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Let me see if I can find a picture that describes my joy, rather than trying to do it with words. Because I really can't. Everything has been capslocked and italicized and bolded and there's noway to actually tell you. Well, actually, I feel a lot like this.
Compline was the kind of magic that only 1000 years of tradition and intention and attention can produce. It was a 9pm show, yes, but it was a sincere one. Incense, candles, plainchant. We only sang four things, but one was the Lassus Adoramus Te (men), and then. Then. The Gregorio Allegri. Which already has mystical and mysterious and magical connotations anyway. I and the other three quartet soli stood outside the Lady Chapel (did I mention this service was in the Lady Chapel? Which has 7-second reverb?), far away in the middle of the cathedral, ON THE STEPS of the altar, and sang the quartet verses. Listening to the responses from outside, in the candlelit, gothic-arched, marble-floored architectural miracle, well... It's hard to describe.
We ran to the gate of the chapel for the last part, where the quartet and the chorus sing all at the same time, and then there were plainchant responses and then I had the first line of Te Lucis Ante Terminum plainchant by myself. (EEEEE.) Before the rest of the women came in, and then it was homophony. More plainchant and responses (the priest was very good), and then. And Then.
The Rachmaninoff Nunc Dimittis (known beforehand to me as Nyne Otpushchaesi). It is made out of magic anyway, and we sang it, WELL. In Lady Chapel. With 7-second reverb. With Stephen Connolly. Carine and I and Martin and pretty much everyone, but especially we, were all high the rest of the night.
There was a reception after the service for us, with wine and juice and tiny tiny quiches, but the 6 of us didn't stay long. It was late, but life was perfect. We went to the cafeteria and sang for another 2 hours, getting La Peregrinacion (La Peregrinacion! [!!!]) up to the first bridge nearly perfect. We only stopped because it was midnight and we all had to get up this morning.
How did this happen to me? I can't possibly deserve it. The universe identified a lot of my favorite things and dearest hopes and then piled them all on me at once. In abundance.
!
Compline was the kind of magic that only 1000 years of tradition and intention and attention can produce. It was a 9pm show, yes, but it was a sincere one. Incense, candles, plainchant. We only sang four things, but one was the Lassus Adoramus Te (men), and then. Then. The Gregorio Allegri. Which already has mystical and mysterious and magical connotations anyway. I and the other three quartet soli stood outside the Lady Chapel (did I mention this service was in the Lady Chapel? Which has 7-second reverb?), far away in the middle of the cathedral, ON THE STEPS of the altar, and sang the quartet verses. Listening to the responses from outside, in the candlelit, gothic-arched, marble-floored architectural miracle, well... It's hard to describe.
We ran to the gate of the chapel for the last part, where the quartet and the chorus sing all at the same time, and then there were plainchant responses and then I had the first line of Te Lucis Ante Terminum plainchant by myself. (EEEEE.) Before the rest of the women came in, and then it was homophony. More plainchant and responses (the priest was very good), and then. And Then.
The Rachmaninoff Nunc Dimittis (known beforehand to me as Nyne Otpushchaesi). It is made out of magic anyway, and we sang it, WELL. In Lady Chapel. With 7-second reverb. With Stephen Connolly. Carine and I and Martin and pretty much everyone, but especially we, were all high the rest of the night.
There was a reception after the service for us, with wine and juice and tiny tiny quiches, but the 6 of us didn't stay long. It was late, but life was perfect. We went to the cafeteria and sang for another 2 hours, getting La Peregrinacion (La Peregrinacion! [!!!]) up to the first bridge nearly perfect. We only stopped because it was midnight and we all had to get up this morning.
How did this happen to me? I can't possibly deserve it. The universe identified a lot of my favorite things and dearest hopes and then piled them all on me at once. In abundance.
!
From: (Anonymous)
the universe