Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in the landslide.
No escape from reality.
They slayed the opening, goosebumps were promulgated within me. With an unexpected boom of voices, the cavernous, starry hall saluted to the grandiose of an opening. I sat there with my jaws dropped, trying to take in the harmonious choir performance.
I’m just a poor boy, I need no sympathy.
His voice was angelic, ethereal. The crowd went nuts after hearing his voice, clapping for him, a plaudit by the vox populi, a compliment to the very sound.
Because I’m easy come, easy go.
Little high, little low.
The rest of the choir accompanied the angelic male solo, acting as a catalyst for the music. I was fully immersed into the music, my foot kept tapping to the beat, my body was pacing back and forth to the wonderful sounds depicted by the choir.
Mama, just killed a man.
Just his voice, it was just his voice, the crowd went crazy, my head could not wrap around the fact that his voice could go so well with the music, I was deeply impressed.
Mama, life had just begun.
He hit the high note, forte, rubato, the avant grande, the tour de force, the ultimatum, of the song, the crowd yelled, shrilled, shrieked, emitted a tumultuous roar in response.
Didn’t mean to make you cry.
Sang by another male soloist, with a firmer, more virile voice. A change of style by the choice of the conductor. The end of the phrase was continued by the impressive play of the piano, standing out even in the midst of the voice of the choir.
Too late, my time has come.
The opera male soloist took over the show, receiving applause from the crowd. The choir resumed to sing as one, enhancing this spectacular experience of voice.
I sometime wish I’d never been born tomorrow…
The consummate pianist unleashed everything that he got, it was his time to shine, three beautifully played scales followed by an eighth scale on both hands playing with utmost speed and accuracy. He trained for months for this moment, the audience were stupefied by his skill. A crotchet stop was introduced by the conductor, sotto voce, we followed suit. The pianist continued with a bass broken chord.
tum. tum. tum.
Converting the feel into a devious, a thrilling build-up from scratch.
I see a silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, scaramouche, will you do the Fandago?
Staccato, detached, softly sang by one harmony.
thunderbolt and lightning,
very, very frightening.
Reverberating the hall, echoes by echoes of the wondrous choir.
Bismilah! No, we will not let you go.
The immensity was gradually reaching its pinnacle.
Mama mia, Mama mia.
The icing of the cake filled with charcoal baked, the creme de la creme base.
Wow. Just wow. The colour, the texture, the totality, the reality was forever imprinted in my mind. It was a…
Nothing… really… matters to me…
Any way the wind blows.
The ethereal male soloist finished the music with the finest full stop, his finesse was show cased majestically until the end of the song.
We stopped for a moment, did not know whether to clap or not.
Silence saluted the choir.
Greeted with the deafening cheers of the crowd.
It is a choir that I used to sing in, they surely had grown. I hope that this moment would not happen again, this moment is the magnum opus of the unity of voices, that could not be a reprise, that is inimitably conjured by anyone.
P.S. April 2017
viva la musica
unity of voices.