Having my singing ignored at school and later college had good and bad consequences. The good was that I wasn’t shoved down a path before I had any idea what singing was about. Ill informed “experts” never got hold of my voice, and believe me, there are many of them in Ireland. The bad was that I had no confidence in my singing. It took my work as a composer to push me forward into using my solo voice for the first time.

Whenever I had a solo to do, I became very flustered and nervous. I was aware that other singers around me could make a “big” noise, allowing them to attempt operatic arias and sing semi-professionally even at this early stage of their careers. At the time I believed that this “big voice” was correct, and that I was wrong. I heard people talking about passagio, and breaks and chest and ribs. None of it seemed to relate to what I was doing. I tried some singing teachers, but found no one that could explain to me what the hell was going on…The noise I made was small and restrained, even tight because I wouldn’t let it go. When I did, it wobbled and sounded ugly – out-of-control and unpleasant. It also made my face go purple. Around me I saw young singers with jaws wobbling, heads shaking and generally sounding like very old people. This appeared to be the only route forward for me – stick to my guns or have the voice of a 65 year old in the body of a 25 year old.

Then Anúna began to take off and I found that I had to sing solos. Since I wrote the songs it seemed logical to sing them, but often I avoided doing a solo, handing it to one of the singers to record instead of me. One example of this was the track “Island” which I wrote for Tenor solo, but ended up putting a soprano vocal on the first version of Deep Dead Blue simply because I had no confidence and I believed that I could not sing the solo well enough. I reinstated the solo to tenor much later, which I suppose means that I was eventually acknowledging that I wasn’t that bad.  It was cowardice to some extent. As I didn’t think that my voice was that good I honestly wanted to concentrate on the way the over all track sounded without letting my personal misgiving about my solo-singing get in the way.

Here is a performance I gave in 1999 of my song “Where All Roses Go” – you can see the effort it takes for me to sing quite clearly, although the result isn’t unpleasant.

My voice seemed to be able to survive on minimal technique despite shouting my way through rehearsals and then presenting and singing in concert. This lasted for a good long time – longer than it should have. Then in 2006 it began to fail. Something that was completely natural to me became unreliable. I continued recording and singing solo in concert, but even that began to falter, eventually leading me to sing no solos for full tours, and take literally weeks to sing a solo in studio. The latter was the worst of all. You can hear it particularly on the solo vocal of “Agnus Dei” on the Sanctus album by Anúna recorded in 2009. Strangely, it does no damage to the performance, and even adds a degree of strain that helps in the transmission of that composition…but it nearly tore me apart.

Then a friend told me to go and see Sylvia O Regan and get her to listen to my voice. I know Sylvia for decades. To cut a long story short, Sylvia found my voice. She told me that I had a very good voice, much to my surprise, and then proceeded to coax it back bit by bit. I had to travel back thirty years and proceed cautiously through a minefield of decades of bad habits and erroneous technique. That journey was long, but has resulted in my being able to sing again. I don’t sound exactly the same as I did. A bit older, a bit lower and darker. A lot wiser. Definitely stronger and capable of filling a large Hall unamplified if I work hard. If I don’t play by the rules, it lets me down. Now I know what the rules are for the first time, when my voice won’t work I know why.

Sylvia has a gift. She has the ability to transmit the precious information that she holds, which is the greatest gift of all. This she does in the simplest language. For her singing is breathing, and now that I can sing again, it feels like I am breathing properly for the very first time. You can see her in action in the Anúna Summer School video below. Thank you for everything Sylvia.

Tsunami stricken Fukushima

This was my first time visiting Japan and I knew very little about the country before arriving. Therefore, I feel blessed that my first experience singing with Anúna was for the Japanese people in Fukushima, the most heavily damaged region stricken by the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami. The Ambassador of Ireland sponsored a series of projects in which several Irish artists provided comfort and cheer to children in the region through benefit concerts. The Japanese put a lot of stake into the healing power of music, but this is especially true for a country that has recently endured a catastrophic natural disaster. Anúna and Irish musician, Liam Ó Maonlaí, gave performances to primary age and secondary age Japanese students over the course of two days. Although I am an American, by virtue of singing with Anúna, I was a part of these extraordinary events.

We were told that this region is devastated. Yet, on the surface it would not be immediately clear to a visitor why the region continues to suffer. On a driving tour of the worst hit neighborhoods, we noticed that large areas have been cleared and in some cases rebuilt. The cleanup was thorough and swift. It is not the aftermath of the tsunami itself that has devastated the region, but rather, the ever-present radiation that continues to exist in the ground, drinking water and continues to touch every part of the residents’ lives. The children are not allowed to play outside because there is radiation in the ground. The food supply, such as crops and animal products, has been infiltrated. A pathway is cleared and sprayed down daily for students to walk on to and from school in the hopes that there will be less radiation exposure. To us it was a poignant and telling moment to see those children, wearing their matching uniforms and matching backpacks, walk in lines along these pathways as they made their way home. I found their return to everyday life and their display of routine impressive, but also emotionally unsettling. They have been through immense upheaval, yet they go on with their regular lives attending school, going to work and buying goods. They exhibited a sense of ‘normalcy’ that the rest of the world hopes and prays for in that region.
The children were very excited for the ‘foreigners’ to arrive. In their shy demeanor, they insisted on saying ‘Konnichiwa’ in the hallways, and the entire campus was abuzz with excitement. During the performance, students sat in rows organized by age, with five-year olds in the front.

As we began our concert, the children were so surprised by our entrance that they began murmuring and standing up to understand what was happening around them. They continued to be mesmerized as we sang and moved around the space. We ended our program by having the children join us in the traditional Japanese song “Yuki”, our own special version of which we had prepared for them on the bus ride to the region. Young children stood up to sing with us, and instruments were given to older student for them to join in on the fun!

photo: Yoko Nozaki

At the close of our concert, the 4th-6th grade band performed for us. It was a true education for me to see what these children ages nine to eleven were capable of musically. The talent displayed by the forty-member band was outstanding. There were xylophones, accordions, melodicas, hand drums, timpani and piano. Never mind that these were not ‘traditional’ band instruments, this elementary school ensemble had an extraordinary gift to offer. They were rhythmic, musical, and the pieces were completely memorized. The entire program had the air of respect and appreciation for our presence at their school. I was fully impressed and felt that instead of our concert being the catalyst for healing them, they instead healed us with their impressive display. As the Japanese children exited the hall, they were not shy in their desire to touch us. Plenty of high fives, handshakes, hugs and pictures with the peace sign were exchanged.

The effect Anúna can have on an audience of any age, socioeconomic status, or culture is profound. These children were enthusiastic about our performance and fascinated with Anúna’s ritualized movement, shimmering voices and historical costumes. Our presentation was completely foreign to anything they have ever experienced and their reaction, given in the universal language of children, was pure joy!

