"Seems Legit."

So.  The first post with the new schedule... Late!  Start as you mean to go on, eh?  Turns out that this in the 100th post I'll have published (YAY MILESTONE), so perhaps there'll be some sort of nostalgic retrospective... Oh wait I already did that.


Last week itself averaged out as brilliant, due to the high impact of the weekend, the memory of most of which is hidden behind clouds of laughter.  I can't really remember the most part of the week itself...probably because nothing noteworthy happened; the curse of the unemployed.  All I have to do really is evensong, and that's only a two hour portion of the day.  Actually, secretly, I'm looking for a job.  Don't tell anyone else because then they'll just go and apply for all the jobs and I'll be unemployed FOREVER.

I think there needs to be a change in the format of how I write these.  One of the main reasons that posting ground to a square halt is I lost all confidence in what I was writing - classic writer's block.  I didn't feel that anything I was typing out was informative or amusing, that nobody would have any interest in reading.  It's kind of my root problem in socialising as well... It's the same sort of sudden panic that sets in when faced with the answerphone, and of course, attractive women.  HA HA.  I almost feel like I'm leaving myself open to ridicule, but I guess this is what happens if you write from a personal angle and publish it on the internet I guess it's all part of the deal.

Actually, in all seriousness, I think I've been doing pretty well socialising these days.  Having plans to live in Truro for a good while (say at least a few years), my priorities are ever so slightly different to the other scholars who will be moving on at the end of this year (well, July (well, September really because of the tour in August)).  Although I mostly meet people in pubs (come on I'm a member of a Cathedral Choir, there's always the post-evensong pint), Truro's a small city, you can't help but run into people.  It's nice though!  I feel like I'm beginning to make friends as an adult, unconnected to a study course or my choir, on the strength of character and conversation.  I should think that my reputation as quite a heavyweight drinker has earned me a few fans (especially at a particular establishment), but obviously I could do with avoiding alcoholism.  A few heavy nights in a row has robbed me of much of this month's honorarium, so it really is time to start becoming more responsible with my money.  Buying drinks, not just for myself but also for other people (and finding there is no return...) is just getting too expensive down here.  As much as I enjoy a drink, I far prefer being sober to being hungry, so there's a real cornerstone.  Also, I'm on the Council Housing list, and I've made some personal inquiries into renting costs, although I really ought to start looking into utilities as well.  You know, boring life things.  Things that extend to adult responsibilities.  Anybody worried out there with all this crazy talk?

I've already done this once at Bury Street to various degrees of success and/or failure.  It's all experience, right?  Paying rent and bills sure is a hell of a fag, though.  Living in rent, utility and tax free accommodation (anybody else think that looks wrong?) as a legitimate part of the contract of the Choral Scholarship, that cannot be any more than 300 yards away from the outer crypt door of the Cathedral is an amazing boon, and one that having been through University and back appreciate very much.  The house may be damp and end up feeling a little cramped living with three other guys in what is ostensibly a two bedroom property (the downstairs parlour has been converted into a bedroom as usual and there's a small third room upstairs which would probably used to have been an study or similar), but you know it's a nice place!  If I didn't want to live in a damp place, I wouldn't live in Cornwall.  As a note to anybody who isn't in Truro reading this right now, it is absolutely throwing it down outside (or it was when I started, because now it's just wet and cold and generally miserable).


Of course, outside of my immediate concerns in Cornwall, I find that my thoughts have turned to America, of all places.  Right now, as we live, breathe (and I type), some of my most treasured friends are over in the states: Grasshopper, G, and one of the best writers I ever met and danced with (AMS Ball 2011, still one of the best nights of my life).  I still miss Mike from Marin County, San Fransisco from BH28, but I guess the community fostered in Nelson Court still has a great deal of impact on my life.  I finally restocked my picture frames and I have one of my Grasshopper and one from the AMS Ball on permanent display.  Of course I miss those carefree, post-dissertation days... but I miss the people even more.  I even did a huge roast dinner on Thanksgiving last November in memoriam!  The principal guests, funnily enough, were non-natives to British soil (two German, one French and one Irish), my housemates instead having attended the Youth Choir and then subsequently a local pub, only stayed around long enough to eat, before going out into the night.  

