The Trash Can Twins of Music.

Something on Andrea’s blog reminded me of how much I dislike Welsh male voice choirs, so then I got to thinking about what other forms of singing turn me off.

Well, there were several, but most of them I could make some allowance for. The one that provided no excuse whatsoever – the trash can twin of Welsh male voice choirs – was barber shop.

The first is easy to explain: it’s turgid; no more need be said. Except, perhaps, to add that I had to listen to the stuff once a year at the theatre. One of their crowd did a Christmas concert there every year, and most of us dreaded it. Why the hell we ever let the buggers in escapes me; we certainly had enough trouble getting them back out again. They seemed to be possessed of the notion that they had sitting tenant’s rights to every building they entered, and they seemed further possessed of the notion that they were God’s gift to the human ear drum – even when the concert was over. An attitude to match the ‘music,’ I would say.

Explaining barber shop isn’t quite so easy. I can’t say it’s tuneless, because it is. I can’t even say it’s unmusical, even though it isn’t my sort of music. I think the problem lies more with what it lacks than what it possesses. It’s characterless; it’s all melody and harmony, but no balls. I suppose the word would have to be ‘insipid.’

So there you have it – an expression of opinion that I unashamedly regard as a statement of fact. Maybe I should become a vicar.