There’s something about the Chichester Psalms that brings out the crazies. The last time we sang this piece, we were joined by some new choristers who came to sing just this piece and never came again. One was a rather testy woman who had no problem criticizing anyone within earshot. At rehearsals, she regularly hissed to people near her “you’re flat,” “you’re late,” and so on. When it was time to perform, she was assigned to stand next to me on one of the upper risers at St. Joseph the Worker Church. She arrived, dutifully clad in black, including a huge, wide-brimmed hat which she insisted on wearing “on stage.” When asked to remove it, she uttered unrepeatable syllables and refused. Eventually, someone behind her tipped up the brim and it fell forward, hitting the back of the person in the row in front of us, and landing at her feet. She was furious, but, undeterred, she sang all three performances, after which we never saw her again.
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