A tribute to the variety of sounds that strings make, and the human connections that music brings
Manchester Collective
Some concerts are about the music only, the sheer joy of music-making. Others have an external framework, which may be emotional, intellectual, musicolgical, or even spiritual; or a mixture of all of these. Sunday afternoon’s excellent concert by Manchester Collective at the RNCM in Manchester combined all these elements.
Linda Begbie, the Collective’s new Chief Executive, introduced the concert. Last week, she had been auditioning young students for the new Manchester Collective studio at the RNCM. They expressed their fears about a world that was ‘very dark and dangerous, a very scary place.’ With evident emotion in her voice, she said that music is all about connection, ‘if we move away from this, that’s where things go wrong. ‘The Collective’s ethos, she said, was about bringing full humanity to their performances so audiences could meet them there. The concert would address life, death, and divine ecstasy.
Rakhi Singh, Co-Founder and Co-Artistic Director of the Collective, and lead violinist and conductor for this concert, took up the theme, describing her arrangement of the ninth-century Christian hymn Veni Creator Spiritus as an invocation of the Holy Spirit. She said that the Collective tries to evoke its spirit in the rehearsal room, but it usually only appears in front of an audience. She echoed the feelings of Begbie’s students, that the world seems to be falling apart; we need to find our kindness and courage, and use our despair and outrage to take positive action.
I would try to imagine what a Shaker ceremony must have felt like – those normally stern souls suddenly sprung loose in a rapture of religious ecstasy as they shook in sympathetic vibration with their creator
John Adams on ‘Shaker Loops’
The John Adams piece, Shaker Loops, also has a spiritual aspect. Adams was inspired by the minimalism of pieces for tape loops, repeated looping patterns found in pieces like Steve Reich’s It’s Gonna Rain (1965).
Adams was also inspired by the ecstatic, spiritual dancing of the Shakers religious community, which was set up in the North West of England in the eighteenth century before moving to America. Reading his works over sections of the music, Lancashire-born poet Christ Bryan celebrated the Shakers and its founder Ann Lee in the first of three poems, Genesis. He honoured Lee as ‘The Seer.. God the Mother’, who founded the Shakers as an offshoot of the Quakers, during the Industrial Revolution, when,
‘The town’s waters are no longer used for baptism Crucified new to the crux of commerce.’
The second poem, Exodos, laments, in Bryan’s words, ‘the spiritual malaise of modernity and materialism of all forms – theological, philosophical and economical.’ It begins with evocative words describing a post-industrial landscape,
‘The provocation of concrete is now in bloom The endless bankrupt brick blossom.’
The third and final poem, Revelation, like the other poems, takes its name from one of the books of the Bible. It’s a joyful reworking of the Shaker Hymn A Beautiful Day,
From brook and from fountain come voices of welcome To look beyond to that region where the supernatural lay Where beameth forever a beautiful day.’
Singh described the divine connection of music and dance in Adams’ piece; she said the Collective sought a divine connection in their playing and brought it to the audience.
The musicological aspect of Sunday’s concert was touched on by Adams in his programme note to Shaker Loops, referring to the musical meaning of to shake, ‘meaning either to make a tremolo with the bow across the string or else to trill rapidly from one note to another.’ The viola player Ruth Gibson introduced Terra Memoria for string quartet by the late Finnish composer Kaija Saariaho by asking players to demonstrate the varied string techniques used by the composer. This was not just a technical exercise. The piece illustrated the whole range of emotions that form part of the grieving process, from lamenting, pain, anger and resignation to moments of reconciliation and yearning, and hope.
“The title Terra Memoria refers to two words which are full of rich assoÂciÂations: to earth and memory. Here earth refers to my material, and memory to the way I’m working on it.”
Kaija Saariaho
The concert’s opening piece, Such Different Paths by the Bulgarian-British composer Dobrinka Tabakova, also featured varied string techniques. The composer asks for playing at one point to sound ‘like a folk fiddle, and elsewhere asks the players to ‘think Baroque.’ The Collective, here consisting of a septet, brought out the full range of colour in this dense and complex piece.
Throughout the concert, The Collective embraced all the music’s musicological, intellectual and spiritual aspects, absorbed them, and created an emotional whole. Their playing throughout was virtuosic, passionate, precise yet emotional. They continue on their mission of communicating deeply through music.
