The Rose Ensemble
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Phone: 651-225-4340 / Fax: 651-225-4352
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Tour blog: Burgundy & Provence, France

• Vol. 8 - August 2
• Vol. 7 - August 1
• Vol. 6 - July 26
• Vol. 5 - July 24
• Vol. 4 - July 22
• Vol. 3 - July 19
• Vol. 2 - July 18
• Vol. 1 - July 16

Vol. 7 - Saturday, August 2, 2008

One the road from Vaison la Romaine to Melun (just outside Paris)

Bonjour, everyone!

We are currently in the middle of the most grueling journey we've endured thus far. Not only are the July vacationers on the move, but it is common for many French people (especially Parisians) to take off the entire month of August. And the "big move" is happening today. The freeways are too packed to even bother with them, so we are slowly making our way through the countryside on this likely 11+ hour journey.

Roland, our bus driver, has been a complete rock over the past few days, enduring very long trips and an utter lack of sleep time. I really don't know how he does it. Of course, laws for bus drivers are very strict here in France, requiring them to take a nine-hour break between hauls (in addition to 15 or 30-minute breaks here and there), but it's still a stressful job and even with a good map and a GPS system, we've been lost more than once. The French government is smart about several things when it comes to the freeways, however. On weekends, for examples, there is a complete "black out" for any semi-truck drivers. This means that for Saturday and Sunday – all day –they are forbidden to drive (they pack the parking lots of rest stops along the freeways). It eases the congestion, of course (no six-lane highways here, remember), and also the pollution. Speaking of pollution, I should mention that there was one day last week when the government enforced a national speed limit, requiring all drivers to stay under a certain speed in order to curb air pollution. Can you get over that? I think Americans would go crazy if that happened!

We've been fortunate to have with us for the Vaison festival our friend Anne-Lise Blin (and her husband, Eric). Some of you may recall that we met Anne-Lise by chance in Italy last June at the Legnano festival (she's a friend of Francesco, one of the Legnano organizers). She got along so well with us in Italy that she decided to volunteer in Vaison to be our assistant and translator. Anne-Lise comes from a family deeply rooted in the French choral scene, and at one time she worked for a sub-department in the French government that advances the greater enjoyment and understanding of choral music. (Yeah, you read that correctly; boy, does the US have a lot to learn…) Anyway, she's a no-nonsense, smart cookie and it's been a pleasure to have her taking care of us over the last week. I have also enjoyed getting to know Eric, who is a dancer and a generally wonderful person, and has his own company in their town of Lille, called "Theatre Decomposition." Eric and Anne-Lise make me laugh a lot, as does my dear and crazy friend Bill Hudson (filling in for Dustin as a tenor on this trip), so I've been smiling in spite of the often-weird situations I find myself in.

A few difficult discussions have taken place over the past week about whether or not Kim would be able to dance her beautiful hula in the Hawaiian sets, because the concerts took place in churches. On a matter of principle, I can understand this. But I had mixed feelings, because as it turns out the other choirs sang piles of pop music and non-Christian repertoire, while the ancient hula we wanted to present is one of the most sacred in the genre. The upshot, thankfully, was that we not only gave great shows (alas, without Kim's hula) but the presenters raved about how easy-going, accommodating and professional we were. This is a good thing, and it certainly will help us get more work in the future. We don't want these appearances to be "one-shot deals"; we want to continue to perform in Europe as much as possible.

Yes, it's beautiful here and it's been a wonderful cultural exchange, but I firmly believe now, more than ever, that if The Rose Ensemble – an American ensemble – is going to fully understand its medieval and Renaissance European repertoire, it has got to understand the cities, people and venues for whom/which the music was written. It's just a simple fact: there are few acoustical spaces in the States that can compare with a 12th-century European church. I know I've been going on and on about this fact on this string of blogs, but something has really hit home with me on this tour.

Additionally, I feel stronger than ever about changing the way Europeans think about Americans as performers and, to a lesser degree, people. It seems things with the last American choir they had (the only other one since 1992, I might add) did not altogether smoothly, so I have a feeling the organizers didn't know what to expect from us. Of course, the festival grapevine reported the morning after our first concert that we were amazing, but even so, I was stressed and anxious much of the time this past week, in spite of all the fun, beauty and great music-making.

While in Vaison, I was really happy to be able to meet with Barney Smith, one of the founders of the fantastic UK group Voces8. Some of you may recall that we met this stellar ensemble in Spain last November and we've been in touch with them over the past several months. They sang on the Vaison festival, and while our social time with them was ridiculously brief, Barney and I did have a good planning meeting in preparation for Voces8's collaboration with The Rose Ensemble on our Candlelight Concert next February. We've decided to present the "Great Service" by English Renaissance composer William Byrd, which is a monumental piece that has most likely been performed in Minnesota only on a handful of occasions. Barney and I have a great rapport and I'm very much looking forward to collaborating with the whole group next winter!

Well, once again it's been an amazing tour and I give big kudos to the musicians of The Rose Ensemble for their hard and incredible work. I also thank all our supporters for making our important work possible. The group leaves for the States on Sunday morning but I'll be in Paris for the next few days. I'll be meeting with the organizers of Festival d'Ile de France, for whom we'll be performing the Hawaiian show next month. I'm hoping to make a few more connections with other presenters while I'm here, but most of all I'm looking forward to seeing my dear friend Yossi Maurey (the Israeli musicologist) who just happens to be in Paris this week!

