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YAC in the News
(CD—Xinhua) China
THE fourth International Chorus Festival of China will be held in Beijing from July 25 to 31. Fifty-three choruses of more than 3,000 singers from both China and abroad will take apart in the festival. The Chamber Choir “Alonso Lobo” from Spain, Coro Polifonico “Malatestiano” from Italy, Singapore Press Holding Chinese Choir from Singapore, Yale Alumni Chorus from the United States and the Nantou County Teachers’ Choir from Taiwan are among the choruses invited to the festival. According to the organizing committee, every chorus will sing a Chinese song in Chinese. The opening ceremony on the night of July 25 will be broadcast live by the China Central Television.
THE TIMES London Monday July 2, 2001
Yale University is celebrating its tercentenary, and the world is jolly well going to hear about it. “Hear” being the operative word. To celebrate its 300 years, 300 singers have embarked on a triumphal progress through Europe. All are Yale graduates, and most former members of the university’s 140 year old Glee Club or its equally renowned a cappella group, the Whiffenpoofs.
This massive chorus—supported by 150 spouses, offspring, lovers, and camp followers—hit Russia last week. And since its members tend to wear natty blazers and big white hats even when sightseeing, they created a minor sensation on the drab streets of St. Petersburg and Moscow. Especially when the blazers burst spontaneously (but in perfect harmony) into a rendition of some venerable Yale football song, the text of which must have been completely impenetrable even to English-speaking Russians.
Now it is Britain’s turn to marvel. Tomorrow this “Yale Alumni Chorus” sings at the Eisteddfod in Llangollen. On Wednesday—Independence Day—it parades through Wrexham. Why Wrexham? Because that’s where Elihu Yale, the university’s founder, is buried. The spectacle of 300 Americans crowding into a graveyard to sing to a tombstone will be one of the more surreal happenings in Wales this year.
After that, the monster choir comes to London. In St. Paul’s Cathedral on Friday it will mix joyous choruses by Handel, Verdi, and Parry with music by composers with a Yale connection. They include Hindemith (who fled from Nazi Germany to become Yale’s music professor) and the president of the Glee Club in 1913—one Cole Porter, whose tunes have been woven into an exuberant medley for this tour.
And to add some visual élan to the occasion, the university’s ceremonial mace will be flown over from Connecticut, along with 30 college banners and many of its professors. Mace, flags, and eggheads—all will parade under Wren’s dome. Very American, but also very splendid.
So too, is the massive logistical operation behind this tour. It is costing well over £1 million. The chorus members themselves are stumping up several thousand dollars each for the privilege of representing the old university one more time. Donations have also come from other Yale old boys; Paul Newman, who studied drama at Yale in 1950, has chipped in $10,000.
No fewer than three planes have been chartered to carry the singers, their families and their hats across Europe. And the task of bringing together these singers for preliminary rehearsals—when they are now scattered across 33 American states and seven countries—required planning of military precision.
But what is most impressive about this chorus is not its organisational or fund-raising prowess, nor even its vocal power, but the remarkably diverse and high-powered array of people it contains. By definition Yale graduates are bright. But when I caught up with the chorus in St. Petersburg last week, I found myself mingling with scientists and academics, senators and diplomats, a Nobel prizewinner and an astronaut. President Bush’s cousin, Wall Street bankers, psychiatrists, priests, writers, artists, architects—and what seemed like most of America’s top legal eagles.
This is their second great expedition. They went to China in 1998, and another epic trip, possibly to Africa, is planned for 2004. So what is it about the choral tradition at Yale that exerts such a hold—even on those who passed through the place in the 1940s and are now tin their eighties?
“Anyone who has sung in the Glee Club feels a part of a family,” says Rita Helfand, an epidemiologist now grappling with measles and HIV in the Third World. “What the group created was so much greater than what any one individual could do. After you graduate, however, you feel that this is something you can never recreate—that you have moved on in life. So a trip like this is a fantastic opportunity to recapture that spirit. People really do act like kids again. But we also strive to be ambassadors of song, corny though that sounds.”
