Never Forget

Today marks the 70th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau by the Soviet army.  Today, we are invited to reflect on the lessons of a human calamity so great, that it qualifies for the definitive article: Of all the massacres that this world has leveled against itself, only this one is called The Holocaust.

Yesterday afternoon I sat at my kitchen table and read this excellent and deeply upsetting article by Hugo Rifkind.  I also sat and cried my eyes out.  It caught me on the hop, Mr. Rifkind having knocked on the head a nail I had been sizing up for the last fortnight or so, that when reduced to a personal level, the horror is magnified.  The worst thing about it all, the piles of shoes, the rooms full of hair, the houses converted into gas chambers... The worst thing of all is that it all actually happened.  It's like an abyss that stares back.  All that's left of the people who were arrested, exterminated and then almost erased from history.


I read Maus when I was young.  Very young.  Eight?  Nine?
I'd almost certainly say too young, although maybe everybody should read it for the first time then?  I finally bought my own copy after years of borrowing from Derby Central Library when I was eighteen, when I moved to University.  Like several important volumes of Metaphysical Poetry, it survives every house move I have and will do. It's the story of the Spiegelman family, of Vladek and Anja who survived Auschwitz, and of their son Art, as he deals with his relationship with his father in the narrative present, while recording the events and depicting them in the narrative past, which makes up the majority of the two volumes.  In distorting the people by depicting them as not only cartoons but also as anthropomorphised animals, I think it actually helps bring it closer - rather than become hung up on how accurate the faces may or may not be, or how 'Jewish' the Jews look for example, the animal faces are largely uniform; they become emblematic, symbolic.  We look past them.  The boundaries are still, if not even more present as well, that we can identify the Jews instantly, portrayed as Mice, while the Polish characters (more often than not as Nazi sympathisers) are portrayed as Pigs - I'm sure there's no irony lost there even with my hazy knowledge of kosher - rather than have to work it our for ourselves, distancing us from the narrative.

This is a story about people.  Maus is focused, of course, because it is the account on one man.  Naturally we can seek out the accounts of others, and today there will obviously be a lot of attention on those who are still with us.  I feel as if I'm straying into Cornwall Remembers territory here as well, having performed a week of Evensongs and the Britten War Requiem specifically as part of the remembrance events for the 100th anniversary of the outbreak of the first world war.  The number of Holocaust survivors dwindles every year, just as the survivors of WWI are now gone.  Their stories must continue.  We must never forget.  We must never forget it's about people as well.  I feel as if I'm banging on a little bit, I apologise, but there's a quote from the Rifkind article that we should all pay close attention to:

"Anybody could have done it to anybody. This is what humans can do. Talk about that. Talk about which side you’d be on, if something like this happened again. And talk about how you’re so damn sure."

There have been so many atrocities against the Jews throughout history, let alone the twentieth century - look at Mount Masada and The Diaspora (yet another 'definitive'), and there were so many casualties that it's easy to make this a purely Jewish thing... But the Third Reich set their sights on anybody  they didn't want.  The extermination of the Jews, yes, but also the Roma people, Homosexuals, the mentally and physically ill, any kind of political dissident, Soviets, Communists, Freemasons... And God help you if you're not white.  The list goes on and on.  Absolutely anybody they didn't like or want.  Ask yourself, did you look at that list and find a label that you would or have had applied to yourself?  Even if you're a socialist, if it wasn't their kind of socialism you might have had a knock at the door and were further never seen or heard from again.  Let's just say that I'd be dead on three counts alone there, my own Jewish nature notwithstanding.  

I am no Holocaust Scholar.  I am no expert on the policies of the National Socialist Workers Party.  What I am, however, is a person who will never forget.  Today we remember a horrid crime, Man's inhumanity to Man on a grand scale, and if there is any element of celebration it is that those who were left behind at Auschwitz, the elderly, the infirm and the children, that they were found.  The first camp, Majdanek, was actually found by the advancing Soviet army almost six months previous.  The scenes there were just as horrific.  I once lived in a shared house with a person who would continually watch Holocaust documentaries on Netflix - you know, the great stock of History channel material that they had (do they still have?).  Seeing as it's a delicate subject to me at the best of times, I was finally moved to question this person, who would sit in the darkened front room, eating oven cooked ready meals while chaining these programmes... I hardly expected them to say "So I can be ready for next time." 

