Unlocked voices

I’ve always believed in the power of music.  And on Tuesday evening it brought together two very disparate groups : life sentence prisoners in a local jail, and a collection of respectable men with (probably) no more than a few speeding convictions among them. 

We were in the prison (the inmates could hardly come to us, could they?) to join forces for a choral evening: the Brue Boys, and the prison choir, Voices Unlocked. 

I found it surprisingly moving and a reminder, which as a former probation officer I really shouldn’t need, of the humanity and friendliness of so many offenders.

Looking at their faces, it was hard not to wonder what they were in for, and what backgrounds they had. A couple were particularly confident and socially-skilled, which made the wondering even greater.   But many radiated that curious combination of naivety and experience : faces etched with hard living, but also with qualities that seemed almost child-like.   But perhaps that’s not surprising, given the appalling backgrounds of so many offenders, which can so often lead to emotional stunting. And personal responsibility is then pared by living in a total institution. 

But for one evening our two groups were joined in song.  It was touching just how well-received our contribution was.   One young man in the audience was beaming with pleasure, and came up afterwards to say the music had brought back good memories. And others seemed very glad of the chance just to chat over a cup of tea.

Then we went our separate ways : the lifers filed back to their wings, and we were unlocked into the street, and freedom. 

Music and tears

“We all need to laugh more, cry more and sing more.”  The words of conductor Charles Hazlewood; and he wasn’t just referring to his performance at Strode Theatre in Somerset yesterday evening.  Or at least I don’t think so. 

It was a workshop of Mussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition with Wells Cathedral School brass ensemble.  It’s a fascinating piece and Charles Hazlewood’s interpretation and explanation added hugely to the enjoyment of the evening.  The brass ensemble were excellent, and especially the flugel horn player, who regrettably did not get singled out for applause at the end. 

What shone through was Charles’s passion for music as an integral part of life, rather than a snobbish art form.  He spoke of his experiences working in South Africa, where singing is as vital a human function as eating and sleeping.  We know exactly what he means, having spent a short time living among ordinary people in Zambia.

Why is singing often such a stilted and embarrassed experience in the UK?  Except – as Charles mentioned – on the football and rugby terraces where it’s unusual not to sing.  The value of singing in choirs is well-recognised in terms of well-being, and I really miss it when I am not able to make the weekly rehearsal of my own choir.

So well done to ambassadors like Charles Hazlewood and Gareth Malone for trying to spread the song.