Manchester Collective and Christ Byran
Performers
Rakhi Singh Violin Haim Choi Violin Will Chadwick Violin Donald Grant Violin Rose Hinton Violin Anna Tulchinskaya Violin Bethan Allmand Violin Mira Marton Violin Eloise MacDonald Violin Ruth Gibson Viola Abby Bowen Viola Gemma Dunne Viola Ben Michaels Cello Alex Holladay Cello Jess Schafer Cello Alice Durrant Double bass Christ Bryan Live poetry
Repertoire
Dobrinka Tabakova Such Different Paths Kaija Saariaho Terra Memoria Hymn arr. Rakhi Singh Veni Creator Spiritus John Adams Shaker Loops feat. Christ Bryan
The title of Sunday afternoon’s concert, The Body Electric, has been used in many cultural contexts, including music by Weather Report, Rush, The Sisters of Mercy and Lana Del Ray. The phrase comes from an 1855 poem by the American poet Walt Whitman, I Sing the Body Electric. The poem is divided into several sections, each celebrating a different aspect of human physicality. Rahki Singh, Co-Founder and Co-Artistic Director of the Collective, explained that the analogy of the body electric referred to the imaginative structure of the programme – the body as a big house with lots of different rooms, with ‘something new behind each door.’
One of the joys of following the Collective’s work is that the forces always vary from one concert to another – from a fairly large ensemble with choir in Rothko Chapel to a smaller ensemble with African drums, bass guitar, and the fantastic African cellist and singer Abel Selaocoe in Sirocco. On Sunday, the Collective consisted of two musicians, Singh on violin and the cellist and composer Zoë Martlew.
The concert began with Singh ‘in outer space among the stars’, playing ‘Joy’, the first movement from David Lang’s Mystery Sonatas. Bathed in white light, with the rest of the hall in complete darkness, Singh played on the upper strings and with harmonics to create images of glacial beauty, an icy landscape in the depths of space. The piece had an almost spiritual feel, and Martlew retained the mood of a piece she described as ‘iconic… encoding geometry in sound’, the ‘Prelude’ to Bach’s Cello Suite No.1. Martlew played with a lovely tone, relatively slowly, and with expressive rubato.
Martlew’s response to Bach’s piece was her own composition, G-Lude, commissioned by Spitalfields Festival, and premiered in July 2021. She explained to the audience that she had become weary of live performance and spent lockdown in a ‘state of profound silence, looking out to sea, communing with nature.’ This marked a move from being a cellist to composing. She said her tribute to Bach’s piece was ‘based on the architecture of the original.’ G-Lude is a remarkable, unsettling work. At times, Martlew appeared to be fighting her cello, with exaggerated breathing that was written into the score. She felt like the Jimi Hendrix of the cello, playing like a rock star, with heavy metal riffs, scraped strings and gorgeous harmonics. She put the bow down and ended with a gentle, stately pizzicato.
This segued into Missy Mazzoli’s Vespers for solo violin, which Singh had performed in the Rothko Chapel concert. Embellished by electronics, the amplified violin part features echoed flourishes and long, held chords in the accompaniment. Singh created a vision of light, with a recorded female voice gradually becoming more prominent, creating a cathedral of sound. It was a profoundly moving, spiritual experience, which was enhanced by Martlew’s calm performance of the ‘Allemande and Sarabande’ from Bach’s Cello Suite No.1.
It would have been easy to end the concert with something equally contemplative, but Singh had other ideas. She finished with her arrangement of LAD by Julia Wolfe, written for nine bagpipes and premiered by the Bagpipe Orchestra in New York City in June 2007. Her arrangement was for solo violin and eight pre-recorded violins. Perhaps inspired by Martlew’s rock star stylings, she announced that she would put her violin through an octave pedal, normally used by rock guitarists. She told us the piece would take us to ‘the depth of the earth’ and that the ‘gnarly’ opening always made it feel ‘like her insides had been rearranged.’ Tunes were also promised.
LAD began with a fiercely disquieting, visceral two-note theme and then a terrifying rising phrase. The combination of a drone and this rising phrase created an effect like the Shepard Tone, where an auditory illusion is created of an endless, constantly rising phrase. It’s used very effectively to ratchet up anxiety and tension in Hans Zimmer’s score for Christopher Nolan’s 2017 film Dunkirk, and also by Pink Floyd at the end of their track Echoes. Singh eventually played the folky tune she had promised, an ecstatic smile on her face. A second, folky tune featured an evocative swoop, which brought to mind the stunning score that Jóhann Jóhannsson wrote for Denis Villeneuve’s 2016 film Arrival. A truly cinematic ending to an excellent concert.
