate parking and good lighting?

Nevertheless, I follow my Google map to the intersection of Court and Clinton to see where this Catholic edifice might be located. Sure enough, the few street metered parking spots are taken by the time I arrive. Sigh. I shall have to park in one of the garages and walk - alone - for a block or so. The streets are deserted and the church looks dark. I briefly wonder if I have the wrong night or the wrong St Marys. Advertising for this event was elusive and hard to track down.

I enter at street level and walk up a flight of stairs to the entryway. Though the church windows are dark, I am encouraged by a young man guarding a table of Houghton College materials. "Have they started yet?" I whisper for there is no sound in the vestibule. "Not yet," he whispers back. I tiptoe in and find an empty seat - not hard to do since there are only a handful of attendees.

I glance around to see if I know anyone, but there are no familiar faces. Whispered conversations flutter about me, reunions of students who attended Houghton together. Not my era. It reminds me how close knit Houghtonians can be, sheltered together against the world. I peruse the program. Familiar music surrounded by unfamiliar, I am looking forward to hearing the comfortable music I know and hearing the strains of new music that I hope will soar me to heights unknown.

A rustling begins at the back of the church which grows in intensity until we are surrounded by the tromping feet of the choristers. They swish past us in their maroon velvet gowns and elegant tails, young, eager, intent. I settle in as comfortably as possible on the hard wooden pew, leaning against my raincoat to soften the angular unforgiving seat.

After a "during concert pre concert talk" about the music, we at last begin with a surprising move into the balcony for the singers. More tromping. I understand why this church, this structure. The surrounding balconies allow for spatial differentiation. Ah. The singers take their positions, leaning ever so slightly over the railing. The organist is at the back organ, mirror in place. The conductor raises his baton.

I close my eyes, waiting patiently. The first few low rumbles of organ pedal rise through the floor and caress us, soon joined by singers ooo-ing lightly. And so it begins, this evening of musical sustenance. I relax, inhaling Part, Tavener, Bach. I smile amused when Bach struggles to stay together, not to rush, not to lag. It is hard for the singers and string players to hear each other. The baton becomes demanding and precise. Every verse wanders into dangerous territory, only to be pulled from the fire at the last moment.

Whatever the reason, the director edits the program freely. Pieces I would have liked to have heard are bypassed. But what we are served is rich and delicious. How often do you have opportunity to hear a well disciplined choir perform demanding music well? The sheer magnitude of sound is stunning, persuasive, dramatic, reverberant.

Too soon the concert ends. There are no CD's to purchase. We are the first stop on their spring itinerary. They will improve as they travel, get more comfortable with the idea. I love listening to choirs sing, especially sacred music.

On Sunday, March 28, at 3pm in the Cultural Life Center at Roberts Wesleyan College, our own Chorale will sing under the able baton of Dr. Jeffrey McGhee - my voice teacher. I am truly looking forward to hearing them sing. Its the same day as our Church Easter Cantata. I can never get enough! Mark your calendars and come join me if you are in the area.