Music for the heart and soul©
One of my schoolmates at Southwell was an excellent organist, being under the tutelage of the Minster organist. He usually played for school services alongside the school Music Master, and as he progressed, he played for church services, helping the Minster Organist. He did not have the range and skill of his seniors, but he was learning and he was quite talented.
I was already employed within the Minster as a bell ringer, lowly though that be, so I got to know many parts of the building that the public never got to see. With David, I came to be a fairly regular visitor to the organ loft above the quire screen, when I would often turn the music for him as he practised on the screen organ, but never during a service. He would help the Minster organist at that time.
He was allowed to practise as often as he could, and I was allowed out of House to be with him. There we would be, in the organ loft, usually alone in that huge Norman building. Of course, he practised the hymns and anthems particular to the forthcoming services, but would also play many of the great anthems, toccatas, fugues and processionals by Bach, Buxtehude, Purcell and Mozart. Not just these, of course, as there were many others which had been written by great composers over the previous centuries.
One evening he had been through a piece by Vierne and went on to play ‘Wachet Auf, ruft uns die Stimme’ by Bach, better known in English as ‘Sleepers Awake!’ He really gave it some welly, with his feet flying like bees’ wings and the majestic sound of the huge pipes filled the Cathedral. Both of the Minster organs were, at that, time, renowned for the melodious voices. The knave organ had its ‘tuba’ and the quire its ‘trumpet’. I can say with all honesty, that the rendition of Cocker's 'Tuba Tune' was by far the best I have ever heard. No record, tape or disc could ever reproduce the sound. One could really ‘feel’ the music, as we were literally sitting inside the organ. Although the pipes above our heads faced outwards towards the quire in one direction and the knave in the other, we didn’t miss out on any of the sound.
After that he went on to do some improvisation of his own – on music from light opera, by Sir Richard Sullivan, to be precise. We had recently attended a concert in, Trebeck Hall our little town theatre when a group from the D’Oyley Carte Opera Company had performed a selection of pieces from various Gilbert and Sullivan operas. David played a couple of pieces from these. Did you know that “Take a pair of sparkling eyes” sounds really beautiful when played on the pipe organ in a great Norman cathedral? It does, and we enjoyed the interlude but it was soon time to pack up and go home to the boarding house.
As we came down the steps from the screen, switching off the lights and power to the organ, and walking into the transept towards the small postern door, we were greeted by two figures, the Bishop and the Provost, both with smiles on their faces.
“What was the music you just played after Vierne and Bach, lad?” asked the Bishop.
“Oh, er – er, it was Sir Richard Sullivan,” stuttered David, “he wrote some divine sacred music, M’Lord!”
“Indeed he did, young man. However, the music that you’ve just been playing was written for an entirely different place, wasn’t it?” said the Bishop, smiling.
“Yes!” answered David, red as a beetroot.
“Very well,” the Bishop went on, “but make sure you don’t accidentally play it at Service, won’t you?”
“I’ll make sure, Sir” said David.
“Very well” said the Bishop, turning and walking towards the door.
“Good night boys!” said the Provost, with a big smile and a wink!
As they walked towards the exit, I could distinctly hear the clatter of feet on the stone flags, with two voices, singing softly, “Take a pair of sparkling eyes!”
Sometime earlier than that episode, I had been introduced to Russian Orthodox Church music. I must have heard examples of it on the radio at home, but I cannot remember, but here was some, presented specially for me. Not only for me really, but it seemed like it at the time.
It was not long after I had gone to the school – it was my second year, perhaps third, that we had a visit by the Choir of the Metropolitan Cathedral in Paris. This large choir, decked out in their gorgeous church garments, standing in the quire, just in front of the High Altar, with the glorious window behind them.
The congregation, or should I say ‘audience’ was seated in the normal benches in the quire, plus all the chairs arrayed down the sides. The quire was full to capacity to see and hear this magnificent choir perform. They sang many Russian Orthodox sacred songs in a manner which was thrilling. The basso profundo so beloved of the Russians, combined with the tenor and soprano, filled the Minster with a glorious, magnificent sound such as had not been heard for ages in this building. I imagined the great choirs of the middle ages, but I could not picture them producing a sound like this.
The Minster choir was good, very good, but they did not have the quantity of voices or the vocal range of this choir. It was here that I was introduced to the Russian version of the Nicene Creed and much else.
