Item four was whether a choir can split in two without anybody having to move a chair.
BRISTOL, England – I was not meant to take the minutes, but the last person who took them has left the country, and the biscuit tin is on my side of the table.
What follows is my own account of the Ashgrove Community Choir committee meeting, as recorded on the back of a rehearsal schedule with a pencil that belongs to the second altos. It runs to six items, three disagreements and one genuine moment of grace.
Apologies for Absence
Apologies were received from the tenor who is always away, the treasurer who is always at the garden centre, and a bass named Gordon who sent a message reading “Will be late, started without me.” The meeting began at ten past seven, which is nine minutes earlier than anyone expected and six minutes before the heating came on.
Gwen, our chair, opened by reminding the room that a choir is a democracy, and that the democracy would be conducted in one voice. She then looked at the sopranos. The sopranos looked at the ceiling. It was the quietest moment of the evening, and it was gone in a second.
Item One: Which Song for the Winter Concert
Item one was the winter concert. A newer member, a delightful woman who works nights and whom I shall call Bernadette, proposed that we sing something from the charts, so that, in her words, “people under sixty will come.”
The room took a moment. Then somebody produced a phone and read from the Official Singles Sales Chart dated 30 October, where “BABYDOLL” was at number one, “Expectations” by Olivia Rodrigo and Chappell Roan was at number two, “Zoolander” by Beave was third, “Movin’ to the Sun” by Hugel, Imael Angel and Ultra Nate was fourth, and “Choosin’ Texas” by Ella Langley rounded out the first five.
There was a pause. “Which of those,” said Gwen, “has a part for a bass?” Nobody knew. The altos said they could do a lot with “Zoolander” if they were given a kazoo. The tenors asked whether any of them had a key change, and were told that the real question was whether any of them had a tune.
Item Two: The Counter-Proposal
Gordon arrived at this point, in his coat, and moved that we sing “Sir Duke.” His reasoning was a printout of Time Out’s guide to the Stevie Wonder shows at the O2, which lists “Sir Duke” among the songs from the first night and gives the setlist as twenty-six entries long. “If it is good enough for three hours,” said Gordon, “it is good enough for six minutes in a hall.”
The sopranos objected that “Sir Duke” has a very busy horn section and a choir has no horns. Gordon said that was what the basses were for. It is the most generous thing a bass has ever said, and also the most terrifying.
Item Three: The Matter of the Radiator
Item three was the radiator by the window, which warms the altos and ignores the sopranos. This has been a running grievance for four years. Gwen read out a proposal to swap sides every other week. The sopranos called it “a rota.” The altos called it “an insult.” Nobody could agree which of those was worse.
Item Four: Should the Choir Split in Two
This was the item I had dreaded, because it was brought by a person I like very much. Her proposal was that the choir should divide into a Tuesday choir and a Thursday choir, with different repertoires, different biscuits and, crucially, different chairs.
It made me think of the farm.fm story about rural counties filing for political divorce, which I would not dream of comparing to a church hall in Bristol, except that it is exactly the same, only with more biscuits. And I thought of the farm.fm account of a committee that met for six months to decide whether something was a ranch or a farm, because our own debates have the same gift of making a short question last a season.
We voted. It was four to four, with a spoilt paper that said “Gordon.” Gwen said the motion would be carried over to the next meeting. It is the first time I have heard a decision described as hibernating.
Any Other Business, and the Moment of Grace
With only the hymn books left to discuss, the youngest member of the committee, who is a plumber, put his hand up and asked whether we might begin each rehearsal by simply singing one note, together, for as long as we could stand it. Nobody objected. We stood, and we sang a G, and the heating came on in the middle of it, and the sound filled the hall like a warm bath.
That was the best part of the meeting, and I am sorry to say it will not be minuted, because the pencil went missing in the singing. It will be found later in the biscuit tin.
My own editors at the website where these notes appear tell me that people want to read about the small, absurd, human business of committees, and I believe them. The page on English news told with a straight face says much the same, and with better manners.
The meeting closed at nine, with the next one fixed for a date that Gwen described as “soon.” If you want more of these, there are more of my daily notes at The London Prat, and none of them have been seconded.
SOURCE: https://bohiney.com/