After this experience, I was certain that I would have been happy to spend the entire tour doing several benefit concerts for the children in Japan. As I sang with Anúna, I held a sense of hope that this little gift we gave them was enough to at least offset their pain for a while. I gazed at those adorable little girls and boys, who were fascinated with our program, and I wanted to weep for them. They looked and acted exactly like my son and daughter, who are five and seven, and I found myself making comparisons. They are all full of life, smiles and joy! I couldn’t help but think of their great potential. Yet, I was able to see resigned acceptance and pain behind the eyes in the parents who were seated in the back of the hall. They exhibited an ache and a yearning for what was lost, but also a great appreciation for what we were there to do. It took all of my strength as a performer to avoid deteriorating emotionally while we were sharing our music and I utterly failed in my composure during their concert and gift giving ceremony. It touched and shook me, particularly because I am a parent and understand so keenly the hopes, dreams and fears that we all have for our children. It did my heart good to know that we were a part of an effort to support the victims of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami.

Many heartfelt thanks goes to Onahama 1^st Elementary School, Yuko Maeda, Plankton Company, The Embassy of Ireland to Japan, and Anúna for organizing the benefit concerts in the Fukushima region. The Japanese peoples’ greatest desire is for rest of the world to not forget what happened and continue to reach out to them. Japan, with your extraordinary attention to service, giving, kindness, beauty and healing: this privileged musician will not forget you.

[PC here: Thank you so much, Kira, for such a personal, heart touching blog. I will follow this soon with information on a musical project/website called "Sing for Japan", put together last year by Marian Dolan, Yo Matsushita, and Sherri Lasko, which has raised money and awareness for the plight of the people in Fukushima.]

Visit Sing for Japan: http://www.thechoirproject.org/sing4japan/

Visit them on FB: http://www.facebook.com/#!/singjapan

Paul writes : At this November’s National Collegiate Choral Organization conference (start reading my many blogs from NCCO here) I was fortunate to meet Kira Zeeman Rugen, a bright young singer/conductor and grad student from Greg Gentry’s Arizona State University choir who performed at NCCO. Kira asked to interview me as part of her dissertation on recent trends in American choral music and after the interview she told me that she would be singing with Michael McGlynn’s Anúna on tour in Japan (I had met Michael earlier this year at ACDA Chicago and we really hit it off). I invited Kira to guest blog about her experiences- you are in for a treat of a read. It will be in two parts starting today.
(BTW, I am looking for more cool guest bloggers who woudl liek to share interesting ideas and expereinces in the choral world- please step forward if you are interested).

Here is a pic of Kira and her bio, and then I will turn the rest of the blog over to her:

Kira Zeeman Rugen, singer and conductor, is pursuing a DMA in choral conducting with a cognate in vocal performance at Arizona State University where she conducts the early music ensemble, Solis Camerata (Choir of the Sun). Kira is also in her eighth season as a singer in the Phoenix Chorale under Charles Bruffy, and is a member of Anuna, Irelands National Choir. She has performed under the direction of Ton Koopman in Carnegie Hall’s Young Artist Concert Series, at the Incheon International Choral Festival in Korea and has sung extensively throughout Italy, Ireland and the U.S. She earned a Bachelor of Arts degree in vocal performance and choral conducting from Weber State University, and a Master of Music in choral education with an emphasis in vocal performance from Arizona State University. Kira has taught children and youth choirs, high school choirs, orchestra and musical theater in the greater Phoenix area.

Singing with Anúna – Part I

My name is Kira Zeeman Rugen and I am a DMA candidate in the Choral Conducting program at Arizona State University. I’d like to thank Paul Carey for inviting me to be a guest writer on his blog and I’m excited to share my story.

As a part of my degree, I am pursuing research on the performance practice techniques of contemporary professional choirs. I have had the fortune to interview many interesting conductors and composers for my research, and through this process I met Michael McGlynn. I have always been fascinated with the music of Anúna, particularly the visual beauty and the aural esthetic they have become famous for and wanted to include it in my research. I attended Anúna‘s summer workshop in Dublin last July, and had the honor of singing with Anúna as a part of that event. It was a memorable and fun experience and the information I gleaned for my research was of great value to me. Much to my surprise and excitement, in August, Michael McGlynn invited me to become a touring member of his choir, Anúna. It was an offer of a lifetime that I could not refuse.

My first tour with Anúna, Ireland’s National Choir, was on a two-week concert tour to Japan just last month (December 2011). This adventure certainly gave me first hand eye-opening information for my research. When the schedule of events for the tour arrived, I took one look at the timetable and immediately thought, “That looks like the ugly underbelly of the life of a rock star.” I didn’t know then just how accurate a description that was. Working with Anúna is not like working with a traditional classical choir. As an eight-year member of the Phoenix Chorale and having traveled with them extensively during that time, I am accustomed to rigorous schedules, flights, buses, great friends, exciting cities, beautiful music and rewarding concerts. Touring with Anúna had all of those same elements but with a whole new set of dynamics. Many elements were new to me as a professional singer, and particularly unique to Anúna.

We perform as twelve singers. Every voice is integral, and balancing the sections was always of primary importance. We perform without a conductor, giving us the freedom to perform as a chamber ensemble, communicating directly with an audience. Typically this technique is practiced by ensembles that regularly rehearse and perform together. Often, an Anúna touring group doesn’t get the chance to rehearse together until on location… so we learn fast!
We usually perform with microphones in larger halls. The amplification is meant to ‘lift’ the sound for a natural mix, rather than amplify the sound. The effect is one of a quiet wash of voices that the audience strains hear, as opposed to the wall of blasting speakers found in rock music.
We perform everything memorized, and had to learn by heart all potential lines (S1, S2, and A for girls. T1, T2, B for the guys).

The women of Anúna

I had to alter my tone to fit within the context of their sound, which does stems from a classical tradition, but has a different production than I am accustomed to. There is a mixture of trained classical singers and gifted amateurs, which provides for a unique and beautiful color. I think the best way to describe the tone is to compare it to the traditional solo Irish folk song tradition, and then applied to a choral medium. Let’s just say that operatic vowels do not work here!

Language pronunciation is an issue as the singers are from several different countries. Anúna is based in Dublin, with about thirty-six singers currently on the roster. They come from Ireland, Northern Ireland, Scotland, England and the U.S. The Japanese tour included twelve of those singers: three from Northern Ireland, seven from the Dublin area and two from the United States. There are times that the natural Irish accent is compelling in the music. Other times, such as when singing in Latin, we have to work to find some middle ground.

We never know what music, what order, what part or which solo will be sung by whom until we are well into the dress rehearsal of a concert that opens in two hours. Also, Michael prefers to operate without a printed program. There are pros and cons to this method:

Con: It is difficult to know the show down ‘cold’ before it begins and the dress rehearsals feel frantic.

Pros: The show can be flexible, improvisational and fresh for every audience. If someone is sick or is unable to perform, anyone in the ensemble can fill in as necessary. This format prevents the show from growing stale or old and allows for artistic license in any given setting. There is no program to dictate what is coming next, so the audience may experience surprise and wonder by not knowing what is expected.

