327 Market

Ah, choir was great. We did a piece called Abba father. It consists of a soloist who sings a line and the choir echoes it for a while (or soloist was a fabulous soprano this time... every note was clear and pure) and then the choir starts a long slow crescendo and the soloist floats above it like an egret over a marsh-- this one light note that never gets its feet wet, but wheels and dips until its completely overtaken by the choir. The sound swells and swells as the soloist breaks free and for one orgasmic moment the vast chord is held (fermata) and then the choir breaks into a near whisper as the soloist completely looses herself with every one else. Then it ends. The choir turns over and goes to sleep. Uh, rather a hush falls over the congregation...