I'm fasting today.  I hardly ever keep Shabbat at the best of times, let alone the worst, but I thought it was an appropriate thing to do.  I like to joke that as a man with Jewish heritage the act of singing in an Anglican Cathedral Choir is purely business, but the issue is far more complicated than that.  I, as a man, appeal to you, never to forget both what happened and that this is something that affects us all as Human Beings.  Collectively we are better than this, and we need to make sure we remember that as well.

I Saw Three Ships - Truro Cathedral Choir Christmas Concert, saturday 13th December 2014

PROGRAMME

Come, thou Redeemer of the earth – Michael Praetorius
Chanticleer - Anonymous

Ding! Dong! Merrily on high! – Traditional, arr Mack Wilberg

I wonder as I wander – Philip Stopford

From Shirley Valentine – Will Russell

Quem Pastores – Traditional, arr Nigel Short
Soloist: Nicholas Hawker (tenor)

Away in a Manger – Traditional, arr Gary Cole
Soloist: Charlie Hodgkiss (tenor)
A hymn on the nativity – Ben Jonson

O magnum mysterium – Morten Laurisden
Christmas at sea – RL Stevenson

I saw three ships – Traditional, arr Philip Marshall

INTERVAL

The house of Christmas – GK Chesterton

A spotless rose – Herbert Howells
Soloist: Jacob Dennison (bass)

There is no rose – John Joubert

Benedicamus Domino – Peter Warlock
Christmas carol – Eleanor Fajeon

Christmas Blessing – Philip Stopford

 What sweeter music – John Rutter

Christmas Truce – Captain Armes

Christmas Truce – Graham Fitkin
Crowd scene – Brian Moses

The twelve days of Christmas – Traditional, arr John Rutter

WORDS AND PROGRAMME NOTES

Come, thou Redeemer of the earth – Michael Praetorius

This venerable hymn dates from the 4th century, with four of the original eight verses sung to the tune Puer Nobis Nascitur (A boy is born to us), which comes from a 15th century manuscript from Trier. In the span of the selected verses, we touch on the life of Christ, the first two verses corresponding to Advent and Christmas, verse 3 looking to the Resurrection, and verse 4 concluding the cycle of praise to the holy trinity, not only to “God the Father” but also to the “eternal Son”, and finally the “Holy Paraclete”, reflected in the Grace said at the end of Evensong. The melody is a perfect arch, with the pitch rising towards the centre of the verses before returning whence it came, a perfect partner to the words themselves.

Come, Thou Redeemer of the earth,
and manifest Thy virgin birth:
let every age adoring fall;
such birth befits the God of all.

Begotten of no human will,
but of the Spirit, Thou art still
the Word of God in flesh arrayed,
the promised fruit to man displayed.

From God the Father He proceeds,
To God the Father back He speeds;
His course He runs to death and hell,
Returning on God's throne to dwell.

All laud to God the Father be,
All praise, eternal Son, to Thee,
All glory, as is ever meet,
To God the Holy Paraclete.

Words: St Ambrose of Milan

Ding! Dong! Merrily on high! – Traditional, arr Mack Wilberg

This is a true Christmas classic known the world over, and Wilberg's arrangement is a real festive tour de force. The tune is taken from a collection of 15th century French secular dances, while Woodward's words come from 1924 and bring together his interests in bell ringing and archaic poetry. Wilberg's sparkling organ part adds a real shine, while the unaccompanied verse, with its dings and dongs in the lower voices, provides a moment of humour in an already jolly carol. The final phrase builds to a huge climax, leaving the carol ringing out like the bells that inspired it.

Ding! dong! merrily on high in heav'n the bells are ringing!
Ding! dong! verily the sky is riv'n with angels singing!
Gloria!  Hosanna in excelsis!