I might try and move away after a while.  Sure, things are good here while I mature and grow into the post of Lay-Vicar, but I wouldn't ever want to get set in one place through lack of choice.  If I'm good enough for Truro now, then I can certainly be good enough for other places (and definitely in the future).  Perhaps I will move far, far away?  Who's to say.  

Postscriptum

You know, I've actually enjoyed this.  I deleted a good 200 or so words earlier, and then started all over again and I think it's okay!  I think I might hash a few more out this week, commenting more specifically on the weekend's hilarity, and maybe I'll push a few hundred words out about that Indie Rock band I can't get enough of.

Write on Schedule

Of course, there had to be a pun.

Once again, silence has been the order of the day round here; the signs of decay apparent on the dashboard: a drop in views, no comments to be moderated and a small number of half finished drafts, the unsatisfactory nature of both content and tone mean there can only be one fate...doomed to remain unpublished, a constant reminder of bad blogging.
 
In my last post, I dimly remember mentioning something about reading about weekly posting schedules, and how I didn't subscribe to them.  Well I've changed my mind.

There are already several tonal changes apparent delving through the archives: the first period that was excitable and helped me deal with the depression of my surroundings; the second period that was characterised mainly by referring to people around me with self-imposed titles - and in fact I still call people by those names: The Chief and of course The Loser whom I love, Grasshopper, The Admiral, The Waltzer, The Philanderer, Sensei... The list goes on; a third where I began to allow circumstances to take control and spoke candidly about how bad I felt, and the most recent and arguably most depressing, where I notably diagnosed myself with insanity for doing the same thing over and again and expecting different results.  I'll call that the "Peb is sad" part of my œuvre.


It's time to move on now though.  That's where the time table idea comes in.  I live in an environment I'd casually describe as insane, one of almost constant social movement.  Recently things have almost reached a "them-and-us" situation, but things have improved.  Social and domestic boundaries are in a state of constant flux, and to comment on affairs one week is to represent a false state by the next.
 

So.  Every weekend there'll be a post drop.  It'll probably come on a Saturday night, realistically.  (Edit: there's more of a ten day feel to it, I usually get round to writing, proofing and posting on a Sunday night/Monday morning.)  Interestingly, I do enough things a week rather than sit around being depressed all the time to merit not having it as the sole subject of my prose.  The first one starts this week, I've certainly done enough already and I'm even going for dinner tomorrow night as well.  Who knows, I might even learn how to draft effectively (haha as if I mean come on you guys seriously).
 
I do still claim to be a writer after all, but my lack of practice means it doesn't stand up to any scrutiny.  I'm no poet laureate, but I can still knock a decent haiku every now and again.  It's going to be so easy to not bother, just like well, everything that doesn't have an instant and tangible reward.

But then again, a lot of my life is on the long haul.

Start again, at the end...

So!  2012 finally draws to a close, limping over the finish line in an alcoholic haze of post-non-apocalyptic valediction.  Ah yes, it's that time where I reapply for the vacancy, face down in the flowerbed and take to dying on a mattress being fed dioralyte in the morning...

Haha!  Such nostalgia.

It's been a long year, actually.  I look in the mirror and see a distinctly silvery sheen over the fringe, I've reinstalled my Eastern European disguise in the shape and form of the chops (Yes, Bulgaria's finest Crime Lord is back).  In and out of relationships and employment... the two seem to share some ineffable link; last time I lost the job first, and the latest time I lost the job after.  Funny.  I don't know, you've got to have a sense of humour about these things, haven't you?

I'm almost pleased to report that I am unattached on both fronts... Almost?  Being unemployed is more trouble than it's worth, what with the bloody Jobcentre, but it keeps me looking for work, at least.  After the past two successes (and their subsequent ends), I have returned to one's traditional MO of wishing to date girls who are either not available...or just don't return my calls.  There's a hint, eh?  OH WOE IS ME.  Just the usual for many though, I suppose, so at least I'm rapidly reaching the same level as the rest of society!  My therapist would be so proud. 

