excerpt from 'In Quest of Spirit: Thoughts on Music' pp. 1–2 (237 words)

excerpt from 'In Quest of Spirit: Thoughts on Music' pp. 1–2 (237 words)

part of

In Quest of Spirit: Thoughts on Music

original language

urn:iso:std:iso:639:ed-3:eng

in pages

1–2

type

text excerpt

encoded value

When I was nine my parents sent me off to be a chorister at St Michael’s College, Tenbury, in the heart of the Worcestershire countryside. […]  Alone in the beautiful library I spent hours taking off the shelves the various tomes of sweet-smelling old music and trying to play it on the piano, absconding from walks and more healthy-minded school activities for as long as I was undiscovered.  The magic of those hoursseeing everything for the first timewas intense.

But sweetest of all were the hours spent singing Matins and Evensong every day in the colourful Victorian chapel.  Scarcely anyone was there but us.  Our solitary reverence was not unrelieved, however.  I can remember the obsessive games of Bible cricket played with my neighbors in the heavy choir stalls during the reading of the lessons.  […]

Nevertheless, the glory of singing to nobody but God, the sunlight streaming through the stained glass, was part of the same world of childish excitement.  At times we would attain an epiphanic splendorin a Lassus motet, in a recent canticle, using the full power of the large Father Willis organ.  I would get the key and enter the church, often after dark, to play strange improvisations on this organ.  The silence of the building was haunting, very frighteningyet I was fascinated.  Why?  I don’t know.  Music came out of it, dissolved back into it.  There were ghosts.

appears in search results as

excerpt from 'In Quest of Spirit: Thoughts on Music' pp. 1–2 (237 words)

1546599803527:

reported in source

1546599803527

documented in
Page data computed in 280 ms with 1,631,656 bytes allocated and 35 SPARQL queries executed.