Let The Choir Sing!

Rock Choir in New York

The standing ovation: image by DCINY

You have to sing Madonna in New York, right? Like A Prayer would have been my pick from the repertoire and my prayer was answered. Twice. We sang it at our outside performance in Central Park and at the performance in Carnegie Hall. With its gospel arrangement, it was a true highlight for me to be one of 340 voices singing that song. And there were many highlights in our five day visit to New York as Rock Choir.

It had taken a lot more than five days to get to the end, the finale, the show at Carnegie Hall (and I will never tire of saying that or writing that). We’d heard the whisperings of New York about eighteen months ago. This turned into an expression of interest, a commitment, a payment schedule and an unbelievable amount of organisation. At the last dress rehearsal, Marcus Alleyne (our choir leader in Rock Choir Cornwall and man of big dreams and beliefs) said that it had taken 27 partners stateside and a similar number in the UK. He earned a standing ovation from his choir, for getting us there, for giving us the opportunity of a lifeline, for us being together on Show-eve finally living up to the promise the choir leaders thought we all had.

We had two full rehearsals in the UK, one in the autumn and one in the winter. They were ragged, and we were tasked to practice, practice, practice. We do that at home to downloaded backing tracks. Most of the time I had most of the words and most of the harmonies. Most of us probably in the same rickety boat. But most isn’t good enough. We all wanted to be better so we all had to do the work.

In a Rock Choir gig the backing track can be amped to disguise a multitude of errors, but none of our leaders (Marcus, Richard Toomer and Carey Carmel) were going to let us off the hook. They picked over errors, the dreadful ‘sssssssss’ of the butchered ‘promises’ (A Thousand Years). I know Marcus’s talent as my Choir leader; he makes me want to do better and he gives me belief that I can. I leaned into Carey’s precision and care for the music. Richard for his energy, his enthusiasm, ‘tell your faces you’re having a great time!’ They made us greater than the sum of the parts and I love them all for it.

To put us in context… You don’t have to audition to be in Rock Choir, the groups are borne from the communities we live in (there are 33,000 members in the UK) and in turn we become our own Rockie community. You don’t have to read music, and at one level, it doesn’t really matter if you can sing or not. It is inclusive because everyone is welcome. So, from a choir that meets once a week to learn nine songs in a year, the harmonies, the lyrics, the sound of the chorus is built up. At most of the gigs I’ve done (including BoardMasters, 2023) you simply sing out. It forms part of the joy of singing; it’s a kind of freedom. I sing in Falmouth on a Monday morning and it is the best way to start the week. I always come out happier, freer, lighter. I go for the joy.

Rock Choir in New York was a different animal and the niggles and the stresses came on the plane with us. Singing may bring out the best in people, but groups don’t always. It was when we began to sing, in Central Park that it all made sense. At least, it did to me. We started with a flash mob, so 340 Rockies trying to act incognito in Central Park, until the music started and we made our way to the performance space. I’m not even sure what song it was - was it Sweet Child of Mine? Was it What a Feeling? Was it something else? It wasn’t Madge. It was wonderfully chaotic as we assembled into a group and dropped the outer layer of clothing to show who we were. Rock Choir had arrived in town. We were then re-ordered into harmony sections and gave an hour’s performance. The crowd gathered, cheered loudly, clapped, danced. They fuelled us and we gave back to them in a cycle of complete joy. The power of the choir, the chorus, is in the collective. The people who always want to be at the front, the soprano who was next to me saying, ‘I’m going to sing so loud I put you off,’ they rather miss/ed the point. Choir isn’t about being individual. It is the collective.

Rock Choir in Central Park, image by Tim Linter for Rock Choir Cornwall

And boy can that collective achieve wonders.

Carnegie Hall was a different beast again. Half an hour before showtime, in the last embers of the rehearsal, the leaders were begging us not to talk to each other between songs. To look like we wanted to be there! We were, again, drilled on how to stand. We had to up our collective game. Well, Reader, we smashed it.

It felt different - this collection of people were polished, attentive… well-behaved. If Central Park was a joy, Carnegie was an extraordinary privilege. The last four songs I sang with quiet tears rolling down the landscape of my face. I couldn’t stop them, I didn’t really want to censor them either. I felt like I was more than a voice in a choir - I was music and the intention and the beauty of the songs leaked out. What a feeling! I don’t think I’ll ever forget singing Leonard Cohen’s Hallelujah, it is a powerful resounding song and we all love it. Usually we throw it out, but the version in Carnegie wasn’t to the backing track, it was to a piano accompaniment. Marcus led us, but he didn’t corral us. He controlled us with his whole being. He elicited a movement of tone and volume (from quiet to anthemic) that was all shades of wonderful. It makes the tears prick at my eyes just thinking about it. Follow that with This is Me and Mountain. No wonder I was breaking up.

In the after show party that formed spontaneously in the Irish Bar, I struck up a conversation with a fella from a touring Irish band. In my gushing way, I was telling him about the extraordinary sound in the auditorium. How at the end This is Me that I’d sworn I’d heard our voices come back. “That’ll be the Carnegie Bounce Back,” he said. I swear our voices are still reverberating around that space. Rather like the memories, gradually ebbing.

Rock Choir is a tremendous force for good, for inclusion, for positivity, for self-belief…. For the joy! I am so grateful that my friend Sue (and definitely Rock Choir groupie) persuaded me to have a go. I am grateful for the magic of Marcus, for the opportunity given to us by Rock Choir.

The same fella in the Irish bar told me he’d played in many venues around the world, but never Carnegie.

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” he said.

Actually, I think I do.

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Gracious thanks go also to our Cornish powerhouse, Lisa Overton and her assembled troupe of volunteer prefects. They were all magnificent. Also to my Rockie sisters Carol, Ellie and Sue (imaged below) who made this trip mean even more.

Head here for a full review of the performance at Carnegie Hall.

My Rock Choir sisters, image taken by Josh Byrd