Mastersingers in Barcelona — 2005

    Sunday, July 17, 2005
Performance at the Palau de la Música Catalana

Rehearsal this morning focused on the music that we would be performing at the Palau this evening.  Imagine facing a major concert with only 5 hours of rehearsal for a group that had not sung together for a year!  Sure, all of the music had been sung by at least some of us before, but many of us were singing at least a few of the pieces for the first time, and there were a half-dozen or so who had never sung with our group at all.

Still, the rehearsal built our confidence, and after a free afternoon, we assembled in concert attire (blue blazers, charcoal grey slacks, red and green striped ties) for the bus trip to the Palau.  Once there, we had 15 minutes to rehearse in the concert hall (watching the other groups rehearse before us).  Then we rehearsed “Jovenivola,” running through it twice with “Ellie,” who had directed it so competently the night before.  After a brief wait, we took seats in the boxes in the first balcony, and the show began.

The Choral Society Saint Rafailo Banatsky was the first to perform.  Their repertoire consisted exclusively of Slavic liturgical music, beautifully done.  One noteworthy aspect of their performance was a bass in their group, who produced some remarkable sounds:  rumor had it that the note he was consistently hitting was a low A.

The Bonifantes Male Voice Choir next performed 9 pieces, and it has to be said that this was our favorite chorus of all those that we heard.  They began with a selection called “Gloria Musica” that been composed by their young director, Jan Misek.  A footnote here.  There was an affinity between Bruce and Jan, both arguably prodigies.  Jan, at 29 years of age is a linguist, a composer, and a director of considerable reputation in his native Czech Republic.  He struck us as very young, but our own Bruce McInnes was similarly accomplished when he joined the Amherst College faculty and took over the Glee Club in the fall of 1964 at the age of 28.  We saw a lot of Jan during our week in Barcelona, in particular at one post-midnight songfest by the hotel pool, when Bruce dubbed him an honorary Mastersinger, and gave him a polo shirt as evidence of the fact.  Jan was impressed enough to kiss the shirt.

Back at the Palau, Bonifantes performed a varied selection of challenging music, including compositions by Dvorák, by Britten and by contemporary composers from Hungary, Lithuania, and Italy.  They even performed a couple of American spirituals to close their program.  The highlight of their performance, though, was the “In Taberna” scene from Carl Orff’s “Carmina Burana.”  This included some acting and staging, and featured Bonifantes’ excellent bass soloist, a man twice the age of the average singer in this chorus, which was about 20 (or even less).  When they were beginning their last number, and we were assembling backstage, someone commented that they had “set the bar pretty high.”  Many of us nodded in agreement.

The 3-dimensional muses that adorn the stage behind the performers

Though grateful for the covering applause, we were determined to take the stage quickly, so we practically ran to our positions on the stage’s deep, built-in risers.  (As we learned later from our wives seated throughout the hall, this display of energy made a very favorable impression on the audience.)  We began with a series of sacred pieces based on The Psalms:  “The Last Words of David,” “All That Hath Life and Breath,” “Thy Word Is a Lantern,” and “Salmo 150” (the latter directed by Kerry Brennan).  All these pieces were distinctive and illustrated the power and versatility of which we were capable.

The next piece, “Jamaica Farewell,” was a dramatic contrast to what had come before, with its calypso rhythm and humorous solos by Todd Mathias and Doug Audette.  This was also the beginning of Bruce’s interaction directly with the audience, in particular two middle-aged ladies sitting in the front row.  It appeared that the audience was charmed by our informality and sense of fun.

The next piece marked a highlight for us.  Bruce had inserted the Czech language piece “Aj, Lúčka, Lúčka Široka” into our repertoire when he learned we would be singing with a Czech choir.  This simple, rousing song took many of us back to our college days.  We performed it with gusto, and the instant we finished, the whole Bonifantes choir jumped to their feet and cheered.  May we never doubt Bruce’s instincts!  Their ingenuous reaction touched many of us profoundly.  In retrospect, it probably wasn’t so much the piece itself or the way we performed it that appealed to them.  More likely, their enthusiastic response was due to the fact that we cared enough to program something in their language.

Next came our yodeling song, “Switzer Boy,” which has delighted Bruce’s audiences for 40 years.  People just can’t help but smile when the yodeling starts, and they were further charmed when Bruce turned around in the second verse to reveal himself as the third yodeler.  As always, the audience’s enthusiastic reaction earned an encore verse.

Having established such a profound rapport with the audience, the rest of our program was very well received:  “Roberta Lee,” “Vive l’Amour,” “Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child,” and “Ain’t Got Time to Die.”  What happened next, though, was the highlight of the whole week for most of us.

For more than 40 years, Bruce has ensured that all his touring groups learn the national anthems of the countries they visit, because local people are invariably touched by an American group honoring their country by singing their national anthem.  When he first inquired about doing the same in Barcelona, Bruce was at first rebuffed because the Spanish national anthem is not held in high regard in Catalonia.  Eventually, though, he found that Catalonia had its own anthem, “Els Segadors.”  He got a copy of the piece, arranged it for a 4-part men’s chorus, and sent the music to all of us (some received it a mere week before leaving for Barcelona).

We struggled to learn the 3-verse piece on our own, with no help for the pronunciation of the Catalan words.  We finally got some help from native speakers in our first two rehearsals in Malgrat de Mar, and with many of us having committed the piece to memory, we were prepared to perform it this evening.  It was, however, not on the program.

Bruce had intended all along for “Els Segadors” to be a surprise.  With our program apparently finished, he spoke to the audience in English (which many appeared to understand), saying that in exchange for the generosity and hospitality shown to us by the Catalan people, we had a little “gift,” something from our heart to theirs.  With that he turned, and we started to sing “Els Segadors.”

The effect was electric.  We had sung no more than a note or two, when the audience, realizing what we were singing, emitted a collective gasp, then a brief cheer.  Then absolutely everyone in the audience of 1200 or so, jumped to their feet, the lights went up, and they sang along with us.  We joked afterwards that it wouldn’t have been necessary to learn the words after all, since no one could hear us after the first few were sung.

This song, which had been suppressed for many years, as late as the 1960s, had a greater effect than we could have imagined.  There were many tears in the audience, and many of us on the stage struggled to keep our emotions under control so we could get to the end of the piece.  It was a magical moment, which none of us will forget, a moment in which we connected to an audience in a profound way, and in the process probably changed the feelings of a lot of Barcelonans about Americans.

After the excitement died down, there were the same presentations and speeches as the previous night.  And all the choruses assembled on the stage to sing “Jovenivola” under the direction of “Ellie.”  The piece seemed to go better than the previous night, and we all felt a closer tie to the Catalonian people, their language, and their music.