Anúna is known for their use of space and sound in creative and unconventional ways. We use the entire space of the hall for choreographed and movement numbers. There is a presentation, a gait and appearance that is a part of being an Anúna singer, in particular for the women- slow, graceful, beautiful and natural. It’s not as easy as it sounds!

A unique and defining characteristic of Anúna, is how much we rely heavily upon one another in concert. Even though Michael McGlynn is the leader, there is an egalitarian aspect to the duties and interaction. All singers correct and help each other, create the staging together, and everyone is highlighted as a soloist or instrumentalist in the concerts. Although the choir takes the rehearsals seriously, there is silliness in the work. When the stress gets high, the clowning around keeps the tone light. The Irish work as hard as they play, in all aspects of their life! Their jokes, sarcastic banter and clever tongues add to the camaraderie and fun that defines the group. At first they made my transition into the group comfortable and fun. Then the ‘all-in-good-fun’ teasing began! But by the end of the trip we were all the best of friends. You know what they say about the Irish… neither do I. But I’m sure it’s something like… “The more they razz you, the more they like you!

On the Japanese tour we gave nine or ten concerts and three workshops, each in a different city of Japan, over thirteen days. The workshops were really fun because it gave the audience and locals a chance to interact on a personal level with the choir. We even had the privilege of singing on Japanese national television for three – four million viewers (yes, I was nervous).

Anúna on Japanese TV (photo: Yoko Nozaki)

We took planes, buses, bullet trains and jumbo taxis everywhere we traveled. We stayed in seven or eight different cities (I lost track!) and checked out the local cuisine everywhere we traveled. For those of us who were brave enough, we tested out the Japanese Onsen spas. THAT was certainly a new experience for many of us.

Perhaps the most profound element of performance that I learned as a new singer to Anúna, was the effect this music has on an audience. The Japanese are respectful and quiet people and as a whole, they are some of the most well behaved audiences I have ever sung for. They sat captivated and completely silent throughout each concert and their rapt attention, combined with the compelling music and colorful lighting, created an atmosphere of a dream-like sequence. Musicians are used to gauging an audience based on their reaction to a concert. We describe it by saying we can feel the ‘energy’ of an audience, or we know it by their exuberant clapping. I had to be much more keenly aware of the ‘energy’ in a Japanese audience because of their unmoving and concentrated attention. Over the course of the tour, I became more and more aware that there was a gentle hum of energy flowing from the listeners. They were touched by the atmosphere and soaked up every last nuance. I think they were really listening, and not just hearing the music. The more I was aware of this newly identified energy, the more I was able to respond and change how I performed for them.

After the concerts the Japanese audiences relayed much appreciation by sharing their happiness and sense of peace. They expressed a genuine gratitude and love for our music by presenting us with gifts everywhere we went. It seems to me that the emotional experience listeners have when hearing the music of Anúna, is the magic that makes this ensemble compelling and successful. After all, it is certainly the aspect that initially drew me to love the music of Anúna.

In concert in Japan (photo: Yoko Nozaki)

As a professional singer, I have had some really beautiful musical experiences that I cherish and value. But my experience with Anúna was completely different than anything I’ve done before… and I loved it! In my opinion, the culture that Anúna has developed over the past twenty-five years is something uniquely individual and noteworthy. Their music, which could be identified as a ‘crossover’, is easily approachable and loved worldwide. Having now had the experience of touring with Anúna, I must agree with the comment Michael McGlynn shared with me last August: being Anúna just might be “dangerous to the soul”.

Initially there was a strong instrumental element to the group, but around 1992 we had become a choir, although we had a few instrumentalists in our ranks. An Uaithne became Anúna in 1992 and the change of name also brought a change of emphasis. I really wanted people to hear my music, but up until this time I had been writing it very much for myself. That had to change if I wanted to move forward and gain a wider audience for my work.

In late 1992 I began composing the pieces for the first album ANÚNA. There would obviously be some of the early stuff that I had reconstructed and arranged (Cormacus Scripsit, Media Vita, Crist and St Marie), with a nod towards the traditional things that I loved (‘Sí do Mhaimeo Í, The First Day, Jerusalem). I also had a sprinkling of more standard Classical repertoire (The Blue Bird, Silent O Moyle). However, I was acutely aware that this recording should highlight my own material as well, maybe even define my own compositional voice a bit better, so I set about creating some new songs that would compliment the other pieces.

I knew that the unusual sonic nature of Anúna would tie the album together, but I was also acutely aware of the limitations of the singers. The songs had to be singable, and retain the energy that I knew was one of the defining elements of the choir. The session was very rushed, with all sixteen songs being recorded in five hours flat. Two of my pieces, Pater Noster and Sanctus, were in our repertoire for some years and I added two new ones that we hastily recorded at the end of the session from the sheet music. The Raid was based on a song I had written many years before called Dirgidh bhar Sleagha Sealga, and was a series of block, homophonic sections that had some pretty tricky false relations. I didn’t tell the choir that it was quite tricky to sing, so they sailed through it. I wasn’t looking for perfection on this track, just energy. Invocation was a very different beast.

I had been reading Robert Graves’ extraordinary book The White Goddess and my mind was full of ideas about Ireland. I began the song with Amairgen mac Mi’led’s simple statement ‘Ailiu iath nErenn‘ – “I invoke the land of Ireland”. I then listed some random images of the natural world, some of them rather mundane on the page, but the connection of the text and music really does invoke something unique and special. The song was immediately singled out by some early purchasers of the album, and the choir loved singing the piece despite the tricky nature of the sustained chordal movement against the solo lines. I was delighted with the reaction, as this piece meant more to me than anything else on the record. I based the entirety of the next Anúna CD, Invocation, on this song. The piece became part of the epic Wind on Sea in 1994, the final track on that release, and took on a new life entirely…but that’s another story.

Invocation was really where it all started for me. Its a very hard song to sing for the soloists, and I am delighted that we are including it in our tour of Holland this year in January, as the choir really love performing it. In the late summer of 2010 I brought Anúna to Co Galway and filmed a video for the song. I have only just finished editing it. Despite some rather static camera work and a number of complaints of hypothermia from the assembled cast, I think it captures the essence of the song pretty well.

I love filming. Its a different form of composition, and a significant one too. I had become tired of asking people to record my ideas visually, so in 2002 I bought a large Sony VX2000 camera, a huge Mac and a copy of Final Cut Pro. Now, I am pleased to say, I can, when I get time, try and link together some of my visual and aural ideas on my tiny camera and midget laptop when I am travelling. I hope you enjoy the video below. I enjoyed every minute of creating it.

Magda and me in Citadel Park, Poznan

The day before had been very special. Usually when I give workshops or masterclasses they are either technical singing classes or deal with the interpretation of my music. Rarely do they encompass both areas of my work simultaneously. The session lasted five hours. The attendees at the Academy of Music in Poznań were made up of children and adults – all of them accomplished choral singers. In total there were to be in excess of one hundred young singers attending the workshop.They came from a number of choral groups, but I had specifically been invited by the world-renowned Poznań Boys’ Choir, who had  conducted by my friend Jacek Sykulski. They are easily one of the world’s best boychoirs. Here they are singing my arrangement of “St. Nicholas

I had seen the boys perform the day before at the Gala Concert for the First International Early Music Vocal Competition  Canticum Gaudium, and had been hugely impressed by their sound – visceral and strong, with a sheen of confidence that I was very unfamiliar with, particularly in their performance of my own piece “Media Vita”. I was very much looking forward to working with them. Jacek and I had been corresponding for at least a decade. He is an excellent composer, and we discovered many unexpected connections, including one to the American vocal group The Free Design [I have written about them in an earlier article] that was more than slightly disconcerting for both of us. You can read more about him here.