Warm greetings to you all –
Jordan

P.S. Wake up, Billy! We're here!

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Vol. 7 - Friday, August 1, 2008

On the road from Vaison la Romaine to Donzerre

Bonjour, everyone, and greetings from beautiful Provence!

It's been several days since you've heard from me and I apologize for making anyone worry. Free time has been almost impossible to find, and typing on my laptop on the bus (the time when I usually write to you) is nearly impossible. It's great to have a cute little coach just for us but the ride is crazy-bumpy. And because of busy highways (it's vacation time for many French people), we are forced to take winding country roads almost all of the time. That all said, there's a lot to tell and I hope I'll be able to adequately fill you in on all our activities over the past week.

We arrived in Vaison la Romaine on July 27 after a long and hot bus ride from Autun. We were fortunate, however, to have the coolest bus driver in the world, Roland, who has been our transportation and dear friend for the last several days. His driving is pretty crazy, I must say, and poor Kris spends much of the rides on the floor (she suffers something awful from motion sickness), but he is amazing at maneuvering this bulky bus through the narrowest of streets.

Vaison is a breathtakingly beautiful little city. Like many towns and villages in this incredible region, it's rich with history - specifically Roman ruins and a medieval quarter that almost made me weep. What's great about it is that, in spite of the hefty presence of tourists (especially Dutch and Germans), it maintains the elegant charm of a relatively small town. The medieval quarter is impressively well-preserved, with most of the buildings still being used as dwellings, and the "newer" part filled with cafes, shops and restaurants.

The region's terrain and climate is definitely Mediterranean: it's rocky, dry and hot, with lavender and olive and fig trees everywhere, but it can also be lush and green, with rolling hills and little farms all over the place. Most buildings boast washed out stone, and flowers grow in pots, on trellises and in tiny gardens everywhere. And, of course, there are the vineyards. Provence produces 60% of all the wine consumed in France and it definitely shows. Vineyards here can be massive, sprawling over hundreds of acres, or they can be small little plots of land tucked between a road and field of brilliant yellow sunflowers. It was 40 degrees Celsius the first day we arrived (that's over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and definitely a change from the 75-80 we had every day in Burgundy). It hasn't even thought about raining here, and the nights are clear and spectacular. The stars are so bright (I think that's Venus I see shining so brilliantly); the other night I witnessed the most impressive falling star I have ever seen.

We are housed just outside Vaison (only about a 15-minute walk to the medieval quarter) in what could be called a boarding school or a retreat center. I understand it was originally constructed to serve as a music school but it can now be rented by any type of group. The rooms are simple and clean, there's a nice cafeteria on the grounds, and the whole complex is situated at the edge of a forest inhabited by two beautiful white horses (I'll bet you thought I was going to say unicorns) and the most cacophonous empire of cicadas I have ever heard. We are served breakfast and lunch here each day (although we get back to camp so late most nights that many of us miss breakfast, which is only served until 9am) and the food is really good. Typical Provence fare means using what is fresh and never smothering anything in a sauce like you would find in, say, the Loire Valley. Lunch is always served buffet style, and usually features fresh garden produce like tomatoes, cucumbers and lettuce, along with various cold salads using things like lentils, red beans, celery, corn and red cabbage. There's always a good selection of cold sliced meats (lots of pork) and often there's some roasted chicken or even fish. Of course, there's always plenty of cheese and hearty bread (not the typical French baguette, but more towards a rustic Italian-style bread), and dessert is usually a tiramisu-like delight or a selection of fresh fruit. Rosé is king here, and chilled pitchers are served with every meal, although you can ask for red and they'll happily bring it (available chilled or at room temperature).

Dinners are a lot of fun, as they are almost always served to us in the towns where we perform. We've had everything from a simple picnic on the grass outside the church to a sit-down dinner in a local restaurant (mmm, j'adore le canard). This has really been great, because it gives us a chance to get a feel of the various villages, the local people and the food. There is almost always a reception of some sort following the concerts, and we just love socializing with the audiences afterwards. (There was also one night when we were served homemade crêpes before the concert. Oh my god, you've never had crêpes like this.)

I've been giving lots of post-concert, hurdy-gurdy demonstrations (so what else is new?) and we've all been working on our French. Of course, Tim and John and Heather deserve the most credit, as they have been introducing pieces from the stage; I'm so proud of them for doing this, and the audiences appreciate it enormously. (Additionally, people can't believe that we are real live Americans who speak French.)

As for our music-making, things couldn't be going better. We are here at a festival that exclusively showcases award-winning choirs, and we are one of only four here (the others are from Taiwan, the UK and Italy). I chose a medieval-heavy first half for our concert program (even more French music than the last festival), with a lighter second half of all Hawaiian and American selections. This has all worked well for a number of reasons. One is that the venues we perform in each evening are adorable little 11th-12th-century churches in various villages throughout Provence, and the acoustics are simply stunning (seriously, folks, we have lucked out in this department). Another is that the audiences are enthusiastic, warm and are exceedingly vocal about how rarely they hear medieval vocal music (especially French). That said, our Hawaiian/American music is also highly praised (most people here have never been exposed to this repertoire).

I should also mention that, in spite of the churches being 800 degrees, and our overall feeling of fatigue, we are singing at a consistently high level each evening - and loving every minute of it! I am still amazed at how much concert attendees appreciate our programming, although I must admit that after having seen several other choirs perform over the last few weeks, I can see, perhaps, why. Don't get me wrong - the other choirs are damn good but their programs often lack variety, and even the "folk" sets end up being clumsy choral arrangements of otherwise gorgeous traditional melodies. I'm really proud of the way I assemble our programs but I'm even more proud of my colleagues for being so flexible.

