I've Heard That Song Before
CD: King's Singers: Greatest Hits
There are days when it seems that popular culture has been taken over by some strange inverse of Hollywood's late and unlamented Hays Office: i.e., we've swapped the tyranny of repression for an even more wrong-headed race to the bottom. The free-floating mean-spiritedness in cyberspace, the bile in talk radio, the violence-saturated entertainment field -- why are we doing this to ourselves, and where will it take us?
Then I grasp a shred of hope, such as the fact that the King's Singers have been entertaining and inspiring the world for 40 years, and I stop whimpering and come out from under the bed.
And it seems to me 40 years of pure musical joy. Beginning in 1968, this unique ensemble began roaming the Earth: two countertenors, a tenor, two baritones, and a bass, all students of the choral tradition, who styled themselves the King's Singers -- fudging things a bit, given that not all of them were actually alumni of King's College at Cambridge.
The line-up of singers has varied over the years, but the mission remains the same: vocal arrangements, usually a cappella, that show off that spectacular interplay of voices.
As for their repertoire, well, what a long, strange trip that's been: sacred works of the Renaissance, Paul Simon's folk rock classics, and a lot of English, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh folk songs besides. And that, as they say, is just for starters.
Like the Comedian Harmonists (an inspiration) or even the Manhattan Transfer, the voices are the instruments here. Good diction and control of vibrato play their part, as does a generous dollop of humor -- and quite a dollop it is.
Given those traits, the King's Singers can become something of an addiction: you pick up one album, enjoy it, and then help yourself to another. Do you want Christmas carols? Lennon and McCartney tunes? Madrigals? John Rutter compositions? They've taken on them all, plus much more.
This two-disc retrospective covers a great breadth of material and focuses on the ensemble as it took shape during the first half of its life, which is to say its series of albums for EMI. You'll find treats from Madrigal History Tour, A Little Christmas Music, New Day, and Annie Laurie: Folksongs of the British Isles, among others. There are selections you'd expect from an ensemble steeped in the British vocal tradition: a hearty version of "Fine Knacks for Ladies," for example, or a wistful "Londonderry Air" (i.e., "Danny Boy"). But things really get humming when they get hold of the overture from Rossini's The Barber of Seville.
And I haven't even mentioned their take on Lionel Richie (yes, seriously).
For me, the most moving track is a song I'd never really thought much about: John David's "You Are the New Day." The other night I played and replayed the King's Singers' version of it, profoundly moved by the beauty of the harmonies and the obvious tenderness the boys brought to the material.
That's part of what we ask from music, isn't it -- beauty, the reaffirmation of our connections with each other, reflections on what has come before and what has yet to be.
Dedicated to Tom Lantos, 1928-2008.
There are days when it seems that popular culture has been taken over by some strange inverse of Hollywood's late and unlamented Hays Office: i.e., we've swapped the tyranny of repression for an even more wrong-headed race to the bottom. The free-floating mean-spiritedness in cyberspace, the bile in talk radio, the violence-saturated entertainment field -- why are we doing this to ourselves, and where will it take us?Then I grasp a shred of hope, such as the fact that the King's Singers have been entertaining and inspiring the world for 40 years, and I stop whimpering and come out from under the bed.
And it seems to me 40 years of pure musical joy. Beginning in 1968, this unique ensemble began roaming the Earth: two countertenors, a tenor, two baritones, and a bass, all students of the choral tradition, who styled themselves the King's Singers -- fudging things a bit, given that not all of them were actually alumni of King's College at Cambridge.
The line-up of singers has varied over the years, but the mission remains the same: vocal arrangements, usually a cappella, that show off that spectacular interplay of voices.
As for their repertoire, well, what a long, strange trip that's been: sacred works of the Renaissance, Paul Simon's folk rock classics, and a lot of English, Irish, Scottish, and Welsh folk songs besides. And that, as they say, is just for starters.
Like the Comedian Harmonists (an inspiration) or even the Manhattan Transfer, the voices are the instruments here. Good diction and control of vibrato play their part, as does a generous dollop of humor -- and quite a dollop it is.
Given those traits, the King's Singers can become something of an addiction: you pick up one album, enjoy it, and then help yourself to another. Do you want Christmas carols? Lennon and McCartney tunes? Madrigals? John Rutter compositions? They've taken on them all, plus much more.
This two-disc retrospective covers a great breadth of material and focuses on the ensemble as it took shape during the first half of its life, which is to say its series of albums for EMI. You'll find treats from Madrigal History Tour, A Little Christmas Music, New Day, and Annie Laurie: Folksongs of the British Isles, among others. There are selections you'd expect from an ensemble steeped in the British vocal tradition: a hearty version of "Fine Knacks for Ladies," for example, or a wistful "Londonderry Air" (i.e., "Danny Boy"). But things really get humming when they get hold of the overture from Rossini's The Barber of Seville.
And I haven't even mentioned their take on Lionel Richie (yes, seriously).
For me, the most moving track is a song I'd never really thought much about: John David's "You Are the New Day." The other night I played and replayed the King's Singers' version of it, profoundly moved by the beauty of the harmonies and the obvious tenderness the boys brought to the material.
One more day when time is running out for everyone.
Like a breath I knew would come,
I reach for the new day.
Hope is my philosophy,
Just needs days in which to be.
Love of life means hope for me,
Borne on a new day.
You are the new day.
That's part of what we ask from music, isn't it -- beauty, the reaffirmation of our connections with each other, reflections on what has come before and what has yet to be.
Dedicated to Tom Lantos, 1928-2008.
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