With Jarek Otoka, Łukasz Matusik and Jacek, pic by Tomasz Semmler

Jacek had chosen two of my pieces for the workshop – “Pie Jesu” and “Heia Viri”.  “Heia Viri” is not an easy piece to sing. It has an alternating 10/8, 4/4, 7/8 rhythmic pattern, which many choirs find pretty daunting. Jacek conducted this piece, giving precise entries and eliciting quite a dynamic reaction from the singers. After a while I asked him to stop conducting and to leave them to continue undirected. We listened to the singers dealing with the complex rhythmic structures without guidance. They started to listen to each other. To be precise, the adults did. What the children did was most illuminating. I clearly remember three little boys in the front row thumping each other as they sang “Heia Viri”. This in itself is to be expected with boys anywhere, but not while negotiating alternating complex choral rhythms unconducted. Another boy was rapidly beating his music against his arm which he had rolled up into a weapon. This in itself isn’t unusual, but he was beating rapidly in a different rhythmic pattern to any that I had written. Children don’t need to listen, or analyse – they just sing it as it is. At what precise moment is it that we lose large chunks of our natural common-sense when singing in choirs?

Just listening…

…and laughing. Pics T Semmler

Then there was “Pie Jesu” which begins with a suspended 4^th that resolves onto a 3^rd in the second bar in an F major tonality. I gave the notes of the opening chord at 11.15am. An hour later we sang  “Heia Viri”, which is in D flat, returning to “Pie Jesu” for the last hour of the workshop that ended at 3pm. What was somewhat revelatory was the simple fact that I blew the notes on my pitch-pipe only once for both pieces and I didn’t let the singers re-tune prior to singing. The assembled choirs were able to pitch the opening of both songs each time we restarted without any assistance. They held the F tonality perfectly in tune for at least four hours. What are keys and notes? Just ethereal ideas really. I’ve tried this trick all over the world, and it never ceases to amaze me how lazy we are about things like this as choral singers.

Just remember you guys who the boss is here…

Working with Andrzej & Witold Lewicki of Lumen

I also had the pleasure to work with Estelí Gomez, winner of the Canticum Gaudium competition the day before. Estelí sang Hildegard of Bingen while I pointed out to the choirs what she was doing, and, rather more importantly, not doing as she sang. Still hands, correct body position, natural movement – all of these things had contributed to her victory the day before, and she was obviously radiating so much joy when she sang for us that I know many of the children in particular gained much from her natural contribution to the session.

I got the chance to work with the adult singers of the Academy Choir and some members of the ensemble Lumen. Much of what I had to say to them revolved around postural issues and movement, but throughout these parts of the session I was struck by how open to new, and often quite physical ideas all of them were. I was humbled also to hear that many of them were pretty familiar with my music and when I got home I even came across this lovely rendition of my arrangement of the Irish medieval song “Miserere Miseris” recorded by Lumen – there are some truly beautiful voices in this group.

It irritates me to hear the choral industry, and singers themselves, fawning over conductors of professional choral groups as if they were some kind of magical beings. In most cases, I can assure you, they are not. Some of them are even, dare I say it, not particularly good. I personally believe that any decent conductor who is adequately musical, charismatic and confident can achieve wonderful things when put in front of a brilliant choir. The true heroes of choral music are those directors who live their art. Who obsess, who eat and breathe it. Who sacrifice and bleed for it. People like Jacek. Sometimes their passion can get in the way of what they are trying to do, as their job does not simply entail turning up with the choir smiling sweetly at them and reaping the rewards of the preparatory work of others. It is hands-on, committed and demands huge personal sacrifice and much of their limited energy is burnt up with the mundane rather than the magical.

The aim of my sessions is to reduce the amount of unnecessary energy that choirs, but particularly conductors expend. The greatest flaw of the conductor is to do too much for the singers. In order for choirs to be more proactive they need to understand better the physicality of their own performance and how that relates to those around them. This is pretty much how Anúna works – “all for one and one for all” as the old saying goes. Most choirs want to function this way, but appear to have lost their way somewhat and have stopped using common sense in relation to the necessities of performance. Hopefully this very special session was as illuminating for the singers as it was for me. I had a brilliant time. I learnt so much from Jacek and the singers, and I feel a close bond now between us. I hope to return again as soon as I can. Thank you Jacek and Joanna.

I clearly remember my first rehearsal. We sang two songs, “Christus Factus Est” by Anerio and “O Sacrum Convivium” by Messiaen. Suddenly much was made clear to me. Maybe this was why people still spoke fondly of the extinct Latin Mass, with its remote and mysterious ceremony? It also helped explain to me why services were structured as they are. Music wasn’t simply a chance for the congregation to sing together, rather it was a series of sonic sign-posts angled towards illumination of the underlying spiritual truth of the service.

The Latin language, with its soft and non-percussive sound, had a natural affinity to the music that it was carried by. Later I discovered the music of Tallis, Gibbons and Byrd, being struck by the beauty of the harmonic language and the mellifluous use of the less-musical English language. Simple, direct statements of belief were woven into a powerful lattice of spiritual affirmation. Exposure to more recent music written for the Church today plainly showed that composers were acutely aware of their musical ancestry and quite capable of working within the practical constraints of service structures and the capabilities of the performing groups that they composed for. Indeed, the love of singing contemporary music among the better choral groups was a great pleasure to behold, even if much of the music demanded skills that were just on the edge of what the singers were capable of.

With respect to my Roman Catholic upbringing, I had rarely understood how the odd hymn here or there and the simplistic one-line responses and calls in the vernacular could compare to the carefully constructed musical structures that I participated in while singing in my first Church of Ireland services.  It irritated me that much of what was musically beautiful in the pre-Vatican II church had simply been consigned to performance repertoire, rarely heard within its originally conceived context.

Sometimes I felt like a starved man who eats as much as possible very quickly, deputising and singing at the two major Church of Ireland Cathedrals in Dublin, St. Patrick’s and Christ Church Cathedrals as often as I could. I sang for free at weddings, funerals, services – anything I was asked to do simply to experience this music in the context of its original conception.