The women have been doing incredible work on this tour, singing stratospherically high lines of Hildegard von Bingen with seemingly no effort, and 20 minutes later pounding out a Southern Harmony tune (foot stomping and all). But the men also deserve a lot of credit, as they have been without Mark and Dustin and more or less "forced" to sound and perform like a section twice their size. I should mention that our performance in the glorious cathedral in Vaison was recorded by a professional engineer and what I've heard so far of the CD is fantastic. I'm going to make sure to get a copy to our friends at Performance Today. Who knows, maybe there's enough material for a special rebroadcast of a Rose Ensemble European concert appearance?

I'll write again very soon, I swear. (But please remember that my internet access time is extremely limited and it may be hard to send another update for a few days.) Warm greetings to all!

Jordan

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Vol. 6 - Saturday, July 26, 2008, 4:00pm

Autun

Bonjour, tutti!

The last four days have been filled with so much activity (in Italian, French and English) that I haven't had much of an opportunity to write. I apologize for this. I'm currently writing this in my hotel room (on a stunningly gorgeous day, I might add) so perhaps this penance will demonstrate how guilty I feel for being out of contact. I'm happy to report that all is well here, in spite of the awful cafeteria food (which I am no longer afraid to denounce publicly) and a general state of fatigue.

We gave a wonderful concert in the city of Saint Symphorien on Tuesday night: gorgeous church, nice people, lovely village. So what else is new, right? Well, this little town happens to be famous for uranium (think Marie Curie) and they are mighty proud of it. The priest and the Mayor of the town joined us for a simple dinner buffet (really yummy) before the concert and then held a little reception in our honor in the Mayor's office. We met a cute little French family after the concert and decided to adopt them for the evening, so we brought them to the reception as well. A very nice evening indeed.

The next day saw more Fauré rehearsals and I had yet another directors' meeting. All the groups performed a "concert populaire" that evening at the Lycée Militaire, a gorgeous old complex with an outdoor courtyard (where the concert was held). Each choir sang two sets of music and then we all sang a few pieces together. It seemed like the entire town showed up for the event; hundreds and hundreds were packed into this courtyard, where there was a stage set up for the bigger choirs (Hungary and Romania), while we and the Italians were put on pews on other side. Singing outside here with absolutely no amplification was a misery for all of us, but we tried our best. We sang a set of Hawaiian music for the first part (which the audience just loved) and then Sephardic and early American for the second half. I was feeling really sick this evening so it wasn't a very happy event in my mind, however everyone else said the evening was very joyful and that we sounded fine.

Since then, we haven't done much else but rehearse the Fauré with the other choirs and the orchestra. The rehearsals are long and exhausting, but it's been great getting to know the people in the other choirs. My circle of friends has expanded to include not only my dear Italians and the Romanian tenors but also several Hungarian women.

On Thursday night, we had the evening free until a concert by the Romanian choir, so several of us (Linda, Tim, Kathy, Kim, Lisa, Bill and John) went out for dinner with members of the Italian choir, several of whom have become quite close with us. Tim and I decided to recommend the brasserie where Rudolf the waiter works (see earlier blog for details). We ended up being a group of 13 (much larger than we originally planned) but Rudolf took it in stride and offered us not only a wine-tasting but dinner as well. I kept looking at Tim to try to make an assessment of the situation (I knew something wasn't quite right), and the freaky telepathic language that he and I speak revealed that Rudolf was indeed alone in the restaurant. So, after taking 13 full dinner orders I realized that Tim and I would be pitching in to help. Tim immediately started serving wine and bartending, I set the table and cut bread and he and I both went up to the kitchen several times to check on Rudolf. It was all going surprisingly well until patrons came in and sat down for dinner. Tim and I spoke privately and decided that we would offer them drinks but no food (read: these boys were in WAY over their heads). Luckily, it turned out that one of the women who sat down actually knew Rudolf, so then she started pitching in as well. In the end, it all worked out. The food was great, the wine was sublime and the Italians were thrilled. Most of us missed the Romanian choir's concert (about which I felt really terrible) but it had gotten to be pretty late by the time the meal was finished.

Yesterday morning the full choirs (all of them) and the orchestra had a dress rehearsal for the Fauré at the Autun cathedral (where we will perform the piece this evening), and then we all hopped on buses and drove a few hours to Vezelay. We performed the piece there last night in the stunning Romanesque Basilique de Sainte-Madeleine (more about this place here: http://vezelay.cef.fr/index0.htm), a truly impressive medieval structure so majestic that it boggles the mind. The town is actually on the pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela and contains only one road, which is lined with little shops and restaurants. It's touristy, I suppose, but considering the monolithic Basilica, which is so disproportionate to the village's size, I'm surprised the town hasn't been completely destroyed by commercialism. And there are all sorts of little terraces off the road where you can see the most spectacular panorama; it's so beautiful you can't believe you're even looking at it.

That evening, each group performed a set of music before the main concert, and then we all performed the Fauré Requiem. The bus ride home was HOT and long and I believe I got to bed around 2:30 a.m.

