It’s been basically three months since Weston Noble began his work at Carthage, and yet I still find myself rather startled and stunned when he appears in my office doorway to talk from time to time. Yes, it’s really him – one of the preeminent choral conductors of all time – a legend -standing in my doorway, wanting to talk about something. Today we talked about the great strides made by the choir just over the last day or so – I am SO glad that he is as pleased as he is – and then he went on to pose a question which was posed to him some time ago by Doreen Rao at a choral convention. The question she asked him was “How do you get your singers to take emotional ownership of the choir?” What a marvelous question, he thought, and he didn’t really have much of an answer at that point.
It has occurred to him since that one way a conductor can hand over ownership of the choir to the singers is by an incredibly simple gesture- to stop conducting in the middle of a piece. To cease the careful pattern being traced in the air of downbeats and upbeats – and to simply stand there, quietly, and allow the singers to, in a sense. lead themselves for a few moments. When you think about it, this is perhaps the supreme compliment that a conductor can pay to his or her choir. . . because it essentially says “I trust you completely.” You don’t do it the first day – the first week – the first month – and in some cases or with some groups you might never do it. But when you are standing in front of singers who are gifted and skilled and with whom you have been working for some time, there comes a moment when you can think to yourself “You know this piece of music as well as I do – just sing it.” And you allow your arms to fall to your sides and you just listen to the singers before you as they sing their hearts out. That happened in today’s Christmas Festival dress rehearsal in the middle of the stunning setting of “The First Nowell” that the choir is doing for the concert. (The arrangement was done for the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.) More than once, Mr. Noble simply stopped conducting, knowing without a doubt that the choir was ready to be entrusted with a few moments of the piece. And the result was exquisite in every way.
At the risk of sounding overly critical, the choir’s most recent conductor – whom I won’t name – never ever did this, as far as I can remember. He did all kinds of great things as their conductor, but this was one thing that I’m quite certain he could never bring himself to do; in fact, I rather doubt if the thought ever even crossed his mind. He was a tremendously energetic conductor, but he conducted as though those singers were utterly dependent on him; he conducted them with an almost desperate intensity, as though the whole group might deflate like an old balloon were it not for his impassioned conducting. And he’s not alone; I can think of other very very capable conductors who are very much of the same school. And I doubt if you’re likely to find any conducting technique texts that would suggest that to stop conducting in the middle of a piece was ever advisable. On the surface, it might even seem a bit absurd.
But if you had been there this evening to witness “The First Nowell,” and if you could have been there when Mr. Noble’s arms quietly fell to his sides, just looking at his singers with love and intensity and just listening to them sing . . . if you could have been there, you would have thought that this simple act worked a miracle akin to Jesus turning water into wine. And in that moment, the Carthage Choir absolutely did not belong to Weston Noble – but rather to those gifted young men and women standing on those risers.
As the piece finished, I had tears in my eyes. . . basking in the beauty of this particular time and place, but also thinking back to those years from a quarter of a century ago and more . . when I sang in Nordic under Mr. Noble’s direction. The mountaintop moments are too many to number or recount, but the moments that are most indelibly emblazoned in my soul are those moments when his arms dropped to his side or he simply clasped his hands in front of him as if in prayer, and we sang on as one – guided in part by all of the good hard work we had done together, and also most certainly guided by the breath of the Holy Spirit. Never once did Mr. Noble talk to us about that- and certainly never once did he ever use language such as “giving over ownership” or “sharing ownership.” But I realize now that in a sense, he was saying to us – without words – “This Choir belongs more to you than it does to me.”
And believe me, that changes everything.
I read this blog tonight after thinking of Mr. Noble at various times today, having read your brief announcement of his death that you posted last night.
I did not know him as you & countless others did. I recall reading that he & the Luther College choir would be presenting a concert in either Clearwater or St. Petersburg, FL. We were spending a few weeks in FL. and having heard about the renown Mr. Noble and this choir from our friend, Jane Sandberg ( who had sung under his direction) we invited our dear friend, Lois Taylor – Boslooper whose husband had died a very brief time before this event, to attend with us. Both Lois and her husband , Thomas sang beautifully .
I remember thinking ,while listening to this music, that somehow it would help her deal with her grief .This was many years ago and now my friend Lois recently joined her husband, Thomas .Now I wonder if Thomas & Lois may have welcomed Weston Noble to join in their heavenly chorus ,or perhaps they needed a new director and he graciously agreed to do so just as he did when he came to Carthage.
I extend my sympathy, especially to you, Greg, since you represent a multitude of others who loved this dear man who touched your hearts forever.
Thank you, Lois, for your lovely words. You’re right- I’m just one of a multitude of people for whom Weston Noble’s death represents a profound loss. But it’s also a moment to reflect on all that made him so special and irreplaceable.