By this time I was beginning to compose on a regular basis. Although the main thrust of my composition was towards the development of a new form of Irish choral music, I was consistently drawn to spiritual texts. Two early efforts I wrote for competitions organised for use in the Church of Ireland service were “Codhlaim go Súan I’d Chroí” (I Sleep Softly in Your Heart) and the anthem “Come Let us Sing” the former for a competition to find an anthem in the Irish language and the latter a setting of a more traditional Church text. This work eventually gave rise to my “Celtic Mass”, a combination of texts in Latin and Irish on diverse texts. Latterly my spiritual output has included the four “Tenebrae Responsories”, a “Missa Brevis” for St David’s Cathedral in Wales and a diverse collection of individual sacred works that include my “Agnus Dei” which was commissioned by the American choir Chanticleer in 2006 for their five-composer project “And on Earth, Peace: a Chanticleer Mass”.

Despite it being nearly thirty years since I was so profoundly influenced by this music, it continues to be a part of my life. I attend regularly at Saint Bartholomew’s Church in Dublin which has a fine and ambitious musical programme. I believe that the power generated by community singing of good quality has a ripple effect on the entirety of society. This music and literature has survived because it is simultaneously functional and art. It is important to bear in mind that composers who have written this music for over a millennium have done so with a desire to articulate their own spiritual ideas while transmitting genuine and heart-felt insight to a congregation. I now realise why this music has influenced and affected me the way it has. Choral music in worship can bring congregation, singer and composer together in a unique and wonderful way. The power of this should never be underestimated.

This article appears in the magazine Soundboard, Winter 2011

Poznań is a beautiful city, particularly when bathed in the warm, autumnal glow of early November. I visited the city in 2000 with Anúna, and it has changed considerably since then. The central part is dotted with fashionable restaurants and beautiful ornate churches. I particularly love the atmospheric coffee shops where the day can slip away so easily. Coffee always seems to taste better on mainland Europe than it does at home for some mysterious reason. These peaceful places are almost empty in the daytime, and for me were an oasis to renew my love for Poland. The city itself has a well-maintained and attractive central square that is full of life in the evening. Everywhere is walkable and people are polite and good-natured. Considering that there is a direct flight to Poznan from Dublin, I can’t understand why I have never met another Irish person who has been there.

Pictures Michael McGlynn

I hear some of you ask – what is Early Music? Well, in a nutshell, it is a musical land where few singers and teachers tread comfortably. Singers must have formidable technique but also a genuine love of this special music. It involves the use of improvisation and ornamentation and requires a strong and supple vocal technique. In the early 1980s the pure sound of enthusiastic and almost vibrato-less English voices brought this forgotten era back into the public eye. Since then much has changed in the way this music is interpreted, which has led to a renewed appreciation for the genre and a widening interest in it among the musical fraternity. I was delighted that so many young singers had chosen to enter this competition, and more importantly, how many of them dealt so competently with the specific demands required by the repertoire.

Adjudication is a particular skill. Some adjudicators love emotional performance, some prefer accuracy and technique and some want raw talent recognised. I know that it is an important means for the transmission of my experiences and knowledge as a performer to the next generation. The organisers chose a very interesting line-up of adjudicators :  Eric Desnoues (France), soprano Olga Pasiecznik (Poland/Ukraine), bass-baritone Stephan MacLeod (Switzerland) and countertenor Roberto Balconi (Italy). There was some amusement among them when we met initially that my biography in the programme included mention of my involvement as a specialist adjudicator in the Finnish version of X Factor. Well, adjudication is adjudication, and seeing as the main aim of all singing competitions is appropriate transmission of information – about the song, about the text, about the composer and crucially, about the singer – I would say, hastily, that there isn’t that much difference between genres of music in the end when you are looking for that special element in a performer…the “x factor”…

I must state first of all that any opinions I give in this article are my own, based on my twenty five years in the music industry, and may not always reflect the views of my colleagues. Our deliberations were passionate: all of us have very strong ideas and opinions about this music that we love. We debated each singer at length in French and English. I was writing my notes in Irish, which got harder and harder for me as the week progressed, as I can’t seem to retain coherency in French and Irish simultaneously for no good reason. We may not have been unanimous in everything, but there was always a consistent thread running through our judgements which went beyond personal taste. My colleagues made the difficult experience of adjudication something which was full of stimulating debate, good-humour and passion.

Eric, Stephan, Roberto and Olga

While I have worked as an adjudicator before, this experience was unique in one particular way: we interacted with the singers directly, discussing their performances with them individually and in small groups. I believe that being open and honest with young singers is hugely valuable to both yourself and the performer. You have to make your comments clearly, answering direct questions with direct answers. You also have to justify why you feel a certain way about something, and that can be a challenge. Through these interactions we learned much from the singers about their lives and their ambitions for the future. I wish I had had access to something like this when I was starting, rather than cold written statements, if any were given at all, that could easily be misunderstood.

What were we looking for? Was it simply the voice combined with passion, communication and intellect? Many of these singers had all of these traits. However, lurking beneath all these things lies the need for a strong bedrock of vocal technique. Text must also be very clear, and the meaning of the words transmitted. But the thing that I was looking for most of all was that the singer must attempt to bring this music to life in today’s world, which is so alien to the one in which the words and music were originally conceived.

Hanna Rozankiewicz sings “Come again, sweet love”, picture by Tomasz Semmler

Most of the performers sang Lute Song from England, particularly the works of the great John Dowland. These are deceptive songs, superficially easy to sing but difficult to perform with conviction. I was the only native English speaker on the panel. I don’t have problems with people singing in accented English. If you are Polish or French then it is pretty likely that you will sing with a Polish or French accent, but the accent should never obscure the meaning of the words. All I want, and I am sure the same applies to all languages, is that the words are coherent and it is obvious to the listener that the singer understands them.  I have serious problems with affected English pronunciation. By this I mean English being distorted for obscure and often ridiculous reasons. I must state here that many of the worst offenders in this area are native English speakers. No, I don’t agree that “r” should be rolled, but tolerate it because most singers do it. It is infinitely harder to not roll the “r”… No, the word “Spring” is not pronounced “Sprrrreeeeng”. Distortion is distortion, no matter how accepted such odd practices have become.

There were some good performances given by the singers in the lute song genre, particularly by the baritone Romain Bockler from France, who eventually came fifth in the competition. He gave a delicate reading of Trombocino’s “O mia cieca e dua sorte” in the semi-final. This was matched by the young Polish singers Maria Rozynek and Bartosz Rajpold who both sang moving renditions of Dowland’s “Flow my teares”. Hanna Różankiewicz, the youngest performer in the competition, performed one of the best-known Dowland songs “Come again, sweet love” with a moving sensitivity. Samitra Suwannarit-Grabowska from Thailand sang a heart-stopping rendition of Dowland’s “Sorrow, Stay”. I don’t believe that Samitra performed as well as she could have in this competition. She is a fine artist and her performance particularly touched me.

There were three very good Polish countertenors in the competition. Roberto’s opinions and knowledge were particularly helpful to me, as he is a countertenor, and he explained the different features of this unusual and increasingly popular singing voice for men. All three singers were young. Marcin Liweń has a powerful voice and fine musicality and shows great promise for the future, while Bartosz Rajpold sang with intensity and passion, even at this early stage of his career. He was particularly good in his performance of Handel’s “Su, Magera”.