E'en so here below, below, let steeple bells be swungen,
And “I-o i-o i-o!” by priest and people sungen!
Gloria!  Hosanna in excelsis!

Pray you, dutifully prime your matin chime, ye ringers!
May you beautifully rime your evetime song, ye singers!
Gloria!  Hosanna in excelsis!

Words: G R Woodward

I wonder as I wander – Philip Stopford

Philip Stopford is a leading composer of his generation and one time Organ Scholar here at Truro Cathedral. His accessible, uncomplicated style and gift for melody are making sure his music is becoming a firm favourite with choirs of every level. His Celtic-flavoured music setting this Appalachian folksong opens with a flowing melody, before a simple chorale-style harmonisation.  Stopford uses the opening line with an unexpected harmonic twist to create a sense of space in the centre of the piece.  The final verse has a treble descant, before the reiteration of the final line, “he was the king”, staying strong to the end. 

I wonder as I wander out under the sky
How Jesus the Saviour did come for to die
For poor lowly people like you and like I,
I wonder as I wander out under the sky.

When Mary birthed Jesus 'twas in a cow's stall
With wise men and farmers and shepherds and all,
But high from the heavens a star's light did fall,
And promise of ages it did then recall.

If Jesus had wanted for any wee thing,
A star in the heaven or a bird on the wing,
Or all of God's angels in heaven for to sing,
He surely could have it for he was the king.

Words: John Jacob Niles


Quem Pastores – Traditional, arr Nigel Short
Soloist: Nicholas Hawker (tenor)
 

Nigel Short's CV reads like a “who's who” in choral music, including singing in both Westminster Abbey and Westminster Cathedral choirs, the King's Singers, and founding director of the acclaimed professional choir Tenebrae. The words and melody for this carol evoke their 14th century roots, while the harmony is very firmly modern, using extended, jazzy chords. The tune passes from the trebles to a tenor soloist supported by divided tenors and basses, and finally moves to the altos accompanied by the full choir. This ancient carol is transformed by the surprising and exciting harmonies with which Short underpins the melody, while still maintaining the gentle, pastoral feel.

Quem pastores laudavere,
Quibus angeli dixere,
Absit vobis iam timere,
natus est rex gloriae

Ad quem magi ambulant,
Aurum, thus, myrrham portabant,
Immolabant haec sincere
Nato regi gloriae

Christo regi, Deo nato,
Per Mariam nobis dato
Merito resonet vere,
laus honor et gloriae

Shepherds came, their praises bringing,
who had heard the angels singing:
'Far from you be fear unruly,
Christ is King of glory born.'

Wise men whom a star had guided
incense, gold, and myrrh provided,
made their sacrifices truly
to the king of glory born.

Jesus born the King of heaven,
Christ to us through Mary given,
to your praise and honour duly
be resounding glory done.

Words: Anonymous German, 14th Century

 
Away in a manger – Traditional, arr Gary Cole
Soloist: Charlie Hodgkiss 

This is Gary Cole's arrangement of another Christmas favourite, and shows that a modern approach can breathe new life into a traditional tune. W J Kirkpatrick's melody is easily recognisable amongst the rich choral accompaniment. Each stanza modulates to a new key, with a tenor soloist singing the tune in the middle of the harmonic texture in the second verse. A final step up into the last verse leads to a more familiar, almost chorale-like treatment of the tune, with interesting harmonic moments, before coming to a gentle close.

Away in a manger, no crib for a bed,

the little Lord Jesus laid down his sweet head.

The stars in the bright sky looked down where he lay,

the little Lord Jesus, asleep on the hay.

The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes,

but little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes;

I love thee, Lord Jesus! Look down from the sky

and stay by my side till morning is nigh.

Be near me, Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay

close by me forever, and love me, I pray;

bless all the dear children in thy tender care,

and fit us for heaven to live with thee there.

Words: Anonymous, verses 1&2 published 1884, verse 3 published 1892

O magnum mysterium – Morten Laurisden

Rather than a shout for joy, Laurisden's setting of this Matins responsory text is much more inward looking; a quiet affirmation of the beautiful majesty of Christ's birth, with just as much emotional intensity as any of the numerous other settings. A work of brilliance through understatement, it reflects on the image of Mary as mother the baby Jesus and ponders the great mystery (magnum mysterium) that God Almighty would choose to come to earth as a vulnerable child, born in a humble manger, using constantly moving harmony and dissonance to draw the listener's attention to the words.  The “Alleluia” that ends the piece has the same introspection that characterises this beautiful anthem.

O magnum mysterium,
et admirabile sacramentum,
ut animalia viderent Dominum natum,
jacentem in praesepio!
Beata Virgo, cujus viscera meruerunt,
portare Dominum Christum.
Alleluia!

O great mystery,
and woundrous sacrament,
that animals should see the new-born Lord,
lying in their manger!
Blessed is the Virgin whose womb was worthy to bear the Lord Jesus Christ.
Alleluia!
 
Words from the fourth of nine responsories for Matins of Christmas Day


I saw three ships – Traditional, arr Philip Marshall 

Marshall's arrangement of this traditional English carol can be summed up in a mood of fun, using all the resources of the full choir and organ, from upper and lower voices alone to thrilling descants and a verse for men's voices to provide a rich, energetic and always interesting arrangement of all nine verses. While the tune is based on the familiar “Greensleeves”, which three ships the words refer to exactly is not quite as clear. Could they be the camels, the “ships of the desert”, that brought the three kings? Regardless, this is another refreshing arrangement of a well-loved traditional carol.

I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas day in the morning.

And what was in those ships all three,
On Christmas day in the morning?

Our Saviour Christ and His lady,
On Christmas day in the morning.

Pray whither sailed those ships all three,
On Christmas day in the morning?

O they sailed into Bethlehem,
On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the bells on earth shall ring,
On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the angels in Heav’n shall sing,
On Christmas day in the morning.

And all the souls on Earth shall sing,
On Christmas day in the morning.

Then let us all rejoice amain,
On Christmas day in the morning.

Words: Anonymous, published in Sandys' Christmas Carols Ancient and Modern, 1833


INTERVAL


A spotless rose – Herbert Howells
Soloist: Jacob Dennison 

A stand-out in early 20th century repertoire, this mini-masterpiece is loved by choirs around the world. Smooth and melodic, Howells sets two verses of the German carol “Es ist ein Ros entsprungen” in translation, using tasteful modal harmony to reflect the devotional nature of the text, which references the prophets of the Old Testament who predicted the birth of the Messiah, God's Chosen One. Howells continually changes time signature in order to reflect the natural spoken rhythms of the words themselves. He chooses to set the second verse twice, the first time led by a warm Baritone solo with the choir accompanying distantly, and then repeating with the full choir.

A spotless rose is blowing
Sprung from a tender root,
Of ancient seers’ foreshowing,
Of Jesse promised fruit;
Its fairest bud unfolds to light
Amid the cold, cold winter
And in the dark midnight.

The rose which I am singing,
Whereof Isaiah said,
Is from its sweet root springing
In Mary, purest Maid;
For through our God’s great love and might
The blessed babe she bare us
In a cold, cold winter’s night.

Words: Anonymous German 16th century, translated by Catherine Winkworth


There is no rose – John Joubert

Joubert's delicate carol draws on mediaeval influences to illuminate this 15th century text that, like so many carols tonight, describes the mystery of the nativity. The 'rose' spoken of is the Blessed Virgin Mary, to whom this Cathedral church is dedicated. The opening verse is sung by the trebles and altos, with a melody that has unexpected leaps; this gives way to the Alleluia that moves in a more step-wise fashion, reminiscent of plainsong.  Each verse ends with a Latin salutation: Alleluia, of rejoicing; Res miranda, the wonder of the immaculate conception; Pares forma, that God is given form equal to mortal men; Transeamus, that we must go to the manger to see the birth of Christ.

There is no rose of such virtue
As is the rose that bare Jesu:
Alleluia (Alleluia!)

For in this rose contained was
Heav'n and earth in little space:
Res miranda (thing of wonder)

By that rose we may well see
There be one God in persons three:
Pares forma (Equal in form)

Then leave we all this worldly mirth
And follow we this joyful birth:
Transeamus (Let us go!)

Words: Anonymous English, c. 1420


Benedicamus Domino – Peter Warlock

Composed in 1918, this rousing carol sets words from another 15th century manuscript source, and captures a festal mood. It is harmonically quite straightforward, especially compared to the majority of Warlock's output, with moments of light and shadow created by the fleeting appearance of minor moments in this otherwise major tonality, setting the stage for the bustling rhythms and varied use of choral textures. Warlock (whose real name was Philip Heseltine) was a regular visitor to Cornwall during his life and even stayed in the Tinner’s Arms in Zennor.

Procedenti puero
Eya, nobis annus est!
Virginis ex utero
Gloria! Laudes! Deus homo factus est et immortalis.

Sine viri semine
Eya, nobis annus est!
Natus est de virgine
Gloria! Laudes! Deus homo factus est et immortalis.

Sine viri copia
Eya, nobis annus est!
Natus est ex Maria
Gloria! Laudes! Deus homo factus est et immortalis.

In hoc festo determino
Eya, nobis annus est!
Benedicamus Domino!
Gloria! Laudes! Deus homo factus est et immortalis.

A boy comes forth,
Eya, this is our time,
From the womb of a virgin.
Glory! Praise! God is made man and immortal.

Without the seed of a man
Eya, this is our time,
He is born of a virgin.
Glory! Praise! God is made man and immortal.

Without the means of a man,
Eya, this is our time,
He is born of Mary
Glory! Praise! God is made man and immortal.

On this appointed feast,
Eya, this is our time,
Let us bless the Lord.
Glory! Praise! God is made man and immortal.

Words from the Sloane MS


Christmas Blessing – Philip Stopford

This lilting benediction is another fine example of Stopford's uncomplicated and melodic style. Set for three-part treble voices, it uses a text selected from the Church of Ireland's Book of Common Prayer, which Stopford would have known from his time as Organist at St Anne's Cathedral, Belfast. The smooth and flowing textures state the words clearly and calmly, fitting the nature of the prayer itself.

May the joy of the angels,
the gladness of the shepherds,
the worship of the wise men,
and the peace of the Christ child
be yours this Christmas;
May Christ who by his incarnation
gathered into one all things earthy,
all things heavenly and fill you with joy and peace;
And the blessing of God,
the father and the Son and the Holy Spirit,
be with you and remain with you always.
Amen.

Words from the Church of Ireland Book of Common Prayer, adapted by Stopford


What sweeter music – John Rutter 

While Stopford may be leading a new generation of composers specialising in accessible music, John Rutter can be considered the establishment. Both his arrangements and his original compositions, especially his carols, are well-known by choirs of all ages. Most famously used in the United states for a car commercial, this carol was written for the choir of King's College, Cambridge, and shows Rutter's ease for both melody and word setting. While the words, written originally by Robert Herrick, an English 17th century poet, are rooted in a metaphysical tradition, they are much lighter in style that texts by more famous poets like George Herbert or John Donne.

What sweeter music can we bring,
Than a carol, for to sing
The birth of this our heavenly King?
Awake the voice! Awake the string!
Dark and dull night, fly hence away,
And give the honour to this day
That sees December turned to May.

Why does the chilling winter’s morn
Smile, like a field beset with corn?
Or smell like a meadow newly-shorn
Thus, on the sudden? Come and see
The cause, why things thus fragrant be:
‘Tis he is born, whose quickening birth
Gives life and lustre, public mirth,
To heaven, and the under-earth.

We see him come, and know him ours,
Who, with his sunshine and his showers,
Turns all the patient ground to flowers.
The darling of the world is come,
And fit it is, we find a room
To welcome him, to welcome him.

The nobler part,
Of all the house here, is the heart,
Which we will give him; and bequeath
This holly, and this ivy wreath,
To do him honour; who’s our King,
And Lord of all this revelling.

Words: Robert Herrick, adapted by Rutter


Christmas Truce – Graham Fitkin

This piece sets the poem “A carol from Flanders” by Frederick Niven (1878-1944), which recounts the spontaneous Christmas Truce that occurred across the Western Front in 1914. It was commissioned by Truro Cathedral for the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols in 2011.  

The text is an account of the events that took place on Christmas Eve, 1914, without tying it down to just one place. Almost six months into the war, the battles of attrition had not only taken their toll on the opposing armies but also the land itself, with the infamous “No Man's Land” standing between miles of barbed wire trenches, but also the men themselves. Stories that seem fantastic with historical hindsight abound, and have taken on a mythic status: Tales of men waving flags, singing carols to each other, playing football and exchanging gifts, stories of home, and sharing packets of cigarettes that took place were reported to senior officers on both sides, who quickly ordered that the men resume shooting at each other. 
Fitkin creates an uncertain atmosphere from the start, by just using the trebles singing a plaintive tune over divided altos and tenors, with all three parts coming in together on “but neither cared to fire first”. The basses enter after the first statement of “for it was Christmas Day”, and the tune moves to the tenors in the centre of the texture. The arch-like phrases slowly build, with a clear, homophonic texture. The line “Not all the Kings and financiers, and they who rule us could prevent these things” is a direct reference to the orders issued to restart the fighting, which were ignored in isolated pockets. The carol reaches its climax with the words “God speed the time when every day shall be Christmas day.” The basses hold a great pedal note, like an organ, while trebles, altos and tenors divided into six parts above repeat “Christmas day”; a rich, celebratory sound. The last statement of “Christmas Day” is left hanging on a dissonant chord cluster, full of anguish, a reminder that the war continued for a four more years.

In Flanders on Christmas morn

The trenched foreman lay,
The German and the Briton born,
And it was Christmas Day.

The red sun rose on fields accurst,
The grey fog fled away;
But neither cared to fire first,
For it was Christmas Day!

They called out from each to each
Across the disarray,
For dreadful had been their loss:
"Oh, this is Christmas Day!"

Their rifles set aside,
One impulse to obey;
'Twas just the men on either side,
Just men — and Christmas Day.

They dug graves for all their dead
And over them did pray:
And Englishmen and Germans said:
"How strange a Christmas Day!"

Between the trenches then they met,
Shook hands, and e'en did play
At games on which their hearts were set
On happy Christmas Day.

Not all the kings
And financiers and they
Who rule us could prevent these things —
For it was Christmas Day.

Oh ye who read this truthful rime
From Flanders, kneel and say:
God speed the time when every day
Shall be Christmas Day.

Words:  Frederick Niven
(First performance 23rd December 2011 at Truro Cathedral)


The twelve days of Christmas – Traditional, arr John Rutter

Finally, we return to John Rutter to round off the concert with his fantastic arrangement of this traditional festive favourite. The tune we use today was formalised in 1909 by the English composer Frederic Austin, who added the now famous  phrase at “five gold rings”.  Although it is probably of French origin, the best-known version of the words, which detail an almost impossible and ever-expanding list of gifts come from England in 1780, published in the children's book “Mirth without Mischief”. In this arrangement, all four choir parts get a go at the opening tune before the “fifth day” where they join in harmony each time.  Rutter varies the forces in a colourful, often witty manner, to reflect the words in each verse, with the accompaniment bubbling away underneath to build to a rousing conclusion: Mirth without mischief indeed!

On the first day of Christmas,

My true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Eleven pipers piping,
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Twelve drummers drumming,
Eleven pipers piping,
Ten lords a-leaping,
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings.
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle-doves and
A partridge in a pear tree.


Programme notes by Paul-Ethan Bright

Welcome Back

This is exciting.  I'm excited.  Are you excited?  It's time to reopen the Asylum.

