Let us all rejoice and sing! Presenting the second of our festive double bill, I Saw Three Ships. Below, Peter Bacon (Tenor) investigates the story behind the song.

While many of the songs in our repertoire come from half way across the world, this one might originate a little closer to home. The popular carol has traditional English origins which go back to the 17th century and possibly to Derbyshire. The more literal-minded will be perplexed by the idea of ships sailing into the land-locked Bethlehem. The three ships may be those which were said to transport the relics of the Biblical magi to Cologne Cathedral in the 12th century. Or perhaps it is a reference to the camels which bore the magi – the “ships of the desert”.

If the origins and lyrics are mysterious we’re on a surer footing when it comes to our arrangement of the carol. It definitely comes from the pen of Themba Mvula.
He explains: “It was one of those rare ideas that just came to me while I was out for a walk one night. As soon as I got home I sat down to notate it in case I forgot!”
I suggested the chords which rock back and forth in between the verses reminded me of minimalist music, but with an African twist.
“I’d quite happily take African Minimalism as a label if there is such a thing!” Themba replied. “I think somewhere in my head the chords sound almost like a ship in the distance.”

I Saw Three Ships appears in the Oxford Book Of Carols in an arrangement by Martin Shaw, and there are many recorded versions, ranging from a guitar interpretation by John Renbourn (once of the band Pentangle) to a perky vocal by Nat King Cole.

It has often featured in the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols broadcast from King’s College Cambridge. Here it is from 2010:

We present our latest virtual choir performance, Coventry Carol. Below, Peter Bacon (Tenor) investigates the story behind the song.

The Coventry Carol can be traced back to the 16th century but it was probably sung even earlier than that as part of a medieval mystery play called The Pageant of the Shearman and Tailors, performed in Coventry by the sheep shearers and tailors of the town. The author of the words and the composer of the melody are unknown but the story it tells is of Herod’s command and the slaughter of the innocents as recounted in the Gospel of Matthew.

Although the song is now associated with Christmas, the mystery plays were generally performed in the summer. The beautiful melody and gentle lullaby of the opening verse, contrasting with the harsh cruelty of the third, is dramatically effective whatever time of year we hear it.

Its links with Coventry have remained strong ever since, and it was sung at a service broadcast throughout the British Empire on Christmas Day 1940 from the ruins of Coventry Cathedral, which had been bombed just six weeks before.

In addition to the countless versions of the Coventry Carol you may have heard sung by choirs, it has also been recorded by a wide variety of singers, including John Denver, Alfred Deller, Annie Lennox, The King’s Singers, Tori Amos, Sting, Maddy Prior, Jessye Norman, even Chas & Dave.

I came across this terrific version on YouTube, sung in Aramaic and “dedicated to all displaced children and in particular Assyrian children who have suffered the most by war and bloodshed in the Middle East”:

There is much more about Coventry Carol and its significance for people in the episode of BBC Radio 4’s programme Soul Music which was broadcast on Christmas Day last year. You can listen to it via this link (though, be warned, you may need a box of tissues handy!)

Peter Bacon (tenor) investigates our repertoire. This month: Be Like Him (Kwabona Kala)

While last month’s Story Of A Song – Steal Away – was quite easy to research, Kwabona Kala, as we know it, or Be Like Him, as it is more frequently called, is a little trickier. It’s easy to find the lyrics, and there are countless online versions, but the song’s background or origins? That’s much harder.

The most famous and, it seems, the original version of Be Like Him is by the American gospel star Kirk Franklin. It appeared on his 2000 album, Kirk Franklin Presents 1NC – that’s an abbreviation for One Nation Crew, a multi-cultural choir with whom he toured around America and made just the one album.

I had assumed that Franklin had based Be Like Him on a pre-existing traditional African gospel song, but on the various lyrics websites out there the composer credits are always: Kirk Franklin, Emanuel Lambert. They have certainly very cleverly given the melody and 1NC’s performance a very African feel.

Those same sites tell me the names of the nine singers in 1NC, that Franklin himself played piano, other keyboards and programmed the song, and that the arrangement was by Jeremy Lubbock.

Trivia corner: Emanuel Lambert goes by the performing name of Da’ Truth; Jeremy Lubbock is a hugely experienced arranger who has also worked with Barbra Streisand, Joni Mitchell and Whitney Houston.

