Rehearsals for the upcoming performance of Messiah were more than enough to take my mind off injury woes but, in keeping with the oddity that was me, nature had a little prank to play.
Still showing no signs of imminent puberty my voice changed but not in the conventional way. None of my upper register disappeared, I was still happily singing soprano, but the lower register got a lot lower, to the point where I could comfortably sing tenor.
There was none of the squeakiness and random pitch shifts normally associated with a breaking voice, it was just different and the Choirmaster was delighted. He could probably have been a little more tactful in moving me to the back row.
“Malcolm, I want you with the tenors, they’re a bit weak” was not at all well received and as so neither was I. One of the legitimately broken-voiced boys actually made the very hurtful remark “I don’t know what you’re doing here, McLachlan, you’re not even developed yet”.
I had a champion though, a fellow orchestral player two years above me, who stood up for me and told the affronted boy to leave me alone, I was there because I could sing the part and was needed. To be honest I was, the tenors were weak. Just to undermine myself though, I earned my first shilling about ten minutes later.
Our Choirmaster had a little tradition that he’d established when he first started teaching and carried it on when he came to our school. If someone made an honest mistake but did it with absolute confidence then he’d throw a shilling at them as a reward.
If the errant pupil was paying proper attention and caught the coin then they got to keep it. If they weren’t watching the Choirmaster, as they should be, then they’d probably miss the coin and it had to stay on the floor. It was a fun little idea and kept people on their toes.
I was paying attention; I’d just got a bit confused as to which part I was singing. I caught the coin, apologised for the error and was thus a whole shilling richer. Of course I was also extremely cross with myself for making such a silly mistake in the first place.
Travel arrangements were announced for the big day itself and immediately there was a little panic for me, the coach was leaving for London at 7am so that we’d be at the Royal Festival Hall in time for the big final rehearsal with all the other schools, the orchestra and the soloists.
To be in Midhurst for 7am would mean getting up at about 4am, assuming I could persuade Dad to drive me there in the first place. The Music Teacher who’d sold me my violin came to the rescue and said I could sleep at her house the night before.
My parents were quite happy with the idea, a much more civilised arrangement than getting up in the middle of the night so everything was fine and the day before the big day I arrived at school with my satchel, my violin, my viola, a suitcase with a perfectly pressed uniform and overnight stuff in it and a sleeping bag, the most unwieldy set of luggage you can imagine.
Obviously staying with a teacher meant that prep and practice had to be done, possibly more assiduously than at home but it was fun having an accompanist for my violin and viola session. I also got the opportunity to go through some of the still new to me tenor parts of Messiah and then it was time to bed down on the biggest sofa I’d ever seen, bigger than my bed at home.
Love
How old are you?
Ancient 57
I can’t even imagine trying to carry all of that oddly shaped luggage around with you! You’re very right your choirmaster could have been more tactful in moving you…but at least one of the older boys spoke up for you.
I love your music posts! Hope you are feeling better.
Biki
I sometimes wonder how I did it but it was just one of those things that had to be done. That was absolutely typical of that particular Master, he had no tact at all music was everything to him.
I’m getting there, I think, but slowly
Love
Mac
Mac, It seems like most of the guys in your school were complete sods. They didn’t ever give you a break. Thankfully the older classmate spoke up for you this time. I am very surprised that you could take all the crap people gave you and still function at all. I hope you are feeling better. Love and hugs, JR
JR
Sods is about the nicest word I can think of, I never understood why the other kids didn’t like me. Basically I just put my head down and got on with doing the things I was good at.
The boy who spoke up for me actually became quite a good friend and made things a little easier at times.
Love
Mac
Staying with a teacher!
Good heavens!
I never would have in a million years.
For me music teachers weren’t like teachers, they were mentors and friends. Shared obsession goes a long way.
Love
Malcolm