Unfortunately I lost touch with the genre and as I began my modest record collection over the years, my collection totally lacked any. Until just a few years ago, when I heard this self same choir, The Paris Metropolitan, on a record played on the BBC’s ‘Your Hundred Best Tunes’. It was not as I remembered it; perhaps the resonances were different between our Minster and the Paris Cathedral.
However, I continued on the lookout, as and when I remembered, until I found a version by the Metropolitan Choir of Turku in Finland. The soloist was (is) Kitty von Wright, and it lacks the basso profundo, but it presents a much sweeter sound to me.
As I listen, albeit a different choir, I’m taken back to the peace and beauty of that great Minster, and I still can picture the Bishop and the Provost, walking along, singing “Take a pair of sparkling eyes!”
Here's a link if you want to see something about the place.
http://www.southwellminster.co.uk/index.htm
Oh if you go there and read the welcome letter from the Dean - don't believe him. He refers to the Minster being begun in 2008 - it wasn't - that should read 1008. We celebrated the Church's millenium in 1956, when the place was a thousand years old.
Sunday, 7 October 2007
Saturday, 6 October 2007
What's it all about?
The Bookplate – what is it?
This is my take on the thing which seems to mystify some and to delight others. I suspect that, to those who are not familiar with these mysterious objects, they conjure a mind picture of a china or metal plate inserted between the pages of a book.
It is a very old thing, something which has come down from the middle ages, when Gutenberg and Caxton began the whole business of printing books. Yes, I know that the invention of printing is sometimes attributed to the Chinese, but the principle of moving type was first devised in Europe before it came to England. And what an upset it caused! It’s hard to imagine now, that not so long ago, a person could be burned at the stake for producing or possessing such a simple thing as a book.
Of course, only the wealthy could afford them even though the cost had fallen dramatically, compared to the hand-written ones that had gone before. Nevertheless, owners of these books felt it necessary to mark them as their property. The simple way would have been to simply write one’s name inside, but we must not forget that, even though they owned books as a mark of wealth and culture, many owners could not themselves write.
Ex Libris is a posh Latin term meaning “Out of the Library” and with a name appended, meant “Out of the Library of so-and-so” or simply “This book is mine”. The term ‘Bookplate’ came to mean that page or folio in the book which contained the words “This book belongs to” or “Ex Libris” whether it be inscribed direct to page, or whether it be a separate piece of parchment glued on.
When I first began buying and obtaining books, many of them still had a folio (page) inside, upon which were printed the words “Ex Libris” with space for one’s name. Some of them, especially those from Reader’s Digest, came with a loose plate, printed as a bookplate “Ex Libris”. This could then be signed and stuck in, if the owner so wished. I used to buy American and English science fiction magazines and novelettes, some of which I still have after 40 or 50 years. There was always (it seems) an advertisement for bookplates. One could send off to the magazine and purchase a quantity of any particular bookplate, usually the flavour of the month, delightfully engraved with an image from the lead story. One could then go mad and stick these in all one’s books.
How I wish I’d done that! The numbers of my books that have been borrowed and never returned are legion.
When I began the process of collating my own short stories into an anthology, forming my autobiography, I soon discovered the difficulties in engaging the attention of a publisher or agent. There are so many, and one has to accept that their raison d’etre is to earn money; therefore they look for potential best sellers. In other words, to print and sell thousands, if not millions.
I realised that I could not, without a great deal of good fortune, tap into this industry, to become part of it. I could have easily gone to a vanity publisher. No thank you very much. I could have gone to a printer and had him print a number of copies for me. This would entail a considerable outlay, with the very strong risk of me having stacks of the things around the house, unsold and performing useful tasks such as propping up the sideboard and the kitchen table.
Because of the incredible advances in the printing industry, a new form of publishing has sprung up. POD is the new buzzword in the publishing industry – Print On Demand. There are in existence, huge printing machines that not only print the pages of a book, but collate and glue them together, and then mount the result (called ‘the block’) into the covers. This method has been in use for many years, as an advance from the time when pages were set by hand using loose type; the pages were printed on large sheets which were then folded and so on.
Now, these machines are so made that they can handle the production of one book at a time, when requested – in other words, printed on demand. All the content, the manuscript and cover details are stored on a disc or computer hard drive, until required. Someone orders, they print. Blank paper goes in at one end and the finished book comes out the other! A book, any book, need never be taken ‘out of print’ now.
This new technology is turning the conventional publishing industry upside down, and many established publishing houses are beginning to embrace it. There are also many new publishers, set up to take advantage of it. There is however, some sort of stigma attached to the new technology. There are many writers who believe that an author or writer has not succeeded unless his or her book has been taken up by an established publisher.
