It was one of ‘those’ evenings of which there are a number round here. I can’t remember which charity we were supporting, but we’d all come together as a village in a neighbour’s garden on a warm summer’s evening. The drink – of varying strengths – had been flowing fairly freely. No-one had to drive to get home. I, as usual, was holding forth about music in general and singing in particular, saying something like “Virtually everyone can sing, you know…” and being met with a chorus of “Oh, no, I can’t sing; I’m tone-deaf” or some variation thereof.
“I bet you hum tunes in the car or sing in the shower”, I said. Murmurs of agreement. “So, you’re not tone-deaf then!” I concluded triumphantly. Then the moment of surreal madness. “So, I’ll start a choir of people who say they’re tone-deaf or can’t sing!” Laughter, and then the conversation turned to other matters. By the end of that week, I’d been asked by at least a dozen people “when are you going to start this choir, then?” The die was clearly cast.
A few weeks later, about 25 folk mostly from what is a relatively small community turned up expectantly in the Village Hall. And one very apprehensive conductor.
Village Voices was formed.
Over the years, they’ve gone from singing in two parts then three and finally four, tackling quite tricky arrangements (a specially-written – and licensed – choral version of Elbow’s ‘One Day Like This’ providing a particular challenge successfully negotiated last year) and always having a hunger for more.
It’s as delightful as watching a child grow.