Singapore is full of surprises. That could be – indeed, I believe it has been
– used as a tourist marketing slogan.
But while foreign visitors might be surprised at what Singapore has to
offer (I saw one tourism promotion boasting that Singapore “had the only
revolving restaurant in the world atop a flour silo” - wow!!!!!) the biggest
surprises come to those of us who live here and like to attend classical music
concerts.

While it might be a boast for sad, boring souls like myself,
on a serious note, Singapore’s pathetically and chaotically ad hoc concert
scene is a national disgrace and substantially undermines the state’s
credibility as a cultural hub. There may
be much going on, but if nobody knows about it, what purpose does it all serve?
Perhaps the problem stems from Singapore’s uncontrollable
obsession with social media. (This is a
terrible misnomer, since in effect it is a wholly anti-social media. The sight of every single local totally engaged
with their media devices on the MRT, the bus, walking in the street or sitting
in a café oblivious to their surroundings and those physically close to them,
creates the impression of Singaporeans as a rude, anti-social, selfish people
whose attitude to their fellow man is one that refuses to acknowledge their
very existence. This does not go
unnoticed by visitors, but also has very serious social effects at home. I was at a social services presentation yesterday
in which the very real issue of families breaking was addressed. A significant
contributory factor to this breakdown of family life in Singapore was
identified as family members being so absorbed in social media that they no longer
interact or share communal experiences.) In the case of concerts and arts
events, the appalling belief that reality does not exist beyond the platform of
social media, means that those presenting arts events can only perceive of
publicity as mentioning them on a social media platform.
That was how I learnt about last night’s concert.
A couple of weeks back I attended a concert given by the
NAFA choir. NAFA are dreadful in their
use of social media as a promotional tool.
A few days before each event, they post it on some platform or
other. I imagine they leave it to the
last moment so that, should by accident any of Singapore’s musical cognoscenti
notice, it will be too late for them to re-organise their schedules and attend.
That’s usually the case with me, but as it happened (and much to NAFA’s
chagrin) on this occasion, I was not only free but in that part of town, and
went along. I wish I had not. However, a young man sidled up to me as we
waited for NAFA to get its act together sufficiently to open the doors to the
few social-media harpies who had gathered, and asked me why I had never
attended a concert given by Cappella Martialis.
My answer was simple. I had never
heard of them and never heard of any concert they might have given or were
planning to give. Even then, the young
man seemed to be very secretive and, rather than hand me any kind of notice
about a forthcoming concert, asked if he could “friend” me on Facebook.
Now Facebook, as we all know, is merely a way to open our
hearts, souls and bank accounts to Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin and the good
folk of Cambridge Analytica, and I use it merely to induce nausea at the sight
of so many ghastly dogs and cats and so many hideously foul looking plates of
food. However, this young man seemed to
think it would give him some pleasure, so I accepted. From that day I was bombarded with regular “updates”
on a concert held by Cappella Martialis which eventually took place last
night.
The problem with Facebook as a channel of event publicity is
that it has no mass outreach. Facebook reaches
just those whom you allow it to reach – your assigned so-called “friends”
(another misnomer since most of Facebook “friends” have never met each other in
real life). The chances of someone
accidentally coming across a post announcing an event in Singapore are slight,
and the chances of someone accidentally coming across a post announcing an
event in Singapore who is actually in Singapore at the time are negligible. Much better to throw up a few strategic posters
here and there (if not quite going to the extremes the Singapore Symphony is
currently attempting by draping most lampposts in the city with banners
announcing Kavakos and Shostakovich) which will attract the attention of
passers-by (those non-Singaporean passers-by, at least, who look up from their
smartphones as they go about their daily life), or place a few small notices in
strategic locations where concert-goers are prone to congregate (viz. other
concerts). But Cappella Martialis had
done none of this, and so gave the impression that unless you were one of their
select gang, you were not really welcome.
Finding the concert venue was a slightly surreal
experience. On a wet, chilly and dark
Sunday evening I found myself splashing through the dimly lit streets of
Hougang in search of the Church of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. When I eventually found it, it was like a
beacon of joy in a desert of desolation.
A beautiful, brightly lit, white edifice, in authentic Gothic church
style set back in a sea of relative tranquillity against the ocean of noise and
bustle outside. Inside it was a little
drab, just plain white walls and a peeling ceiling, with serried ranks of the
ugliest and most uncomfortable church pews I have ever encountered in a
lifetime of church pew observation. But
despite this, it was still very welcoming and had the sense of a true oasis. And it has to be said that the people at the
door were most friendly and welcoming, and with a very large crowd in
attendance, I suspect that Cappella Martialis not only have a lot of friends,
but also a very loyal following.
