Sixty children and sixty ukuleles
Some musicians have such a distinct voice that their work is instantly recognisable.
Sean O Hagan's new piece, Music for Sixty Ukuleles and Sixty Children, proves he's that kind of composer. There's no way that a performance by sixty children from Worthing's Whytemead First School should sound like Hagan's work with Microdisney, The High Llamas or Stereolab. But it does.
It's in the blend of solid, 60s soundtrack groove and softly psychedelic harmonics.
The ukuleles, split into red, blue and black groups, provide a soft rhythm rather than a leading melody. It's a mighty massed rhythm section, simple but strong. In the setting of the refurbished St Paul's Centre, played under a grim crucifixion altarpiece, it makes a joyous noise unto the lord.
Even more joyous is the tune, carried by the young and plain voices, concentrating on sound rather than lyrics. There are echoes of concrete poetry, but also of hummed memories of a thousand pop songs past. There are lots of 'dum, dum, dums'. And a repeated chorus, which drifts in and out of the rhythm.
From the Shnagri La's to Stereolab, clever people have used pop music to hide an experimental aural agenda. And a church full of children, parents and grandparents enjoying New Music has to be a good thing.
Music for Sixty Ukuleles and Sixty Children was commissioned by Worthing's Wukulele Festival. Let's hope they keep using ukuleles to push boundaries.
Sean O Hagan's new piece, Music for Sixty Ukuleles and Sixty Children, proves he's that kind of composer. There's no way that a performance by sixty children from Worthing's Whytemead First School should sound like Hagan's work with Microdisney, The High Llamas or Stereolab. But it does.
It's in the blend of solid, 60s soundtrack groove and softly psychedelic harmonics.
The ukuleles, split into red, blue and black groups, provide a soft rhythm rather than a leading melody. It's a mighty massed rhythm section, simple but strong. In the setting of the refurbished St Paul's Centre, played under a grim crucifixion altarpiece, it makes a joyous noise unto the lord.
Even more joyous is the tune, carried by the young and plain voices, concentrating on sound rather than lyrics. There are echoes of concrete poetry, but also of hummed memories of a thousand pop songs past. There are lots of 'dum, dum, dums'. And a repeated chorus, which drifts in and out of the rhythm.
From the Shnagri La's to Stereolab, clever people have used pop music to hide an experimental aural agenda. And a church full of children, parents and grandparents enjoying New Music has to be a good thing.
Music for Sixty Ukuleles and Sixty Children was commissioned by Worthing's Wukulele Festival. Let's hope they keep using ukuleles to push boundaries.