Bartosz Rajpold , picture by Tomasz Semmler

The youngest of them was Jakub Orlińsk, also Polish. We recognised his performances with a special award of Merit. When I spoke to Jakub about his relationship to early music and his particular choice of this unusual voice type, he told me in no uncertain terms that this was what wanted to do for his life. Well, this and break-dancing…

Jakub Orlińsk, picture by Tomasz Semmler

I should point out how well the singers got on together. When we met them face-to-face it was disarming to see how young they all were, despite the intensity of some of their performances. I was very taken with the Polish soprano Natalia Kawałek, whose passion and virtuosity were combined with an excellent vocal instrument. I found her performance arresting, and I will follow her career with interest. Aleksandra Lewandowska, also Polish, is a vocal stylist and specialist in early repertoire. She was always a consummate artist in the competition, giving some of the most challenging performances of interesting repertoire. I don’t think we heard her at her best, but she still managed a fourth placing in the final stage. Other fine performances were given by the dark-voiced mezzo-soprano Joanna Krasuska-Motulewicz, who gave some very dramatic readings of Handel and Bach, and the young sweet-voiced soprano Magdalena Urbanowicz who had an engaging presence on stage.

Natalia Kawalek & Aleksandra Lewandowska picture by Tomasz Semmler

The attendance of so many international singers was vital to the competition. Hungary’s Judit Zsovar and Iria Perestrelo of Portugal brought their own individual styles and passion to us with flair and considerable charm. One of the most dramatic performance pieces, which we heard not once, but twice in the finals, was Handel’s virtuosic “Lucrezia”. It was sung by Germany’s Julia Kirchner. Her presence and interpretation were statuesque, and Olga very generously offered her a special performance as a personal prize. Julia was the eventual winner of the third place prize. The second place was awarded to Poznan’s own Maria Rozynek, who impressed us with the passion of her performances, and was one of the youngest entrants at the age of twenty-two.

Julia Kirchner sings “Lucrezia”, picture by Tomasz Semmler

We were delighted to award the first prize of five thousand euro to the American soprano Estelí Gomez. She gave a number of immaculate performances. Purcell’s “O lead me to some peaceful gloom” was like a crystal stream of sound, while Rameau’s “Du pouvoir de l’Amour / Jeux et ris qui suivez mes traces” was simply, and I hesitate to use the description because it has become almost a cliché, ravishingly beautiful. In this recit/aria she used Baroque gesture [try here for further info], a form of hand movement that historically would have been used in contemporary perfromance of this time, in such a natural way that it just looked right. Personally, I was hugely impressed by her technique, particularly her support which was almost invisible to my eye. I was delighted that she participated in my choral workshops the next day, but more of that in a later article.

Estelí Gomez, picture by Tomasz Semmler

She has a very engaging and bright personality and I spoke to Esteli about what winning this competition meant to her :

How are you feeling now after your victory? What do you think winning this competition will mean for you in the short term?

“The two strong feelings that come to mind are appreciative, and inspired. This was my first vocal competition and first time singing solo in Europe, as it were, and I was delighted at the high caliber of musicality of the contestants and judges, as well as the attentive organizational efforts that held the festival together so well; also, the kindness that the hosts and judges showed us, and that the contestants showed one another, was an amazing blessing and inspiration throughout and in retrospect.

That being said, I think a common misconception, when a singer wins a competition (or important role or gig), is that he or she has achieved some sort of untouchable state of arrival. While I can absolutely describe the Poznań competition experience and environment as one which, for me, really encouraged and celebrated that which I have been striving towards in my music-making, I do recognize that a competition win does not a “finished” singer make. I am hopeful that such a win will provide me with musical exposure in Europe, yet in a sense I have already gained a great measure as such, having been myself exposed to competitors’ varied styles and judges’ diverse tastes during the competition week itself. Ideally, I intend to continue exploring these performance practices and preferences on both sides of the pond, and I am very glad and grateful that my first efforts to do so were encouraged”

Why do you like singing this unusual repertoire particularly considering your own musical background?

“I grew up in a family that strongly values music – my parents met in a folk/bluegrass group, and all our extended family holidays involved singing, instruments, harmonizing. But, even more strongly, they emphasized the joy of personal expression within art (visual art too…my brother is an animator!), and that’s what drew me first to jazz, then early music. I loved singing solo and small ensemble jazz repertoire in high school, before I’d begun to dabble in solo classical singing, because it involved not just freedom of expression, but requirement of expression – the idea that on a basic level one must constantly engage in a composition and make personal, committed decisions, connecting to text and phrase structure with enough conviction and confidence to be able to improvise…! All exciting elements that jazz and early music performance share. The performance of early music requires a special and wonderful balance of academic/historical context, or engaging one’s brain, and then this intensely courageous improvisatory/creative element, or engaging one’s soul. For me, this is an incredibly satisfying combination!”

What are your memories of Canticum Gaudium and Poznań that you think will stay with you?

“I would say that the amazing friendliness of our Polish hosts – those affiliated with the competition, as well as perfect strangers – was particularly special and memorable. Before and after the competition I travelled to a few other cities in Europe for more concert performances, but no public was friendlier or more generous than that which I found in Poland. Otherwise, I would say that the experience of traveling so far and investing so much time, effort, and money to sing just thirty minutes of music in the semi-final round… that was definitely an experience and level of investment I won’t forget any time soon!”

What do you think that this competition has to offer young singers who might be interested in attending in 2013?

“The spirit of this competition was so rich with positive, healthy energy, that I came away with not just a better idea of how Renaissance and Baroque music is sung in different circles today, but feeling truly inspired by the approaches of the performers and honest, helpful commentary of our judges. I would highly recommend the experience as a whole to any dedicated early music singer, looking not just to show off or win prizes, but to invigorate his or her musical agenda and encourage fluency in different repertoires, presented to a unique and appreciative audience.”

I want to wish Estelí and all the competitors well-deserved success for the future. I know I will be returning to Poznań, and I won’t wait eleven years next time. Finally I want to extend my personal thanks to all those who gave their time and energy to the organisation of this competition. There wasn’t a single glitch, just goodwill and positivity. I particular want to thank Joanna Theuss and Jacek for making the entire experience one I will always remember and treasure.

The winners: Romain, Estelí, Maria, Aleksandra and Julia

Until we touched down in Shanghai and travelled to our first venue in Hangzhou, arriving at night to an illuminated bustling city, I honestly believed that the trip wouldn’t happen. If I was younger and more traveled (three of the singers had already been there, with one of them, Shane Sugrue, actually living in Shanghai when we arrived) I would have been less daunted by the prospect of visiting this enigmatic country. Despite superficially looking like the rest of the developed world, China is a very special culture, with a unique and turbulent history.