Mark Dollhopf, who studied theology and philosophy at Yale in the 1970s and now raises funds for non-profit organisations, is the man who dreamt up the idea of an alumni chorus. “I think the university was skeptical about our China tour,” he says. “They were probably worried about a bunch of loose cannons out there representing Yale. This time they are right behind us.”
The Yale Song Book—a collection of college songs, glees, and spirituals originally written for male voices and then discreetly rearranged for mixed choirs when the university went co-ed in 1969—is renowned throughout the choral world. Indeed, when I was at Cambridge in the 1970s, it was the staple diet of many a post-prandial singsong round the old spinet. And in the 1930s and 1940s the Yale Glee Club set standards for the rest of America. But what has happened to Yale’s singing tradition today?
“It’s stronger than ever,” asserts Dollhopf. “We estimate that nearly half of all present-day undergraduates sing. Besides the Glee Club and the Whiffenpoofs there are more than 20 other choirs. I would say that Yale undergraduate culture is largely based on singing.”
That is a remarkable claim, but entirely credible. In St. Petersburg’s Maryinsky Theatre I watched these 300 singers, spanning a 60-year age range, slotting into the discipline of choral singing as if they had been rehearsing together all their lives. Even the surly indifference of the Maryinsky Orchestra—which accompanied the American visitors with a sloppy gracelessness that did scant justice either to the occasion or its own reputation—did not dampen the singers’ spirits. They will probably blow the dome off St. Paul’s.
And then, for some of them, it will be back to running the country. Good to know that the USA is in such cultured hands.
Richard Morrison
DAILY POST UK Monday July 2, 2001 Severe storms threatened to spoil a concert at Llangollen International Eisteddfod as power supplies were knocked out. But the spirit of the Yale Alumni Chorus performance on Tuesday night refused to be dampened as emergency generators kicked in ensuring the show carried on. It is the first time the chorus has performed at the international festival, and it was a night to remember in more ways than one. Towards the end of their American Musical Fireworks set, as storms raged overhead, a lightning flash and clap of thunder cut the main power at the pavilion. But back-up emergency generators ensured the arena was not plunged into darkness and the 300-strong group carried on singing. Organisers had been expecting bad weather as the worst storms this year brought misery to parts of North Wales and were clearly heading for the Eisteddfod site. Eyewitnesses described how the rain pounded off the pavilion canvas generating a torrent of water over the entrance and exits. One thunder clap directly overhead led to fears the pavilion had been struck by lightning. At one point a solo performed, singing a Welsh song, was almost drowned out by the incessant rain battering the pavilion. But the Yale Alumni Chorus, touring on the 300th anniversary of their university, carried on the concert and won the audience over. Marketing director Maureen Jones said the storm had not stopped the concert being a success. She said: “The rain was beating down, but the Eisteddfod has had to endure far worse storms than that in the past. I remember a time when we had the old marquee where a singer was holding onto the pillar on the stage to stop to wobbling with people trying to hold the marquee down outside to stop it blowing away. That was in the late 80’s. There was also a time when the lights went completely but the choir on stage carried on singing. It was then that it was decided that the Eisteddfod had to have a new building. “The power did go down last night, but the emergency generators ensured the concert had a few lights still operating, and the choir carried on.” About 3,500 people meant the arena was about three quarters full and Mrs. Jones was delighted with the turn-out. She said: “The concert went down very well. We were very pleased. There were 300 singers on stage and that is a lot of singers. The pavilion at the Eisteddfod is often criticised because it is not packed out. But 3,500 would fill St. David’s Hall twice over in Cardiff. The pavilion is a very big arena. To get that many people from the surrounding communities, and remember we are not in a city, is a great achievement.”
YALE LINK HITS THE RIGHT NOTE WITH U.S. VISITORS WREXHAM UK
July 5, 2001
Wrexham played host to a musical extravaganza as it welcomed friend from across the Atlantic.
Members of America’s Yale University Alumni Chorus were in town yesterday as part of a special visit to strengthen their links with Wrexham.
The day started with a breakfast meeting to discuss future links which was hosted by the Mayor, Cllr Sandy Mewies.