Well, I might as well tell you here: I am officially sick. There is frightfully little time to sleep here, what with the schedule, and when I am actually able to be in bed, it is virtually impossible to sleep. My hotel is unbearably loud (due to the main road outside my window) and the housecleaning staff comes really early (no "do not disturb" signs). In fact, the other day a woman walked right into my room while I was still in bed! I contribute my illness also to the food served at the cafeteria, where we eat most days for lunch and some dinners. I spoke with some locals and when they learned that we were eating at this particular restaurant they apologized profusely. To put it into perspective, the other day they served kangaroo and canned beans. I am not kidding. There was an alternative meat dish featuring mutton but the word on the street was that the knives provided couldn't cut through it (a member of our group who shall remain anonymous said she actually was able to cut off enough to put in her mouth, but chewing it was simply impossible.) Kyrie Eleison.

Tonight is the closing night of the festival, with a repeat performance of the Fauré. This virus I have has zapped my voice, so I have no idea what The Rose Ensemble will sing for the opening set. Maybe I'll just have the women sing. I will also skip singing in the Requiem and save my voice. There is a big reception this evening after the concert, and the gathering isn't scheduled to start until after 11:00pm. Our bus departs for the next festival early in the morning, so it doesn't look like I'll be sleeping much until we arrive at the next festival (http://choeurs.laureats.free.fr/). Hopefully, the schedule will be lighter and the food a little better. :)

But before I sign off, I should say that this has been a wonderful festival and a great opportunity for The Rose Ensemble. Sure, I joke about the food and strange little situations, but we were invited here specifically because of our win in Tolosa (it was the same for the festival in Italy last month as well). Everyone here knows about us and that we won in Spain last October, and we have been so fortunate to be able to sing for such warm and generous audiences. And the festival organizers here at Musique en Morvan are incredibly kind and accommodating. (There is already talk of them inviting us back.) And on a personal note, I am grateful for the opportunity to meet wonderful people like Paola, the director of the Italian group, Hasta Madrigalis, and Federico, one of its basses (a man who is seriously the most stylish Italian I have ever met).

I'm not sure what the internet connection situation is going to be like in Vaison, so if you don't hear from me for a few days you'll know why.

Ciao –
Jordan

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Vol. 5 - Thursday, July 24, 2008

MARKET DAY IN AUTUN - from Lisa Drew

It's Wednesday, and that means Market Day in Autun. Every Wednesday and Friday until about 1pm there are lots of vendors displaying their wares. After coffee with my friend Ginna, I wandered over to see what was for sale. You can find everything from cheap jewelry to shoes to clothing and even underwear.

Yes, brassieres on display in all their frilly French glory. Only in France. There was a wonderful inside market area under the city hall where you can find fresh fruit, cheeses, veggies, meats, breads, olives and garlic - I even saw a vendor selling fresh pigeon. Not my first choice for poultry.

For the past week, we have been rehearsing every morning at 9am for the Fauré Requiem which we will perform on Friday and Saturday nights. Rose was excused from rehearsals this morning which was a blessing since we didn't return home from our concert until 1am. This gave me the opportunity to explore.

Today is a glorious day - warm, not a cloud in the sky and a nice mountain breeze. The temps here are quite cool actually; in fact, the other night after our concert we could actually see our breath. The village concerts have been quite lovely and the reception and food glorious. I have been mostly having frugal meals of baguettes and cheese when we are not being fed by one of the local villages we travel to for an evening concert.

That leads in to my discussion on food comas. Last night our concert was in a small village, Saint Symphorien-de-Marmagne, where we had a meal of fresh lettuce with a Dijon dressing, tomatoes and basil. The main entree was a lasagna of sorts - fresh spinach, salmon, a thin layer of pasta and topped with a béchamel sauce and cheese. For dessert, homemade creme brulée, fresh fruit salad and vanilla and chocolate mousse. They insist on feeding us right up until concert time and always offer us wine. One glass does me just fine, and I have fallen in love with the Kir apéritif - crème de cassis dijon in vin blanc. Very yummy. Singing with a food coma -- that's an experience on its own.

When given the opportunity, I have had a couple of really good meals out. A favorite restaurant is Petit Rolin - just next to the great Cathedral in Autun. The Morvan specialty is the Bourguignon de canard (duck in a burgundy wine sauce) with mushroom and potato. I enjoyed my first taste of this so much I had to go back with Linda, Kris and John for seconds. For dessert, crepes with chocolate, honey and walnuts, and creme brulée à l'orange. I swear, I don't think I will ever order creme brulée outside of France again. It was idyllic and once again, the food coma set in . . .

Au revoir!
Lisa

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Vol. 4 - Tuesday, July 22, 2008, 2:00pm

Autun

Bonjour, everyone!

It's been a busy last couple of days so I'm sneaking away (actually skipping a concert by the Hungarian choir) in order to write a few lines. It's amazing how the hours fly by here. So many meetings and rehearsals, not to mention all the concerts.

But I should begin writing to report that I was able to spend Sunday relaxing with friends. It was a free day for The Rose Ensemble so Tim and Bill and I hopped in Patrick's car and drove into the countryside of beautiful Bourgogne. (Besides being a singer himself, Patrick is a Rose Ensemble board member who is traveling with us.) The weather has been absolutely spectacular here. It's sunny all day - but always with lots of expressive clouds - and often with relatively low humidity. There's always a cool breeze and the nights can actually become quite brisk ("good sleeping weather" as my grandma used to say.)