Rubbish! The idea behind writing a story or creating a book is to place it before the public in order that they may buy and enjoy it, or benefit from it. It has been amply demonstrated that even the best authors may have trouble in finding a publisher, and does it really matter by what method the book appears?
What is the author to do? He could have the book printed and publish it himself, all costs coming out of his own pocket. Vanity publishers (sic) thrive on this feeling that writers have, to see their masterpiece in print. There are straightforward printers who will produce the work and who promise nothing more than that.
Now, there is the POD technology, which is coming to be embraced by even the old and established publishers. Now, there really is no need for them to print thousands of potentially unsold books. They can be printed as required, with a minimum quantity of 1 copy. This makes it better for the environment, I guess.
Now, I chose to use Lulu, because it was the first of the kind that I came across when I was researching. There are other firms who do the same thing, but I liked Lulu and I’m glad I chose them. Their system works (no doubt others do too).
A very old and precious practise has grown up with books – I refer to the author’s ‘signing’ them, often with a short message to the buyer. Many of my buyers have asked for me to sign their copy. Of course, I’m delighted to do so, but there exists a small problem. A massive problem, actually.
Were I sitting in a bookstore, then it would be simple for me to do the necessary as they purchase their copies, but when the buyers are scattered around the world? Because of the nature of the business and the related technology as relates to Lulu, a buyer in the US has his or her copy printed in America, and for the buyer in the UK, the book is printed in England. There is also a printer in Barcelona, Spain (for Europe) and there may well be one in Australasia.
So, how do I get to sign the book as my readers so dearly want? It would cost a fortune in transit and packing costs for them to send the book to me, for me to sign and return. Imagine this! Let’s say a book is ordered by a reader in California. Their order goes to North Carolina, from whence the data goes to the printer in New Jersey. The book is printed and mailed to California. The reader wants it signed, so he/she sends it to me in England. I sign it and send it back.
Possible? Yes, certainly! Expensive? Most definitely!
In an attempt to overcome this problem, I created a bookplate. I say “I” but again, but I had great help with the technicals. My dear friend in the US used her expertise with a photo program, fiddled with the picture I emailed her and created what I needed – an image to create the bookplate (see, Sharon, I kept your name secret). Another example of the wonders of this technology that we all enjoy.
I have printed the bookplates and I inscribe and send them to those who ask. Much less costly than sending the actual books back and forth – possibly not quite the same, but at least, now they have my ugly mug in their book, as well as my scribble!
To be honest, when my proof copy arrived from the printer, my Beloved Bride snaffled it as soon as it came out of the package. Then she had me sign and insert a bookplate, dedicating the book to her. Casting my normal modesty aside, I have to say – it looks lovely!
This is my take on the thing which seems to mystify some and to delight others. I suspect that, to those who are not familiar with these mysterious objects, they conjure a mind picture of a china or metal plate inserted between the pages of a book.
It is a very old thing, something which has come down from the middle ages, when Gutenberg and Caxton began the whole business of printing books. Yes, I know that the invention of printing is sometimes attributed to the Chinese, but the principle of moving type was first devised in Europe before it came to England. And what an upset it caused! It’s hard to imagine now, that not so long ago, a person could be burned at the stake for producing or possessing such a simple thing as a book.
Of course, only the wealthy could afford them even though the cost had fallen dramatically, compared to the hand-written ones that had gone before. Nevertheless, owners of these books felt it necessary to mark them as their property. The simple way would have been to simply write one’s name inside, but we must not forget that, even though they owned books as a mark of wealth and culture, many owners could not themselves write.
Ex Libris is a posh Latin term meaning “Out of the Library” and with a name appended, meant “Out of the Library of so-and-so” or simply “This book is mine”. The term ‘Bookplate’ came to mean that page or folio in the book which contained the words “This book belongs to” or “Ex Libris” whether it be inscribed direct to page, or whether it be a separate piece of parchment glued on.
When I first began buying and obtaining books, many of them still had a folio (page) inside, upon which were printed the words “Ex Libris” with space for one’s name. Some of them, especially those from Reader’s Digest, came with a loose plate, printed as a bookplate “Ex Libris”. This could then be signed and stuck in, if the owner so wished. I used to buy American and English science fiction magazines and novelettes, some of which I still have after 40 or 50 years. There was always (it seems) an advertisement for bookplates. One could send off to the magazine and purchase a quantity of any particular bookplate, usually the flavour of the month, delightfully engraved with an image from the lead story. One could then go mad and stick these in all one’s books.
