Victoria Wood's new play takes its inspiration from a childrens' choir she loved. David Ward recalls the poignant reunion of the original singers
On 19 June 1929, 250 singing children ? 190 girls and 60 boys ? from 52 local schools travelled by tram to the Free Trade Hall in Manchester to record a happy chorus by Henry Purcell with the Hall� Orchestra, under the direction of Sir Hamilton Harty. They made two nervously bad attempts before finding their form for a third take; it was issued on Columbia 9909, a 12in 78rpm disc that cost four shillings and sixpence and sold 1m copies.
Nymphs and Shepherds, sung by the Manchester School Children's Choir, stayed in print for more than 60 years and was a much-requested radio number; it is available now on a CD called Golden Years of the Gramophone.
For those of a certain age, Manchester's bright-voiced kids singing about Flora's holiday immediately conjures up sunny Sunday dinner times, Two-Way Family Favourites on the BBC's Light Programme, the smell of roast lamb in the oven and the sound of someone chopping fresh mint.
Victoria Wood grew up with Nymphs and Shepherds, thought it was wonderful and played it to her children. Now she has used it as the starting point for That Day We Sang, a new play with songs ("It's almost a musical") commissioned by the Manchester international festival. The story unfolds in both 1929 and 1969, the year of a choir reunion at which Nymph Enid, a secretary, meets Shepherd Tubby, an insurance salesman. It's the first time their paths have crossed for 40 years.
That reunion is Wood's invention; but other reunions really happened. The last was in Manchester town hall (where the choir had sung in 1927 for the building's 50th anniversary) in 1989, 60 years after the recording. I know; I was there.
Then a reporter in the Guardian's Manchester office, I had called Alan Rusbridger (who edited Guardian Weekend and has since gone on to higher things) to suggest a Nymphs and Shepherds feature. But he had never heard of the choir or its famous record. "I'll ask round the office and if anyone knows about it, you're on," he said.
I hung on and then heard down the phone a ragged chorus sing Purcell's tune in a variety of keys. So I wrote my feature and then joined the singers, most of them in their 70s, on their special day in Manchester town hall. By 1989, only 146 singers (118 nymphs, 28 shepherds) were still alive and about 60 had come together for a final meeting. "This will be the last reunion because it's so saddening saying goodbye to our departing members," said Stanley Rose, the mutton-chopped shepherd who had organised the gatherings. "Our recording has a life of its own and is now entirely removed from the people who recorded it. It might live on forever, but we won't."
The singers were scattered at tables around the Great Hall with its Ford Madox Brown murals of great Manchester moments including The Proclamation Regarding Weights and Measures in 1556 and The Opening of the Bridgewater Canal in 1761; the Nymphs and Shepherds event, at least for me, turned out to be another great Manchester moment. The plan was that the veterans would enjoy tea and fancies and receive a gold disc from a representative of EMI; a carefully rehearsed ensemble would then stand on a podium and sing their special number.
"Before we do," announced someone (possibly Rose), "we'll play the record to remind you of the words." The hall fell silent and the Hall�'s long-dead players set off, through 60 years of fizz and crackle, on the intro to the chorus. As the 1929 children began to sing, I was aware of a haze of sound that at first I couldn't identify; then I realised that every nymph and shepherd in the room was gazing into the long-ago and very quietly singing along with his or her 1929 self.
Sixty years disappeared as the chorus flowed through this grand space for three minutes or so. It was an eerily beautiful, unforgettable, soul-stirring musical moment; not authentic Purcell, but rather the sound of people connecting with the sheer joy of singing together.
I had earlier interviewed Stanley Rose, who had written a little book describing his intensely happy four years in the choir and his memories of the day of the recording. "The pleasure [of singing] meant more to me than any of my other boyish interests, whether they be our new loudspeaker wireless set or the new talking pictures at the cinema. Or even watching Manchester City playing their brilliant football."
Rose is dead now but it's clear that no experience in his life rivalled his Nymphs and Shepherds years. And that singing time, and particularly the day of the recording, is the inspiration for Wood's play. "I have stayed true to that first idea that people can have a day in their lives that is very important and if they can reconnect with that day, reconnect with the people they were then, they can suddenly revive their emotions," she says. "That's what it's about ? the power of music to revive your love of life. And hopefully it's funny."
In That Day We Sang, Enid and Tubby are brought together for a film being made by Granada TV about the 40th anniversary of the record, in 1969. "They are two people who don't know each other but just happen to meet on this day when they are being filmed," Wood says. "That sets off a chain of events. They put headphones on Tubby and play him the record, which he hasn't heard since he sang on it, and he starts to cry. That's the start of his emotional journey triggered by hearing the music. He's very jolly and jokey but everything has been locked down. He has lived with his mother who doesn't like music. She has only just died; now he is able to listen to music and it is able to propel him on to the next stage of his life." And the next stage of his life is a relationship with Enid. "The play asks what as a child do you aspire to be? As a man, what do you feel you owe that child? The story goes forward and back."
And back it goes to the Free Trade Hall in 1929 when 250 terrified children ?"Some would have called us a scruffy lot of elementary school brats," suggested Rose ? trembled, overawed by the place and the occasion; they sang with confidence only after their inspiring teacher, Gertrude Riall, told them they were braying like donkeys and were as soggy as yesterday's bread pudding, and clapped her hands to free them of the spell she said had gripped them. For the play, the fear and the music of the original nymphs and shepherds will be recreated by two choirs of 50 (accompanied by the Hall� Youth Orchestra) from four north Manchester primary schools. They have been coached since last October by the soprano and choir trainer Anna Flannagan. The 1929 children were selected by audition; the 2011 children are almost all volunteers and Flannagan has had to take her choir, as Riall did with hers, on a long, improving journey. "They are singing a million light years away from how they were singing when I first met them," Flannagan says. "They know how to breathe and they sing beautifully in tune."
They have also been taught to sing posh, as Riall used a blackboard and phonetic spelling to ensure that her choir employed received pronunciation vowels, said "end" for "and", "darnse" for "dance" and "mewsic" for "music". The 2011 children have found some of this hilarious, even if they were initially not keen on Purcell and his tune. "They told me they didn't like singing Nymphs and Shepherds," Wood says. "I told them that was show business, get over it. But I think that by the time they come to do it, are in their costumes dressed as 1929 children, they'll feel differently."
It would be nice to report that the 30 singers from Bowker Vale primary, one of the four schools involved in the production, have been joyously singing Nymphs and Shepherds ("Your flocks may now securely rest/ Whilst you express your jollity") in the playground. But they haven't, though acting head Gloria Hinz says her 10-year-olds have loved an experience that has done an immense amount for their confidence.
Leah found unforgettable the time she spent recording four songs in a studio; Athar says working with Wood was an amazing opportunity; and Zac met lots of famous people on a trip to London. Aisah adds: "This event made me realise that there are lots of other musics out there. This is a huge event and ? wow! ? I'm in it."
Which is probably how many of those 250 children must have felt as they rode the tram to Peter Street in 1929.
? That Day We Sang is at the Opera House, Manchester, from 6-17 July as part of the Manchester international festival: mif.co.uk
Source: http://www.guardian.co.uk/tv-and-radio/2011/jun/30/victoria-wood-historic
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