The four of us boys drove deep into wine country (where else) and took part in an afternoon of tastings. One particular vineyard was run by Sophie, whom Patrick had met a couple of days earlier. One knock on her door and one look at Patrick was all it took for Sophie to enthusiastically welcome us into her little cellar. It's a very small vineyard in an area called Auxey-Duresses and she produces some fantastic wines. We tasted 12 in all here (yikes!) and I particularly liked the sparkling brut, "Crémant de Bourgogne" (Domaine Labry). At only 7 Euros a bottle, this is a complete steal. But sorry, it's not available in the U.S.

After some more tastings, we found ourselves in the middle of an area that made Patrick and Tim begin acting like we had stumbled upon the holy grail of wines. It was the Montrachet vineyard and reportedly worth millions. This relatively small plot of land (all walled in by the most gorgeous stone) has been used for growing grapes since medieval times when monks first discovered its worth. I understand that Thomas Jefferson even wrote about it (although at the time I guess they were growing red here). Now it's all white Burgundy and supposedly the top dog. I felt stupid for not recognizing the name. In any case, we all sat on the wall for a while and drank some Crémant out of the bottle. Of course, it was all very respectable. We finished the evening with a lovely dinner in Autun. I did the prix fixe menu, which wa s a total bargain at 27 Euros for a 5-course meal. I ate coq au vin for the first time and really liked it.

On Monday morning it was back to work, rehearsing with the French conductor (we're still preparing the Fauré Requiem with all the other choirs). Then it was off to lunch, followed by a concert by the Italian group, Hasta Madrigalis. The Rose Ensemble has completely bonded with the Italians and we can often be seen laughing and joking like a bunch of old friends. Paola, the director, is not only completely beautiful but also very nice. We have a lot of fun sharing director stories.

Last night The Rose Ensemble gave a concert in a village called Brion. The drive there was like something out of a movie. So beautiful. Everywhere you look here there are rolling, lush, green hills dotted with little farms and either sheep or cows. Brion has a tiny little church (12th-century foundation but rebuilt in the 18th-century) where we gave the concert. At first glance, we guessed that it could probably seat about 80 people max, and we were a little concerned, since the local newspaper featured a huge article about our performance.

Before the concert, the townspeople provided us with a fantastic simple meal of fresh tomatoes with eggs, a green salad, tabouli and slices of roasted pork. The cheese course featured a mild but flavorful brie, and for dessert there were all sorts of fruit tarts as well as a flourless chocolate mini-cake. Yum. I got to sit next to the mayor and make a fool of myself in French, although the locals insisted I speak "only with little accent." Umm, sure.

When we arrived at the church after dinner, we just about fell on the ground. No, it wasn't the flock of geese blocking our bus's path, it was the number of cars parked in the area. And when we looked at the church's entrance and saw the line of people, we realized that these people were never actually going to get inside the building. It was that full. I have no idea how on earth they crammed in as many as they did. They were on the kneelers, in the side chapels, sitting on the floor…it was a sight to behold. The acoustics changed dramatically in the church and it became horribly hot (and without oxygen) and the sacristy (aka our green room) was small and we were falling all over each other. But we took it all in stride as usual and gave a great show. The Italians actually made the trip and came to see us (they had the night off) and that made it extra special.

We gave two encores and sold a record number of CDs. The entire village, along with two other neighboring villages, threw a reception for us afterwards (sparkling wine and dense little cakes), at which we sang two more songs. I can't begin to tell you how warmly we have been received here. People are so generous with their resources and they attend the concerts with the most attentive and enthusiastic manner. Add that to the incredible view this countryside provides and we end each evening piling into our tour bus in a state of awe and gratitude.

This morning's rehearsal came waaaaaay too soon (we got home really late last night). 3½ hours of Fauré rehearsal beginning at 9am today was not exactly easy. It's interesting to see how the other groups deal with the schedule and the fatigue. I think they are all doing fine, but the handful of Romanian tenors I have befriended seem to be awfully blurry-eyed these days. I had another directors' meeting this afternoon (they gave us a great lunch) and I'll soon have to prepare for this evening's concert. We have to leave at 5:30pm for a 9:00pm show. Oh yes, there will probably be more gorgeous scenery and eager townspeople bearing platters of food.

Peace to all –
Jordan

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Vol. 3 - Saturday, July 19, 2008, 11:50pm

On the road from Perreuil, France

Bonjour, everyone!

It's been a busy day so I thought I should write and fill you in on what's been going on.  I'm typing this on the bus right now, and the road is incredibly winding, so I hope I don't get sick (I won't tell you if I do).  It's getting hotter and hotter in here, however, and I hope the bus driver opens a vent pretty soon. We just finished a concert and we all smell from sweating for the last 3 hours.

Last night I decided to skip dinner because I got a little queasy after lunch. By 8:00pm or so I was getting hungry so I got a hold of Bill Hudson and we met to find a bite to eat. We found a cute little brasserie in the medieval part of town but after we sat down the waiter informed us (sheepishly) that they weren't serving food anymore. I found this curious, considering the hour and the fact that it was a Friday night, but he explained that certain places in town close early and some stay open late. He offered us a drink and said that he'd recommend a few places to eat. I was immediately suspicious because of my experience in Prague, where waiters pose as "helpful" but end up sending you into the hands of their con-artist friends, only to rob you blind. But Bill said the guy was genuinely trying to help and I guess I agreed.