The conference, held at the Guildhall, was attended by the Vice President of Yale University, Linda Lorimer; the Dean, Richard Brodhead; and the Director of the Alumni, Mark Dollhopf.
Also present were the leader of Wrexham Council, Cllr Shan Wilkinson; Chief Executive, Derek Griffin; Yale College, Wrexham, Principal Emlyn Jones; NEWI Principal, Professor Michael Scott; Deputy Minister for Education and Lifelong Learning, Alan Pugh, AP; and the Vice Consul from the American Embassy in London, Matthew Hurley.
Strengthen
Mr. Griffin said: “Our American guests have already said they consider Wrexham the home of Yale University because of the links with Elihu Yale. This morning’s breakfast meeting was very positive and we discussed ways to enable us to continue to strengthen links between Wrexham’s University Sector College NEWI and Yale University.”
After the meeting the 500-strong group, including choir members’ family and friends, paid homage to their benefactor, Elihu Yale.
The choir performed a 30-minute open-air concert in Queen’s Square, which was followed by a procesion to St. Giles Parish Church and the laying of a wreath on Elihu Yale’s grave.
The choir then performed a musical memorial tribute to their benefactor inside the church before moving outside to the grounds for a celebration picnic.
O GLOBO Sao Paolo, Brazil
August 1, 2004
Children from the Casa de Santa Ana, Cidade de Deus, sing with members of the chorus of graduates from the classic American university, Yale. The chorus put on a benefit show in the favela and donated US$30,000 (R$90,000 reais) in support of the seniors and children in order to buy uniforms, musical instruments, and to hire a teacher.
DAILY LOCAL NEWS Westchester, Pennsylvania
Thursday, April 24, 2003
David Coghlan can carry a tune. Three weeks ago he carried one down his Grubbs Mill Road driveway to the Philadelphia International Airport, aboard an Aeroflot Airlines jet to Moscow, past Kremlin fortifications, onto the Kremlin Palace Stage, in front of 6,000 people.
In a white tie and tales, Coghlan sang in Russian after learning to pronounce and memorize a program’s worth. Coghlan took a class in Russian once, but that was 60 years ago.
It was just another day in 1998 when the retired Foote Mineral Co. chemical engineer opened his mail and found an invitation to join the newly formed Yale Alumni Chorus. “It didn’t take me a moment to decide to join,” says Coghlan.
A member of Yale University’s class of 1941, the former glee club member found time in his busy life to answer a call to help build cultural bridges in the former Soviet Republic. And that entailed more than just a week in Russia.
“We had to pay our own way. There must have been 200 hours of preparation,” said West Whiteland resident Coghlan, seated near a grand piano in his living room. (Wife Carolyn is the pianist in the house.)
As somber Russian music spilled out of an adjoining room, Coghlan explained how an American, Constantine Orbelian, had succeeded in becoming director of the Moscow Chamber Orchestra and had envisioned Yale’s alumni chorus as the perfect accompaniment to a performance by international opera star Dmitri Hvorostovsky.
However, Orbelian insisted that the Yale chorus sing Russian songs in Russian. Coghlan’s chorus director, perhaps aware that cultural bridges can be built without adhering strictly to prima-donna architecture, suggested to chorus members at one rehearsal, according to Coghlan, “If you haven’t learned the words, learn how to mouth it.”
Describing the palace’s “shell-shaped hall with highly developed lighting,” Coghlan said, “I had never seen a stage so deep.” The hall was devoid of viewing boxes for dignitaries: Russia’s proletariat government had built the concert hall for the working class.
Nearly 60 years after being deferred from WWII military service because he was needed to supervise a TNT plant, Coghlan was on a Moscow stage, singing Russian patriotic songs, commemorating Russian and American soldiers fighting together in the “Great War.” As he sang, “Soldiers walking over the dusty road, through the steppe, through the cold and anxiety,” American soldiers fought in Baghdad. Coghlan noted, “Moscow is in the same time zone as Baghdad.”