How I wish I’d done that! The numbers of my books that have been borrowed and never returned are legion.
When I began the process of collating my own short stories into an anthology, forming my autobiography, I soon discovered the difficulties in engaging the attention of a publisher or agent. There are so many, and one has to accept that their raison d’etre is to earn money; therefore they look for potential best sellers. In other words, to print and sell thousands, if not millions.
I realised that I could not, without a great deal of good fortune, tap into this industry, to become part of it. I could have easily gone to a vanity publisher. No thank you very much. I could have gone to a printer and had him print a number of copies for me. This would entail a considerable outlay, with the very strong risk of me having stacks of the things around the house, unsold and performing useful tasks such as propping up the sideboard and the kitchen table.
Because of the incredible advances in the printing industry, a new form of publishing has sprung up. POD is the new buzzword in the publishing industry – Print On Demand. There are in existence, huge printing machines that not only print the pages of a book, but collate and glue them together, and then mount the result (called ‘the block’) into the covers. This method has been in use for many years, as an advance from the time when pages were set by hand using loose type; the pages were printed on large sheets which were then folded and so on.
Now, these machines are so made that they can handle the production of one book at a time, when requested – in other words, printed on demand. All the content, the manuscript and cover details are stored on a disc or computer hard drive, until required. Someone orders, they print. Blank paper goes in at one end and the finished book comes out the other! A book, any book, need never be taken ‘out of print’ now.
This new technology is turning the conventional publishing industry upside down, and many established publishing houses are beginning to embrace it. There are also many new publishers, set up to take advantage of it. There is however, some sort of stigma attached to the new technology. There are many writers who believe that an author or writer has not succeeded unless his or her book has been taken up by an established publisher.
Rubbish! The idea behind writing a story or creating a book is to place it before the public in order that they may buy and enjoy it, or benefit from it. It has been amply demonstrated that even the best authors may have trouble in finding a publisher, and does it really matter by what method the book appears?
What is the author to do? He could have the book printed and publish it himself, all costs coming out of his own pocket. Vanity publishers (sic) thrive on this feeling that writers have, to see their masterpiece in print. There are straightforward printers who will produce the work and who promise nothing more than that.
Now, there is the POD technology, which is coming to be embraced by even the old and established publishers. Now, there really is no need for them to print thousands of potentially unsold books. They can be printed as required, with a minimum quantity of 1 copy. This makes it better for the environment, I guess.
Now, I chose to use Lulu, because it was the first of the kind that I came across when I was researching. There are other firms who do the same thing, but I liked Lulu and I’m glad I chose them. Their system works (no doubt others do too).
A very old and precious practise has grown up with books – I refer to the author’s ‘signing’ them, often with a short message to the buyer. Many of my buyers have asked for me to sign their copy. Of course, I’m delighted to do so, but there exists a small problem. A massive problem, actually.
Were I sitting in a bookstore, then it would be simple for me to do the necessary as they purchase their copies, but when the buyers are scattered around the world? Because of the nature of the business and the related technology as relates to Lulu, a buyer in the US has his or her copy printed in America, and for the buyer in the UK, the book is printed in England. There is also a printer in Barcelona, Spain (for Europe) and there may well be one in Australasia.
So, how do I get to sign the book as my readers so dearly want? It would cost a fortune in transit and packing costs for them to send the book to me, for me to sign and return. Imagine this! Let’s say a book is ordered by a reader in California. Their order goes to North Carolina, from whence the data goes to the printer in New Jersey. The book is printed and mailed to California. The reader wants it signed, so he/she sends it to me in England. I sign it and send it back.
Possible? Yes, certainly! Expensive? Most definitely!
In an attempt to overcome this problem, I created a bookplate. I say “I” but again, but I had great help with the technicals. My dear friend in the US used her expertise with a photo program, fiddled with the picture I emailed her and created what I needed – an image to create the bookplate (see, Sharon, I kept your name secret). Another example of the wonders of this technology that we all enjoy.
I have printed the bookplates and I inscribe and send them to those who ask. Much less costly than sending the actual books back and forth – possibly not quite the same, but at least, now they have my ugly mug in their book, as well as my scribble!
To be honest, when my proof copy arrived from the printer, my Beloved Bride snaffled it as soon as it came out of the package. Then she had me sign and insert a bookplate, dedicating the book to her. Casting my normal modesty aside, I have to say – it looks lovely!
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