It turns out that this waiter was one of the most generous people we have met so far. Not only did he start calling places, but he seemed to know every restaurant in town, what their specialty is and the owner's name. He said he found a great place for us, promptly gave us directions, but then poured me what he called "just a sample" of a white from Bourgogne called Rully (2006). I highly recommend this wine. They said it is only 8 Euros in France, so that means it's probably about $30 in the States. Oh, and if you do look for it, make sure it's a 2006 (the waiter other recent years aren't so good).

But this time the wine was from the bottle that had been sitting at another group's table!  Hmmm.  Strange, I know, but no one seemed to blink. I gave it a whiff and a taste, and out of the corner of my eye I noticed that everyone was looking at me with a strange expression of anticipation. The wine was fantastic and I must have shown my glee, for after I said that I really liked it and tried in my broken French to describe a few characteristics (dear God, that made me feel really stupid), they promptly made room for us and poured Bill and me another glass of this fantastic chardonnay (note to the non-oenophile: all whites that come from Burgundy must be 100% chardonnay grapes).

Before long, Tim happened to stroll by so we invited him to sit with us. Naturally, he charmed them all, not only with his perfect French (the people there kept telling me, "He speaks without accent!"), but also his impressive knowledge of wine. The waiter, Rudolf, seemed to know everything about the Bourgogne area and decided that because he has Sunday (tomorrow) free, he would take us around for some wine tasting. (Oh shucks, what an unfortunate thing for him to offer to do.) Rudolf's friends (Dany and Rochelle) one-upped him by mentioning that they have a cabin in the mountains and that we simply must come and stay with them. So much for the "the French hate Americans" stereotype . . .

I skipped lunch at the cafeteria today and instead had a programming meeting with Ginna at a cool little Kurdish restaurant near my hotel. It was wonderful, with huge salads overflowing with real live tomatoes (now with real tomato taste) and crisp fresh cucumbers. Ginna ate a gyro-ish thing the size of her head and everyone who worked there was beautiful. It was actually disgusting how good-looking they all were. I'm going to go there again with hopes that they will teach me their ways.

Lo and behold, there turned out to be a bagpipe festival in Autun today. The sound of French bagpipes, little crumhorn-like things, hurdy-gurdies, drums and musettes filled the air for most of the afternoon. I wish I had been able to catch a few of the shows, but I did manage to spy a procession looking out my bathroom window while I was getting ready to leave for our show this evening.

We took a bus from Autun to Perreuil and the trip was incredibly scenic. Rolling hills, gorgeous green pastures, little French villages…it was all too much. We stopped just outside the village of Perreuil where a monument was erected to honor an American pilot whose plane was shot down during WWII. This was can important (and even sacred) site for the town, and a handful of locals came to read (in English) a special welcome to us and a description of the site and the event it commemorated. We placed a wreath of flowers there and sang "America the Beautiful." It was actually quite moving and we felt honored and touched by the whole thing.

After a brief rehearsal in the church, we were then given a home cooked meal in one of the largest buildings in this little village. (It was like a community center, complete with a kitchen and a room with a little stage.) A few local ladies made the most wonderful meal, which began with an aperitif of white wine and cassis (current) liqueur, followed by thin slices of ham and sausages with fresh cantaloupe. Then came huge platters of omelette with big pieces of pork fat folded in (they made Kim a special one without milk). Then, of course, there was the cheese course (it was the most delightfully full-bodied brie), and finally dessert, which featured the most lovely variety of fruit tarts served with crème fraîche. It was all served by this really cool guy who was the president of the local association of the city. (It's hard to explain what that really is, but each village seems to have one.) I wish I could remember his name, but he was so nice and friendly. And he was youngish (probably early 40s) and seemed out of place with his youth and longish hair in this little village of cute old French people. Oh yeah, and he served us a lot of wine with dinner.  (Let's just say we were all very relaxed when we walked out on stage.)

Dinner ended at 8:45pm and our concert was scheduled to start at 9:00pm. We ran up the road to the church (taking in the utterly picturesque town, which looked like something out of a cool old French movie about a little village where a quirky guy who rides a beat-up bicycle falls in love with a gorgeous seamstress, but not before some old farmer's cow gets lost), walked straight through the sanctuary (the only way to our sacristy-turned-dressing room) and were dressed and ready at about 9:03. It was okay, though, because there were a lot of speeches, as usual, before we started.

Singing in this little village church was simply sublime. I want to record here, so somebody should start raising the money to make that happen. The only noise pollution is that of local chickens and the acoustics of this gem of a church are completely priceless. It was that kind of space that makes 3 voices sound like 10, but you can still get away with playing instruments, big choral works, soft solos, etc.  Our program tonight was incredibly varied, with a first half of sacred music featuring much of the program we did the other night, but also a lovely Hildegard von Bingen chant (sung by the women and accompanied by Ginna) and a medieval Italian lauda sung by the men. Our second half clearly surprised this audience, as demonstrated by their audible sighs upon seeing Tim, Kim and the other women walking out on stage in their Hawaiian outfits. Five Hawaiian selections were performed, which drew some of the biggest applause of the evening. Next came early American music, followed by a closing set of Sephardic music, followed by two encores. Whew. Let's just say they really liked us.

Tomorrow is Sunday and we have a day off, which is a welcome change from our schedule in Italy last month (not that we didn't love every minute of it). I'm hoping to sleep in and then go with Tim, Bill, Patrick and Rudolf and see what other wonderful things Bourgogne has to offer.