The concert opened with the pulsating joy of John Adams’ Short Ride in a Fast Machine, with all the musicians playing as one with infectious exuberance under Chauhan’s passionate baton. The audience reaction at the end was highly enthusiastic. The buzz that had been palpable throughout the festival, in the outdoor events as well as those on the main stage, continued right to the end of the festival.
Perhaps the highlight of the Finale was Iain Farrington’s Street Party, which had its world premiere on Sunday. In a fascinating pre-concert talk with Elizabeth Alker, he explained that he had written the new work in a jazzy style, partly inspired by composers like Gershwin and Bernstein, continuing a musical line from Saturday evening’s concert. He said that British orchestras are now used to playing jazz; when Alker asked him whether they might improvise during his piece, he replied, ‘I hope not!’
Farrington’s brief was to write a piece for the final concert in ‘this amazing festival.’ His aimed to create something ‘joyous, celebratory, open and inclusive… with a carnival atmosphere.’ He grew up in the market town of Hitchin in Hertfordshire. Some of his earliest memories are of outdoor festivals and street parties, including one that was closed down by the police because it was too popular (an experience which fed directly into the piece, as we found out later). He wanted to bring ‘outdoor music to an indoor situation.’ Along the way, he gave a huge compliment to Manchester’s Bridgewater Hall, ‘The most amazing concert hall… We’d kill for a hall like this in London.’
Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances provided us with an early opportunity to hear the chorus of English National Orchestra prior to them coming to Manchester later in the year. They didn’t disappoint; the sound was huge but well-balanced. The final piece was Respighi’s Pines of Rome, a chance for the combined orchestra to shine. There was a glittering opening, perfectly describing children playing amongst the pines. In the second movement, luxurious lower strings were joined by evocative, muted horns to create the subdued atmosphere of the Roman catacombs. An offstage trumpet, played in the gallery, had a lovely limpid tone. The plainsong chant of the priests was beautifully evoked as the movement reached its climax. The third movement was a nocturne, which began with a piano motif and a mellow clarinet solo. There was a lovely moment when there was a sudden change of harmony in the strings and heart-meltingly gorgeous orchestral playing in a huge romantic sweep. The recording of a nightingale that the score demands was perfectly blended with the orchestra. To end, we went back in history to the marching of Roman soldiers along the Appian Way, gradually building to a climax with majestic inevitability. Coruscating offstage brass joined, and finally the organ, as the music reached its apotheosis. What a way to end a wonderful festival!
Artists and repertoire
Manchester Collective: The Body Electric
David Lang Mystery Sonatas, mvt 1. Joy J.S. Bach Prelude from Cello Suite No.1 in G Major Zoe Martlew G-Lude Missy Mazzoli Vespers J.S. Bach Allemande and Sarabande from Cello Suite No.1 in G major Julia Wolfe arr. Rakhi Singh LAD
Rakhi Singh violin (Co-Founder and Co-Artistic Director of Manchester Collective) Zoë Martlew cello
Pre-concert talk – Iain Farrington and Elizabeth Alker
Iain Farrington composer Elizabeth Alker presenter
Finale
John Adams Short Ride in a Fast Machine Iain Farrington Street Party (world premiere) Borodin Polovtsian Dances Respighi Pines of Rome
Refractions: A Unique Concert Journey Beyond Genres
A refracted image of Clark and Rakhi Singh
This Blog has sometimes considered the definition of music beyond the convention that it must contain melody, rhythm, or harmony. Ambient music like Steven Wilson’s Ghosts on Magnetic Tape, which he recorded under the name Bass Communion, challenges our assumptions. Manchester Collective, under their Creative Director, Rakhi Singh, also like to challenge our assumptions, albeit in a different way, by breaking down barriers between musical genres. Their mission statement reads,
To us, music is most powerful when it’s immediate and personal, not bound by convention.
This applies not only to how they present their concerts but also to how they blend musical genres. A good example of this is their recent Sirocco tour, part of their long-term collaboration with the South African cellist Abel Selaocoe, who plays classical cello but also uses his voice to stunning effect in African throat singing.
