We successfully performed Orphy's Innings on September 9th. I thin it's fair to say that the reception was rapturous. The mayor of Ipswich was in attendance. David Henshall's review in the East Anglian said (amongst other things):
| The music is often very moving but none more stirring than March
when the big guns shake the ground like an earthquake and the bullets cut down boys like
corn. We can feel the mud, smell the blood and hear the echoing cries of a million dead souls. And the Lass discovers that she will miss the Lad after all. The singing and chorus work by Ipswich G & S is nothing but professional with the lead roles beautifully sung by Pail Broomfield, Julie Roberts, Tracey Tipple and others, powered by an excellent orchestra conducted by the composer. Orphy's Innings deserves a wider audience. It is the sort of thing Snape Maltings would do well. Saturday's performance was recorded and will be available on CD. |
If you want a copy of the CD, please email us.
Based on the poetry of A E Housman, this retelling of the Orpheus legend is set in an idyllic village in England at the time of the First War. It was performed by the Ipswich Gilbert and Sullivan for the first (and possibly only) time in a concert recording at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday September 9th, in Ipswich Corn Exchange.
It tells of an English Orpheus whose Eurydice, as a result of carrying his child, falls ill and dies. Along with many of the lads of the village he enlists and descends into the hell of the Great War. None of them return. It is the story of incomplete lives and unfulfilled potential, and the inevitable march of time that irrevocably changes everything.
It is also the story of how the Great War was largely responsible for the gradual demise of an English music, a style of singing typified by Gilbert and Sullivan and the amateur choral tradition, and a world of folk-songs, village bands and community singing. After the war there would be the wireless, microphones and the gramophone, jazz, and an unstoppable invasion of American culture. The music for Orphy's Innings has its roots in the earlier tradition, with the echoes of the 'English Musical Renaissance' from the turn of the last century.
Housman's poems have been freely adapted (sometimes an odd line, sometimes a complete poem) and the frequent "gossip and chatter" sections are constructed using English proverbs, sayings and clichés.
Although Orphy's Innings is receiving its first performance, it is not altogether a new piece. The poems are a hundred or so years old, the proverbs and clichés are timeless and much of the music is based on material written many years ago. For the most part, all that is new is the bringing of it all together.
The music has been described by members of the society as "moving", "stunning", "something quite amazing". Don't miss this opportunity to share that sense of amazement.
We recorded our first orchestral rehearsal and have captured a couple of brief excepts from that recording in MP3 format. The first is from the final involvement from the men, in the trenches in March. The second is from the ladies' finale from April. They are both around 300 Kbytes and last about 20 seconds.
On the morning of the Mayfair, as the village folk pass through the market-place on their way to the fair. An old woman bemoans the routine of life, a lad pursues a lass, a young farmer regrets his recent marriage, a soldier celebrates his freedom and a group of village-girls mocks them all. Orphy and Eury can be seen but they remain oblivious of all those around them.
It is the perfect morning and Orphy and Eury are together. He sings and all nature seems to listen.
On a fine summer Sunday morning Orphy and Eury lie together listening to the song of a lark. In the far distance the church bells are there to remind Eury of where she would normally be.
With their rugs and hampers, folk are assembling on a grassy bank at one end of the village green to watch the locals take on a visiting team. Many of the spectating men are now in military uniform, reminding us that war is not far distant. A lad, still trying to impress his lass, is humiliated when he fails as an opening bat. Orphy's innings starts magnificently with a few boundaries and shows great promise only for it to be suddenly cut short by a clap of thunder and a downpour.
A sultry, hazy but bright late summer morning. A few villagers with a hand-cart are doing the rounds of the harvest fields. The workers take time off and gather to eat, drink and relax. Two soldiers, with nothing better to do, have come along to encourage some harvesters, especially Orphy, to enlist. Eury is clearly upset at the thought of Orphy leaving her. She is expecting his child.
Drinking, joking and singing a little, the old folk have enjoyed their annual harvest supper. The door bursts open and half the village enter. It is closing time and they have all been drinking. Many of the young men have decided to join-up and fight for their country. Eury, weak and ill, asks Orphy to take her home. To everybody's amusement a lad proposes to his lass; she refuses and he declares his intention of 'going for a soldier'. To screams of laughter, he leads a procession mock-marching out of the door and out of her life.
Orphy and a few regulars are drinking. It is a dull and cheerless evening. Time is passing slowly. Suddenly, Orphy is called away; it seems that Eury is very, very ill.
On a dank, grey, cold winter morning, some elderly villagers have gathered together for Eury's funeral. The coffin stands on trestle legs. While the congregation is singing, Orphy enters the church and walks the length of the aisle, his eyes fixed on the coffin. He sings his lament. Feeling uncomfortable or even embarrassed, the congregation leave one by one. Orphy is left alone, a broken man, kneeling beside Eury's coffin.
The village has assembled to see their young men sign-up. The occasion develops into an impromptu and unrehearsed carnival. A lad, waving his recruitment papers, fails to impress his lass. Even Orphy has signed.
After having marched for days the soldiers arrive at a river crossing. It is dark and they are near to the battle zone. Orphy and the other village lads are there. Tired, and attempting to relax, they sing some old and familiar songs.
The soldiers are lying low in a smoky, empty and colourless landscape. Although the situation is without hope they still sing the old and familiar songs. There is an unremitting, incessant, gradual build-up of explosive noise, carnage, blinding light and fire into a fearful and awesome cacophony of a devastating and uncontrolled holocaust: a hell in which no-one survives.
It is an English spring morning and the women-folk of the village are gathering in the marketplace. It is Easter Sunday. A lass deeply regrets the way she treated her lad, a lad who will now not be coming home. Easter is a time of hope, a beginning, a renewal; how sad then "the Lenten lily that has not long to stay and dies on Easter Day".