shewhomust (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shewhomust) wrote2013-07-03 10:27 pm
shewhomust) wrote2013-07-03 10:27 pm
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Foghorn Requiem
What I was saying about the late-flowering of the summer held true to the very end of our stay on Lindisfarne: the poppies which usually line the roadside from the causeway towards the village, and which had been absent this year, appeared as we drove off the island at the end of the week. But the fun wasn't quite over, because while D. and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
valydiarosada went off to visit family, durham_rambler and I made a detour to Souter on our way home for the Foghorn Requiem - a piece of music performed on - and off - a clifftop by three brass bands, ships at sea and the Souter Lighthouse Foghorn.
We gathered in the meadows between the lighthouse and the cliff edge, lush with grass, golden with bird's foot trefoil and spiked with purple orchids (this late flowering is bringing about some unusual combinations) and waited - and waited - and eventually noticed two small figures appear on the gallery of the lighthouse itself (inevitably, the more noticeable of the two was the photographer; the soprano cornet, back to the light, silver disc of the cornet facing straight towards the audience, hid behind a sheet of music). The music didn't begin here, but gradually. almost imperceptibly, with the bands marching towards their rostrum. Too subtly for many of those present who carried on with their conversations - I am an ill-tempered person who gets grouchy in crowds, and I wished that the music had opened with the foghorn, to get their attention. I wished it even more, when the horn did sound, and everyone jumped at the sheer bone-shaking volume of it (and then giggled).
So perhaps they were right to make very sparing use of the foghorn: it sounded in all three times, and the third time was the last note of the entire piece, fading gradually from that first shattering blast to a mournful rattle. A larger contribution to the music came from a flotilla of vessels - from the big DFDS ferry to the lifeboat, and all the yachts and cobles and the university reseach vessel too, all coordinated to sound their horns when required in a call and response of the brass band on shore and the ships at sea, a real piece of technical and atmospheric magic.
Have a totally unsatisfactory photograph: if I'd been nine feet tall, and above the crowd (or even up the lighthouse), I'd still have been trying to photograph many small objects spread over a large area. But this one captures some of how it felt:
valydiarosada went off to visit family, durham_rambler and I made a detour to Souter on our way home for the Foghorn Requiem - a piece of music performed on - and off - a clifftop by three brass bands, ships at sea and the Souter Lighthouse Foghorn.We gathered in the meadows between the lighthouse and the cliff edge, lush with grass, golden with bird's foot trefoil and spiked with purple orchids (this late flowering is bringing about some unusual combinations) and waited - and waited - and eventually noticed two small figures appear on the gallery of the lighthouse itself (inevitably, the more noticeable of the two was the photographer; the soprano cornet, back to the light, silver disc of the cornet facing straight towards the audience, hid behind a sheet of music). The music didn't begin here, but gradually. almost imperceptibly, with the bands marching towards their rostrum. Too subtly for many of those present who carried on with their conversations - I am an ill-tempered person who gets grouchy in crowds, and I wished that the music had opened with the foghorn, to get their attention. I wished it even more, when the horn did sound, and everyone jumped at the sheer bone-shaking volume of it (and then giggled).
So perhaps they were right to make very sparing use of the foghorn: it sounded in all three times, and the third time was the last note of the entire piece, fading gradually from that first shattering blast to a mournful rattle. A larger contribution to the music came from a flotilla of vessels - from the big DFDS ferry to the lifeboat, and all the yachts and cobles and the university reseach vessel too, all coordinated to sound their horns when required in a call and response of the brass band on shore and the ships at sea, a real piece of technical and atmospheric magic.
Have a totally unsatisfactory photograph: if I'd been nine feet tall, and above the crowd (or even up the lighthouse), I'd still have been trying to photograph many small objects spread over a large area. But this one captures some of how it felt: