Authors Electric

I sing from the back row of the altos in an Essex amateur choir. In 'normal' times we give three concerts a year ranging widely across the centuries,  though very often it's Something Sacred. When Kate, who is our concert organiser, asks me whether I’ll contribute the programme notes, my heart simultaneously sinks and bounds. It sinks because I’m so horribly ignorant about musical history that I know I’m going to have to spend disproportionate time researching basic facts and dates. It bounds because I know it’ll bring me closer to the music and I'll possibly manage to find words for inarticulate observations made during our weekly rehearsals which I've had no time to explore. Because Kate is an exhausted GP, and is giving up significant amounts of her time to ensure all goes Right on the Night, I don’t bother her with my interesting cardiac symptoms, I just say yes.  The central work in our forthcoming concert (November 27th Chelmsford Cathedral, please get your ...