As we pole towards New Year's Eve of the calendar, I would like to remind us all of my best good news ever, the realisation of a lifelong dream... before the age of 25.  I am to be appointed as Truro Cathedral Choir's seventh Lay Vicar.  I spoke about this last time, but I can't accurately describe how much of a big deal this is; I'm never going to be a Choral Scholar again.  I remember as a probationer being in awe of the Songmen at Derby, especially (of course) the Altos, and now, having settled in well with the other Gentlemen of the choir and producing the most immense amount of sound, I am following in that same tradition.  All jokes aside, when my fellow Lay Vicar on my side isn't there I do miss him!  We are a team, and I'm very pleased to take my place in the greater team that is Truro Cathedral Choir.  I am extremely lucky to be here, especially with the best Director anyone could hope for - I doubt there's another choirmaster who loves his job this much, is as caring and supportive, striking a fine balance between sheer professionalism and social grace... Haha!  I do love my Boss.  

I suppose that this Summer, as partially disastrous as it was, also formed a lesson for the future; Grown ups don't get a summer holiday. 

The real worst part of the Summer, was of course, no services.  Even this post-Christmas week is...pretty dull, especially after the big three last services!  While I definitely sang harder this year, my voice is in much better order so we can track some improvement there at least!  This is my life, I'm glad I chose it, and indeed, glad that it chose me. 

Anyway.  I'm sure that's there's enough nostalgia here for us to happily take our fill.  It's time we look forward.


I once wrote in the summer that my whole angle was that I never changed.  Indeed, my core values are unchanged, and it's mostly my appearance.  I also wrote that the definition of insanity is doing the same things time and again and expecting the situation to change: the entire country indulges in an insanity of this kind at every General Election.  POLITICS.  There's always time for something different, I mean, I will be moving into my own place by this time next year, an idea that actually doesn't fill me with fear!  I am looking forward to living in Truro very much.  Perhaps I should make some new year's resolutions?  Sounds dangerous, I know.  Something about, oh I don't know... regular exercise, erm, getting up every day, something about getting a job or you know, things like that.  Maybe it'd be nice to try and effect a change?  I certainly need to start playing the Banjo more often again, that's for sure.  I don't have £600 worth of instrument hanging there for nothing, huh?

Recently I have taken a more relaxed attitude to everything (well, except for singing, although I do need to get back into lessons again), and I don't know, perhaps it's something in the Cornish water but I have found that at least my blood pressure has eased off, if nothing else.  I must reserve my highly strung attitude to the cleaning to my own (future) residence, and not the shared accommodation, he says, hilariously.  My intensity remains of course, it's not like it's going away any time soon but I'm definitely not the only one round here with bipolarity issues...

2013 is just over the hill.  I'm just about ready to step the game up.  There are more than enough social problems to get over but really, if anything, I've let all my problems get on top of me this last year.  I've recovered a lot of my lost strength, gone over the summer, throughout the past month, probably through singing myself into the ground and somehow still caning out the notes every service: it's what I do, after all.  I've had a really great Christmas as well, got some great presents, but more importantly (which is approaching the true meaning of Christmas), had a brilliant time with my friends and family.  I might even try and keep a writing schedule this time.  You know, something once a week; I might not be getting paid for it but it's something else I need to get back into that I enjoy.  It might actually do me some good!

In conclusion, I am looking forward to this new year.  Big things are afoot, and it's time for me to take my place at the head of these developments, not as a follower.  This very moment, the statement "I've always found well-behaved to be overrated" has appeared before me, and gosh you know what, I rather feel that I've been just too straight-laced.  Excellent behaviour and good manners are of course hallmarks of my visit, but maybe I've just been trying too hard all the time.  Time to try something different, new, and exciting.

Vignette XXXIII

Sometimes, by which I mean all the time, I'm not entirely sure why I bother.

