I have been thinking a lot recently about repertoire choice in terms of an ensemble’s (or for that matter a solo performer’s) relationship with themselves and with their audience. This is in part a response to a point in Blair Brown’s keynote address at LABBS Harmony College, and in part with the way it both resonated and dissonated with a conversation I had just been having with a member of Rainbow Voices. I find myself with two imperatives in play, each valid, but on the face of it in direct opposition to each other.

Blair’s comments on repertoire choice were couched in terms of personal authenticity. She recommended choosing songs with which you feel a personal connection, so that you can sing them honestly. This isn’t just about you and your comfort, however, but about your obligations to your listeners. If they are vouchsafing their attention to you, they deserve a genuine experience of human connection. Don’t put yourself in the position where you have to bullshit your audience, is how she memorably (and indeed quotably) put it.

It’s a good long while since I’ve written about musical charisma, which was one of my regular topics of interest in the early years of this blog. If I’d stayed in academia, that would have been the area for my next scholarly monograph, emerging out of ideas I had to leave to one side as I wrote my book on choral conducting. But Blair Brown’s keynote speech at LABBS Harmony College got me thinking about it again.

In general culture, we tend to regard charisma as something that inheres to the individual, as a special or magical quality. However, the sociology of charisma suggests that it is something that is experienced in particular circumstances, arising from the relationships between members of a group as well as with its leader. Certainly some people are more adept at galvanising charismatic experiences within these circumstances, and indeed at facilitating their set-up, but they do it using somewhat standardised – and thus analysable – techniques rather than by any inherent magic. (Though as we shall see later, the belief in this magic is implicated in making a group susceptible to charismatic encounters.)

What is the collective noun for Harmony College Faculty?

The weekend saw about 300 members of the Ladies Association of British Barbershop Singers gather together in Nottingham to nourish each other by learning together, making music, and fostering friendships old and new. You can tell by the terms of that headline description that it was a richly satisfying experience in many ways: if you were to analyse it in terms of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs you’d be ticking boxes all the way up from Safety to Self Actualisation.

As a result I have piles of notes to sort through and it may take me some time to digest and organise all the ideas the event generated, so for today I’m just going to reflect on some of the things that helped the event leave us with such a glow.

I sometimes dither over titles, so when someone says, ‘You should make that the title for your blog post about tonight,’ I am more than happy to take the suggestion. It will take some explanation to establish why this was one of the key ideas to emerge from my recent coaching session with Fascinating Rhythm, but we will get there in due course.

Long-time readers will know that I have had a long and happy relationship with this chorus, who went through a phase of commissioning new contest material from me every year, and then inviting me to coach them on it. This pattern was disrupted first by covid and the subsequent rebuild, and more recently by a director change. Their new MD, Wendy Howse, is settled in now though and they are rediscovering their delight in bringing never-previously-heard arrangements to sing to their peers at Convention.

What is the collective noun for badgers?

I spent Saturday with Sporty Badger, Posh Badger, Scary Badger and Baby Badger, collectively known as Release the Badgers, working with them on their set for the upcoming LABBS Quartet Prelims contest. As you can imagine from their nomenclature choices, nothing silly happened at all. (Did you know that you can make any adjective more entertaining by inserting it before the word ‘badger’. You’re welcome.)

While their two songs contest songs are contrasted in mood and style, we found some common themes between them on areas that would benefit from TLC. This is useful for embedding skills: it means both that you get a good cost-per-wear on you work, since you can keep applying it in different musical contexts, and that these multiple opportunities for application give commensurately numerous opportunities for practice.

Wuppertal's glorious Historische Stadthalle: displaying flags from all 9 countries represented

Last weekend saw mixed barbershop quartets and choruses from nine different countries converge to compete at the world mixed championships, hosted by Barbershop in Germany alongside their own national championships. The last time I made to BinG!’s Barbershopmusikfestival was in 2018 (we were booked also to go in 2020, but we all know how that turned out…). This was the occasion of the inaugural World Mixed chorus contest, and it is interesting to see how – and how much – things have changed in the interim.

The World Mixed quartet contest has been established for longer so the changes here are less dramatic, though it shares what was for me the headline development: mixed barbershop appears at last to have a handle on choice of key. For the first few years after the introduction of mixed ensembles at barbershop conventions I was consistently commenting on the challenges of finding a key that works for all voices in the group.

I spent Sunday with SpecsAppeal working on a combination of things that were specific to the two songs they brought with them and things that will apply to everything they sing. Unlike my difficult-to-summarise exploration of musical detail in Scotland a couple of weeks ago, we found a clear theme emerging during the day that applied in multiple different contexts: the value of taking things slowly.

The first and most literal of these recurred throughout the day: blocking passages a chord at a time, taking time to make friends with each one before you move on. In a texture where you have a four-part chord for every melody note, there’s a lot of music going on, and your brain doesn’t have time to fully absorb it all as it flies by in tempo. If you stay with a chord until you can let go of your own note and attend to the whole, your brain can make sense of it, and provide all the microadjustments to tuning, balance, tone- and vowel-match to bring it into focus.

I’ve been thinking a lot about melodic shape recently in the context of a couple of pieces Rainbow Voices are working on. Specifically, I’ve been wanting to catalogue a handful of features that are often found in melodies, that, once identified, offer clues to help make the most of the tune’s expressive potential. They’re all features that you may well respond to by feel, but by bringing them to conscious awareness, you can be more purposeful in how you approach them. The point is not to replace your intuition, that is, but to understand and thus enhance it.

I’ve written about some of these principles from an arranger’s perspective in the past; this post is following through to what the implications are for singers.

• Long notes are there to feature the beauty of your voice. When you have a long note, there is nothing to do except be glorious, so use these opportunities to take the note on a journey of beauty and meaning. The most interesting moment in a long note is just before it finishes.