Friends: this is a post-script, as I realised today (Tuesday) that my 'blog post from last Friday did, in fact, fail to post. All entirely down to human error (mine). So, here goes again....Today I sang at a funeral, with five other wonderful singers including David Hurley. None of those who sang had ever met the deceased. We'd been invited to sing by a close mutual friend to each of us, whose father-in-law it was who had passed away. The singers were all professional London types who have all performed at the very highest level with various choirs, or as soloists.The occasion, under the circumstances, was a genuine pleasure. The service was absolutely wonderful, and as with all good funerals made each of us wish that we could have met the man in question. It sounds as though he was an incredible person.This all got me thinking about the power of music. We heard during the service that choral music had been a great love of the deceased; he had passed away whilst listening to a recording of The Sixteen, and had several King's Singers discs in his collection. Music had soothed him during illness, created marker posts during various points in his life, and held memories of the very best, and the very worst, of times.We in The King's Singers are lucky to do what we do on a daily basis. We have the power to help, to heal, and to create wonder amidst everyday life. We cannot do it alone, but only as part of this group of six. Some days it comes more easily than others, but we constantly strive to create something that is more than the sum of its parts; to allow harmonics to ring out as if there are more than six voices creating the sound; to lose ourselves in the texture of our music, and take the audience with us as we do so.To hear that music can play such a huge part in the life, and death, of another, gives meaning to what we do and takes it to a higher level. To those of you out there who enjoy performing, at whatever level, never forget the gift you bring to others, and the influence you can hold over their lives.
Friends: this is a post-script, as I realised today (Tuesday) that my 'blog post from last Friday did, in fact, fail to post. All entirely down to human error (mine). So, here goes again....Today I sang at a funeral, with five other wonderful singers including David Hurley. None of those who sang had ever met the deceased. We'd been invited to sing by a close mutual friend to each of us, whose father-in-law it was who had passed away. The singers were all professional London types who have all performed at the very highest level with various choirs, or as soloists.The occasion, under the circumstances, was a genuine pleasure. The service was absolutely wonderful, and as with all good funerals made each of us wish that we could have met the man in question. It sounds as though he was an incredible person.This all got me thinking about the power of music. We heard during the service that choral music had been a great love of the deceased; he had passed away whilst listening to a recording of The Sixteen, and had several King's Singers discs in his collection. Music had soothed him during illness, created marker posts during various points in his life, and held memories of the very best, and the very worst, of times.We in The King's Singers are lucky to do what we do on a daily basis. We have the power to help, to heal, and to create wonder amidst everyday life. We cannot do it alone, but only as part of this group of six. Some days it comes more easily than others, but we constantly strive to create something that is more than the sum of its parts; to allow harmonics to ring out as if there are more than six voices creating the sound; to lose ourselves in the texture of our music, and take the audience with us as we do so.To hear that music can play such a huge part in the life, and death, of another, gives meaning to what we do and takes it to a higher level. To those of you out there who enjoy performing, at whatever level, never forget the gift you bring to others, and the influence you can hold over their lives.
Friends: this is a post-script, as I realised today (Tuesday) that my 'blog post from last Friday did, in fact, fail to post. All entirely down to human error (mine). So, here goes again....Today I sang at a funeral, with five other wonderful singers including David Hurley. None of those who sang had ever met the deceased. We'd been invited to sing by a close mutual friend to each of us, whose father-in-law it was who had passed away. The singers were all professional London types who have all performed at the very highest level with various choirs, or as soloists.The occasion, under the circumstances, was a genuine pleasure. The service was absolutely wonderful, and as with all good funerals made each of us wish that we could have met the man in question. It sounds as though he was an incredible person.This all got me thinking about the power of music. We heard during the service that choral music had been a great love of the deceased; he had passed away whilst listening to a recording of The Sixteen, and had several King's Singers discs in his collection. Music had soothed him during illness, created marker posts during various points in his life, and held memories of the very best, and the very worst, of times.We in The King's Singers are lucky to do what we do on a daily basis. We have the power to help, to heal, and to create wonder amidst everyday life. We cannot do it alone, but only as part of this group of six. Some days it comes more easily than others, but we constantly strive to create something that is more than the sum of its parts; to allow harmonics to ring out as if there are more than six voices creating the sound; to lose ourselves in the texture of our music, and take the audience with us as we do so.To hear that music can play such a huge part in the life, and death, of another, gives meaning to what we do and takes it to a higher level. To those of you out there who enjoy performing, at whatever level, never forget the gift you bring to others, and the influence you can hold over their lives.
