Saydisc has an impressive catalogue of interesting and off-beat
titles which, like the ‘BBC sound-effects’ series and ‘Sounds
of Steam’ records, are the kinds of issues which used to pepper
the eclectic and sometimes eccentric soundmass of the British
aural experience in the age of the LP.
These recordings
were made in the 1970s, and are of course analogue to the
core. The booklet notes describe the sound engineer’s heroic
battle to find a location free of traffic noise, and the bulky
equipment was eventually carried up the tower and set up in
the chamber above the bells. With the sheer volume of sound
from the bells I can’t imagine extraneous noise being such
a problem, but I do know St. Mary’s well, and it does sit
more or less on an island surrounded by busy roads. All I
can say is it was well worth the effort.
The booklet introduces
the techniques and complications of change ringing concisely,
gives dates for each of the bells, has a strange, haunting
photo of the ringing team on the back cover and relishes in
those words like ‘Hunting’, ‘Dodging’ and ‘Tittums’ which
add such antique colour to this, for most people, almost secret
world.
I’ve lived in
The Netherlands for almost twenty years now, and remember
change-ringing coming up in discussions as a student at the
Royal Conservatoire in The Hague where I now work. Arguments
raged about minimal music, and I never really succeeded in
convincing my colleagues that they could all dump Glass, Reich
and Riley if only they could discover change-ringing. I’ve
always experienced this uniquely British sound in much the
same way a good performance of ‘In C’ might have affected
American audiences in the 1960s, and with the advantage of
hearing such gorgeous sounds at all kinds of distance, maybe
even mixing with a competing set in the next town, the sheer
euphoria of those bells cannot, in my opinion, be beaten.
Here in Holland, we have the Carillon tradition, by which
the bells are played on a kind of keyboard made with wooden
pegs. This has its own advantages, but all too often what
one hears are dire arrangements of West-End musical hits or
‘appropriate’ Church hymns. My mate Joost the jovial composer
also happens to be town carillon player for Den Bosch so I
know all the ins and outs of the carillon. He once asked me
to write a piece for the two sets of bells in that noble town
plus three carillons mounted on trucks dotted around the streets
below. I did my best, but your change-ringers were always
going to win – hands down, or up, or….
This kind of recording
is always going to be a big sentimental hit for an ex-pat
like me, but apparently even bell-ringers themselves say that
‘this recording represents the finest committed to disc.’
Knowing how much training and disciplined practice it takes
to make a 12-bell team sound even and as one, I can only listen
in awe as they run faultlessly through all of those complex
methods. As previously mentioned the recordings are excellent,
with some tape hiss audible but only at the opening and finish
of tracks. With only a very few almost negligible moments
of tape damage my only real criticism is the rather swift
and inelegant fade-out at the end of each track. It would
have been nicer if the tracks were longer as well, but the
timings are of course designed to fit onto the limitations
of the LP.
You might not
realise it, but change-ringing is one of those very few things
remaining which can properly and uniquely be described as
‘British’. If your Sunday mornings are rung-in by a local
church, count yourself lucky. If you are a Brit abroad then
your sap may well be revived by this disc in much the same
way as the last night of the Proms. If you are a big fan of
minimal music – especially the early stuff, then you owe it
to yourself to discover this truly stunning aural phenomenon.
Personally, I plan playing it at full volume when all the
fireworks go off this Dutch New Year!
Dominy Clements
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