There is a host of videos on the internet of different choirs performing what has clearly become a favourite around the world, but the one I always go back to, partly for its energy but also for the show-stopping ending, is this one by the New Vision Mass Choir, a Haitian-American gospel group seen here performing in a Baptist Church in Stamford, Connecticut. I love how at one point the choir changes the volume by turning away from the congregation – there’s a trick Themba might like to explore with us one day.

Peter Bacon (Tenor) investigates our repertoire. This month: Steal Away.

A classic American Negro Spiritual, Steal Away was composed by Wallace Willis, a slave, sometime before 1862. Alexander Reid, a minister, heard Willis singing it, transcribed the words and melody, and sent the music to the Jubilee Singers of Fisk University in Nashville, Tennessee. The Fisk Jubilee Singers were formed in 1871 at a school for freed slaves in order to help save the school from being closed. The choir toured America in order to raise money, and even came to Europe where they performed for Queen Victoria (more here).

It is believed that songs like Steal Away and Wade In The Water had double meanings for the slaves who sang them. Not only did the words reflect their faith and that they would one day “steal away to Jesus” but also acted as code to their fellow workers that they were going to seek to escape their slave-owners, that they would “steal away” via the secret network called the Underground Railroad that would help them reach the northern U.S. states or Canada where they would be free.

One academic has suggested other lines in the song have this double meaning too. “He calls me by the thunder”, for example, refers to the fact that stealing away during a storm was safer because the rains washed away clues that might lead the trackers and their dogs to find the fleeing slave.

Steal Away has been recorded by gospel, rock, country, folk, classical and soul singers; the composer Michael Tippett chose it to form part of his oratorio A Child Of Our Time.

The arrangement we sing is by Colin Anderson, director of Town Hall Gospel Choir in Birmingham.

Hear the Fisk Jubilee Singers singing Steal Away just last year.

And there is an hour-long educational performance (including some other familiar songs) that the Fisk Jubilee Singers gave as part of the Kennedy Center Education Digital Learning programme here.

Emily Bacon (Alto & LGC Secretary)

Our choir uniform hasn’t always been so distinctive.

In the very early days of Lichfield Gospel Choir, we were all happy with a uniform of black. But how to decorate it?  Perhaps people could choose splashes of any bright colour they liked? This was felt to be messy. Perhaps a splash of purple would be better? Pleasant, but not particularly exciting. There were constant dissatisfied mutterings.
 
Then, back in 2014, Helen Scheven came up with an inspiring solution that combined one of the strong themes in our music with support for an ethical source. She discovered The African Fabric Shop in a small but crammed shop in Meltham. She and I drove up to Yorkshire and knew immediately that the vibrant African Wax Prints were the answer. They were enthusiastically welcomed by our members who helped to sew them into scarves. 
 
Thank you, Helen! The vivid colours and varied patterns have given us the perfect look for our choir.

The article below is taken from the African wax prints section of the shop. These designs are ever evolving – there are even a few lockdown patterns!

'African wax print fabric is a defining methaphor of African design, fashion and expression; an immediately recognisable icon throughout the world'.

Quite simply, it just says, 'Africa.'

All over - but especially West and Central Africa - wax print fabric is worn by women, men and children of every social standing, from humble farmers to elite politicians. It is tailored into elaborate dresses and suits and also worn as a simple wrapper or pagne.

The designs range from distinctively African motifs rooted in history to wacky object-based prints such as shoes, fans, bicycles - almost anything.

Wax print dates from the industrial revolution, when English and Dutch textile barons developed a way to mechanise batik production. The fabric found a market in West Africa and by the 1960s Europe was exporting millions of yards of fabric per year.

In the early days, wax was used to create a resist before dyeing the fabrics in industrial quantities. Today, a resin has replaced the wax. Some designs also require overprinting, originally by hand using wooden printing blocks.

Today, most of the fabrics you might think are wax print are not: they are cheap Chinese copies of the real thing, screenprinted onto poor quality cotton.

We do not sell Chinese fabrics. All of our wax print is made in Ghana - either by GTP or ATL - which are owned by the European companies Vlisco and A Brunnschweiler, respectively.

How do you recognise a genuine African wax print?

Wax print is printed on both sides of the fabric, not one side like a screenprint.

Wax print has two distinct irregularities: a slight misalignment of colour and design, plus a distinctive crackle effect caused by tiny cracks in the resin resist. We call these irregularities 'the perfect imperfection'.