On Friday evening in Manchester, the Collective completely broke down the barriers between genres, with music performed by a string ensemble led by Singh, electronics by the English musician Clark and dance choreographed by the Australian/Javanese choreographer and performer Melanie Lane.
Choreographer Melanie Lane on Refractions
Although my father, the church organist and choirmaster John Charles Holmes, was born in the 1930s, he would have understood what the Collective is aiming for. He knew little about pop or rock, but musically, he had an open mind – he was a fan of John Peel’s radio show. He once heard a track by electronic dance music pioneers 808 State and perceptively commented that it sounded like Baroque music. On Friday, we heard contemporary electronic music by Clark, seamlessly combined with music of Bach, Beethoven, Hildegard von Bingen, and Picforth. There was also more recent classical music by Britten and Ligeti.
Clark. Image by Ingrid Turner
The programme ran as a continuous musical sequence with no interval. There was scattered applause after the first piece, but after that, the audience remained silent until the well-deserved standing ovation at the end. Significantly, the list of pieces played was handed out to the audience after the concert, presumably to avoid preconceptions about the music colouring our perception. One of the joys of the concert was trying to guess who was making the music and where it was coming from, so expertly were the different styles of music blended and contrasted.
Linear time is a story we tell ourselves. But what if we rewrote it? In Refractions, medieval and baroque music crashes against modern electronica. Dancers call upon rituals from both ancient and alien civilisations.
From manchestercollective.co.uk
Choreographer Melanie Lane bought into the concept through the three dancers, Samantha Hines, Niamh Keeling and Moses Ward. She was inspired by Renaissance paintings, with sometimes violent imagery, and the movement and posture of many of those paintings. She was also inspired by science fiction, how the body might evolve into ‘something other’, and the journey from the Baroque to the modern. The costumes, designed by Don Aretino, were also a mix of the Baroque and the futuristic. There was a stunning example at the end of the concert, when the three dancers came on wearing what appeared to be long dark cloaks of the kind worn in the eighteenth century. As the dancers twisted and turned and spun, the cloaks opened up like flowers, creating an image of great power and beauty.
Manchester Collective and Clark with dancers Samantha Hines, Niamh Keeling and Moses Ward. Image by Ingrid Turner
Musically, the concert was a tour de force. It began with gentle electronics that exploded into something more sinister, as dry ice rose ominously from the stage. We then went on a phantasmagoric musical journey, as if in a fever dream. It was impossible to predict where the journey would take us next. There were moments of extreme beauty and serenity, such as the choral Antiphon by Hildegard von Bingen. Later, there was an extended section where it felt as if we were immersed in a horror film. Clark’s electronics were evocative and mesmerising throughout the concert, richly textured and emotive. As usual with the Collective, the standard of musicianship was incredibly high. Special mention should be made of Rakhi Singh, fiercely concentrating as she led the ensemble; the two cellists Nick Trygstad, Peggy Nolan and double bass player Alice Durrant, who provided stunning bass parts to match the electronic basslines; and pianist Junyan Chen whose touch was beautifully even.
It will be fascinating where Manchester Collective take us next, but the depth of imagination in their programming ensures that wherever they go we will want to join them on their musical journey.
Performers
Dancers Samantha Hines, Niamh Keeling, Moses Ward Electronics Clark Violin I Rakhi Singh, Martyn Jackson, Marie Schreer, Roman Lytwyniw Violin II Eva Thorarinsdottir, Will Newell, Lily Whitehurst Viola Alex Mitchell, Lucy Nolan Cello Nick Trygstad, Peggy Nolan Double Bass Alice Durrant Piano Junyan Chen
A musical art installation brings ‘a stillness that moves’ to Manchester
Manchester Collective first appeared on this Blog in December 2019, a review of a concert at The White Hotel in Salford, a small and (on the evening of the performance) very cold venue. Since then, this Blog hasn’t featured the Collective, for very boring reasons – partly due to the author being distracted by writing two books and by the joys of progressive rock (which, you will pleased to hear, will still be celebrated elsewhere on this Blog). In the interim, the group has continued to innovate, maintaining the highest possible artistic standards, deservedly performing to much bigger audiences, but never compromising its musical and artistic ambition. It remains one of the most exciting chamber groups on the UK classical music scene.
