from chaos comes...

In choir at the moment, in fact for the last six months, we are tackling Britten's War Requiem.  I am part of the Queensland Festival Chorus and we are singing this requiem in about three weeks.  I am still discovering bits in it we haven't sung yet.

When we first looked at it around Easter time it was a discordant mess.  Britten likes his clashy chords and funny rhythms.  I had my doubts it would ever sound any good.  I figured, well, it is all about war and the futility of it all, it is supposed to sound depressing and atonal.

Then over the last few weeks moments of beauty have emerged.  I will be sitting there listening to the tenors and basses rehearse, and glimpse what Britten had in his mind.  I hear the sopranos soar over us altos, meeting our notes then leaving them again.  The urgency of the Dies Irae making you feel unsettled and like guns are rumbling in the distance in a 7/8 rhythm.  The sadness of the Lacrimosa, weeping for the soldiers.  I feel like the choir plays the part of the ghosts of soldiers haunting the battlefield.  I use my spooky singing voice...

From the chaos is emerging tiny parts of beauty and order.

The poetry written by Wilfred Owen contrasts with the Latin Mass.  Some parts of the poetry are so sad:

Anthem for a Doomed Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

and

The Next War
Out there, we walked, quite friendly up to Death,---
 Sat down and ate beside him, cool and bland,---
Pardoned his spilling mess-tins in our hand.
We've sniffed the green thick odour of his breath,---
 Our eyes wept, but our courage didn't writhe.
He's spat at us with bullets, and he's coughed
 Shrapnel. We chorused if he sang aloft,
We whistled while he shaved us with his scythe


So my mind is resting on the requiem for many hours a week at the moment.  It makes me feel thankful for hope and eternal peace.