In all honesty, I know what I ought to do, I mean, really.  But maybe the cut would hurt more than not?  I don't know.  The reputation that exists already is bad enough.  Perhaps, after this retired period and what could charitably be described as rehabilitation as far as confidence is concerned...

But even after all that, maybe it's time to return fully to a black and white ethic.  






But really...

...What matters?

Modal Movement

Very recently I've taken to Arvo Part.  I don't really know much about him, his ways or his oeuvre, but that's probably subject to change.

The composition in question that prompted this new interest is called Fratres.  It exists in almost as many versions as I have names, and really I'd love to get hold of the dots for the 'Cello and Piano version for the usual Banjo-fication.  Don't worry, I'm being totally serious.  I can hear rifles being loaded and pitchforks being sharpened even at the very typing of that thought.

Fratres is steeped in droning and deep into the balance of wide, open spaces and grinding dissonance that is the Phrygian mode.  The most recognisable part of the Phrygian mode itself is the flat 2nd, creating a crushing effect on both the ascending and descending scales.  Personally, I favour the minor third going up, but coming down on the major third, meaning that there is a whole minor third before you reach the penultimate note of the scale.  This creates a distance even before we are crushed by the final semitone to settle on the final note, and is also known as the Phrygian Dominant scale, or more commonly still, the Jewish scale (hah!).

The Phrygian mode appears more often then is to be expected in these iib-V7-I, equal temperament times.  The Phyrgian cadence, with it's superb clashes.  It sometimes appears as a lead in to a perfect cadence (kind of VI6sus aug4-V-I), as through centuries of conditioning mostly via Bach and his pesky chorales, we expect a perfect cadence at the end of a piece.  FREE YOURSELF FROM THESE SHACKLES.  A-hem.  Of the Phrygian melodies that you're most likely to know, the christmas carol The First Noel springs to mind as the best example.  Your shining light as a rule to discovering whether a melody lies in this mode is just the same as seeking out cadences; a step down of one semitone.  When you find a true expression of the cadence, instead of VI6sus aug4-V as above, V becomes I, and you get the major tonic chord formed above it.  It can truly be a grand effect and, of course, affect.  Look to Asturias for Piano by Albeniz - yes, the guitar arrangement is very impressive, but the original for Piano is simply brilliant and contains a lyrical central section that showcases what I've tried to describe much more ably.  Play it, listen to it, whatever, the faster and more passionate and impatient the better.  It is a stereotypically Spanish piece that reminds us very much of Flamenco music, which is strongly linked to the whole Phrygian schtick.  Eastern european folk music, Moorish chanting, and even the Cantors at the Synagogue are know for their phrygian turns.  It's more compelling than the lydian mode, more passionate than the dorian, and more familiar than the ionain.

Another wonderful composition that uses this delightful mode is the stormy Piano Quintet in F minor by Brahms.  The Scherzo, one of my defining pieces, is wild and unforgiving.  It conjures up images of conflict, great strength and finally, a well-deserved victory, ending on unison C's directly from the crushed flat 2nd.

Anyway.  Fratres.  I first heard it at a dinner with the Chief and some of our good friends in Norwich, that fine City.  We had just recovered from ingesting tiny samples of the Naga, or ghost chilli.  Enquiring as to what it was, I was surprised to hear it was composed by Part.  I have since sought it out on the Naxos Music Library, and found many many versions.  Some recordings that suffer from poor tuning, and one for wind octet and percussion that suffers from simply being in equal temperament.  The Clarinets are out from the Horns by what sounds like a syntonic comma, ie just enough to make a difference.  I bloody hate how the octaves are just out.  Anyway.

There is something deeply understated, even through all the dissonance, where the true power of the mode lies in Fratres.  The intimately mysterious beginning of the Strings and Percussion version, has touches of eastern mysticism about it - the 5ths droning away at the bottom punctuated by a xylophonic touch.  The strings speak to us, reminding us through the clashing suspensions that violence is only a hair's breadth away.  As they fall silent, the xylophones return, backed by an enormous bass drum, adding even more depth to the gradually increasing dynamic of the drone.  We can attach so many images to these textures answering each other with this distinct tonal environment, where could we even begin.  You should seek it out and listen for yourself.  A little patience will be necessary, if you are unfamiliar with the tonal world, but it's worth it.  For me, there is a deep satisfaction in the settling of the Phyrigian cadence, the expectation in the suspension, the delaying of gratification in the grinding flat 2nd.  There is a touch of overcoming a difficult struggle about all this.

