Reflecting on Choir
Not too long ago, in early May 2022, I attended two choir concerts. One by Singapore Management University’s (SMU) chamber choir and the other by St. Andrew’s Junior College’s choir, Saints Chorale, the latter being my alma mater.
These two concerts are the among the only ticketed live performances I have personally attended in the pandemic era (the one other was also a choir concert back in December 2021) and in all instances have inspired a sense of nostalgia for my days spent in the performers’ shoes as a chorister myself.
I enjoyed and appreciated the art form of choral singing and reminisced on my prior experiences, when I happened to meet a familiar face at these concerts (some of which I hadn’t seen in years) they asked if I was going to continue with choir in university when it started in August.
“Uh, probably not. I think my choir days are behind me,” I replied both times I was asked, rather confidently.
The thought about that comment returned to me recently, hence the composition of this blog post. Why did I say that? How did I come to the conclusion that my choir days are behind me? Didn’t I have such fond memories of my days in choir, why did I so confidently declare such a resolve?
Trouble in Paradise
It turned out that my happy memories were mostly of performing the pieces themselves, on the stage and before an audience. Not so much the people I worked with or the lead-up to said performances.
Sure, I’ve got a handful of good memories with other choristers off the stage, but the fact that I don’t really keep up with many of the friends I’ve made in choir today is rather telling of the kind of people I’ve met. Not that they’re bad people per se, they just didn’t click with me in the same way I did with my closest friends.
Furthermore, I had internal politics to contend with in both secondary school and junior college choirs. In the former I was caught between two of my friends whose friendship with each other had soured while the three of us held executive committee positions, while in the latter I’ve had to deal with less-than-savoury-to-deal-with individuals in leadership-type positions, which induced a lot of internal groaning in me. I also didn’t particularly enjoy the labeling and the us-versus-them type thinking among the people I associated myself with, as well as the invariable cliquishness of the choir.
Identity Crisis
I think my inclination to resist anything alumni-related for choir is the lack of any kind of identity for either of the choirs I was in; no legacy to uphold… that I know of, at the very least.
For my experience in junior college, each practice session felt exactly like one. Nothing more, nothing less. Like we were there just to do as was needed from a list of things to do and that was that. Sure, I had a few laughs with my basses, but ultimately the choir was nothing more than the sum of its parts.
We had no shared identity, owing to my batch’s cliquishness. And that of the batch one year above and below mine.
Thinking back on my batchmates, I don’t think any one of us were especially enthused about just being there. Nobody really stepped up when plans to assemble an alumni choir for the biannual Limelight concert were floated around in our group chat (This was at the end of 2019 and the concert was slated for May 2020. We all know what happened next).
Moreover, our choir’s anthem (the song that is taught to every batch) didn’t hold any significance to the choir thematically. When compared to Victoria Chorale’s No Man Is An Island and SMU Chamber Choir’s An Irish Blessing, where the former sees the choristers join together shoulder to shoulder on stage and the latter being a customary, yet heartwarming farewell that is also incorporated in the emcee’s closing speech, This is My Father’s World felt like an afterthought, as if there was an arbitrary need to have an anthem of our own without any consideration for the choir’s identity, if there even was one to begin with.
On a related note, This is My Father’s World was sung at that concert I attended, and alumni in attendance were invited to rise and sing along, but only the small group that was with me rose, and that took a fair bit of positive peer pressure and second-guessing to execute, all while going off a hazy memory of the words and the notes. Suffice to say that it’s hard to identify with the choir since there is barely anything memorable or sentimental to identify with.
Finality
Typically, when you dedicate a part of yourself to one particular thing for six years, it’s difficult to let go or at the very least stop yourself from coming back to it in future. But for choir, coming back to it is more trouble than it’s worth, personally speaking. If there’s one thing choir has given me after all these years, it’s an appreciation for choral music. Even though I’m not that interested in being part of a choir moving forward, I can still sit down and appreciate the music and performances put on by my friends who still are.
With my first year of university starting in the not-too-distant future, even though they have a choir, given what had transpired as a chorister in my six years of being one, I think it’s in my best interests that I start expanding my horizons to other things and possible new passions.