Certainties
I’ve been thinking about the challenges of singing a fugue and its relevance to everyday life. A quick and crude explanation for the non-musicians reading – in choral music, and elsewhere, a fugue consists of a theme, or themes, sung in one part and taken up by the others at different times, with some variations, overlapping and building, weaving together an interlocking and exhilarating piece of music. It can be a challenge to sing.
Why a challenge? First, your entries as a singer can come fast and furious with little in the way of assistance from the other lines of music – the weave makes cues difficult to pick up on. The singer has to be alert, counting (sometimes furiously), watching the conductor, keeping an eye on his place in the score, confident in coming in, and accurate. Second, losing your place in the piece is a real danger and, if you do, finding a way back in is tricky because of the nature of the form. There’s just too much going on. It’s all a little nerve racking – and, yes, exhilarating.
It struck me that singing a fugue is a little like navigating a complicated world in the need to be aware of everything around us, but at the same time staying focussed on our part in it – confident of when to come in and what to ‘sing’ but not too certain, too arrogant, too complacent. The singer who is certain of his or her entries without paying any attention to what is going on around them is riding for a fall and could even bring the whole thing crashing down (that’s the nightmare). Singing, like life, is a communal activity and if the pace alters, the musical director decides to take it a little faster maybe, the singer has to be able to adjust, cannot be too certain. That would be dangerous.
The spark for these musings was a passage in Colin Heber-Percy’s book, Lost in the Forest, in which he talks about the dangers of certainty in the wider world. Wars, he points out, tend not to be started because of doubt but because of certainty – ‘I’m right’, ‘This belongs to me’. Lesser conflicts too. Doubt means being in two minds about something – the right approach, the right decision, the rules. Heber-Percy comments on the role of Doubting Thomas in the resurrection story and points out that, as a twin, Thomas would have grown up with two points of view always available. This could have given him the strength to doubt and to own his doubt. Being in two minds can be seen as simply dithering, as a negative, a difficulty, but it is also a defence mechanism, protecting us from rash decisions and precipitate action, adding to the wisdom of our choices. It can certainly protect us from the ubiquitous scams which invade our in-boxes and phone lines.
Looking around us, reading the papers, watching the news, we can see plenty of arrogance and aggressive certainty in the wider world at the moment. Plenty of refusing to back down, to rethink, to listen to cooler heads. We criticise leaders who take time to react, don’t do the obvious – I’m certainly guilty of this. Maybe we should be a little more patient with leaders who are prepared to think things through.
Singing a fugue involves thought, preparation, and rehearsal so that the final outcome, the performance, runs smoothly. Choir and audience should be thrilled, uplifted, satisfied. It can be hard work, but the final result is worth it. As in music, so in life.
Doubting Thomas
the twin didn’t know
what should he believe
in two minds he needed
evidence, reassurance
he wasn’t ready to be conned
outsmarted, taken for a ride
physical evidence was one solution
contact with that wounded side
around him friends were certain
confident in their elation
eager to latch on to what they’d heard
not needing more
the twin was used to two opinions
he wasn’t one for clutching straws
once he had the reassurance to meet his need
then, only then, he’d jump
then he would believe