And if you want even more heart-breaking space in your life, then you could do far worse than Spiegel im Spiegel.  It hangs in space, with it's crystalline Piano arpeggios, sailing through eternity with the held string notes - Viola being my personal favourite. 

But it's the space that makes both of these pieces.  Silences of articulation are not just desperately vital in keyboard playing, but also in composition, especially in this minimalist soundworld.  As super smooth as these phrases are, the gradual attack of the strings only highlights whenever they fall silent and are punctuated by wooden percussion.  In fact, perhaps it is this space that makes Part's Fratres just as powerful as Brahms's Opus 34, the Piano Quintet in F minor.  They both have a minor cloud that is parted by a ray of phrygian sunshine, but Brahms uses many more textures in doing so.


I will be taking the time to listen to more Part, hopefully after I've got some sleep.  Fratres proves that the dark side of the Phrygian mode can be expressed with emptiness as well as busy textures.  It's not better, it's just saying something different, so it uses another voice, softly spoken but not straining to be heard over a maddening crowd, its crowning glory in quiet but lasting victory.

Promotion cometh yet from the Lord

I've been writing this for quite a while now.  The tag line at the top has been the guiding light for the the overall tone..."misadventure" probably belongs up there as well, probably.  Unlike some of my fellows that I know who blog too, I am less of a creative writer than a destructive one; the last few months of wallowing have proved that much.  But in between the misery, I have also been talking about change, and I guess that's what this is all about.  

As we know, "Songman" is an historic title that I have avoided letting go of even though I am no longer a member of Derby Cathedral Choir.  I like it.  It's short, simple to explain, and sounds old-fashioned.  I was proud to keep hold of it, having been a full-time member of a Cathedral back row before leaving school.  Enough with the laughing already; Derby may not be the world's greatest foundation but I earned my place there and having to do a whole year on your own as an Alto almost straight after your voice breaks is both a terrible idea and a real character builder. 

I'm so proud of this title that I even named my long-suffering blog after it - somewhere where I could offload the heavy troubles of the day by writing them away.  If we look back to where I was when I started writing this, that is to say an environment that did not suit me both domestically and professionally, then we can see why I would want to make such an escape for myself.  I was increasingly unhappy all angles round, God knows how I even found the will to go back into third year, but thankfully I did and here I am now.  And indeed, here I am to stay.  This is the good news that I've been sitting on for all this time.  See, I guess it isn't really a big deal for most people but it is to me...

I'm going to be a Lay-Vicar of Truro Cathedral Choir. 

If you've known me for some time (you know, like 5 years or more), you know that my big ambition in life is to once again be a full member of the back row of a Cathedral choir again, and here I am at 22, having regained that position.  Okay, I'm not getting appointed formally until September next year (I'll be 23 by then though), and I'll have to find somewhere to live and work, but at the moment, this is still better news than that time I found out that I graduated.  I'm particularly proud of this, because I haven't relied on any connections, pulled any favours, or needed any pieces of paper that say anything at all in order to get here; just good, old fashioned hard work. 

I wrote about how little I change myself in the summer; the statement still stands.  Rather than change to something unfamiliar, I have changed to reclaim something I already had.  This is my first post (Cathedral post) as an adult though - whether I stay here or move on out after a while is something that will take more than sitting up til 1am to fathom.  By no means am I sat at a "poor end of the stall" any longer though, and indeed far from it!  I always describe myself as 'the loud one at the end' when members of the congregation speak to me and say "Oh you're a choral scholar, aren't you, which one are you again?".  Thankfully, that description usually does, so I don't have to go as far as describing that abominable hood that I wear (Lord of Mercy UEA you have really dropped the ball with that dreadful coral colour)...