Using African wax print

Genuine African wax print is very robust and stands up to years of washing. It's great for colourful and distinctive clothing. Many creative and innovative textile artists are using wax print in their quilts and wallhangings.

Chris Brotherston (tenor)

I travel solo, usually.  However I have discovered a company that travels in small groups to some of the countries that merit a native guide to fully appreciate them.   So January this year saw me travelling to Africa,  Uganda to be precise.   The trip was to be a mixture of work and pleasure.  "The Real Uganda" is a company that starts up projects throughout Ugandan villages using some of our travel dollars and some of our labour.  During our first week it was planned to involve us quite thoroughly in 5 of these projects.  

I would like to share some of my adventures with you during the coming months, if I may, beginning with how music and dance is incorporated into everyday Ugandan lives.

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My Introduction to Uganda

In return for our hard work we were to learn about the everyday lives of the people, usually women, and join in with their ordinary day to day tasks and I was most excited about meeting the village ladies who were to teach us to dance.  What I didn't realise is that I would be immersed in song and dance in every village we visited.

Singing is more common that talking.  Everyone sings from the moment they can talk.  In fact the two are difficult to separate.  There is a word that is used spontaneously  during most of the songs, "Akalulu".  It's literal meaning is "a lot" as in an auction but it now translates as "the unit" and means "we are one".

At every village the welcome was different; at the first it was overwhelming,  bringing one of the ladies in our small group to tears. Hosts of brightly dressed women and young girls were streaming down the hill and we were surrounded  by women singing and dancing around us before we could get down from the bus, tying scarves around our hips and waist which were decorated with anything that rustled or tinkled or enhanced movement.  The lower on the hips the better to show off your dancing skills and all the time embracing us as they did so and singing right at you. 

  And the children came and waved and laughed and touched and asked for photos.

  I was disappointed the next day when at this village  the welcome was quite subdued.  I was to learn that every village has their own style of welcome.  Here there were smiles and embrances then  we were led to a central clearing where the young ladies danced for us accompanied by men playing drums.

We always talked with the ladies, using our guide as an interpreter,  introducing ourselves and they took their turn to tell us their age and how many children and grandchildren they had.  They were always amazed that our group had nowhere near as many children and that some had no grandchildren at all.

It was apparent that everyone dances from the moment they can walk.  However, only the younger males join with the women; the men preferring to dance for each other or play instruments.

The important women led the singing.   She spontaneously would start to sing a song and cared not how many answers she received, although she never waited long for the retort. No self conciousness here because from as early as they could remember they heard song and joined in.  Oh, how hard I tried to copy their words  but had to be content with humming a snippet or two of whatever tune I could catch and clapping and grinning from ear to ear.

No one voice was special but it is not the purpose of their song to entertain anyone other than themselves.  The ladies sing to greet a visitor; they sing to say goodbye; they sing when they cook, collect wood or water; they sing on the way to the fields.  Impromptu dance broke out several times during our work with them in the fields swiftly followed by song.  They call to each other across the fields "Akalulu"  so that they can all go home together safely.

I got to dance more times than I can remember and it was always a joyous celebration - of themselves, their community, of life itself, but most of all to show appreciation to us for coming to visit their homes

I was reminded every day whilst in Uganda of the feelings I have when I sing in a choir and  their word "Akalulu" is now a firm favourite in my own vocabulary.  Watch out!  Maybe you will hear it during one of our performances?

Warren Bardsley (bass)

I’ve been thrilled and impressed by the way Themba and the committee have enabled the choir not only to continue during  lockdown, but to break new ground. From a personal point of view, I didn’t think it was possible (for me, that is) to take part in the virtual performances of ‘Hold On’ and ‘Moving On up’, but with a little patient help from my friends (Kate especially) I was persuaded to have a go.  And it worked!  What a remarkable result. The whole  more than the sum of the parts, a  parable of what a choir essentially is.

Which brings me to  other things. Although well aware that for many this pandemic has brought loss,deep anxiety and fears for the future, for me it has been a kind of gift..acres of time to reflect, read, and to enjoy long conversations by phone with friends I’ve lost touch with over the years. And of course,writing..I’ve completed a collection of poems for publication, and have started work on the biography of a colleague from my West Africa days, a remarkable guy who pioneered an agricultural project in Sierra Leone based on Schumacher’s sustainable development principles, which was adopted by Oxfam and Christian Aid as a model for their work across the continent. I’m also putting together a collection of ‘Lockdown letters’, weekly pieces sent out to around 50 friends and acquaintances which may eventually be published in book form.  Proceeds from these writings will go to vital causes at home and abroad.  All this, of course is keeping me out of mischief!

