the Mycelium Choir

I’ve just returned from running a singing course in Bild-Werk Frauenau- on the German/Czech border, my 6th since 2001. It is a Centre for the Arts with a unique and wonderful atmosphere, where people from all over the world come to learn and experiment with different artistic mediums, with a particular expertise in glass techniques. Frauenau, a small town surrounded by the Bavarian forest and mountains, has for centuries been an area for glass production, similarly across the border in the Czech Republic. These days, what with cheap imports from Asia, hand blown glass manufacture is struggling, but Bild-Werk continues to offer creative courses in flat glass, glass engraving and blowing and other techniques, as well as in many other arts and crafts. My bi-annual singing course is now affectionately known as “die Candy singers”. 24 of us, ranging from complete beginners, to highly experienced singers, spent a wonderful week learning and exploring songs: Czech, gospel, even attempting a short song by Brahms. We had some interesting ongoing conversations between us about what actually goes on when we sing together, and how much it makes us feel happy and fulfilled. We came to the conclusion that modern life, with its emphasis on doing your own thing, being an individual, leaves many people with a deep down loneliness, an indefinable sense of not ‘Belonging’. But when we sing together, we feel complete, and a wonderful sense of wellbeing, of coming home. I am fascinated how singing builds contact, friendship, tolerance between people. We see each other as individuals, with our differing vulnerabilities and strengths, but we also develop a common bond through singing together. Somehow our differences mean less, our common humanity gains prominence. I believe we are working with forces that we don’t fully understand, that we feel and sense but scientists have just not discovered yet. When we sing together, we create an invisible vessel- a zone- between us, that you then automatically tap into, next time you sing with those same people. I have learnt through my interest in plants and food, about Mycelium- small white fungal threads that grow under the soil, connecting plants and trees to create a whole ecosystem. They support, indeed promote the health of the whole forest. The forest is weaker, more disease prone without them. I believe singing is the invisible Mycelium for human well-being. This is a Mycelium choir!

Sing on the isle of Eigg

Our singing holiday on the isle of Eigg launched an epic trip around Scotland and Ireland for Robin and me in a reckless camper van. Eigg lies off the coast of Scotland, an hour’s ferry trip from Mallaig. 85 people live there full time, and they claimed well earned fame 17 years ago by successfully buying out their own island from an absentee Dutch landlord. We met many islanders, including Donna the Piper, sharing stories, songs and hearing about the history. Our first trip was to Laig Bay, a glorious strip of white sandy beach, shrouded in a white lighted mist when we arrived. As we lay, soaking up the warmth of the misty sun, 2 cows nonchalantly strolled past us to the sea’s edge, and spent their whole day paddling, walking up and down the length of the beach. A while later, Michael called out Look! In front of us rose 2 enormous mountains: they appeared as if 500 yards away, but it was the island of Rhum, actually 5 miles away. We were in faery land. Gradually as the mist cleared, the whole panorama revealed itself. One of the aims of my singing holidays is to sing songs that originate from the place we stay in, connecting us more deeply to the people, landscape, the ancestral energy of the place. In preparation, I had researched a song collected 100 years ago from the northern township of Cleadale on Eigg, sung “to the slow rhythmic swing of the stacking of the hay”. Its melancholy feel didn’t seem to fit its use, make much sense, but as we learnt it, along with a singer who lived in Cleadale, we realized the characteristic upwards octave jump of the melody reflected the movement of the tossing up of the hay onto a high haystack. You needed the slow tempo to bend down, collect the next pitchfork of hay, before tossing up again. I love this - the line of the song was created through the action of the work. Only through the process of doing the action as we sung did we discover this.

Sounding It Out raise their voices at Bath Christmas Market

Last Friday, we sang under the arches in Abbey Green in Bath, part of the Bath Christmas Market, next to the mulled cider, jewelry, Christmas wreaths and every sort of gift. Our gathering audience particularly liked the well known carols, but we had some compliments for the village carols as well- just like Maddy Prior, someone said. The highlight for me was when a very little boy heard me announce that our next carol would be Silent Night "I know Silent Night!" he called out, from the shoulders of his dad. Next thing, he was down, standing in front with the choir, and he sang 4 verses, one in german. His parents videoed the whole show. Well, we may have set a future musician on his road in life...

Singing with the very old

Over the last year and a half I have been invited into Mavern House Nursing Home in Melksham to develop a community choir- a choir that everyone connected to Mavern House can join. This includes residents, staff, and families. Also, several of my regular singers have generously given of their time to come along to swell the sound and spread confidence. It has been a very rewarding experience. We have heard from the families of some residents that they look forward all week to the sessions. There has been notable change in behaviour for some as well: more outgoing, lively and obviously really engaged. One of the regular members of Mavern Melodies (as they have named themselves), sadly passed away recently. The rest of us, 35 singers in all, came to sing Danny Boy at the service. We sang with heart and soul, and it touched us all. Singing is now embedding itself into the life at Mavern House. I have been told that some members of staff are now singing a special song to residents at their death bed. And the managers are investing in the sustainability of this work by sending 2 staff members on my Community Choirs Teachers Training in January.

Heard a fascinating fact last week: did you know that all bees' buzz at different frequencies? For instance, the buzz of the bumble bee resonates at 400 Kh, which has a particularly dramatic effect on the pollen sacks of plants from the Belladonna family - tomatoes, aubergines and the like. It tickles the fancy of the pollen sacks so much that they explode, resulting in pollen being scattered all over the bumblebee's body, a very effective way of fertilizing other plants. So with this in mind, what is happening when we sing together? Can we find particular resonances which can affect pollution for instance? If you are an expert on resonance, please let me know!

Flamenco and more

I've been staying with a friend in South West Spain, flamenco country. The landscape is uncompromisingly hot and arid . In some of the beautiful parks in the towns there grow date palms, aloe vera, washingtonias, as well as a vast, gangling giant of a tree, a Ficus from Australia. Its hollow sounding roots extend out at head height, shaded by its enormous asymmetric branches, a tree that shelters and hosts innumerable species, including us below. In David Abram’s new book 'Becoming Animal' he describes us human beings as part of the interconnected web of nature. Often scientists isolate one part in order to understand it, but ultimately everything is connected to everything else. And then I ponder the superb flamenco performance we heard and saw one night . We were enchanted within the dancer’s passionate performance: the speedy and earthy rhythms of her feet, contrasting with the elegance of her fingers and the swooping and bending of her body. I felt I was experiencing a whole ecosystem in one, it was not just one art form, it was a system of art forms, and they mirrored the wider surrounding. They directly related to the passionate and harsh landscape from which it has grown. Maybe, as well as our bodies, culture evolves out of landscape too?

Walking the Cornwall coast path last week, happened up on a plaque on a barn in Cadgwith that mentioned singing.This led me to visiting the pub on the Friday evening, and boy was it the highlight of my holiday. Suddenly the pub was singing, led by several men, fishermen mostly. We had stumbled upon the real thing- a community singing for their own pleasure. We were welcomed to join in- traditional songs, some well known, some specifically Cornish. It felt like the beautiful rich bass voices led the songs, people joined in with harmonies, and interestingly, no-one clapped at the end. This was being IN the singing, not performing, there was no audience.