A choral discipline

BarcelonaI was once told that when Carles Capdevila, the driving force behind this newspaper, saw on a CV that someone had sung in a choir, he valued it positively, because it meant that, on one hand, they knew how to work for the common good of the group and, on the other, they knew how to project their own voice. I don't know if it is entirely true, but I remembered this anecdote as soon as I started reading Una catalana a París. Articles d’exili, a collection of articles by Teresa Pàmies which has been edited by Montserrat Bacardí and published by Comanegra.

The volume brings together more than thirty articles that the writer and journalist published from exile with the desire to spread Catalan current affairs outside its blood-stained borders. The point is that, I understand with a touch of sarcasm on Bacardí's part, the first chapter of the collection refers to the centenary of Lluís Millet, director and founder of the Orfeó Català. Pàmies praises the success of the Orfeó's initiative, and recalls that, especially during the Second Republic, every city in the country wanted to create its own choir. A tradition by no means unknown in our land, inspired by the Cors Clavé.

Pàmies was twelve years old when her father enrolled her in the Balaguer choir. In the article, the writer narrates that there Mr. Jou, the choir director ("an amateur musician who owned a shop for pots and pans and played the tenora in a cobla band"), used to remind them before starting: "In the choir, one had to go tidy, combed, without mud on one's shoes, without stones in one's pockets, without gum in one's mouth. Punctuality was essential. Conscious discipline was imposed, respect for the director and fellow group members; star behavior was rejected. The voices had to become one. No trying to stand out. Anyone who wanted to be heard was stopped in their tracks. When there was a solo (in La mort de l’escolà, for example), the soloist was accompanied by a murmur of voices, like musical instruments, like a loving hand".

Living with others

In this first chapter of the Comanegra book, which I recommend you read, the writer explains that director Jou, when lecturing the members of the Balaguer choral society, insisted: “Here we learn to live”. The journalist specifies: “To live, for a choral singer, meant living with others, with all that this implies in terms of obligations and rights […] living with one's head held high, singing, saying simple and grandiose things, beautiful and bitter”. For Teresa Pàmies, the choral society (today we could also speak of choirs) was not merely “a collection of educated, directed, polished voices, but expressions of a civilization, of collective sentiments”.

It amuses me to read this now that we are coming from the chaos of the PISA results and, in general, from an era in which it has been established that discipline is the absolute evil and that individual whims must be respected above collective objectives. I like reading left-wing people from the past, like Teresa Pàmies, to verify that this never even crossed their minds. Today we associate discipline with conservatism, but there are few people less conservative than this communist who was so involved in the Civil War. A role model who believed in the value of choral spirit and who also knew how to project, and very well, her voice; even, if necessary, under a pseudonym.