Cambridge in Spring!

Some months ago, when Heather suggested a visit to Clare College Chapel, Cambridge, to sing a concert and maybe a service during vacation time when the regular choir were absent, we initially thought that it was a really nice idea. I expect some of us wondered if we were up to it — being a decent chamber ensemble, albeit from 'the sticks' — but a few of us remembered that it was this choir in one of its previous manifestations, who swanned off to the Llangollen Eisteddfod with no expectations other than to have a nice time, and much to their astonishment, won the choral competition.

We probably could achieve the concert, but the service? It was fortunate that this was one of Marcus P’s specialisms, having sung in church choirs from a youngster. He was confident that we could master the styles of Anglican choral music and so we let him have his head.

Slowly the chants and responses came together. ‘Little and often’ was the method; and proved to be an astute decision. The chord sequences were rewarding; we thought that any acoustic was better than Anslow Village Hall, pleasant though it is; so however it sounded here, it would be better there. The anthems and extended pieces we treated as concert pieces and Marcus had shrewdly chosen works that were within our compass. If we could achieve ‘Faire is the Heaven’ then most pieces would be within our compass. Hopefully…

As time passed, we became more familiar with what we had to do and where we had to do it (1 or 2 of us had sung there before), it increasingly dawned upon us that this time at Clare was rather more significant within the college’s history as well as the choir’s. Clare College was celebrating its 700th anniversary and was at the end of some vital repairs and reconstructions which had been going on for some years. The college’s benefactress, Elizabeth de Clare, found herself one of the greatest property magnates of the early C14th, largely by war — and may have known this part of the world, since her second husband died in Alton and her third at Tutbury Castle. (One of her daughters married into the local de Ferrers family, so there are more ties — but that’s another story.)

So, the arrangements were made, the hotel booked and Saturday 18th April 2026, in glorious spring weather, we found ourselves, some by circuitous routes, in the tiny chapel. We missed some important folk through illness and other circumstances which put more pressure on us. Many of us had not appreciated how small the site was, glowered over as it was by the spikes of its younger brothers, King’s College Chapel and the walls of Trinity Hall. Some of us were surprised at how cramped the college sites were; all of the old colleges would have fitted into Anslow parish several times over. I expected a medieval site, but it was all rebuilt in the C17th and C18th, but largely on the same footprint. The chapel was completed last, as a classical box.

But the C18th acoustics did not disappoint. Suddenly the choir sounded different — enhanced, purer, resonant. This is what this off-white oblong could do! There were lots of glances at each other and murmurs at the resonance contrast. Did every choir sound like this in this space? Could we cope with the difference?

Well, apparently we could. Our ears adapted, but it was still a bit scary. If Marcus was happy, then it would be all right. And he looked and sounded happy. It was a small space, so we didn’t have to attract many folk to make a full house; and the audience duly appeared. Some we knew, so we knew that we’d get a good reception. Some we didn’t — so we had no idea whether they were tempted off the streets — or they might be experts.

And what of the music? Everyone will have their own memories. Personally, it all became a bit of a blur. But amongst other flashes, I recall Abendlied’s resonance and the tenors being dropped into the pot in Double, Double, Toil and Trouble and that the audience didn’t clap. Was there a tradition of no applause here? Are we that bad? When Marcus encouraged, they did and it felt better.

And seemingly, the audience did enjoy it — even the couple who had never been to a choral concert before. The meal afterwards was good and suitably raucous as tensions were lifted; it was lovely to see family and fans. As we were on our way back to the hotel, I thought that twenty years ago, I would have partied for some time after. But not this time.

So on the Sunday I dragged my body, which felt like it was made of frozen cardboard, back to the chapel (via a taxi with three others who all sounded livelier than me) and we rehearsed all the ritual pieces — which was fun when we were in the antiphonal situation. It was lovely to see the other side putting everything they could into it. I hoped that we were evincing a similar reaction from the other side. This was not only for a mortal audience; this was a gift of music to the Almighty, the mighty and the ordinary, who all in the same status as audience. And as John spoke words which have echoed in that space nearly every Sunday morning for almost 500 years, I became aware that we were now part of the accumulative and culminative experience of that building and of ourselves. If walls had ears…

That experience was reinforced in the tour which showed the college as a working organisation every day for seven centuries. Was it interrupted through strife or pandemic? I never asked. Funny the things that come to mind after the experience has started to drift away. I was quite happy to be left in the library — but with a cup of coffee. Every time I visit these places, I wish that I had been bright or fortunate enough to experience this education; but then deem myself lucky to have had the education I have in other extraordinary places.

So we had a lovely, tiring time and worked hard for the achievement. Our voices are now part of the slow accretion of memory of that unique space.

That weekend is also part of our individual and corporate memories. It is a reinforcement of us as a team and a community, where every performance is in some way unique for individuals and as a whole. It is also a part of our constant self-renewal and not least a homage to the music and the composers. Through the leadership of our musical director and our mutual regard, we have shown again to ourselves and all who want to see, that when it comes to choral performance, the whole is always greater than the sum of its parts.

 Marcus B, Bass