I've had a month off, there's no two ways about it.  After managing an almost water tight 50% every day post schedule last month, I've had a bit of a break.  A little rest.  I've been working a lot, as I'm sure most of you will already know.  To be quite honest... I feel a little burnt out.  I truly have no idea how you do a full time job; I don't think I can.  Not full time all the time.  Not like this.  See, working full time like that is, uh... What is it now?  It's distracting.  I think that's the biggest problem really, it takes over your life.  It becomes your life in the absence of your actual life.  I haven't written for a month because frankly, I haven't felt like writing after sitting at that desk, answering that telephone and kicking the photocopier for most the day and then hot footing it to choir only to be late anyway because of having to take the bloody meter bags to the post office.  Yes, "because I don't feel like it" is exceptionally weak, I mean weak, but it's what I've got, and importantly, it's what you're getting.  

Work has been bringing money in though.  But that's another story for another time.

I need to get back to work on this though.  I need to start my novel!  A great novel full of social pitfalls, the trap of growing up, and importantly, all of my mistakes so you can avoid them.  Or feel superior for having avoided them already.  Which is where we're going with this.  I have come to understand that I am a man who makes fundamentally bad decisions.  And I make a lot of mistakes.  So many.  I don't think I've ever made the same one twice, unbelievably... More that I make such vast, colossal waves of them that I've never had to repeat anything.  Like 'Just a Minute' but for critical errors in judgement instead, and rather than Nicholas Parsons, the never-ending self-doubt and blaming and... You get the picture.  I just get things wrong.  I can't interpret social and interpersonal relation cues correctly, I can't tie my shoelaces properly, I probably don't clean my teeth often enough.  The list is endless.  

Actually, one of the big problems I have is that I do not say no.  No to people.  Work with me here, it looks odd I know.  It looks even stranger when you consider that one of my chiefest regrets is not saying yes and taking a chance at University but... You know, it was a different time and I wasn't as capable (or appear to be) as I am now.  It's all smoke and mirrors, guys, and any denial of that on your part is an act of deception on YOUR PART WOOOOOO.  I digress.  The point is that there's not enough people that get told "no".  Or at least I don't think so.  Don't think I'm excluding myself from this as well!  I'm sure there have been people who regret not saying no to me, and that's hardly limited to my ex-girlfriends, either (ha ha ha).  There's some kind of... Oh, I dunno, I need a soundbite don't I... Miasma of mediocrity.  There are too many things in my life that are simply "okay".  There's no real screaming excellence (except for my uncanny ability to scream to a melody) around here, and equally, nothing that's utterly dreadfully terrible.  I might as well be thankful for that!  I think that my extreme and debilitating social anxiety that stops me from taking chances on things, I steer a middle way (yes, the via media).  I need to make some changes.  I don't mean redecorate my webpage again either.

This is obviously going to take some time working out, and you will be pleased to hear that I will be moving to a full time writing schedule.  I recently wrote a concert biography (which I must post on here, is only for the laughs) in which I claimed I was preparing for postgraduate study and building a portfolio... And if I want to get anywhere near doing a Masters, I need to keep practicing.  I don't have a course or any deadlines or anything, so it's all personal just like it's always been really.  I've already been asked to write the programme notes for the Christmas concert already, so that's good... I haven't exactly been inundated with work requests but hey ho you know, these things take time!  Speaking of which, I'm actually going to be sensible about this "full-time schedule" this time.  As long as I'm writing at least five out of seven days a week by the time I'm 25 then I'll be doing juuuuuuust fine.  If not, then... We rethink.  Like always.

I'm really quite unhappy though, and just like always, I land the blame for that squarely at my own feet.  It's cool though, you know?  Like a few things, it has to be this way, and please please please don't try to persuade me otherwise.  The struggle is real, after all.  [cue laugh, fade to black...]

The Asylum is open again.  There are many doors that haven't been opened, and maybe there are some that can't be closed.  But we'll find out when we get there!  I might even write some fiction again...

Alleluia! I Heard a Voice

So.  One month.  Ah... Almost every day.  How was it for you?