Friends: this is a post-script, as I realised today (Tuesday) that my 'blog post from last Friday did, in fact, fail to post. All entirely down to human error (mine). So, here goes again....Today I sang at a funeral, with five other wonderful singers including David Hurley. None of those who sang had ever met the deceased. We'd been invited to sing by a close mutual friend to each of us, whose father-in-law it was who had passed away. The singers were all professional London types who have all performed at the very highest level with various choirs, or as soloists.The occasion, under the circumstances, was a genuine pleasure. The service was absolutely wonderful, and as with all good funerals made each of us wish that we could have met the man in question. It sounds as though he was an incredible person.This all got me thinking about the power of music. We heard during the service that choral music had been a great love of the deceased; he had passed away whilst listening to a recording of The Sixteen, and had several King's Singers discs in his collection. Music had soothed him during illness, created marker posts during various points in his life, and held memories of the very best, and the very worst, of times.We in The King's Singers are lucky to do what we do on a daily basis. We have the power to help, to heal, and to create wonder amidst everyday life. We cannot do it alone, but only as part of this group of six. Some days it comes more easily than others, but we constantly strive to create something that is more than the sum of its parts; to allow harmonics to ring out as if there are more than six voices creating the sound; to lose ourselves in the texture of our music, and take the audience with us as we do so.To hear that music can play such a huge part in the life, and death, of another, gives meaning to what we do and takes it to a higher level. To those of you out there who enjoy performing, at whatever level, never forget the gift you bring to others, and the influence you can hold over their lives.
Friends: this is a post-script, as I realised today (Tuesday) that my 'blog post from last Friday did, in fact, fail to post. All entirely down to human error (mine). So, here goes again....Today I sang at a funeral, with five other wonderful singers including David Hurley. None of those who sang had ever met the deceased. We'd been invited to sing by a close mutual friend to each of us, whose father-in-law it was who had passed away. The singers were all professional London types who have all performed at the very highest level with various choirs, or as soloists.The occasion, under the circumstances, was a genuine pleasure. The service was absolutely wonderful, and as with all good funerals made each of us wish that we could have met the man in question. It sounds as though he was an incredible person.This all got me thinking about the power of music. We heard during the service that choral music had been a great love of the deceased; he had passed away whilst listening to a recording of The Sixteen, and had several King's Singers discs in his collection. Music had soothed him during illness, created marker posts during various points in his life, and held memories of the very best, and the very worst, of times.We in The King's Singers are lucky to do what we do on a daily basis. We have the power to help, to heal, and to create wonder amidst everyday life. We cannot do it alone, but only as part of this group of six. Some days it comes more easily than others, but we constantly strive to create something that is more than the sum of its parts; to allow harmonics to ring out as if there are more than six voices creating the sound; to lose ourselves in the texture of our music, and take the audience with us as we do so.To hear that music can play such a huge part in the life, and death, of another, gives meaning to what we do and takes it to a higher level. To those of you out there who enjoy performing, at whatever level, never forget the gift you bring to others, and the influence you can hold over their lives.
Friends: this is a post-script, as I realised today (Tuesday) that my 'blog post from last Friday did, in fact, fail to post. All entirely down to human error (mine). So, here goes again....Today I sang at a funeral, with five other wonderful singers including David Hurley. None of those who sang had ever met the deceased. We'd been invited to sing by a close mutual friend to each of us, whose father-in-law it was who had passed away. The singers were all professional London types who have all performed at the very highest level with various choirs, or as soloists.The occasion, under the circumstances, was a genuine pleasure. The service was absolutely wonderful, and as with all good funerals made each of us wish that we could have met the man in question. It sounds as though he was an incredible person.This all got me thinking about the power of music. We heard during the service that choral music had been a great love of the deceased; he had passed away whilst listening to a recording of The Sixteen, and had several King's Singers discs in his collection. Music had soothed him during illness, created marker posts during various points in his life, and held memories of the very best, and the very worst, of times.We in The King's Singers are lucky to do what we do on a daily basis. We have the power to help, to heal, and to create wonder amidst everyday life. We cannot do it alone, but only as part of this group of six. Some days it comes more easily than others, but we constantly strive to create something that is more than the sum of its parts; to allow harmonics to ring out as if there are more than six voices creating the sound; to lose ourselves in the texture of our music, and take the audience with us as we do so.To hear that music can play such a huge part in the life, and death, of another, gives meaning to what we do and takes it to a higher level. To those of you out there who enjoy performing, at whatever level, never forget the gift you bring to others, and the influence you can hold over their lives.
Friends: this is a post-script, as I realised today (Tuesday) that my 'blog post from last Friday did, in fact, fail to post. All entirely down to human error (mine). So, here goes again....Today I sang at a funeral, with five other wonderful singers including David Hurley. None of those who sang had ever met the deceased. We'd been invited to sing by a close mutual friend to each of us, whose father-in-law it was who had passed away. The singers were all professional London types who have all performed at the very highest level with various choirs, or as soloists.The occasion, under the circumstances, was a genuine pleasure. The service was absolutely wonderful, and as with all good funerals made each of us wish that we could have met the man in question. It sounds as though he was an incredible person.This all got me thinking about the power of music. We heard during the service that choral music had been a great love of the deceased; he had passed away whilst listening to a recording of The Sixteen, and had several King's Singers discs in his collection. Music had soothed him during illness, created marker posts during various points in his life, and held memories of the very best, and the very worst, of times.We in The King's Singers are lucky to do what we do on a daily basis. We have the power to help, to heal, and to create wonder amidst everyday life. We cannot do it alone, but only as part of this group of six. Some days it comes more easily than others, but we constantly strive to create something that is more than the sum of its parts; to allow harmonics to ring out as if there are more than six voices creating the sound; to lose ourselves in the texture of our music, and take the audience with us as we do so.To hear that music can play such a huge part in the life, and death, of another, gives meaning to what we do and takes it to a higher level. To those of you out there who enjoy performing, at whatever level, never forget the gift you bring to others, and the influence you can hold over their lives.
