Despite the best efforts of his wife to change his mind, Karl was determined. His patience was ended. He had tried everything. He had explained to his sopranos why their wobbly pitches were musically inappropriate. He had given them breath control exercises during warm-ups and pleaded for blend. He even made each singer do the part alone. All of it was to no avail—their vibrato was as shaky as ever. So be it. He had unsheathed the Mighty Sword of Straight Tone and was taking it with him to the rehearsal. There would be blend or heads would roll.
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Every time little Marvin took a solo the other members of the group stopped playing and just listened. His F above high C was solid and well controlled, but considering his size the high notes were no great surprise. Everyone enjoyed his rollicking rendition of the Queen of the Night aria. The amazing thing was his D below the bass staff. Nobody expected that. His performance of “Ol’ Man River” brought down the house every night.
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It may be a surprise to some to learn that archival records depicting primitive praise bands date back to antiquity, and that our modern manifestations are in many ways not all that different. Though some aspects of praise music remain largely unchanged, it’s interesting to note the ways in which technological advances have altered the common practices of these ensembles over the centuries. For instance, the three players shown here are clearly reading from musical scores, an ability which mostly disappeared once electronic recording and amplification made it possible either to sing along with a track or simply lip sync.
The instruments themselves have also evolved. Though we can clearly see a precursor to the hammered dulcimer and some form of plucked-string proto-guitar in this image, the keyboard instrument to the rear has all but disappeared from churches which make use of praise bands in our post-modern age. Some musicologists theorize that the ancient pipe organ was gradually supplanted by the trap set as theological trends demanded a better beat. Other experts disagree, insisting that organs simply demanded far too much training and skill for a member of a praise band. Further research is needed.
At first, Lucy’s new iPhone 19x seemed quite a marvel. It had six cameras, Retina screens on both front and back, could identify her as its owner through an instant DNA analysis the moment she picked it up, and responded to her voice commands flawlessly. It was especially useful during choir practice when it would warn her of pitch errors and poorly shaped vowels, correctly predict the piece the director would pull out next more than 80% of the time, and even vibrate in time with the beat to help her avoid late entrances. Alas, it was banned from all future rehearsals when it made a snarky remark about Mr. Olsen’s choice of repertoire. It was overheard by the alto section and set them to tittering. Mr. Olsen was not amused.
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When the ominous figure interrupted Charlene’s organ practice she was initially frightened. It turned out, however, that he only wanted her to play the Phantom of the Opera theme once more—it was his favorite.
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When the angel sat down on the rock before beginning to deliver his message, Chuck figured he was in for an extended chastisement. It turned out that many members of his church choir had been praying fervently for relief from his style of conducting rehearsals, what with the extended warmups, insistence on matching vowels and precise rhythms, and the shaping of phrases. To his surprise, the heavenly messenger instead praised him for his devotion to high standards of ensemble singing and spent the next quarter hour offering some tips on how to further refine the intonation and blend of his group. Chuck was relieved and gratified by this and returned to his duties with a heightened sense of purpose and devotion. Three weeks later the Pastor announced that the church was terminating the traditional choir and instituting an exciting new praise band.
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Most days, Megan’s music would mend a mournful mood but today’s monstrous mid-morning melancholy made mincemeat of her motivation. In the mail was a missive from the misbegotten minions of money management mentioning that her means were minuscule and the mortgage massive. Their murky murmurings were majorly maddening and made mockery of her morale. She moped morosely.
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When word got out that famous conductor Zoltan Zingwell was working on an autobiography, everyone expected a scandalous tell-all, a book that would set the music world on its ear. His name had been connected with all the great sopranos of his era, from Joan Neverland and Victoria de los Robles to Kirsten Blogstad and Cecilia Barkoli so it seemed logical to expect tales of passion, both on stage and off. Alas, the book was a bore, reviews were scathing and sales were negligible. Not since the Mueller Report has there been a weighty volume more discussed and less read. There was rampant speculation suggesting that the Russians had gotten to him.
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When the scores from District Contest were posted, the girls in the Treble Ensemble were not amused. They had been marked down in both Intonation and Rhythmic Accuracy. Known for their decisive action, they quickly acquired the URLs of the judges’ websites and contacted a Russian guy they knew…
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The rarely heard opera Prunehilde in Pittsburgh by composer Giuseppe diPalomino features a famously difficult duet for soprano and horse. Many opera companies won’t even consider the piece and neigh-sayers abound. Casting is a particular challenge because, while plenty of sopranos over the years have been happy to accept the title role, finding a suitable singing horse has always been more difficult.
