Make a Joyful Noise

Make a joyful noise

It’s actually not suprising that Sweden is taking the music world by storm.  There’s not just ABBA, but everything from Swedish House Mafia and E Type to Lykke Li  and First Aid Kit, not to mention Frantic Amber and other assorted heavy rock.  Swedish folk music is quite tuneful, when you get past the accordions and beards, and has influenced a lot of American music because of the Emigration in the late 18^th Century and early 19^th.  It is also ultra-weird to see very Swedish blonde people doing hip hop really quite well.  Singing and playing is a hugely popular, almost every old house has a foot pump organ somewhere.   Personally,  I’ve always liked singing and one of the great things about church is that you can belt stuff out without worrying too much; Until your Swedish mother turns to you and says thoughtfully, “it’s a pity you can’t sing.....oh dear (once more with feeling and sigh effect)”.  Then I fortify myself with the bit where the psalm says “make a joyful noise to the Lord” with emphasis on ‘noise’ – cool!  God doesn’t care what I sound like as long as it’s got heart and He trumps everyone on the relevance of opinion board really, what with godness and stuff, so Ha! Mother.

Accordingly (?? What cos I can’t sing????), in my efforts to integrate into Swedishness, I said that I’d come to a choir day at church, with a concert thing in the evening.   For these sorts of things, they get choir masters in! Professionals!!! Oh well, I can mumble at the back.  ‘What part do you sing Karin?’ ‘Errh, technically speaking, alto, but..’, ‘right, sit over there then’, ‘erh, OK’.  Poor Maria, (PM) who had to sit next to me.  She was very kind and some notes were hit in the right kind of way.  The tenor sitting in front of me did turn around and grin, which widened when he saw it was me (dark, dark threaty thoughts about tenors ...).   We learnt 6 songs, 2 in English (yeah, only one thing to concentrate on!) in an afternoon.  I was absolutely dead, and PM kept laughing. I couldn’t half have done with a drink, possibly a quadruple gin, though thinking about it, it was just as well that I didn’t.

After a break with sarnies, cake and lots of coffee, hurray, we had a dress rehearsal.  People were very good and very kind... and stuck me in the middle near the front.

When we came to the actual service, we trooped in and I found to my horror that there was a microphone directly in front of me.  After fixing the sound man with a piercing stare, to which he returned a smirk and V sign (yes it was, I checked for cultural difference), I tilted it in the direction of my neighbour, who was good enough to do a solo and smirked back.  I did manage to hit a few more correct notes, I think, and blessed my ability to lip sync, which, even though I say it myself, is phenomenal.   

There were threats of a duet next concert, but I think PM was joking.......