As the concert closed, Coghlan and 100 fellow alumni performed “My Russia,” an encore which inspired the crowd to its feet and thousands of voices to song. Sharing the moment was United States Ambassador to Russia, Alexander Vershbow (Yale Class of ’74), in a white tie and tails borrowed from a chorus member who had become ill. To Coghlan, it was in interesting note of American improvisation in Moscow. David Coghlan recounted how he has performed in musical comedies in Arden, Del., sung with Brandywiners Chorus at Longwood Gardens, performed and produced with the Gilbert & Sullivan Society of Chester County, acted with the Wilmington Drama League, and is, to this . . .
MANCHESTER GUARDIAN Manchester, England
March, 2006 Barbican, London
It’s often a mistake to assume that you know how one of Dmitri Hvorostovsky’s concerts will pan out. But with this programme the unpredictable baritone surpassed even himself.
By rights he should have excelled in the first half: arias from the less familiar end of the Russian repertoire, pieces that Hvorostovsky has gone some way towards making his own. And yet, even in a passionate aria from Rubenstein’s The Demon and the famous love theme from Borodin’s Prince Igor, he seemed unable to summon the usual velvet to his voice. Impending big moments were signalled by his surreptitiously undoing the button on his beautifully cut jacket. The orchestra fillers—in which the Philharmonia of Russia under Constantine Orbelian sounded barely rehearsed—didn’t help.
But then came the second half. For a nation that has set suffering to music more effectively than any other, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that Russia has a rich and fascinating seam of 1940s popular songs, written to bring tears to the eyes of mothers, lovers and wives as they waited for news from the front. But one might not have expected just how well they would come across.
The microphone loves Hvorostovsky’s voice, and gave these songs luxurious treatment. Best of the songs was “Dark is the Night”, which started as a bluesy little number about bullets whistling over the steppe and grew into a full on torch song addressed to the wife waiting at home by the cradle.
As the balalaika whirred into action and the Yale Alumni Chorus hummed and ahhed through Evgeny Stetsyuk’s tear-jerking arrangements, the audience hung on every sentimental, irresistible world.
Erica Jeal American understanding for Bot De Telegraaf, Stan Huygens Journaal Rotterdam
September 16, 2006
“I can understand that” said Roland Arnall, the American ambassador in The Hague, on the recent criticism by Minister Bot (Foreign Affairs) of his American colleague Condoleezza Rice. In contrast with earlier expectations, there appear to be substantial CIA prisons in Europe.
“But,” Arnall continued cryptically, “the glass is half full or the glass is half empty. In the American eyes it is half full of course. In the whole of Europe the Netherlands is the only one which is that precise” it sounded. The rest of Europe has no problems with it.” Today Bot will ask his European colleagues for a mutual standpoint on prisons where terror suspects were held and questioned.
The American ambassador and his wife Dawn had invited a number of guests for a performance of the alumni chorus of famous Yale University in the Kloosterkerk in The Hague.
“This is a special ambassador,” said Jonkheer Pieter de Savornin Lohman, head of the Protocol section at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. “Earlier this week he brought together representatives of three large religions: Islam, Judaism, and Christianity.”
The choir sang some wonderful songs, like the first article of the American constitution. Composer Neely Bruce had put the text to music, after he read that youth finds it acceptable to break the law because of national security.
On the first church bench, Saudi Ambassador Waleed Elkhereiji enjoyed the music. A couple of benches further, the Iraqi ambassador Sianmand Banaa applauded enthusiastically after the song Dona nobis pacem (give us peace). “The U.S. never started a war themselves! They always got involved” the Iraqi of Kurdish decent started.
“The present situation in Iraq cannot be blamed on the U.S. Without them, Iraq had much worse prospects. And that is also true for Europe!”
Overwhelming Close Of The Heavily-Attended Gergiev Festival Leidsch Dagblad Rotterdam
September 17, 2006
His contribution was short, but overwhelming and will long remain in the memories of those who attended the close of the eleventh Gergiev Festival on Sunday afternoon.