Like I said yesterday, even though it starts to become a struggle, I really like writing every day.  I enjoy writing.  I like it because it means I have a voice without having to open my mouth, without making a sound except for the constant clatter of the keyboard.  It's therapeutic.  It's a great stress reliever.  Hopefully, I'll be able to make light out of all my problems by writing about them.  I'm still just a little tiny bit too serious about everything; it's all so personal, I can't so much detach myself as completely dissociate, I haven't found my middle ground, but... Still.  Baby steps.

I'm still very much established in a mode of personal reflection.  Write what you know, huh?  There are awkward forays into different territories, so I ought to work hard on myself and push to be more comfortable.  One thing is that I get no feedback these days.  There used to be a stock of regular readers who would give oral feedback but that seems to have dried up, and I certainly don't get any comments, here or there.

It's blatantly obvious that I have fewer readers compared to my last blog as well, which is a little disheartening, but we carry on.  Tomorrow will be seven (SEVEN) months since I started over, and all told I'll have pulled in around two and a half thousand hits, which is pretty tidy.  There's still plenty of time for me to go viral after all.

But it's time for the scores on the doors, so without any further ado...!

• Out of 30 days, there are 15 posts.
• The running total not including this is 11,000 words dead on, 60706 characters in total.
• The average sentence length is 19 words, over a total of 115 paragraphs.
• The average word count is 788 per post.
• The most common word?  "Time."
• Speaking of time, the average time of publishing was 1:42pm, with only two posts after midnight.
• There's been 578 views this month alone, 35.7% of all views since March.

So, what's next?  Obviously I haven't really been posting every day.  I think every writer experiences days where there's just nothing to say, not like having block but just nothing.  I don't have an enormous stock of suitable pre-written material that's ready to be edited for here either, so substitutions aren't exactly easy.  Whether by madness or bravery I decided to put a sonnet up, and who knows, maybe I'll get a hold on the exact lunacy that led me to and do so again.  This is after all, my blog for everything, not just moaning about how much I hate myself and everything around me.  There have been some things that I've wanted to write about, like Chestnut-gate and what Madame Mim really means to me, but those things have been so close to the bone it'd be a third degree burn.

Maybe I'd like to get involved in more community based things?  I dunno!  I should obviously get out more.  Maybe this would help.  The latest upcoming trip to Exeter (either this Saturday or next) will obviously form prime candidacy for this sort of thing.  Over the coming months there are ideas for London, Oxford and maybe even Bristol on the books as well.  Travel broadens the mind even if it does narrow your vision sometimes, and lessen your funds.  I'm still not really taken with pictures in my blogs but it's no reason not to try I suppose.  Even though I keep my commonplace with me I hardly write in it anymore, but that's because my life has been boiled into the alarming regularity of a 9-5 office job.  Yes, exciting things happen like my sickness (don't worry everyone, I'm still ill!), but other than that it's still the same people in the same place saying the same things at more or less the same times.  The predictability is killing me.  Actually, one really thrilling thing that's happening is a band forming with the Scholars; rather than the usual done to death close harmony arrangements (And So It Goes?  Enough already), we're performing as an outfit at the Old Ale House's open mic jam nights on Mondays instead!  We already have Minnie the Moocher under our belts, along with My Evaline (...), so there's calls for some Earth Wind and Fire, and the likelihood of another Barbershop classic in the offing for next time.

In the meantime, if anybody does have anything helpful to suggest then go ahead.  If you'd like to guess at this latest string of titles' origins as well, I'm open to competition entries.  You won't find out if there's a prize if you don't try.

This is another month drawn to a close.  If another opportunity for BEDM crops up I'll jump on board, sure, but otherwise I need (and I do really, really need) a regular schedule, even if that's running to a week A/week B kind of thing.  Blah blah blah.  I say this every time and never hold to it.  I'm sorry.  You must be so disappointed in me.  I'm still here though (yes, still), so that must be disappointing to you too.  Some of you, anyway.  This is it for September though, as we all breathe a collective sigh of relief, but October is literally twelve hours away.  Don't think you've got off lightly.