In 2009, the architect Zaha Hadid created a musical art installation for Manchester Art Gallery, turning an upstairs gallery into a temporary performance space called the JS Bach Chamber Music Hall, in which small-scale works by the great German composer were played live while the audience and performers were surrounded by a continuous, snaking piece of white Lycra. Lynne Walker in The Independent described it as ‘the perfect union of sound and space.’ Last Friday, Manchester Collective created, to adapt Walker’s phrase, the perfect union of sound and visuals at the Bridgewater Hall to recreate the experience of being in the Rothko Chapel in Houston, Texas.
Using evocative lighting designed by Lewis Hall, the stage was set with a series of upright lights to suggest the corners of the Chapel, and a suspended lighting structure to suggest the shape of the roof. The visual effect, with the colours of the lighting changing to match each piece of music, was spellbinding. The audience often sat in darkness, in rapt attention as if observing a sacred ritual, with shafts of light from the stage casting mysterious shadows.
The Rothko Chapel opened in 1971, a year after the American painter Mark Rothko died. Known for his large-scale canvasses of single colours or blocks of colour, Rothko’s legacy in the Chapel was a temple of art, with 14 of his darker-coloured paintings on the walls of the octagonal building. The aim of founders John and Dominique de Menil was also to create a non-denominational chapel, open to all. According to the Chapel’s website, it provides,
‘A stillness that moves… A quiet disruption… A sanctuary for the seeker…’
The music in Friday’s concert often provided the same experience. The phrase ‘a quiet disruption’ was particularly apt for three new commissions by Isobel Waller-Bridge, Katherine Balch and Edmund Finnis. The concert took its title from a piece written in 1971 by the American composer Morton Feldman, Rothko Chapel which was first performed in the Chapel in 1972. The new commissions, scattered across the first half, were given the same brief of responding to the architecture and atmosphere of the Chapel. As Rakhi Singh, Manchester Collective’s Creative Director, said in a short introduction from the stage, it’s very unusual to hear three new works in one concert; it’s challenging to be faced with over half an hour of music of which no recordings exist yet; and all three composers brought a very different response to the brief. Hearing the pieces unfold in real time was a fascinating and rewarding challenge.
The first of the three works was No. 9 for choir, string quartet, celeste and percussion by Isobel Waller-Bridge. Viewing the Rothko Room installation at Tate Modern a while ago had a profound effect on me – standing in the middle of the room, not looking directly at the black and maroon canvasses, created a sense of oppressive claustrophobia; it was almost as if the paintings were breathing. Waller-Bridge quotes Rothko’s own words about his painting No. 9; White and Black on Wine,
‘When you turned your back to the painting, you would feel that presence the way you feel the sun on your back.’
The composer’s reaction to the painting was very striking,
‘I stood in front of this painting for a long time. Sound emanated from it.’
Rakhi Singh’s description of the new piece was that it was ‘very bold.’ There were moments when it felt as if we were watching a pagan ritual from a horror film, the lights causing members of the Sansara choir to appear in silhouette; all that what was missing was the cowls that are often worn in such rituals in films. The piece began with a simple falling motif from Sansara choir, which was soon joined by interlocking string passages as the choir reached a delicious cacophony with intense strings. The music rose to a horrifying, frenetic climax, with the ominous rumble of percussion, scampering strings and tubular bells that might remind some of the music for the 1973 horror film The Exorcist. Minimalist chanting recalled the feverish atmosphere of George Crumb’s string quartet Black Angels (1971). The clatter of drums led to the choir singing in fierce, nightmarish unison, before the music fell away with serene chords, then tone clusters that were reminiscent of music used in another film, Atmosphères (1961) by György Ligeti from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968). A long held soprano note with more intense chord clusters ended the piece as it died away.
Rakhi Singh gave only one clue about the second commission – ‘the details are important’ – but it was helpful to know what to listen for in songs and interludes for choir (women only), harmonica, celeste and percussion by Katherine Balch. The piece has a fascinating set of influences, concepts and structural references, drawn as Balch says, from ‘a few disparate sources.’ Firstly, she adopted Feldman’s structure from Rothko Chapel, interspersing songs with instrumental interludes. Secondly, rather than using the dark colour palette from Rothko’s paintings in the Chapel, Balch was inspired by his earlier Color Field works from the 1950s which are painted in much brighter hues and warmer tones. Finally, to provide linking texts, she took words from Virginia Woolf’s essay A Room of One’s Own (1929) and using black-out poetry techniques redacted almost all the words on the page, leaving a fragmented version of the essay with only one or two words per page. She says,
‘The result resembles, in my mind, Rothko Chapel’s black triptychs – mostly monochromatic, with textural ripples.’
