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David Allerton talks about his Pinkie learning journey culminating in an amazing virtual performance.

Joining the Pink Singers during lockdown is very different from joining us in “normal” times. And creating our first virtual performance of Fix You was a challenge for all of us and we’re very proud of the results. Newbie David tells us about some of the technical challenges and how he overcame them. 

I joined the Pink Singers in February of this year and had five consecutive and immensely enjoyable Sunday afternoons of rehearsals and drinks afterwards in the pub. All the while the viral menace was looming ever larger, eventually forcing us all, and the Pinkies too, into lockdown.

Here the learning really began. I am a teacher, and I had to learn how to deliver lessons purely on-line. And then to work out Zoom in order to continue to rehearse with the Pinkies. But the steepest curve came when we were instructed to record ourselves singing Coldplay’s Fix You. 

If you’ve not yet watched the video do so here!

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For existing members this was a familiar piece, but unfamiliar to almost all of us is how our voices sound when recorded singing alone. It takes you by surprise, when there is nowhere to hide, no other voices to blend with. It was a rude awakening and I almost threw in the towel after the first take, but the great thing about lockdown is you have acres of time to fill, and I forced myself to persevere. I recorded a take, then listened carefully, winced, made notes, and set out to improve. Certain things – notes, words, breathing, just required practice. Other things – a lack of control when beginning a new phrase, or sounding reedy in certain parts of my range, or just the mental stamina required to stay at performance standard for the whole take – well, over two evenings I worked harder than I ever have before on my singing. 

I am so proud of the improvements I made, and will remember those intense, solitary hours as something almost beautiful. The take I submitted was far from perfect – I desperately wanted to splice my best three takes together, but time was up. I like to think I can hear my own voice in the mix, here and there. Perhaps with each imperfection. 

It has been a great experience being able to contribute and harness ubiquitous technologies like mobiles and laptops, to transform your living room into a home studio.

David Allerton, Bass

As we can’t perform live at the moment we’ve had to move online and find innovative ways of creating and sharing music. For our first virtual choir performance we chose Coldplay’s Fix You. Cel tells us about what the song means to them

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We sang Fix You at my first concert with the Pink Singers, ‘Sing!’. I joined in Autumn 2016, and as a newbie and a French speaker, I was asked to make a speech, introducing our guest choir Equivox from Paris, with whom we would then perform this as a joint song. I have always shied away from public speaking, being a quiet person, and this challenge filled me with fear and apprehension. To this day, I associate the preceding song You’ll Never Walk Alone with uncontrollable nerves, and the song Fix You with breathing a sigh of relief, having given the speech. 

If you’ve not yet watched the video do so here!

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The four years I have been part of the Pink Singers represent a very important period in my life, because soon after joining I started to take my first real steps in coming to terms with being trans. That is no coincidence. The choir was an open and welcoming group, and I was able to begin exploring my identity at a time when I desperately needed to start dealing with those issues. When we met again to start the new season in early 2017, I was ready to start using a new name, and I found a way of finally expressing my non-binary identity, in this safe environment initially. That summer, for the first time I had the opportunity to attend Pride with a group of friends, to march and to perform. It’s a happy memory for me, filled with sunshine, song and celebration. 

This summer, things are a little different and marching at Pride was one of the things I missed the most. The first Zoom meeting for the Pink Singers was emotionally charged, with all of us still trying to process the sudden arrival of the virus that would rip through our lives and our community almost overnight. A few days earlier we had been forced to cancel our album recording, a project that the choir had invested in and been preparing for for months (this would have been the second time my French skills were being called upon – this time I was filled with even more nerves at being asked to rap in French!) Some of us were thrown into instant isolation, some fearing for our jobs or the health of our loved ones, others facing the grim reality of working on the NHS frontline. We came together for a few hours in mid-March and shared a moment. Acutely aware of being apart, we held onto a sense of togetherness, and knew that we were there for each other. 

Many weeks on, we have continued to meet once a week, sometimes more, and attendance has been strong. Our Sunday ‘rehearsals’ have meant so much more to me than just singing. In fact, one might argue that the singing has become somewhat questionable. Nobody really knows, given that we can’t actually hear each other. We still persevere and have made slow but steady progress in learning some of our new rep. But these Zoom sessions have offered us the chance to look back at our prior performances, share our experiences during the lockdown, see each other perform individually, and learn about the choir’s long and fascinating history. While there is so much to be missed from our time before the pandemic, we have also found that there is much to be gained. 

Singing Fix You again for our video project has brought me back to that first concert, and that sigh of relief I breathed as I stepped away from centre stage after my speech. It has helped me to reflect on my personal journey over the last few years, and the important role that the choir has played in that journey. I may always be a quiet person, but I’m finding my voice – unfortunately, that voice no longer hits the high note near the end of the song; apologies in advance if you can hear me! Perhaps that’s due to the lack of practice in the last few months, or maybe it’s the testosterone. In that concert back in 2017, when we reached that climactic moment in the song, everyone on stage made some form of physical contact with another person, for example by holding hands or putting an arm around someone’s shoulder. That’s the moment I’m hit with a pang of sadness as I sit alone at home, singing into the computer. Yet despite being away from our community in the physical sense, indefinitely, I know that I’m not really alone, that I can be myself now. And that’s a sigh of relief that I can’t begin to describe. 

