Discord over harmony

Discord over harmony: The maidens of the middle-ages come to
Aberdeen

by R. Eric Swanepoel

(First published - under the subtitle - in New Writing from the North,
Issue 2, CAC Publications, 19 Berryden Road, Aberdeen, Scotland)

1. A Maiden

OK, the coach is air-conditioned, but have you spent 13 hours in one?
And then the next day, and the next?

Reminds me of school trips, but at least the singing is better (though
more work) and there aren't those damned boys throwing missiles! D
would have made a good headmistress&;#8230; or do I mean a bad one?!
Sometimes Jane and Miranda get on my nerves&;#8230;

Yes, on the whole it is good fun. Certainly better than being on the
dole. Who'd have thought that being in Colchester Comprehensive's choir
would have led to this - kitted out in mock 14th century garb, singing
in mediaeval French to Aberdonians?

Tomorrow it's back down south a bit&;#8230;

2. An ordinary member of the audience

Gorgeous, in every way. Beautiful girls, beautiful clothes, beautiful
sounds. A great sense of humour, and they all look so relaxed. Even -
or especially? - when they forget the words. Good vibrations.
Accessible. What music should be: high art brought down to earth and
delivered with a laugh. Youth and joy aplenty. (I don't half fancy the
one with the long hair!)

3. An unsuccessful musician

Talk about hype! If it weren't for their looks half of them wouldn't
have made it beyond an amateur dramatics chorus line! It's not as if
there aren't enough talented people around, heavens!

Standard unimaginative harmonies, mediocre execution&;#8230; Did you
hear the sibilance and the appalling timing in the third number? And
they wonder why audiences for live music events are declining! It's all
the same these days: media packaging and over-promotion of an
essentially vacuous product.

God, people need education!

4. A mediaeval composer

Inspiration, where does it come from? I don't know. I feel and I play.
It's there. God, perhaps.

Will my music last? I don't know that either. I bequeath it to the
world. As long as it is played people will experience something of my
humanity, my emotions, me: a unique being living in the fourteenth
century.

But this is daydream whimsy. The next piece must be finished by noon.
As they say, "Another note, another groat."