“It’s not just the two-plus octave range,” said well known equine vocalist Pierre Cheval de Voix, “nor even the high tessitura, which is formidable. No, the real problem lies in keeping the two soloists together—the soprano inevitably wants unrestrained rubato just when the horse has found a nice comfortable gait. When the two fail to mesh, the audience always blames the horse! It really steams my stirrups!”
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The men of the Schola Cantorum (left rear, in plumed hats) watched carefully for their cue. They had practiced long and hard for this coronation service and were feeling well prepared. Things first went awry when the archbishop began the intonation on the wrong pitch and a couple of the tenors followed. Others stuck with the pitch they thought had been given earlier, though not all were in accord about it. By the time they were six bars into the anthem, nearly every singer was in a unique key and, in an attempt to lead the others back into the “correct” tonality they sang forth boldly. The loudly polytonal version of Orlando di Lasso’s piece which followed came as a rather startling revelation to the knowledgable listeners in the congregation. The less knowledgable tried not to giggle.
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Choir members were all eager to see the new soprano soloist as the rumors had been most intriguing. When she finally arrived for the rehearsal, twenty minutes late, she was strikingly dressed in garb which seemed to be trying to tell us something. A few people were offended and proceeded to tell her so. That’s when we found out that the two young men carrying her train were attorneys. Following that, the situation began to seriously deteriorate.
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As he listened to the choir, the cardinal struggled to maintain a neutral expression. His patience with so-called “praise motets” was badly strained. Even in Latin, there’s a limit to how many times the same phrase can be repeated before it loses all meaning. Trying to force a change, however, would result in a battle. The last time he requested a little Palestrina be added to the mix, the Schola Cantorum looked at him like he had just suggested replacing votive candles with LEDs. And the group’s director was the worst of the lot—Father Georgio, who fancied himself a composer, had just published a new collection of praise motets of his own. The book was called Holy Hip Hop Harmonies and the blasted thing was selling faster than Al Gore bobblehead dolls at a Greenpeace meeting. Something would have to be done.
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At St. Watnot’s Episbyterian Church in Filligree, NH the new choir director quickly established that he would tolerate no nonsense from imperious sopranos or testy tenors. He expected singers to be in their seats with choir folders open and pencils in hand when he entered the room. Absolutely no talking was permitted during rehearsals, and complaints about his chosen repertoire were greeted with icy silence and an ominous glare. Choir members responded quickly and effectively—he was gone by the third week.
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The breach between choir and congregation was mostly over repertoire which the singers loved but the congregation found dull and uninspiring. Tensions peaked when the people in the pews began hissing at yet another Renaissance motet and the choir started chucking old hymnals down upon them from the organ loft. It’s not only politics that can divide us.
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After watching for a time, the girls realized that the halo above the organist’s head would come and go according to the music being played. Most Bach would cause it to appear quite clearly, whereas when Stainer and Sullivan pieces were played it would fade almost completely. This led to the establishment of a betting pool which allowed participants to place wagers on their favorite pieces and collect a tidy sum if the halo confirmed the heavenly status of the work they selected. Mary Elizabeth Crumperdinck took home fifty-seven bucks when she correctly predicted that a Messiaen piece would make the halo disappear for nearly a week.
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Organist/Choirmaster Francis Weeble had truly mastered the complex skill of conducting with his right hand while accompanying with his left. He even learned how to turn pages with his little finger. This led to considerable success in the world of church music, allowing him to leave his part-time gig at McDonald’s. Thus, with only his full-time accountant’s job he was able to afford to continue at the church—proof that an exceptional few can make it in church music.
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The music department’s new student teacher, Mr. Coldbrook, had the most intricate set of body armor that anyone at Collier Middle School had ever seen. He offered no explanation for his unusual manner of dress, but the rest of the faculty believed it was the reputation of the fourth period mixed choir which was behind it. Those young terrorists even worried Miss Donalbart who had taught chemistry and biology for 42 years and feared no man!
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The Women’s Choral Marching Society was the big hit of all the parades in Weehampton, drawing crowds from near and far with their enthusiastic singing and stylish uniforms. They had been invited to participate in the Rose Bowl Parade this year and the entire community was over the top with the excitement! Since they did not use drums of any kind, their only accompaniment was a group of baritone banjos, marching six abreast behind the singers, called the “Strum Line.”
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