Peace to all – Jordan

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Vol. 2 - Friday, July 18, 2008, 3:00pm

Autun, France

Bonjour, everyone!

It always amazes me how much can happen in just a day.  I suppose I should be used to having the group immediately hit the ground running (it's happened this way on all of our European tours), but it's still difficult to have less than 24 hours of recovery time. The good thing is that my dear colleagues rarely complain and are always consummate professionals. But it's more than a lack of grumbling - it's the fact that, even when fatigued, they still perform well. And last night's concert was no exception. (I'll get to that in a bit.)

Yesterday was indeed full. I hadn't been on French soil for much more than a day and I was already in planning meetings. The directors of all the choirs met at Lycée Bonaparte (it's actually where the man went to school as a boy!) and we had a rather intense informational session. The Italian director, Paola, is a total gem and we hit it off immediately. The Hungarian director doesn't speak a word of French and I got the impression that perhaps he doesn't speak English either (although he might just be a quiet person), so I didn't get to talk to him. The Romanian director didn't show up (it was obvious that the festival organizers were wondering where the Romanians were in general). The meeting was conducted in French but the organizers spoke slowly enough that I was able to make out the details and later deliver the info to the Rosies.

A little later, there was a quick meeting/rehearsal with all the choirs (still no Romanians). We had to learn a couple pieces we'd be singing for the opening of the festival later in the day. I also had a short meeting with the Rosies and we figured out what we'd be singing in the evening. It's nice to be able to work with such flexible folks, that's for sure.

We decided to have a rehearsal at the Cathedral at 4:00pm yesterday. We were all dead-tired but knew it was the smart thing to do in order to be ready for the concert (we opened the festival with our performance last night). Le Cathédrale Saint-Lazare is a gorgeous (11th-12th-century) church that has architectural and design features unique enough to make it quite famous in France.  See more about it here.

They play a CD of vocal music continuously in the church, and the control panel was in a locked room, so we got worried that we'd have to rehearse competing with the recording. We eventually found someone to turn it off. Our rehearsal ended up drawing a lot of tourists and several ended up coming to the concert later in the evening.

I should mention that while Autun – the more I see of it – is a gorgeous city, it is not a typical tourist destination. It should be by all accounts, considering the Cathedral, the impressive square, the Roman ruins, etc.  But because Autun has an insignificant train station, and because it is not well-connected to the national transportation system, it has managed to stay surprisingly untouched by non-French tourists. (Famous last words, I know, but you've gotta trust me on this one.)  Even after the concert last night, when hundreds of people had just poured out of the church, we had absolutely no problem finding a street café at which to have a celebratory drink. I was walking back to my hotel at about 12:30 and there was not a soul on the streets. This is a gorgeous French town in the middle of summer and it's just as sleepy as can be!! And I should mention that you can get a decent glass of wine here for close to nothing (eight of us shared two "pitchers" of wine and paid 7.50 Euros).

At 8:00pm last night, all the choirs assembled on the steps of City Hall, where there was an official proclamation issued to open the festival. We all sang the songs we learned early in the day, and each choir also sang two pieces from their home country. We chose Hawai'i Aloha (what could be called the people's Hawaiian anthem) and Jesus the Light of the World (an old-time tent revival song).  During the Italians' number, the organizer sneaked up the steps and asked me if we would sing another, so we finished that part of the ceremony with our brand-new arrangement of Balm in Gilead, featuring a descant written by Monte Mason of the Gregorian Singers in Minneapolis. Everything went very well, although Ginna and I agreed later that we prefer "our other music" to spirituals.

After a hot and sweaty jaunt up the hill to the Cathedral, The Rose Ensemble gathered and prepared for our concert. It was supposed to start at 9:30, but by the time people finally got situated in the church, and the priest and various officials gave their welcome speeches, we didn't walk out on stage until 10:00pm. Doesn't seem like a big deal, I know, but remember that this was only our second day here and we'd been going non-stop since morning. We had a little pep-talk in the green room (the sacristy – where else?) and all decided that we were tired but felt good and were ready to perform.

The concert really went well and I left the stage very pleased. We had decided on a program of only early European music, with a large dose of medieval French repertoire. Some would say that was daring, but it turned out to be a marvelous choice, as countless people complimented us specifically on our programming. The church was overflowing with people (standing room only) but once we began, the massive audience turned eerily silent.  They clearly appreciated the program, which was enhanced by our choice (a need, really) to announce our selections from the stage. Heather, John and Tim all did fantastic jobs and spoke beautiful French. After their song introductions, each actually received applause! (I suppose it's not every day a French audience hears Americans singing medieval chant and polyphony from the Cathedral of Notre Dame de Paris, let alone speaking pleasant French.) We received two thunderous curtain calls and decided to sing an encore of Sergey Khvoshchinskiy's Bogoroditse Devo, Raduysia.  Poor Bill Hudson (visiting singer from Indiana) had only rehearsed it once with us, and we were already massively handicapped without Mark Dietrich (indeed, neither Dustin Wirth nor Mark came with us on this trip), but it still turned out fine. In fact, we sold all of the "Fire of the Soul" discs we brought for the night.

It's hard to describe with words, but there is something so profound about singing in a medieval European church. Add that to the fact that we were in a 12th-century church, singing 12th-century sacred music, and you will hopefully understand what I'm talking about. We are so insignificant in the grand path of history, there is no doubt. But to be part of a musical "lineage" of nine centuries makes one truly appreciate art, music, architecture and history on a whole new level.  It's times like that when I feel blessed.

