Gerontius visits Sydney with his Demons & Angels

Yes; we are in the final stages of preparation for The Dream of Gerontius. At the Dream meeting in Chinatown yesterday, nobody even noticed how short the waitresses' dress was. Everyone intently studying their scores, transposed into Mandarin, to make it easier for the audience. After all, why make the meaning of life easy to understand; what with Rudd07 at the G20, someone has to relate to the millions of Chinese in Australia. Love them or simply desire them for their fabulous classical repertoire, they stand by what Monty Python once said "The Waiters Never Are Rude".

But seriously now....Why? Why what? Why be serious, or why blog off to Sydney to sing? Because we can. Everest one day, building a jumbo jet in the backyard, and now sing along with the gang in Jorn Utzen's lounge room. Which reminds me: why did he not ever come back and have a look at it? Tosser, that's all I can say. Or probably Tosseur, to enhance grammer and diction, phrasing and enunciation.

Now the position is this; for record keeping purposes: Monday (day off work....Yah!) and 40 members of the TSO Chorus including me have joined the Sydney Philharmonia Choir and are performing with the Sydney Symphony Orchestra in the Opera House under the guidance and direction of Vladimir Ashkenazy, after being tutored to be able to accept the brief, by June Tyzack (TSO Chorus Master)and more recently (in Sydney) Brett Weymark (Sydney Philharmonia Musical Director).

We had our first rehearsal with Mr Ashkenazy yesterday at the Eugene Goossens concert hall (ABC Ultimo Centre). There was a good level of irreverance in the bleachers, as the concert hardened SPC member (that means Syd Phil Choir, not Shepparton Peaches Cannery) blerted out their concerns about whether they should call him "Vlad" or "Vlado" - the latter being, apparently, the preferred endearment in his home town of Gorky, USSR. Some went for the original Russian: Владимир Давидович Ашкенази , and others thought his mother used to call him by his middle name, Davidovich.

Anyway, back to the story. We assembled for a warm up and run through of the massive Eddie Elgar work at 3pm Sunday, and then the Maestro took the centre, orientated himself with the sea of enthusiastic faces, and took us through the work. He changed a few things, and the scribes took notes, so we will be getting a full briefing later today (Monday).

The instruction was difficult to pick up from speech, but the Russian man, having the air of an agrarian, enthused the choir with imploring to accept the heart rending poetry and music for the magnificent story it is: The best humankind can do to comprehend destiny. Imagine, if you need more, what this story must mean to a true believer!

The tactile expression held us on his fingertips, pace, pressure, sensitivity, dynamics - given expression by an individual, and interpreted by we 130.

It is magic.

Today, we meet for the first time with the Orchestra at the Sydney Opera House. My anticipation is absorbing - to me. My closest analogy, from recent times, is that on Saturday last the TSO Chorus sang Brahms Schicksalslied with the Tas Symphony Orchestra. Now, it is not normally a thing for men in Australia to acknowledge the great endevours of other individuals or groups, unless they be sprortsmen. But what did Austen Tashus say about Australians and sport? Defines them doesn't it! "Kn Sport, kn sport, kn sport" (as he symbolised masterbation beating his head with his fist).

Back to Brahms: it is only a short piece, but radiantly beautiful, heart moving. I have always loved the deep male voice, but on page 6 of The Song of Destiny, the Sopranos and Altos soar - he is truly a bastard, because the men voices are supposed to enter just shortly afterward, but the emotion from that which comes before is too great, and lumps took the place of epiglotii, and the men were obliged to commence haltingly. That said, the mind returned to reality, and we joined in properly.

I thought I might have been on my own in this, so checked with the bassos around me after the concert, and they all admitted the same emotional involvement.

You don't get that singing in the bath.

"There is an indescribable sense of unity as you become part of something that is bigger than the sum of the parts".

So, to bring us all up to date: tonight our rehearsal will be with orchestra, and for the first time, all the participants except the audiences (for they too will participate) will congregate and play their parts: like Shakespeare said: "All the World's a stage, and all the men and women merely players". I didn't remember that entirely, I had to look it up, but some bit of it came to my head.

True.

Finally, my thanks to Robert Prero, poor bastard, who is kindly humouring my excentricity (and now inability to spell) and indulging my excesses in his Leichhardt home, lending me his fine German 1 tonne bicycle, and matching me red wine for red wine, whilst having to maintain his daytime job with dignity - all the dignity he can muster: as Peter Cook said: "Is this any way to run a ....... ballroom? [That was about the Top Rank Ballroom - but more about dancing lessons later].

I didn't mention but will now, how lucky I am to have my daughters Sarah and Camille come up /down to see and listen to the concert on Thursday. It reminds me of Jim Paltos's friend and ex- Tasmanian Jim Fagan, who told me that when he and his brothers were growing up, his mother gave them open accounts at the record store and bookshop: his reflection on that is that there could not have been a better thing that she could have done.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Tonto and the Lone Ranger and the rest of the cowboys are keeping my clients and files in order: thank you to Maria and Amanda, Gary and Anne and Helen for using up their store of unbelievable fibs to placate the wounded and endangered from my inactivity on their affairs.

I'm off now to visit my mum's brother Jim Cambell and his wife Joyce at Port Kembla. See you soon, and just keep those letters and cards rolling in.

Love; Phil K