When Anúna travel to a new country, I am always nervous. Will we be loved or loathed, acclaimed or booed? Audience reaction in China was summed up on the first night. Applause at the interval was muted, and more sustained at the end, but still quiet. However, when the singers went out to do our traditional meet-and-greet they were quite literally mobbed. People cheered, bought handfuls of CDs, photographed us alone, with them and with their children. I, coward that I am, stayed in the dressing room. When the singers came back they were ashen-faced with the strength of the reaction. I could tell that our agent was nervous up until this point, as the Chinese perception of choirs is a group of singers on stage with all the lights on, many of them flashing at appropriate (and inappropriate) moments. Anúna were capable of transmitting our subtle message to this audience with the same immediacy as everywhere else had been. From then on we didn’t worry about anything else except the mosquitoes and the fact that even small Irish people are classified as XXL when buying shirts in some parts of the country.

Many things will remain with me from our tour. The director of the big summer blockbuster The Beginning of the Great Revival Jianxin Huang, writing on his Weibo page [Chinese Twitter] after he attended the show in Beijing, said that he would love to hear us sing the choral sections from that film [you can hear some of them here] he was so impressed by the sound of Anúna. I recall also a lady who attended our performance at Chengdu’s Jincheng Art Palace following Miriam Blennerhassett around on her knees as she glided up and down the aisles of the theatre while she simultaneously filmed her with her mobile phone.

I remember the tiny, beautiful children that filled the theatres with parents in tow, laughing and chatting in the less Westernised venues as we sang ancient songs celebrating the mysteries of a Western God. Culturally we are expected to sit in silence attending concerts here. In China a concert can be a community experience, and the audience probably didn’t appreciate what we did any less than a Western audience would. Indeed, while we sang in most venues, we noted that huge quantities of the audience were texting. When we asked the agent if they were bored, he explained that they were posting to Weibo about the concert itself. All the comments I saw were hugely complimentary after the concert, and it probably wouldn’t do any harm to so-called serious music in the West if people commented on it in such a candid manner. In my experience a few audible snores wouldn’t have done any harm to the many of the choral concerts I have attended.

Performing at Beijing Poly Theater

Shanghai Oriental Art Center.

Contrary to what I had expected, Chinese people will talk to you about any subject, and be critical of things they don’t like. They are deeply worried about pollution, poverty, wages, public services, inequality, education – same as we all are. Their country is at times beautiful, and at other times, as with pollution levels in Wuhan for example, less than beautiful. The food was fantastic on the whole, and I am deeply reticent to eat in a Chinese restaurant again in the West, simply because the Chinese food we eat here is so unlike what we ate there in virtually every way.

The need to absorb new cultural experiences is fundamental to all developed cultures, and I was very proud that Anúna was able to connect with a Chinese audience in so many unexpected ways. In the cities of Beijing and Shanghai there was a notable absence of Irish faces in the audiences, and that is as it should be. Instead we made new friends, and more importantly, found out more about ourselves from this amazing trip than we could have ever expected.

East meets West : Tara McNeill and friends

I have to say that I am not hugely impressed by ethnic choral singing that much with a few exceptions – here are two…

Hamlet Gonashvili & The Rustavi Choir singing “Orovela” (a Georgian folk song)

What can I say about this that describes its beauty? Georgian choral singing is among one of the wonders of the world, and Gonashvili was one of those voices that can touch the quick of the soul.

Le Mystere des voix Bulgares

I saw this choir in Dublin around ten years ago, and they had a profound effect on me. I have been reliably informed by a Bulgarian colleague that this isn’t traditional music by any means, but a modern construct inspired by traditional techniques, blended with contemporary harmonic sensibilities. Sounds more than a bit like Anúna really. Whatever – I love them and frequently forgot to breathe in the performance I saw.

Rajaton

I heard Rajaton first in 2000. I was struck particularly by the material that they sang in their own language (Finnish). I had been aware of Finnish choral music for some time, but the unique timbre of the language lends itself to this sextet’s blend of classical, pop/rock and ethnic strands. These are seamlessly blended together by the brilliance of Rajaton’s singers, and is genuinely original and awe-inspiring. In 2002 I even had the sheer pleasure of singing with them when I brought them to Dublin, a memory I truly treasure.

The Swingle Singers

I can’t believe that I had never heard this wonderful U.K. based group live before 2011… how did I miss them? I first heard of them singing Berio on a scratchy disc in 1982. Later still I bought a recording of their interpretations of some of my favourite choral music, particularly Ravel’s “Trois Chansons”. There is no doubt that they had a significant effect on what I would eventually do with Anúna in the late 1990s. I can say little more about them other than that they are just brilliant – flexible, individually charismatic and do a great show. They always seem to have been there, changing personel often. There is a reason why a group has lasted as long as they have – innovation and a profound musical sensibility.

Chanticleer

I love Chanticleer… the first connection I had with them was when they performed my piece “Dúlamán”, and gradually I have got to know them better and better with each passing year. The sound is just wide-open, and the high voice singing gives them that unique edge in SATB repertoire that actually has, I believe, pushed the form forward in the general choral community in the USA. I can’t say enough good things about them, and I am very grateful for the faith that they have shown in my music over the last fifteen years.

John Tavener “Song for Athene”

This blew the roof off contemporary choral music when it was performed at the Funeral of Princess Diana in 1997. Tavener, who I had the pleasure of meeting in the mid 1980s, is a profoundly spiritual person. The song is lovely, no doubt, but it was the combination of the choral voices on the day, particularly the immense power of the BBC Singers who feature towards the end of the piece. They are not what one would call typical of the “English” sound. There was a huge sense of katharsis that day, and this performance encapsulated the energy of the occasion. Brilliant inclusion… The climactic section is a technical tour-de-force, and still raises all the hairs on the back of my head.

Eric Whitacre Virtual Choir 2.0

This is a wonderful video, and Eric has an amazing vision of what he wants from this project. I have to admit that I did shed a tear when I saw this first – a coming together of disparate voices, creeds, ethicities in one unified voice. I wasn’t hugely impressed by the commercial plug that this undoubtedly is, but that doesn’t much diminish the vision of it. The second time I watched it I shed another tear, because it also shows the effect of technology on humanity. The isolated human voice, singing alone in what is the most communal form of music we have on the planet. It seems to say that although we sing together, united in thought, we are alone and disconnected.

Geinou Yamashirogumi

I have no idea why this Japanese collective of performers remains largely unknown. They perform many different types and styles of music, and their legacy is profound. I came across them first in the early 1990s when , like many others, I heard their extraordinary singing on the soundtrack of the anime film “Akira”. Below you will hear what is one of the most profoundly disturbing pieces of choral music I know. The brilliance of a soundtrack is in the marrying of visual and aural, so I urge you to seek out this film if you have not seen it. be aware that it is horrifyingly violent and not for children.

Guillaume de Machaut  (c. 1300 – 1377)

Everything that remains of his work is amazing, but the “Messa de Nostra Dame” is uniquely powerful, particularly this version (sung by The Deller Consort). It isn’t clean or prissy – lots of meat and potatoes. I sang the tenor solo once, long ago. Listen for the “Jesu Christe”.

György Ligeti – “Lux Aeterna”

This piece changed my life. Profound, moving, brilliantly written. Not much more to say…

My experiences to date in the USA have been pretty limited or unrealistic. They usually involve moving daily from place to place on tour with my choir Anúna, or attending business meetings that don’t allow you to get a sense of a city or town except in the most superficial way.  This was one of the reasons why I was very happy to stay in Chicago for a week, although it hadn’t struck me that it was also St. Patrick’s week, and that the city has a huge Irish-American community, ably represented by my friend and local guide Eamonn Cummins.