Cel Smith, Alto

Like all choirs lockdown has left us unable to get together to sing and perform. So we moved online and this season’s concert was replaced by a virtual choir version of Coldplay’s Fix You. Keri tells us about her emotional journey of choir life in lock down and the positive impact doing this project had on her. 

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Watch our incredible performance here!

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Let’s start by stating the obvious. Lockdown sucks for everyone. It is horrible. The world is hurting, black lives matter, all over the world our politicians aren’t doing enough, and I haven’t hugged my friends in nearly 4 months. Not to mention feeling that at times I’d have given my left arm for a freshly poured pint. (Not the right as I need that one to lift the glass to my mouth.) Yet, one thing has simultaneously broken my heart and carried me through and that was my choir. The Pink Singers were my community salvation before corona became a thing and they’ve kept me sane while corona wreaks havoc on my psyche and my bank account. The group pulled together, and together we walked through these times. We’ve had ‘socials’, quiz nights, watched drag queens together, distance cooked pancakes. The altos talked me off the proverbial ledge one day when loneliness and uncertainty became too much. Hell, a section member drove 2 hours to wave at me and give me strawberries from a distance. 

Now, although we’ve never stopped our rehearsals by moving them onto Zoom just like the rest of the world, they haven’t been quite as fulfilling as the live interaction rehearsal. They aren’t perfect but they have been something. Every week I can see some or most of my community striving to maintain not just our connection but our Art. Art with a capital ‘A.’ Now, this isn’t going to be a blog entry about the importance of Art or how it brings us together, or how it changes the world, or how it makes most days worth the trudge. It is a blog entry on the moment I heard my choir sing again. While we had moved our choir online, the one thing Zoom couldn’t give us was the possibility of singing together. Corona robbed us of making collective music. The collective heart strings. I will hate corona for this forever. I’d give up all those possible pints for that moment of sitting in a room and listening to when all our voices melt into one. After two months of being online, I began to lose my faith and my mojo. I started to feel disconnected from one of the things that had so much meaning to me. I began to just show up but I couldn’t feel the music. 

When it was suggested that we contribute to a ‘virtual choir’ performance I went along with it. I had already slumped into a ‘what does it matter’ attitude; I couldn’t imagine it would achieve anything or fulfil me. But I went ahead and recorded my piece, singing by myself in my flat with no worries of being overheard (I live alone) but desperately needing someone to hear me. To hear the love of music and the love of my community and feel the joy coming through me. Tears ruined my first three takes. I sent the fourth with complete certainty that it was awful and unusable. 

A week later the mix was released. I didn’t listen. I couldn’t. There was no way it could fill my heart, it wasn’t going to change anything. Or worse, it was going to be awful and ruin the beauty of the Pink Singers for me. This is what happened when I listened: the music started, Shauna starting the solo, then my and Ali’s voices join. I choked. As the song says, the tears came streaming down my face. I listened to 4 minutes and 41 seconds of my soul piecing back together. Listen, I’m an artist and that makes me a bit poetic when speaking about hearts, but damn it, each crescendo glued my broken little hurting heart back together. Each harmony cleansed the staleness from my spirit. I had been floundering in isolation and lack of direction and there it was – the ‘ooo’s’ and ‘ahhh’ of our collective voices melting into one again. All the pain, all the missing, all feeling of a hole in my heart filled and eased by the sound of our voices. By the sound of Us. 

Art fixes us and The Pink Singers Fixed Me. 

Keri Seymour, Alto

This year’s Pride will mark the 50th anniversary of the Gay Liberation Front (GLF). There will be a socially distanced veterans’ march taking place from BBC centre onwards to Trafalgar Square to celebrate anniversary of the first gay liberation front march. And as a founding member of the GLF our very own Philip Rescorla will be attending the march.

On Sunday 21st June, in the run up to the event, members of the choir were treated to a fascinating interview with Pinkies Michael Derrick and Philip Rescorla along with Philip’s partner Martin Edwardes about LGBT activism in the early 70s and how the GLF was established. The Pink Singers was formed a few years later in 1983 for the Lesbian & Gay Pride march in London. This activism and political agenda was at the heart of the establishment of the Pink Singers and remains so today.

Watch the video below and read Philip’s fascinating account of the early history of the GLF.

 

This year is the 50th anniversary of the Gay Liberation Front (GLF) which had its first meeting in London on 14th October 1970 at the London School of Economics where I was studying Social Administration. Nineteen of us attended the first meeting. The GLF dragged homosexuality out of the closet, onto the streets and into the public eye.

By the end of January 1971 there were up to five hundred people a week attending the General Meetings and in August 1970 there was a march from Hyde Park to Trafalgar Square organised by the Youth Group. I had become part of the GLF Street Theatre and we devised a special piece for the occasion (see picture, I’m the bearded one in the middle couple).

In July 1972 the first Gay Pride march left Trafalgar Square and marched to Hyde Park for a Gay Pride Party, with over a thousand in attendance, accompanied by two thousand police! By then the GLF had started to fragment but it had created the conditions for the LGBTQ movements we have now, giving birth to our helplines, newspapers and activist groups.

In 1983 the Pink Singers were formed to provide a choir for the Pride March and we have never missed a London Pride March or Festival since. Marching with my Pink Singers family is one of the highlights of my year and I count myself fortunate to have been there at the start of the modern gay movement and fought for the rights we enjoy today in the UK.

Philip Rescorla, Tenor