ONE of the very first services that I took was a carol service for 500 soldiers at the local army barracks. A small Hammond organ was borrowed from an officer’s house and wheeled into a huge warehouse in front of the assembled men. The valiant organist, bundled in coat and scarf, did his best, but was no match for a regiment determined to sing as fast as possible because block leave began as soon as the service was over.
In the end, he stopped playing altogether, and the soldiers carried on at ever-increasing speed until a general collapse ensued. The organist and I still bear the emotional scars, and I have been both respectful and slightly wary of church musicians ever since.
Music in churches comes in very many iterations, the most common being that delivered by the organist. These venerable survivors of many a “new in post” vicar’s enthusiasms and musical initiatives can control an entire community, and should be treated with respect. Very often volunteers, they play on stoically, regardless of the size of the congregation or its ability to sing, determined to squeeze the last note out of a damp and neglected instrument, giving up only when the number of broken stops exceeds the usable, or when the last singer is silent.
They can be the minister’s best support, warming up chilly souls and fanning the spark of community into life, or their worst enemy, playing at an unsingable speed and in an unimaginable rhythm, sabotaging the strongest bass and crushing the hapless soprano.
Organists may come solo, or with a choir — again, a potential blessing who must be treated with the greatest of care. The best choirs enhance worship in many wonderful ways, not just musical, offering support and encouragement to organ scholars, curates, and new incumbents alike, their presence lending a gravity to every occasion.
THEN there is the band: a species most often to be found in town churches, as rural communities long ago discovered that one guitar and a mouth organ do not a musical delight make. Some bands find it challenging to play quietly; others feel quite strongly that everything, including the sermon, would be better with some backing music.
Trailing wires can be a hazard, and it is a fact that the amp can be in only one place (often in front of the altar). Bands are great fun, however: aspirational for the younger members of the community, and capable of livening up even the most stolid members of the congregation.
No organist? No band? Not even a solitary recorder, whistling plaintively at a lopsided music stand while trying to keep the hymn book open at the right page? The days of CDs are long past, gone with their individual dents and dings — to which the regular congregation grew accustomed, enabling them to miss out half a line and pick up again in perfect harmony, while causing distress to the occasional “live” organist who couldn’t understand why everyone was now singing two bars ahead.
Instead, we can rejoice in Spotify or its cousins, amplified by a Bluetooth speaker (WiFi permitting — intermittent is the worst). Choose between music only, or a ghost choir boosting up your three singers, encouraging or silencing the rest according to personality. The only danger here is segueing accidentally into your personal music list, startling the more vulnerable with the 1812 overture, or Drake’s latest rap offering, according to your taste.
I HAVE known some more offbeat musical offerings that have added spice to the everyday offering. Steel pans are energetic, fun, all-age, but mostly noisy. The glass harp is fragile (as may also be the case with its performer); ordinary harps, ditto, with the disadvantage that they are difficult to move, emotional, and almost impossible to hear in a large space. Full orchestras have a life of their own, often swamping the worship, which is not always a good thing, but, perhaps fortunately, they rarely make an appearance at a regular church service.
Cathedral music is, of course, in a league of its own. Everyone should have the opportunity to be bathed in the lush chords of a truly excellent, professionally trained choir, accompanied by an organist for whom music is their life and hours of practice are a joy rather than a trial. We sit humbly in the pews, our prayers and musings elevated in the presence of such harmony, wistfully aware that nothing will sound the same again, but secretly relieved, also, that such high standards are not for ordinary people, and, at the end of the service, we can retreat back gratefully to our own off-key renderings.
“Where there is devotional music, God is always at hand with his gracious presence.” So said J. S. Bach, and I remain grateful to all the musicians, organists, choirs, and bands I have known for all the uplifting, inspiring, harmonious, glorious, and hysterical moments that they have offered in the service of God.
The Revd Dr Sally Welch is Vicar of the Kington Group in the diocese of Hereford.
‘As good as kick-boxing’ (Amelia, 8)
ST MICHAEL and All Angels, Kingsland, plays an important part in the life of the village, offering a wide range of services and events for all ages and a level of community engagement unusual for your average rural church, due largely to the energy and commitment of the Rector and her leadership team. But the most unusual feature of St Michael’s is a complete set of steelpans, all set up and ready to go.
For the uninitiated, the steelpan is formed from a 200-litre industrial drum, the pitch of the notes dictated by the size of the cylindrical part of the drum. “Dents” hammered into the playing surface are tuned to the Western musical scale, and played using rubber-tipped sticks. While the origins and age of this instrument are disputed, it is the official instrument of Trinidad and Tobago, and much of the music traditionally played has a calypso rhythm.
Prebendary Julie Read began her working career as a music teacher in Shepherd’s Bush, where she first learned, and then taught, the skill of steelpan-playing, even performing in the Notting Hill Carnival procession. Arriving in Kingsland eight years ago, she discovered a fellow enthusiast in Sue Green, who led the band in the church primary school. With donations from a supportive congregation, Julie bought 14 pans at a greatly reduced price from a Manchester music shop, and, with great commitment, drove to the primary school every Friday afternoon to borrow the final four pans to make up the full complement, before a legacy enabled the church to buy their own.
The first tranche of pupils kept playing until the demands of GCSEs brought their music to a halt, but they have been followed over the years by many others. Every Friday evening, the church building echoes to the sounds of “O when the saints” and other tunes, bashed out, more or less in harmony, by a group of enthusiastic villagers. The atmosphere is relaxed and joyful; the lack of heating is insignificant when the company is good and the activity level is energetic. Players do not have to be able to read music, as the notation is unique to the band, helped by Julie’s ability to transcribe almost any tune into something joyful and playable.
An all-age activity that encourages people to engage with new experiences and provides an opportunity to become familiar with the building and its people, the band is an example of the incumbent’s sharing their own individual gifts with the community, to the benefit of both.