My non-choral moments included an architectural boat trip in sub-zero temperatures that was pretty thrilling, a sublime and unexpectedly joyful visit to Old St Patrick’s Church and a silent rugby match being beamed into a bar full of people dressed in green that were oblivious to the unfolding tragic Irish drama on the screen. There was a green river, plastic shamrocks, and hopeful tee-shirts with various slogans on them indicating that the wearer needed some form of close physical congress with you because they were pretending to be Irish for one day only. Maybe they weren’t pretending… having left a country soaking in a mire of negativity, these good-humoured and well-behaved revellers have redefined what it means to be Irish. Ireland isn’t just a place anymore. It’s a state of mind.

For those of you who have no idea what ACDA is, according to what is written in Wikipedia (therefore it must be true…) it is “a non-profit organization with the stated purpose of promoting excellence in the field of choral music. Its membership comprises approximately 22,000 choral directors representing over a million singers”. The conference allows choral directors, singers, composers, teachers and choral professionals to overdose on all things choral for a brief moment. Basically it’s a choral knees-up, or love-in as they say in the USA.

with Charles Bruffy, conductor of the brilliant Phoenix Chorale

I had many, many meetings (and missed many meetings too). One day I had a breakfast meeting at 9am. I managed to grab “lunch” at 9pm. Every day was a cornucopia of things to see and hear. It was a time to meet up with old friends and make new ones, to celebrate, complain and make merry. There were school choirs, college choirs, adult choirs, good choirs, not so good choirs, miraculous performances and hugely enthusiastic reactions from the audiences. Lots of listening, laughing and talking with publishers, singers, educators, conductors, composers and technologists, fitting in some excellent performances including my good friends Chanticleer.

Catching up with Eric Alatore of Chanticleer and dancer Crystal Lee

Matt Oltman, their musical director, will be one of the facilitators at the Anúna Summer School, and gave an enlightening and very funny lecture/masterclass, with frequent interjections from the guys in the choir. I happened to video it, and you can see some of it below.

I got a chance to meet up with him and Dr. Stacie Rossow of Florida Atlantic University, (also participating in the Summer School), to discuss our schedule. I would say at this point that I’ve never eaten so much sushi in my life.

I was, from what I could gather, the sole representative of my country among the 5000 delegates. I’m in the unique position of being a one-man industry – composer, conductor, director, web designer, negotiator, accountant, agent, record producer, tour manager, record company etc. Being a jack-of-all-trades and technically an outsider, I had an opportunity to objectively view the Conference. There were a number of things that struck me, and I’d like to share these with you.

Choral music is changing. There is no precedent for this change. Technology is pushing into all of our lives in a way that it never has done before, and this will, and is, affecting the way choirs work and the infrastructure that surrounds them. I believe that these radical changes need to be addressed through interaction and dialogue. The Conference was an ideal opportunity for this to take place.

Some discussions I participated in were truly exciting, eye-opening and, I believe, genuinely innovative. However, they were snatched between events, incomplete and fragmented. It struck me that the Conference schedule simply didn’t encourage people to interact and discuss anything in more than a perfunctory manner. There is great power in such interactions and I feel very strongly that in future Conferences, Regional and National, there should be a part of the schedule dedicated to formalised dialogue with specific agendas and topics for discussion and debate.

A highlight of my visit was getting the opportunity to meet with other choral composers. The thing that struck me most of all on meeting them was how well they all know each other, and even regularly interact. In Ireland I can go years without speaking to another choral director, and I have had only one conversation with another Irish composer about writing for choir in the last twenty five years. I am pretty social, and love talking about choral music, but being so starved of conversation I had to apologise repeatedly to my colleagues for verbally steam-rolling through conversations. I don’t need to make any suggestions to my composer friends except to say carpe diem, which I note that most of them are. The moment for radical change to all aspects of their art-form and to traditional publishing models has come. I feel that choral composers specifically need to band together as a unit, putting aside self-interest, and collectively gain an enduring voice in the industry. We are unique in the world of composition, and long may it be so.

Sydney Guillaume, Philip Copeland, me, Paul Carey, Nick Cummins & Reg Unterseher

The only sour-note for me for the entire Conference related directly to the collision between the “old” and “new” ways of publishing sheet music. One of my arrangements was chosen for a choral reading session. The aim of these sessions is, I believe, to expose ACDA members to new repertoire that they can then bring to their own choirs, therefore enhancing the choral vernacular. It happened that the session my piece was to be included in was sponsored by a large choral publishing house. The publisher informed me that in order for my piece to be included in the session it needed to be traditionally printed music available through a US retail channel. They offered me a publishing deal for the work, a rather unattractive one in my opinion. I didn’t accept it. Unfortunately I only found out that the piece had been removed from the session when I arrived at the conference and got the bundle of songs for that session in my welcome pack. There was no logical reason for the exclusion of my piece. Simply put, the old won out over the new. I was surprised that the ACDA allowed this to happen.

Even at this early stage, enlightened choral people know that the digital publishing model is the future. Paper distribution, besides being environmentally unfriendly, will become the exception and not the rule in the future. Therefore the place of the traditional publisher in choral infrastructure will become less significant. Publishers should be embracing this change, not discouraging it. Forums such as the ACDA and their various national conferences need to look carefully at the current relationships that they have in place with publishers and build into that the realisation that some of the most important music is now being produced by individual composers.

I have been publishing my own sheet music exclusively from my website at michaelmcglynn.com since 1998. It has been extremely successful and recent technological changes have improved the site significantly. The website would never have happened if it hadn’t been for two things. Firstly I live on a small island in the Atlantic Ocean and it costs a fortune to send anything from here to anywhere by post. Secondly, I was born into a country where classical music hasn’t much of a profile, never mind choral music. I simply didn’t realise that being “published”, i.e. having a piece printed by a big publishing house, was something I should aspire to as a composer. By the time I did become aware of this, I was already selling my songs out of my bedroom on my antiquated PC.

By being entirely oblivious to standard publishing models I developed my own. It probably explains why I am less tolerant than I should be of composers who are reactive and not proactive in relation to new technology. Another major advantage of doing it for myself has been the interaction I have with other choral people all over the world.

What I saw at ACDA, despite the minor issues I point out above, was a real choral infrastructure that values education above all else. You even have Third Level colleges that have faculties where professors of choral arts teach choral music to students!!! Do you know how amazing that is? We don’t have any in my country. You have the most important online choral resource for directors all over the world in the fantastic Choralnet, getting bigger and better all the time. There you can talk to other people with the same love as you. You have these conferences that bring together all the choral disciplines under one roof, a forum for celebration and change.

You don’t know how lucky you are! Well, I do, and I will definitely come back in 2013. America is blessed with a thriving, varied and vibrant choral culture and it was a privilege to be part of it this year.  Long may it continue.