The piece began with overlapping bursts of voices, demonstrating strong harmonic invention. Resonant percussion led to a moving, magical section where various choir members played harmonica. It sounded as if the music was being beamed from a different dimension. A moment of profound stillness and beauty. A single, solo voice was followed by transgressive whispering and brittle percussion. Fragments of melody bloomed as the percussion became more fractured. If the devil was in the atmosphere of the Isobel Waller-Bridge piece, here the devil was in the detail of the tightly structured miniatures. The piece ended with high harmonica notes and a vocal fugue. Throughout, the virtuosity of percussionist Delia Stevens who did the work of two or three people at once, and the choir of women, was fully in evidence in a superb performance of the work.
Rakhi Singh didn’t provide any clues about the third and final Manchester premiere, Blue Divided Blue for choir, string quartet and tubular bells by Edmund Finnis. In the programme note, Finnis quoted Rothko’s description of the appropriate reaction to his paintings – they are about much more than the use of colour,
‘The people who weep before my pictures are having the same religious experience I had when I painted them.’
Finnis uses a text, ‘assembled exclusively from words found in titles of paintings by Rothko’ to create a ‘lament.’
The piece began with solo viola played by Ruth Gibson, intently going round and back on itself, leading to dense textures in the string quartet, and the choir passing the words ‘blue divided’ around from singer to singer. Calm, contemplative strings led to vocals spiralling forever upwards until they fell back again with gorgeous textures. Yearning, ambiguous chords morphed into each other, with dense choral textures slowly evolving as they came in and out of focus. The singers’ voices dropped to the depths as a busy string theme led to the final motif on tubular bells.
It was a privilege and a profound pleasure to hear three such contrasting new works, and before the interval Singh made an impassioned plea for the importance of new music. All the rest of the music in the concert has been performed and recorded elsewhere, but was beautifully programmed, as is always the case with Manchester Collective, to create a unique, special experience.
The concert began with the choir singing Solfeggio (1963) by Arvo Pärt, a fairly early work in serialist style before the composer developed his later tonal. bell-like style, the tones floating on the air to belie the formal structure. Nick Trygstad immaculately performed two works for solo cello, the plainsong-like Ave Maria (1972) by Giacinto Scelsi, and 7 Papillons: No. 2 by Kaija Saariaho, graphically describing the fluttering first flight of a butterfly. But perhaps the highlight of the first half, apart from the three substantial new commissions, was Vespers for Violin (2014) by Missy Mazzoli superbly performed by Rakhi Singh on a heavily echoed instrument, with supporting electronics including a recorded female voice that lurk unsettlingly below the soaring, ecstatic violin line, suggesting a twisted ritual remembered in a fever dream.
The second half of the concert was devoted to Feldman’s Rothko Chapel, another piece with ritualistic elements that at times were similar in emotional depth to a later work, The Protecting Veil (1988) by John Tavener. Both works feature a solo string instrument, viola and cello respectively. In concert, they create a sense of communal contemplation, a collective gathering of thought. Appropriately then, after the enticingly challenging nature of the earlier works in the concert, the piece ends with a simple folk melody, a restatement of the basic humanity that lies behind the spirit of the Chapel itself, sending the audience out from the reverential darkness of the Chapel to the bright sunshine of a Mancunian evening. An uplifting ending to a stunning concert.
Creative team Rakhi Singh – Creative Director Tom Herring – SANSARA: Artistic Director Lewis Howell – Lighting Designer Tomoya Forster – Sound Engineer Kate Green – Producer Declan Kennedy – Producer Alex Benn – Stage Manager
Manchester Collective Rakhi Singh – Violin Donald Grant – Violin Ruth Gibson – Viola Nick Trygstad – Cello Delia Stevens – Percussion Katherine – Tinker Celeste
SANSARA Lucinda Cox – Soprano Fiona Fraser – Soprano Daisy Walford – Soprano Clover Willis – Soprano Laura Baldwin – Alto Amy Blythe – Alto Anna Semple – Alto Jack Granby – Tenor Will Wright – Tenor Piers Connor Kennedy – Bass Ben Tomlin – Bass Tom Herring – Conductor, Bass
