Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Choir, chorale, chorus, SATB, sing, Voice parts
In any choir, you get four voice parts: soprano, alto, tenor, and bass, respectfully.
Sometimes these are divided into 1st and 2nd within each part, prompting endless jokes about 1st and 2nd basses. There are other parts, such as baritone, countertenor, contralto, mezzo-soprano, coloratura, etc. These are mostly used by soloist or those who belong to some exclusive, classical a cappella group (especially to countertenors (i’m thinking Chanticleer)), or who are making excuses for not fitting into the regular voice parts. We will ignore them for now. Each voice part sings in a different range, and each one has a very different personality.
You may ask, “Why should singing different notes make people act differently? That is a mysterious question and has not been adequately studied, especially since scientists who study musicians tend to be musicians themselves and have all the peculiar complexes of tenors, French horn players, timpanists, oboeists, etc. The fact remains that the four voice parts are easily distinguished. I will now explain how.
The sopranos sing the highest, and so they think they rule the world. They have long hair, fancier jewelry, and swishier skirts, and they consider themselves insulted if they are not allowed to go at least to a high F, G, A, etc, in every movement of any given piece. When they reach a high note, they hold it half again as long as the composer and/or conductor requires, and then complain that their throats are killing them and that the composer and conductor are sadists. Sopranos have varied attitudes toward the other choir sections, though they consider all of them inferior. Altos are to sopranos rather like 2nd violins to 1st violins - nice to harmonize, but not really necessary. All sopranos secretly feel that altos could drop out and the piece would sound essentially the same, and they don’t understand why anybody would want to sing in that range in the 1st place; It’s so boring. I mean, who else gets the melody…? NOBODY! Tenors, on the other hand, are nice to have around: besides their flirtatious possibilities (it is a well-known fact that sopranos never flirt with bases), sopranos like to sing duets with tenors because the tenors are merely working very hard to sing in a low-to-medium soprano range, while the sopranos are up there in the stratosphere showing off. To sopranos, basses are the scum of the earth - they sing too darn loud, and useless to tune to because they’re down in that low range - and there has to be something wrong with anyone who sings in the F clef, anyway (The famous statement goes…although they swoon while the tenors sing, they still end up going home with the basses… However, If you know me, I’ve got the best soprano around…)
Altos are the salt of the earth - in their opinion, at least. Altos are unassuming people, who would wear jeans to concerts if they were allowed to do so. Altos are in a unique position in the choir in that they, typically, can’t complain about singing very high or very low, and they know that all the other sections think their parts are pitifully easy. But the altos know otherwise. They know that while the sopranos are screeching away on a high A, they are executing elaborate passages full of sharps and flats and tricks of rhythm, and nobody is noticing because the sopranos are singing too loud (and the basses usually are, too). Altos get a deep, secret pleasure out conspiring together to tune the sopranos flat. Altos have an innate distrust of tenors, because the tenors sing in almost the same range and think they sound better. They like basses, enjoy singing duets with them; the basses just sound like a rumble anyway, and it’s the only time the altos can really be heard. In most choirs, Altos’ other complaint is that there are always too many of them and they must never sing really loud, in the Lourdes choir, it seems contrary.
Tenors are spoiled; that’s all there is to it. For one thing, there are never enough of them, and choir directors would rather sell their souls than let a halfway decent tenor quit, while they’re always ready to unload a few altos at half price. And then, for some reason, those few tenors are always really good; it’s one of those annoying facts of life. So it is no wonder that tenors get swollen heads - after all, who else can make sopranos swoon? The one thing that can make tenors insecure is the accusation (usually by the basses) that anyone singing that high couldn’t possibly be a real man. In their usual perverse fashion, the tenors never acknowledge this, but just complain louder about the composer being a sadist and making them sing so darn high. Tenors have a love-hate relationship with the conductor, too, because the conductor is always telling them to sing louder because there are so few of them. No conductor in recorded history has ever asked for less tenor in a forte passage. Tenors feel threatened in some way by all the other sections - the sopranos because they can hit those incredibly high notes; the altos because they have not trouble singing the notes for which the tenors kill themselves; and the basses because, although they can’t sing anything above an E, they sing it loud enough to drown out the tenors. Of course, the tenors would rather die than admit any of this. It is a little-known fact that tenors move their eyebrows more than anyone else while singing.
The basses sing the lowest of anybody. This basically explains everything. They are solid, dependable people, and usually have more facial hair than anyone. The basses feel perpetually unappreciated, but they have a deep conviction that they are actually the most important part (a view endorsed by musicologists (including the often mistreated ACLU Member Dr. Howard Meltzer), but certainly not by sopranos or tenors, despite the fact that they have the most boring part and often sing the same (or in endless fifths) for an entire page. They compensate for this by singing as loudly as they can get away with; most basses are tuba players at heart. Basses are the only section that can regularly complain about their low part, and they make horrible faces when trying the hit very low notes. Basses are charitable people, but their charity does not extend to tenors, whom they consider worthless posers. Basses hate tuning with tenors more than anything. Basses appreciate altos, except when they have duets and the altos get the good part. They can’t imagine why anybody would ever want to sing that high and sound that bad when they make mistakes. When a bass makes a mistake, the other three parts cover him, and he can continue on his merry way, knowing that sometime, somehow, he will end up at the root of the chord.
The accompanist, arguably, is the most important member of the choir. It is practically impossible to sing well with poor accompaniment, usually the better the accompaniment the better the song; but whoever thinks of the accompanist? Stage moms… snap. The best accompanists are like little elves hiding behind their instrument making not only the choir, but the conductor look good. They plug away at notes and play the messed up ones a little louder to cue the singers and conductor. Good accompanists are like tenors, they are found few and far between… However, when one has an accompanist that is awesome, they know what things can truly be like.
In the immortal words of the Frugal Gourmet… I bid you peace.