I’ve tried to balance serious reading (and TV watching) with light-hearted stuff. Apart from Hilary Mantel (marathon!) I’ve read (and watched on BBC) most of David Olusoga’s work and would recommend ‘Black and British; a forgotten history’ as essential reading for anyone who wants to understand the issues behind Black Lives Matter and the appalling Windrush scandal.  You understand that this is a white problem, deeply embedded in our  national psyche.  Too many either deny that racism exists in Britain, refuse to talk about it, or say ‘It’s their fault’, Hopefully, one of the good things to emerge from this lockdown will be a breaking of this silence, building this history into our educational system and to action for real change.

Which brings me back to where I started.  The gospel choir. A living reflection of what society should be,in which every voice counts and each is equally valued.  Together producing a beautiful harmony.

Finally – one thing I have  missed, is cricket! So this morning I’m cheered by the thought that, although over half the season has gone, the noblest game is about to start.  Test cricket; England versus the West Indies. And on terrestrial TVl   A mouth-watering prospect!

PS. One other book I meant to recommend is 'A Gentleman in Moscow' by Amor Towles - ideal for lockdown, and a wonderful read.

Thank you to Peter Bacon (tenor) for letting me reopost this from his excellent lockdown blog, Windmill Days.

Tuesday 21 April 2020 ~ I have spent some time this morning recording my part of a gospel song called Hold On. I sing in the Lichfield Gospel Choir, a community group with a hundred or so members. We celebrated our 10th birthday earlier this year. Since we cannot meet at our usual weekly rehearsals our choir director has asked us to each record our part at home and he will then compile our recordings into an online choir performance.

I can’t remember when I was first drawn to gospel music but I can remember exactly where I was when mere passing interest turned into full-blown love. It was on the 4th of July in maybe 2001 on a back street in Washington.

The big parade was starting on the main drag, complete with giant blow-up figures and marching bands, but in the side streets smaller groups and floats were getting themselves ready to join the throng.

It was an eclectic mix. I remember a collection of World War 2 army vehicles being driven by their proud owners all decked out in appropriate uniforms, and right behind them, in contrast, was a group of Vietnam vets, all long hair, beards and leather waistcoats, looking like a bunch of Hell’s Angels, except that they weren’t on Harleys but in wheelchairs, and carrying signs protesting their neglect at the hands of the non-existent health and support system.

I wandered into a side street off the side street as it were, and there was an articulated truck with a small electrified combo on the front, a full choir on tiered seats at the rear, and in the flat bed more choir members and the soloists sitting at the front with microphones. The banner said something like St Paul’s Gospel Church, Salt Lake City, Utah. As I stood on the sidewalk, their only audience, the drummer clicked the rhythm, bass, guitar and Hammond organ took it up, the horns added a brief riff and then, like an avalanche they struck – 70 or so voices in close harmony, pumping out their message with such force and passion that it took my breath away. The soloists soared with that mix of angelic tone and Aretha Franklin attitude, and with each chorus the choir ramped up the intensity and excitment further. If this was their warm up, heaven alone knows what they sounded like in the main parade.

Their truck moved off, and I walked away. I’ve never quite had that experience again. And I’ve probably built it up in my memory to an unasailable extent. But the sound of a good gospel choir in full voice can still have a magical effect.

For a while I had difficulty assimilating my love of gospel music with the fact that I am not “a believer”, but over the years I have become more relaxed about it. I might not believe the literal details of the Bible story or in an almighty God, but then in that regard I am probably in the company of many vicars in this land. What I have become a lot more comfortable with is the idea that there is some kind of spirit out there somewhere, a feeling that has inspired all that great art and music and writing, if nothing else. It might be of human creation rather than God’s, but that’s fine.

I certainly have some inkling of the possibility of its existence when a group of people come together to sing. It could be the extraordinary artistry of The Sixteen, the King’s College Choir or Take 6. Or it could be the ragged bunch of mainly elderlies like me who gather together on a Tuesday evening – in good times in a school hall; in hard times in our own homes – to sing our hearts out.

Pages read: almost none

Minutes spent online: not that many either

Hours slept: 7

Exercise taken: Gosh, is that the time? I must go for a walk.