The next big things on the list are accomodation and employment.  Another known known (that is to say something that we know that we know) is that holding down a job is somewhat tricky.  This is another thing with no quick fix; that's it.  As for accomodation... Well, I really don't know.  Finding and affording life in Truro will be the biggest obstacle I will face, and God knows if I'm really ready to do that but the hell with it I haven't backed down yet (I almost did once and that was terrible), and now isn't the time to even start consideing such namby-pamby practices like that.  I know that my strength comes from inside me, but that I always need other people to remind me of it.  I've got a good crop of friends down here even outside of the Cathedral family circle, and I'm looking forward to the next part of my life very much.  This is the independance I have struggled for, the career I have lived for, in a place that I enjoy living, working and being a part of. 

So, what is this now then?  Lay-Vicar's Corner?  I think not.  I could only ever have got to this stage in life and accepted the future that I'm going to without having come from where I did.  I still refer to Derby as "us".  Maybe three services a week is small fry in comparison to now, but there was still a depth of repertoire and the nature of commitment that was a defining point of my youth.  Having to hold the alto line almost on my own was a defining point of my adolescence, and a pretty unique circumstance.  If I could have the time again, would I do things differently?  Would I have that 6 moths off to rest my voice?  Who knows?  Who cares!

Accepting the Lay-Vicarship is still a development I'm getting used to.  It's early in the choral year after all, and there's still seven months of this year with these scholars to go.  More likely than not, there will be five completely new scholars net year though, and I won't be a part of that group.  That is really an odd consideration after having been a choral scholar at various institutions for four years now.  I'm never going to be a choral scholar again.  Wow. 

Written out

Once again there's been a serious haitus.

If we look over the past few months, the summer archive of 2012 if you will, we can see a definite pattern forming: that of an overall depression, but trying to make the best of things.  I faced a lot of things in the summer, both great triumphs and fierce lows... and here I am in the middle of November (and really it all boils down to the middle of November, doesn't it?), having finally caught up with one of my best friends.  Three months is simply far too long, but as those on the great East Anglian coast know, time is the least of worries when compared to distance.

The problem is I am still pretty down; not for any reason in particular, but as any other depressive can tell you, you don't always need a reason.  I am particularly drained at the moment.  I'm not sleeping properly, and getting up and out is sometimes more a strain than it should be.  I remarked on this earlier, thinking that I had got through the bad part and was feeling better and now back to being generally low.  It gets in the way of a lot of things!  I haven't written anything here for ages, and even elementary social interaction is more difficult and tiring than it should be.  I'm worn out and I feel old,  Why?

I guess some questions are beyond the scope of some 20-something's mewling blog though.  I've let a lot slip though, and even thinking of that doesn't really help because of course I should be doing better than this.  Coming back to my chamber of an evening and feeling all played out even before the communal meal is a bit shit though.

I'm sure this mid-November slump will clear itself up; these things have a habit of working themselves out by themselves, just like I do.  I may well be single and unemployed again, but there's obviously something in there that I should be taking note of.  Employment is diffucult for autistic people, perhaps it's time I started taking note of my disability more seriously, as much as I hate doing so, even before you take into account fitting in with choir hours.  I know that if I keep looking and trying, something that is possible will turn up, and it's just a case of finding the right thing.

As for my love life, I consider myself formally in a position of semi-retirement.  Allow me to clarify: it just isn't my strong suit at the best of times so why bother with putting myself through more heartache.  Social interaction can be tough enough on a professional level (where I like to think I know what I'm doing), let alone in a more intimate setting.  Of course there are people out there, near and far that I am attracted to, but... I just have no idea what to do about it at the moment.  So I'm just not doing anything, which is for the best.

So there we are.  There's actually a lot of good things that have been happening that I've not said; I think at this point a little cathartic release is better while I wind up for a better tone.  Everything is in the process of changing, and perhaps that's something else that's driving this particular mood - after all, I hate change because I don't (haha)... 

And I'm still sat up at 1am!  Oy Vey!