I'll be Bach...

I said I'd never do it, but I just know you're all shivering with antici..........pation, waiting for a review of our concert from YES! THAT soprano!

I could make you wait a little more, giving you nothing to read but some staid, official-type review from someone who knows what they're actually talking about. Like an ODT reviewer.

But no, you've got me. Besides, it's far more fun to write about a concert when it is still fresh in your head.

Bach fancied himself a bit of a superstar of music. He commonly wore sunglasses so he wouldn't be recognised.

Why do one Passion, when you can have two at twice the price?

Of course, nothing in my life is done by halves. By the time I was in the singular green room toilet, changing into my City Choir uniform and realising I'd forgotten my black folder, I'd already done one Passion - with St. Pauls' Cathedral Choir for the morning service.

You should have been there. If you weren't, book in Palm Sunday for next year at St. Pauls. It happens to fall on - yep, you guessed it, Palm Sunday.

But I digress.

Ok, where was I? In the toilet, getting in to my uniform, and realising I'd forgotten my black folder.

OK, Lindsay saved me - she brought spare black folders. My butt was saved, this time around.

Time for the Killer Potato From Mars (übeltaters)

But I knew nothing was going to save me from the Dreaded Übeltater of Doom (best served mashed with gravy). Nothing - except the fact that the whole choir was bloody marvellous.

The Übeltaters were roasted. With rosemary. The chorus ("Wäre dieser nicht ein Übeltäter") was one of the finest moments of the entire performance.

City Choir does Bach, is triumphant...and Bach goes home with his tail between his legs, vowing to never again write another Da Capo!

Let's face it. We were all a bit nervous. Or a LOT nervous.

We were all on the edges of our seats for some movements. (Except that we were standing, actually.)

We were all worried that we were going to be that one NONG who came in shouting "HERR!" at the top of our voices in the rest, guaranteeing us eternal Stupid Status in City Choir legend.

Or that maybe we'd come in on the wrong note, loudly and flatly, and put off everone around us, earning us Curses Of Doom and Evil Eyes from our neighbouring choristers, forever and ever, amen.

The secrets of the sections...

We sopranos were cursing the complete idiot typesetter who thought that putting an exposed High A entry after a page turn in the first movement was a brilliant idea.

The altos were not letting on about their best and brightest of Alto Trade Secrets - when in doubt, and you don't know your note, sing a G. Nobody will be any the wiser.

Except this time around, the altos didn't have to - they were so hot and on form, that the single men in the audience (so I am told) couldn't look anywhere else. (Except to the stunning sopranos!)

The tenors were wearing their very tightest of underpants (so I am told) to give them the extra "support" they needed for those very high notes.

And the basses, well...what can I say. They looked sexy and they sang better than sexy. If I weren't married... ;-) (Please don't let my husband read this, or I will be sleeping on our not-so-comfortable sofa once more.)

What, me worry?

We were all worried about those horrible, horrible "Wohins", which convince me more than ever that Bach was a complete rotter.

We were all worried that those nasty fugue-ey things would fall apart, and that David would be stuck out front, trying to pick up the pieces while attempting to maintain a professional mien.

And we were wondering if David was actually going to fall off the stage and break his leg, as he was grooving so much in certain movements of the work. (For those readers who were not there - no, he miraculously survived unharmed, and lives to fight another day.)

We were concerned (well, I was anyway) that we'd go out of time and tune with the orchestra, but we didn't. We rocked. We boogied. We were so chilled out that the only problem anyone had was a case of sore toes.

Awesome soloists, both outside and inside the choir

The soloists were wonderful. They were all good, but I don't think the others would hold me up and hit me with a big whacky stick if I name Chris Bruerton as the standout. His voice is something I'd like to snuggle up to late at night, with a good glass of wine (uh oh...did I just write that? I really AM going to be in trouble with my husband!)

And from within the choir, both Peggy Tompkins and Michael Dawson did wonderful small solos to complement the beautifully-dressed (and paid) professionals.

This made me realise yet again that the difference between professionals and top notch amateurs is not very great at all. Hearing Peggy and Michael sing - as well as the choir as a whole - made me intensely proud of my fellow choristers.

I love to sing!

Which is what it is all about really.

Now I'm no fan of Bach, as anyone who knows me will testify. But yesterday afternoon's concert was an incredible example of City Choir at our best.

Some people say Bach wasn't actually human, but was an envoy from the Dalek race. I concur with this view. But the St. John Passion was still a good fun sing yersterday.

Apart from aching feet, I really enjoyed myself up on stage, singing with a large group of choristers I am proud to call my friends.

We sing because we love music, and no matter whether what we sing is to our taste or not, every concert is a learning experience, and an experience to be treasured.

Bach's St. John Passion proved once again that City Choir is capable of putting on concerts of an international standard.

I think every member of our audience would have thoroughly enjoyed the concert, and our comittee and choir should absolutely be proud that we have done justice to such a huge and challenging work.

Thanks again to our Penguin-In-Chief, David, without whom our choir would be a shadow of what it has come to be. And I know that I, for one, am really looking forward to our next concert.

This concludes my "review" (if you can call it that) of our concert of St. John Passion. Well, almost. I've one more thing to say.

We rocked Bach's pants off. I bet his wee ghostie was up there in the Gods, watching us, and tapping his pointy-shoed toes. Sucks to you, Bach - we kicked your number from here to eternity.

Bach's response to City Choir - "I'll be Bach..."

As to our next concert, Bring it on!