Oasis of calm
Alex James
A2,000-year-old thoroughfare, St Martin’s Lane, and certainly one of my favourite places; contender, any time of year, for the world’s most festive location. On Saturday afternoon, a carnival of mad shoppers, confused sometimes, crossing roads without looking; arguing, pointing, dashing this way and that, laden down and worn out or grinning and just holding on to each other, half-drunk and completely in love. In another life I lived at the top end of the lane, at Seven Dials, and it was thrilling to be there again all of a sudden, after a frozen morning as still as a picture in the countryside. Now, all this grime and glamour were in perfect counterpoint, countless theatres lit up like permanent Christmas trees boasting huge, friendly faces and spelling out happiness in big, bright letters. Endless open invitations to linger, and networks of tiny alleyways, some so small you could miss them for years. Acres of bars, clubs, pubs, restaurants: a sea of faces in endless intimate encounters.
At the bottom where the lane meets Trafalgar Square sits the church of St Martin-in-the-Fields. I haven’t been in there for years. I used to go on Christmas Eve to sing carols when I lived in the neighbourhood but this time I was back to assist Sarah Tenant-Flowers, the eminent choral conductor. She was leading a chamber orchestra and a large choir in an evening of carols by candlelight.
The choir were singing as I arrived, rehearsing ‘In dulce jubilo’, a song I was unfamiliar with until two weeks ago. Now it was heart-stoppingly beautiful. The choir had invoked a parallel universe of calm, mere feet away from the world’s busiest street on the busiest weekend of the year. That’s one of the things I love about this part of town. All manner of delights are available, but heavenly peace is absolutely the last thing you’d expect to find here. I simply walked off the street through an open door into a completely different world. There was a lot of shopping going on outside, and I’m all for that, but this was a different class of experience. I’ve always liked those big Christmas tunes, and, since junior school, the glamour associated with Christmas concerts has been untouchable. But I’m not sure if music has ever sounded this good. Maybe it’s my age but I couldn’t imagine or remember sweeter music. The orchestra was yet to arrive and the voices ringing around the church were close to heaven. Then, ‘Look after your bag,’ said someone, as I gaped. ‘It will definitely be stolen.’ There were a few resting shoppers sprinkled round the pews. A couple of silver ladies further along the bench from me knew what a treat they were getting. They kept smiling at me and nodding, as if to say, ‘Yes. It is. It is absolutely amazing!’ There was a full run-through of the evening’s performance, a dress rehearsal — the only rehearsal, in fact. It’s staggering how little preparation really good musicians require. They can just do it. In a way, the rehearsal was more interesting than the thing itself and the fact that this was here for free, for anyone to walk in on seemed almost impossibly wonderful, benign. The only Christmas present anyone deserves or needs. An enormous choir, a priceless ancient church and some of the most enduring pop songs ever written. The choir were mainly practising fourth verses. Pop songs rarely get as far as a fourth verse, but in carols it’s where the descant part comes in, a high harmony that kicks the whole thing into the realms of the transcendental. I sat there singing quietly, the choir belting out three-part harmonies as I melted into the seat.
One of the songs I was conducting was a relatively modern adaptation, ‘Tomorrow Shall Be My Dancing Day’ by John Gardner. It’s a rhapsody, a pure pop song with an unusual and irresistible rhythm. I’ve never heard anything like it, it’s sung a capella, with organ accompaniment between the singing.
People often ask me what music I’m listening to. I got an old 78 player and a stack of old shellac for my birthday last month. I much prefer delving into the music of the past than listening to contemporary pop songs. Pop music hasn’t been very exciting recently — I don’t think anything new has happened this millennium, maybe even in the past 20 years. More things have happened recently in the art and food worlds than musically.
I think I realised this more than ever as I studied the repertoire for the carols by candlelight concert. The orchestra brought the world to a standstill. The concert went by without a hitch, a packed house. Christmas started right there. q
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