Maximillian Schell may be 75, but the voice of the cosmopolitan actor and director sounded rock hard and gruesome through the Rotterdam Doelen when he appeared as narrator in Arnold Schoenberg’s “A survivor from Warsaw,” the piece about the Nazi terror for which no applause was permitted. T he actual close, following immediately, was Ludwig van Beethoven’s Symphony number 9, with the utopian “Alle Menschen werden Bruder,” also performed by the Rotterdam Philharmonic. The public, among whom there were relatively few “seniors,” practically tore the hall down afterwards. Especially the Yale Festival Chorus was heartily cheered.
According to inside sources on Sunday afternoon, audiences for the entire series totaled 19,500. Some performances, such as the closing, were totally sold out, and attendance for the symphonic concerts was at least 98% of capacity.
The theme this year was “Freedom.” Next year, the “namegiver” of the Festival, chief conductor Valery Georgiev of the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra, will celebrate twenty years of involvement in The Netherlands. The theme of his festival in 2007 will be “Liebesnacht” (night of love). Among other performances is expected to be one of Wagner’s “Tristan und Isolde.” This has long been the wish of Gergiev, who holds high the banner of opera.
Rotterdam Cultuur (Algemene Dagblad) Rotterdam
September 18, 2006
On Sunday afternoon the tension increased when the furious, grim texts of Arnold Schönberg's A Survivor from Warsaw were hurled into the hall by Maximillian Schell. At the end piercing cords made room for a moving male choir. Whilst the last chords were dying away, the first sounds of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony could be heard. A special effect. Gergiev's rendering of the Allegro was rather classical, but very exciting in the forte passages.
As always, the last movement, with the Ode an die Freude, was the highlight of the piece. The ensemble of the orchestra was excellent, the Yale Festival Chorus formidable and the young soloists were good.
Ger van der Tang
WHEN GERGIEV LEADS, MUSICIANS TAKE NOTE ANG NEWSPAPERS CLASSICAL MUSIC COLUMN San Francisco September 22, 2006 Now I'm convinced. Valery Gergiev, the Moscow-born Ossetian conductor, is a genuine musical phenomenon. Although I'm still struggling through the pea-soup fog of the jet-lagged after my return to the Bay Area in pre-sunrise hours this morning (Sept. 19), I feel an urgency to share highlights from my intense week in the Netherlands. It was spent under the Olympian shadow of this remarkable conductor during rehearsals and ultimate performance of Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 on September 17 in Rotterdam. The concert represented the culmination of a 10-day Freedom Festival under Gergiev's leadership. (Gergiev comes to the Bay Area on October 16, in a Cal Performances presentation in Berkeley.) I was traveling with the Yale University Alumni Chorus, which, with a similar group from the Cambridge (England) University Music Society, was chosen to work with Gergiev and the Rotterdam Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in a performance of the Beethoven masterwork. It was a roller coaster ride rocked with twists and turns of mighty Sturm und Drang. Gergiev, 53, as with past geniuses of his ilk, has been called "difficult," "distant" and "dismissive." Many say he is a tough, even merciless, taskmaster. But alongside these cants are rosier descriptors like "brilliant," "intense," "mystical" and "uncannily profound." According to my experience, he appears to be ALL of the above. Like some of his musical genius predecessors, he can be demanding and mercurial. Think Wagner, Mahler and even Beethoven. But other aspects are redolent of Tchaikowsky, Prokofiev and Shostakovich. One thing is sure: The man is totally dedicated to his art. In a still-relevant interview for the June 1992 issue of Opera News, my distinguished ANG music colleague Stephanie von Buchau quotes Gergiev as saying "Classical music is more than temporary pleasure. Art is not about revolution, politics or who is in power. If we mix these, as they did in the past, it will be dangerous, and I'm not going to allow it in my theater." "His" theater, is the Mariinsky Theater in St. Petersburg, Russia, home to the Kirov Ballet, Opera and Orchestra. At the time of the quote, he was referring to the crumbling Communist leadership of the former Soviet Union. But his comments can be universally applied today. They neatly describe the Rotterdam Festival title: Freedom (in Dutch, "Vrijheid"). Following the chorus' first encounter with the Maestro during the evening rehearsal Sept. 15, reactions were none too positive. "The first word that came to my mind," said one of the more tolerant of the participating Yalies, was `dismissive.'" Another more kindly comment from another Bay Area-based chorus member was,"He needs