This morning, my husband went to church early to practice with the church orchestra. The church orchestra was to play for this morning's service. He plays the bass guitar with them when he is needed. He came back when practice was over, and I asked him how it went. He just shook his head and said, "Not good." I didn't think too much of it. I assumed that someone must have hit a wrong note here or there, but I didn't question him about it otherwise. I was sure everything would be fine.
So the church orchestra played for the 10:30 service. They played three songs. The first two songs went fine. They played them very well, as a matter of fact.
I thought, "Well, whatever happened at the earlier practice that caused a problem, it must have been ironed out before the service."
Then...they played their third song.
The third song they played was "How Great Thou Art," Well, it was supposed to be "How Great Thou Art." Unfortunately, it came out sounding nothing at all the way "How Great Thou Art" should sound.
They played it during the offertory. It started out just fine. In spite of the fact that about nine members of the church orchestra were missing from this morning's performance, things were going along pretty well. (The flu is widespread here and hitting hard in our little town right now.)
Part way through the song in this particular arrangement, the meter was supposed to change from common time to cut time. Meaning, to put it very simply, it was supposed to go twice as fast. Well, that's all well and good, but that is only going to work if everyone in the orchestra remembers to switch speeds at the proper time. They did not.
What occurred then was a musical catastrophe of astronomical proportions. It was an epic performance that will go down in the history of the church as a tale that will be passed from one generation to the next for years to come. Some of the orchestra members remembered to switch meters. Some did not. Others became lost in the confusion and stopped playing altogether. Some tried to figure out which team they should join in with, those playing faster or those playing slower, and they didn't quite get in sync with either one. The director tried frantically to get them back on course, but it was too late.
At one point, he stopped the performance altogether and told them to pick it up at a certain measure. Bless their pea picking hearts, they tried. They really did, but it was too late. They just couldn't pull it together enough to save it. It was a complete disaster. It was absolutely and totally awesome in its awfulness.
All I kept thinking was "It's worse than the Mayberry Band. It's worse than the Mayberry Band. It's worse than the Mayberry Band."
Some of you may remember a particular episode of the Andy Griffith Show where Andy tries to get the town band in shape in order for them to be able to participate in a band festival at Raleigh. It is a struggle, to say the least. Here is a portion of the show. You don't need to watch it all unless you want to. You need only watch the first minute or two to understand what I am talking about.
Did you notice the look of horror on the mayor's face? My husband said that same look was on the face of every person in the church when the orchestra finished playing that piece. He looked up and saw a whole sea of faces wearing that look.
When they finally came to a crashing finish, fortunately, the church pianist jumped in with the song "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow" to signal the end of the offertory. This allowed the orchestra to escape and slink back to their seats among the congregation.
Some of them, including my husband, were visibly laughing at how absolutely atrocious the performance had been. It was one of those situations where if you didn't laugh, you would cry. I didn't dare look at my husband. I knew it would set me off in giggle fits that would not be stopped. It was only through a tremendous effort on my part that I wasn't rolling on the floor and literally cackling I was so struck with the need to laugh.
He was trying to stifle his own laughter, and I could see his shoulders shaking out of the corner of my eye while the pianist finished the song and the ushers carried the offering up to the altar. Even seeing his shaking shoulders out of the corner of my eye was dangerous. I was doing some silent shaking of my own.
About ten minutes later, I was finally feeling as if I had things under control again when I glanced over at my husband. He glanced back and then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "So how did we sound?"
Oh dear. The shaking with silent, stifled laughter began all over again for both of us. I didn't think we'd ever make it through to the end of the service.
Obviously, the song played by the orchestra was not intended to sound like that. Some of the orchestra members were quite upset about how things went, but the majority were able to just roll with it and laugh about it.
A friend of mine who is a member of the orchestra told me after church, "I just wanted to die right there in my seat. I just wanted to die." She was able to joke and laugh about it though.
There was no point in being upset. It was just one of those things that happen. My husband said that was the absolute worst public performance of music he had ever had the privilege to participate in, and that included the time his fourth grade class played flutophones for a school concert in elementary school, which I'm guessing may have sounded something similar to this.
When they finally came to a crashing finish, fortunately, the church pianist jumped in with the song "Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow" to signal the end of the offertory. This allowed the orchestra to escape and slink back to their seats among the congregation.
Some of them, including my husband, were visibly laughing at how absolutely atrocious the performance had been. It was one of those situations where if you didn't laugh, you would cry. I didn't dare look at my husband. I knew it would set me off in giggle fits that would not be stopped. It was only through a tremendous effort on my part that I wasn't rolling on the floor and literally cackling I was so struck with the need to laugh.
He was trying to stifle his own laughter, and I could see his shoulders shaking out of the corner of my eye while the pianist finished the song and the ushers carried the offering up to the altar. Even seeing his shaking shoulders out of the corner of my eye was dangerous. I was doing some silent shaking of my own.
About ten minutes later, I was finally feeling as if I had things under control again when I glanced over at my husband. He glanced back and then leaned over and whispered in my ear, "So how did we sound?"
Oh dear. The shaking with silent, stifled laughter began all over again for both of us. I didn't think we'd ever make it through to the end of the service.
Obviously, the song played by the orchestra was not intended to sound like that. Some of the orchestra members were quite upset about how things went, but the majority were able to just roll with it and laugh about it.
A friend of mine who is a member of the orchestra told me after church, "I just wanted to die right there in my seat. I just wanted to die." She was able to joke and laugh about it though.
There was no point in being upset. It was just one of those things that happen. My husband said that was the absolute worst public performance of music he had ever had the privilege to participate in, and that included the time his fourth grade class played flutophones for a school concert in elementary school, which I'm guessing may have sounded something similar to this.
* * * * *
On a brighter note, my son's string quintet played this afternoon at the open house held at the hospital which showcased the new addition to the building that they have been working on for months. The quintet played for an hour and the performance went very well. I didn't record their performance, but it was very well received.
When my son came home, he was making his own joyful noise. This performance was a paid gig for the string quintet. They had been told up front an amount that they would be paid by the hospital administrators who hired them. The group assumed that the price quoted to them was for the whole group to split. However, they found out after the performance that the amount that the administrator quoted to them was the amount to be paid to EACH one of them. He expected to come home with twelve dollars in his pocket. Instead he came home with sixty! You can bet he was making a BIG joyful noise over being paid that amount for only an hour's worth of work. I thought the hospital administrators were VERY generous in how they rewarded a group of high school musicians.
I hope you were able to hear or participate in some joyful noise of your own today wherever you are. I will be remembering the noises from my little corner of the world today for quite a while, I think.
When my son came home, he was making his own joyful noise. This performance was a paid gig for the string quintet. They had been told up front an amount that they would be paid by the hospital administrators who hired them. The group assumed that the price quoted to them was for the whole group to split. However, they found out after the performance that the amount that the administrator quoted to them was the amount to be paid to EACH one of them. He expected to come home with twelve dollars in his pocket. Instead he came home with sixty! You can bet he was making a BIG joyful noise over being paid that amount for only an hour's worth of work. I thought the hospital administrators were VERY generous in how they rewarded a group of high school musicians.
I hope you were able to hear or participate in some joyful noise of your own today wherever you are. I will be remembering the noises from my little corner of the world today for quite a while, I think.
