Yesterday afternoon was in many respects the crowning moment of this extraordinary year which Carthage has enjoyed with Weston Noble. It was a concert with almost all of our choral groups strutting their respective stuff (and doing so in impressive fashion) but what everyone will remember for a long time to come was the piece which brought the concert to a moving and triumphant close- the Mass for the Children by John Rutter. It featured the Carthage Choir, Women’s Ensemble, organ and chamber ensemble, and Sarah Gorke and me as the soloists.
There was something SO right about this performance. The piece of music itself was an absolutely perfect choice for the occasion because it was a steep but not overwhelming challenge – and a very accessible piece for the audience, yet almost certainly something that most of them were hearing for the very first time. The choral writing gave wonderful moments to every section of the choir – and the solo writing for Sarah and me was truly sublime. Sarah really hit it out of the park, I think- and when she cut loose with her very first solo entrance – a forte “Christe” on a high G – the brilliant sound she emitted right next to me seemed to jangle all of my internal organs. . . and half a second later, I had to chime in with my own entrance, which I just barely managed to do. (I am anxious to see a video to see if how well I managed to disguise my “O my God- what an incredible sound!” reaction.) Speaking of powerful reactions, another came for me in the fourth movement- the Agnus Dei – when the women’s ensemble sang William Blake’s text “Little Lamb, who made thee?” with just the right sense of innocent tenderness. It’s a good thing I didn’t have any solo singing to do in that movement, because I was quietly crying through most of that. And then, just as I was over that and preparing for my solo to open the next movement, the Carthage Choir entered with the text “miserere nobis” in some impossibly luscious chords, and I started crying all over again. Sarah must have noticed because during the last measure of the postlude, she reached over and gave me a reassuring pat. Just before I stood up for the fifth and final movement, which starts with the longest baritone solo of the whole work, I leaned over to her and whispered “well, that was counterproductive.” (meaning that crying before your biggest solo of the day is counterproductive.) But I managed to get through the rest of it without being too watery or wavery – and by the time the last notes were dying away, we all knew that we had been part of something really extraordinary. And as the audience sat there in rapt silence for thirty seconds, it was clear that they also knew that this has been something truly amazing.
I wasn’t the only one in the room with a good case of the Weepies. Dr. Ripley wanted to conclude his heartfelt spoken remarks by quoting “O Lord God” – and ended up unable to read them because he was so choked up. And as I looked over the audience for much of the Rutter, I saw lots of red eyes and sniffling noses and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t because of hay fever. I was especially happy that some very attentive people were right up front- including Luther alum Kari Sena (with her folks) and Joe and Marie Torcaso, whose son Joe is a voice student of mine and sings in the Carthage Choir. The Torcasos say right up front and were taking it every measure of this piece; you could just see it in their eyes. . . the intensity with which they were taking it all in.
There was a nice sized audience there, but I would have loved for the place to be nearly packed- with more faculty, with more community folks, with more Luther alums, etc. On the other hand, Mr. Noble said during his remarks that one sure shootin’ sign of how much he cares about the Carthage Choir and his work here is the fact that he was really and truly nervous about how the Rutter was going to go. And if that was true, and I know it was, having a capacity crowd there might have actually made him still more nervous. As it was, the audience felt like an audience completely comprised of friends and family. . . and there was something so loving about the warm standing ovation which they gave to Mr. Noble and Company at the end of the concert.
I was so happy that best friend Marshall Anderson came over from Whitewater – that Kathy’s dad was there – as well as a tenor from my church choir, Ken Harris. I was also sad for everyone who ended up missing this – not so much that I was anxious for them to hear my solos but rather that there were so many people who I think would have found this performance to be so moving and inspiring. Carthage recording whiz Jamie Wilson was twiddling the knobs and I can only hope that the recording turned out well and that it gives even a partial sense of what we experienced yesterday afternoon. (I’m already trying to figure out how much to bribe him to get me a copy of the recording in record time. I am not going to find it possible to wait very long for the chance to relive this.)
Through the course of the day, I managed to query a few students – asking them “so, did you enjoy yesterday?” And all but one of the dozen of so singers I asked spoke with tremendous wonder and awe and gratitude about being part of something so special. One student’s initial response, however, was “I thought that was a long time to stand on the risers without a break.” O well. Maybe that student had especially sensitive feet. All I know is, the 39 minutes it took to perform the Rutter were 39 of the quickest and most wonderful minutes of my entire life. And I will never forget them for as I long as I live.
pictured: the view from the balcony where my wife sat with her dad and Marshall.