SOUNDTRACK–THE KING’S SINGERS-Tiny Desk Concert #768 (July 23, 2018).
There are so many a capella groups in existence. Some are collegiate (there are three alone here at Princeton) and others move beyond that. The Nassoons started in 1941. The Footnotes started in 1959. The Tigerlilies, (the all-female group) started in 1971.
So when this blurb talks about The King’s Singers being fifty years old, well, that’s not so impressive in some respects. But anything that has lasted that long is still pretty impressive. As is the fact that they have 150 recordings out.
Fifty years ago, a group of six guys walked on a London stage to perform for the first time as The King’s Singers. They were choral scholars and graduates from King’s College, part of England’s venerable Cambridge University.
The group quickly earned a reputation for its precise and warm close-harmony singing, which is as strong as ever today. There have been more than 150 King’s Singers recordings, Grammy and Emmy awards, and countless concerts and television appearances. New singers, of course, have cycled through over five decades, but the six-man vocal setup has remained constant: two countertenors, one tenor, two baritones and a bass. Also unchanged is the group’s penchant for singing just about every style of music.
So it is no surprise that the current iteration of The King’s Singers — in the midst of their 50th-anniversary tour — brings a diverse set list to the Tiny Desk, including a Beatles tune and a bawdy madrigal from the 1500s.
Notice the glistening top end on Lennon and McCartney’s “I’ll Follow the Sun,” courtesy of countertenors Timothy Wayne-Wright and Patrick Dunachie.
I also enjoyed hearing the occasional bass notes from Jonathan Howard. It’s fascinating to see how the tenors like Julian Gregory take various parts of the song, sharing the lines.
“Shenandoah,” the traditional American song, sports a velvety carpet of accompaniment for baritone Christopher Bruerton’s lead. The blend of light and color shifts beautifully in Bob Chilcott’s diaphanous arrangement.
Christopher Gabbitas’ introduction (and plug for their album) is quite amusing. The way the five singers start with “ooohs” in harmony is really striking. In addition to the lead, the gorgeous high notes of the countertenors are absolutely striking in this song.
“Horizons,” with its cinematic hissing, humming and other special effects, tells a tragic story of the San people of Southern Africa.
Howard introduces this song by saying that somewhere in a cave in South Africa there is a San bushman painting of a Dutch or English ship dating back to early 1700s. It celebrates the incredible powers of observation of the now virtually extinct San people. The people the San saw as gods because of their stature and opulence were soon to become their executioners. This is what the South African born writer and composer Peter Louis van Dijk writes in this song which celebrates their humility and their oneness with the environment. It also laments the demise of these people at the hands so-called progress.
This song really toys with my idea of what a “traditional” a capella group might do. There are hand clasps, hissing sounds, snaps and other vocal sound effects. Sung initially by baritone Christopher Gabbitas, everyone eventually takes a turn doing vocals and vocal/hand percussion.
The rhythmic and risqué “Dessus le marché d’Arras” channels a bustling 16th-century French marketplace.
This madrigal takes them back to the 1500s. It’s a pop song written by from the renaissance era written by Orlande de Lassus in which a Spanish soldier in the Northern French town of Arras asks a woman how much…. And they walk off, hand in hand. The madrigal doesn’t say what she is selling, and The King’s Singers don’t want to say (as it is being broadcast).
The singers intertwine their voices beautifully. It’s a fast spirited number and a lot of fun (even if you can;t tell what they are saying).
The King’s Singers remains a vocal juggernaut, playing 150 concerts in this anniversary year. With its power, finesse and silky blend, the group is like some close-harmony Ferrari that can purr and growl, leaving you amazed at the splendor of the human voice.
[READ: October 11, 2017] “The Wizard of West Orange”
I have enjoyed most of Millhauser’s stories. This one irritated me though. The fact that it won me over is a testament to the quality of the story, but I was really annoyed by the style.
This is a diary. And I hate the way it is written. I get that a diary can be truncated, but why did he chose to make this such a tough read; “A quiet day in library; this morning overheard a few words in courtyard.” Ugh so frustrating. And the whole story–all 12 pages of it is written in that halting style with limited articles. Man is it annoying.
It starts out on Oct 14 1889 and was written by the librarian who works with Thomas Edison–whom he refers to exclusively as The Wizard. The first few entries are pretty dull–The Wizard is secretive going about his business. I was afraid this was just going to be one of those imaginings of what someone who worked with Edison’s job was like or blah blah blah. And it is much like that. A book comes in and one of the scientists looks for it. The Wizard is working on his phonograph and his talking doll.
There are two main characters beside the narrator. There is Earnshaw who is very much devoted to the idea of motion photography–he’s thinking about something with sprockets in it. And there is also Kirstenmacher whose time is devoted to the kinescope.
It gets interesting when the entries reference a wired glove. And Kirstenmacher determines that the librarian is fascinated by the inventions, in particular the kinescope
Turns out that Kirstenmacher has invited both Earnshaw and the narrator to test out this new device–the wired glove has a silk lining and little metal points throughout. When the librarian puts the glove in, and Kirstenmacher turns the wax cylinder, the librarian feels weight in her hands, tickling sensations. It is amazing.
And as the entries go on, the details of the experience grow. Eventually it becomes a full body suit and the feelings are uncanny.
Earnshaw meanwhile hates the experiments–he wants nothing to do with that infernal machine but Kirstenmacher won’t let him quit.
“Today at a little past two, Earnshaw entered library.” ugh
Kirstenmacher has high hopes that in twenty years it may be possible to create tactile sensations by stimulating the corresponding centers of the brain. Until then we must conquer the skin directly.
The Wizard filed a caveat with the patent office for the haptograph–protecting his invention while acknowledging its incompleteness. He announces to the paper that he hopes to have it presentable in six months.
Kirstenmacher says that if three more men are put on the job, and ten times current funds diverted to research, the haptograph might be ready for public in three years.
Then one day the machine is destroyed. The Wizard doesn’t seem all that upset but the librarian is distraught.
~~~~~
Just this weekend we visited the Thomas Edison National Historical Park (U.S. National Park Service) in West Orange and it was pretty awesome. Totally worth a visit.
I Just Read About That... 