work on his people skills and in time management." Others were angrier. Their main reason was, that after arriving at the agreed-upon rehearsal time, Gergiev told them to sit in the back in the auditorium and wait until he was finished with the orchestra. They sat for two long hours during what one person called "Gergiev's long master class for the orchestra." When they were finally called to join the rehearsal, there was no apology for the wait, nor a particularly warm welcome or acknowledgement to the chorus for its pro-bono effort. After a terse "hello," the Maestro simply launched into the music. My first chance to observe the real, live Maestro was when he appeared before the assembled, waiting orchestra and chorus for the rehearsal of Arnold Schoenberg's "A Survivor from Warsaw" the next day. Again, Gergiev offered only a curt "hello" to the musicians, and, a bit later, a comparatively warm welcome to Maximillian Schell, the German-speaking world's answer to Sir Lawrence Olivier, who narrated the work. Attitudes, however, changed dramatically AFTER the performance. Where there was once doubt, there was now unabashed praise and even wonderment at what most interpreted as his almost mystical skill in communicating exactly what he wanted from them, and all the while, totally (but wordlessly) convincing them that he knew the composers' minds. The actual performance was a Beethoven's 9th like I've never before heard. Both the chorus and the audience were euphoric afterward. There was an intensity about it, that, although still respectably refined, maintained a seething, almost raw power about it. It had an almost Russianized Beethoven in its power and passion. Even during its precise, contrapuntal-like passages, as well as its gently expansive slow movement, Gergiev was able to keep the mood taut and intense and clearly headed toward some great ultimate goal. Although he certainly kept the lid on the figurative pot, one had the sense that it was always just about to boil over. Was there enough juice left for the piece's "Ode to Joy" finale? Yes indeed. The chorus glistened with a resplendent and balanced sonority and power. (I was sitting in the audience, not among the chorus). Quite simply, the singers, mostly amateurs, had never sounded better. The diction was faultless to a fare-thee-well and the cohesion with the orchestra and the Maestro total. The fantastic finale was breathtaking — there was a pause of a few seconds before the audience rose for a fortissimo-level standing ovation. In effort to try to analyze technical things he did to achieve such dramatic effects, I noted that Gergiev eschewed both baton and a podium. Instead, he relied on his eyes, arms, hands and fingers, as well as rhythmic body movements, to transmit his intentions to the instrumentalists and the chorus. At brief times during rehearsal he used a small stylus, or pencil-size baton, but it was set aside while his fingers fluttered like butterflies whose wings seemed to re-create the inner pulses of the beat — or, perhaps they were in sync with the violinists' left-hand vibrato on their instruments' strings. Whatever the reason for this unusual technique, its ultimate effect contributed mightily to the stunning results. The same could be said about the kinetic use of his body. He often took an actual step toward whichever instrumental section he was cueing, and his conducting style often included rhythmic up-and-down, in-place body movements duplicating and transmitting sub-pulses within each beat. I asked some Yale and Cambridge singers to describe the experience. "It was a total thrill," said one California-based Yale singer. "He's aware of the tiniest sound we make." A Connecticut-based singer commented, "During the rehearsals he seemed to be taking everything we did into his mind. Then, when it came time for the performance, he was able to get us to do just what he wanted. He was totally convincing. He gave us each cutoff and nuance. He required, and got, our total attention. We knew he would accept no less." "He always seemed to be striving to an ideal," said another musician. "It was as though he had an inner-recording of exactly how the composer wanted the piece, and an equally strong will that enabled him to transmit it to the musicians." An Alaska-based singer metaphorically summed up the Gergiev magic method: "He oesn't do spring-training or batting practice. He flies in for the big game and then gives his all — and gets it." A New York City-based recent Yale graduate member of the chorus put it the most graphically. "One of the reasons Gergiev is so significant is his intensity and emotive power as he conducts. He's the first conductor I've ever worked with, who, after the concert was over, had sweat so much that his tie, as well as his shirt, was wet through!" Sherry North
YALE ALUMNI SPONSOR CASA SANTA ANA’S
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