The night turned slightly chilly, but we were drenched from performing (I don't recall the last time I sweated that much in concert) and were happy to relax outdoors at the café. It was a full moon and just as it rose above the top of the Cathedral, an army of narrow strips of clouds moved quickly in front of the moon's glowing surface. (It looked like a perfect werewolf sky, if that helps.) Then the moon caused what I can only describe as an upside-down "night rainbow" and cast onto the lower clouds the most incredible curve of dark yellow, purple and blue. As the entire sky became deep indigo, the towers of the cathedral looked even more majestic. It was one of those moments when everyone stopped in their tracks and simply stared in awe at the utter beauty of the union of sky, moon and building.

We had a 9:00am rehearsal this morning, which is for Requiem by Gabriel Fauré. (This director heard that some of his distinguished colleagues went to bed at 5:00am, but news sources report that he pretended he didn't know a thing…) The Requiem will be sung by all the choirs (with a full orchestra) at the end of this particular festival (July 25 and 26).  Needless to say, we were all a little tired and not in the mood to sing (especially a piece that we all already know so well), but it's fun to sing with the other choirs and to work under a French conductor.

I should mention that there was a short review of last night's concert in this morning's paper that said:  "Avec ses voix d'anges et sous la direction de Jordan Sramek, le chœur américain a enchanté le public autunois."  (Jordan's rough translation: "with the voices of angels and under the direction of Jordan Sramek, the American choir enchanted the Autunian audience.") (Read the full article here.)

I am officially tired and I'm going for a walk. We have the whole night off, and I'm thinking about asking the Romanians if they'll let me hitch a ride on their tour bus. I would like to hear them in concert (many good young voices in that group). Not sure what the rest of The Rose Ensemble is doing tonight, but tomorrow's 9:00am rehearsal will come soon enough.

A bientôt –
Jordan

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Vol. 1 - Wednesday, July 16, 2008, 3:50pm

Autun, France

Dear Friends, Family and Rose Ensemble Fans–

Just a note to let you know that we have arrived in France and all is well. Both flights were fine (the women took USAir through Philly and the men and Kathy took the direct from MSP-Paris). The NWA folks' plane was actually a full hour early (due to a fortuitous tailwind), but because my group arrived at a different terminal than the other, we needed the time to meet the gals at their terminal. Our guide, Dominique, was already waiting for us when we got there, and once both groups converged we took off in our tour bus (a very large coach).

For lunch, we stopped at what an American would call a "truck stop," but in typical French fashion it was hardly that. Not only were there two espresso bars but there was a huge selection of hot and cold foods, in addition to the more typical gas station offerings. (Oh - and there was a small wine and chocolate section…)  But Dominique surprised us by pulling out of the bus's cargo belly a large crate of picnic fixings. We grabbed several tables outside (it's a lovely, cool-but-sunny day here) and made a nice little lunch for ourselves with all sorts of things: baguettes and spreadable cheese, fresh tomatoes and apples, and surprisingly yummy cans of tuna with either white beans or marinated vegetables (think salade Niçoise in a can without the haricots verts, eggs or potatoes). Ginna, Bill and I grabbed a few cups of café au lait, and we all drank enormous amounts of water (as usual, the flight attendants were SKIMPY with the water and we all had become quite dehydrated.)

The journey from Paris to Autun (in Bourgogne) took about five hours but my merry band is used to long bus rides - and the scenery was hardly boring. Getting closer to Burgundy the forests became more lush, the hills more rolling and the tiny villages more adorable. I resisted the temptation to sleep in order to appreciate these things, and I’m glad I did. In addition to many small rose gardens lovingly attended, I spied various large fields of wheat, corn and soybeans. Lots of cattle, too.

Autun is a smallish city (but by far the biggest in the vicinity) with some real charm and also some annoying aspects. The streets are typically lined with locally owned shops, cafes and restaurants, and the residents walk quite a bit. There’s a small train station and a handful of hotels, and the thoroughfare is host to a thundering and constant stream of large trucks. There’s also a fair amount of sight-seeing to do here. Here’s a website that I thought you might find interesting: http://www.burgundytoday.com/towns/autun.htm. It’s understandably slanted toward all the good stuff, but there’s a lot for this city to be proud of.

My colleagues are staying in what could be called a boarding school and I'm in the "directors' hotel" about 10 minutes away by foot. I'm okay with staying apart from the group (it's not like I don't see them more than anyone else in my life) and it's actually going to be necessary,  since the directors will be getting daily updates on schedule changes, etc. My hotel is on the main street and right across from the train station, so it's LOUD, but I'll survive.

It looks like the other choirs in this festival are from Italy, Romania and Hungary and we'll meet them tomorrow at an all-choir get-together/rehearsal. I also see that they are all staying in the same boarding school as Rose, so I have a feeling there's going to be plenty of merriment once the ice is broken (and that doesn't take long for musicians).

I'll write more tomorrow and hopefully send a few pictures. Please also note that I do indeed have internet access here at the hotel, so I should be able to write as often as the schedule allows. (Staff, I'll do my best to keep up on office work!)

Au revoir – Jordan

 

These activities are supported, in part, by a grant from USArtists International, a program of the National Endowment for the Arts with support from the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation and managed by the Mid Atlantic Arts Foundation.

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Previous blogs

• Updates from Italy, June, 2008
• Postcards from Spain, October-November, 2007

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