According to the lavish and gorgeously presented programme
book (I attach a link to it here - https://www.dropbox.com/s/rvmfp5uxo3wbwa7/Papal%20Pascha%202018%20programme%20final.pdf)
– Cappella Martialis comprises 20 mixed voices and is conducted by Goh
Hsuanhsuan. They were formed, it would
seem, in 2011, with the express intention of performing “lesser-known gems of
the early choral tradition…particularly from the Renaissance and Mediaeval
periods”. They would seem to have some
profound and intelligent scholarship behind them, and ideas on texts, performing
practice, historical context and programme building were compellingly presented
in a marvellous pre-concert talk. Last
night’s concert, which attempted to re-enact the music performed in the Sistine
Chapel and St Peter’s Basilica in Rome on Easter Day sometime around the end of
the 16th century, included the Missa:
Victimae paschali laudes by Giovanni Animuccia (c.1520-1571) as well as
various motets, antiphons and psalms by Palestrina, Victoria, Anerio and Razzi.
If getting to the concert was a surreal experience, so was
listening to it. Never in a thousand
years would I ever have expected in Singapore to sit in a traditional church at
night, the rain pattering on the windows, the audience feeling snugly cocooned
inside, listening to an unaccompanied choir singing this beautiful music with obvious
love, care, affection and scholarship. If
I were to leave Singapore tomorrow and never come back, it would be the one
memory which would remain with me to my dying day.
I need write nothing else.
This was a lovely event and I am so glad I went.
But, like all concerts, there is a tendency to reflect on
what might have been done better and therefore made it a more magical experience. And without in any way diminishing the
brilliant work of scholarship behind this programme and the dedication and
commitment of the singers, I would suggest that there was quite a lot which could
have been done to make it truly an uplifting experience.
Most obviously, there was a sense that it had not been fully
rehearsed as a performance. The programme
alternated between the sections of the Mass sung by the whole choir – and here
I must praise unreservedly the choir for its fabulously rich and beautifully balanced
sound – and chants presented by a trio of men (always beautifully sung). But looking at them as they moved about on
the stage was like looking at a flock of sheep in a field with no dog to guide
them. They milled around, some heading
off in the wrong direction before frantically chasing after the others, several
looking around completely lost as if they had no idea what was happening next,
and even the trio of men often debating amongst themselves what they were going
to sing, where they were going to sing it, and which note they were going to
choose to start it on. Goh herself, frantically
waving her hand around to try and shepherd her unruly flock into some semblance
of order, made no attempt to disguise the fact that she was about to start the Credo before the chanted preface, and
her hurried attempt to cancel her downbeat was compounded by the fact that she
had sung out the starting notes and then had to re-check them against her
tuning fork. Musically she kept them
tightly together, but whether to do so using quite such a strict and metronomic
beat served the music as effectively as had the scholarship behind the
programme planning was doubtful.
There is nothing worse than a choir marching on and off stage
with military precision, but this choir rambling around like lost sheep was
only marginally preferable. A happy
medium can be reached – informality with discipline – and creates a much better
impression amongst those who are there for the music rather than to support friends.
I loved the sound the choir made, but there was always a
sense of anxiety at the start due to a number of singers not having really
picked up the pitch from Goh’s tuning fork.
Why not use a pitch pipe? It
avoids all that effort of working out intervallic relationships from an A, it
avoids the ridiculous spectacle (from behind) of watching a conductor thrust
the fork against her skull, and it provides a much clearer note for the choir
to pick up. As it was, there were issues
of missed notes and wrong notes – but never an issue of inner tuning or
intonation.
In short, this was one of the loveliest concerts I have ever
attended in Singapore and, Facebook posts or not, this is a choir who I will
endeavour to follow whenever they perform since I admire their scholarship,
their programming and their collective sound.
Mention was made of a further concert in June. Count me in!
But as a man called out from the pew in front of me when this forthcoming
concert was announced, “Where will it be?”.
Once again, it seems, Cappella Martialis likes to shroud their activities
in mystery.
I can announce it will be on 23rd and 24th
June and will comprise “Music of Portuguese Malacca 1511-1641”. But I hope they will try and make the event a
little more polished. If any of the Popes
in the 16th and 17th centuries had seen their choir
showing such complete disregard for the niceties of ceremony and decorum as was
evident last night, I fear the music of the Roman Catholic Church would have
disintegrated long before it actually did.
Constructive criticism at its best. Wrapped in an amusing anecdote. Thank you for this.
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