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“Hosa-nna in the high-est!” the young tenor sings, pouring his life into a rounded note that swells and cascades from the balcony, reverberating through the chapel hall. Behind and beneath his voice, pushing higher, higher, rises the sound of the organ, painting, as the vocalist falls back, New Jerusalem, from the depths of its twelve foundations to the height of its radiant citadel, in all its sparkling extravagance.
“Hosa-nna in the high-est!” the young tenor sings, pouring his life into a rounded note that swells and cascades from the balcony, reverberating through the chapel hall. Behind and beneath his voice, pushing higher, higher, rises the sound of the organ, painting, as the vocalist falls back, New Jerusalem, from the depths of its twelve foundations to the height of its radiant citadel, in all its sparkling extravagance.
And then, as Neranjan
de Silva takes his fingers off the keyboard, there is a sudden silence. The
kind of silence that pierces and fills the soul to bursting.
The chapel at St. Thomas’s College, Mount
Lavinia is now home to a five-million-rupee digital church organ. The old
instrument is on its way out and sub warden Rev. Marc Billimoria and consultant
Neranjan de Silva want to be prepared for when it sings its last. But this
investment is not just about being practical. And it’s more than even simply maintaining
a tradition. It’s about giving new life to a unique gift that the prestigious
school is already endowed with, and helping the next generation dream bigger.
When de Silva first wanted to learn to play
the organ in the 1980s, there was no instrument for him to practice on. Now, as
one of the most accomplished sound engineers and organ experts in the country,
he wants to make certain that those who come after him will not have the same
issue. As coordinator for Johannus Organs, one of the world’s top organ
manufacturers, he was instrumental in helping pick the right instrument for St.
Thomas’s.
But this is no ordinary organ. The Johannus
“Ecclesia” D570 is the largest standard church organ in its range, and at STC
is amplified by 21 state-of-the-art speakers. If you’re close enough when the
three massive subwoofers are put to work on the lower pitches, you can feel it
on your skin. The sound literally shakes the church. To the expert ear though,
it is much more than just the decibel output of the instrument.
“If the sound is awful, then that will be
coming out of 21 speakers,” points out well known organist Denham Pereira. As
he sees (or rather, hears,) it, the improved technology creates a rounder
sound, much closer to that of a real pipe organ than he has yet heard produced
by a digital organ in Sri Lanka. The final effect? “Wow!”
Sound quality was the first reason de Silva
went for a Johannus, but it wasn’t the only reason. The previous (now older) organ
at STC is also a Johannus (albeit an older model), and when it first started giving
trouble, the manufacturers were exceptionally helpful with putting things
right.
De Silva claims that the proximity of the
school to the sea, humidity, rats, and even the magnetic fields in the area
affect the state of the organ at St. Thomas’s. Repairing it is sometimes “like
surgery,” he says, “soldering and taping cables together”. When he finally gave
up trying to fix it and shipped the instrument back to Johannus they did the
needful free of charge. But the process takes time. Even when having spare
parts shipped in, de Silva says, there is a downtime of around a week.
“One day, in the middle of the service, the
old one just stopped,” the sub warden chuckles, “and the organist had to come
down and start playing on the piano.”
But if a similar situation were to occur,
say around December, there would not be much occasion for laughter.
“Here, the highlight of the year is the
carol service,” Rev. Billimoria continues. “If the organ goes off, then it’s
like Christmas without the Christmas pudding, you know?”
But if it only a practical measure, why
such an impressive instrument, with four manuals and 80 voices, you may ask?
As Rev. Mark points out, “this is a living
congregation, this is not a performing choir. For the worship that goes on
here, we want the best, because we want to offer the best in worship.”
And when de Silva literally pulls out all
the stops to demonstrate, there is not likely to be much argument on the
definition of “best”. The hip-hop, trance and metal listening generation at St.
Thomas’s College, Mount Lavinia, has been presented with the kind of sound that
can finally battle the boom-kat coming out of their headphones.
“We were so excited when we saw the
speakers,” gleams 18 year-old choir leader Ashwin Shaffter. He believes the choir
“worked really hard” to be able to afford the instrument, and is genuinely
honoured to be their leader on this occasion.
It is this excitement, this sense of pride
among the choristers that de Silva and Rev. Billimoria are most interested in.
They hope to shatter the stereotypical image of the old count at his instrument
and put in his seat, the tech savvy teenager instead.
“Unless the boys hear that sound and
develop an interest for it,” de Silva says, the interest in organ and Anglican
choral music will die down. As both he and Rev. Billimoria see it, St. Thomas’s
is among the few institutions that continue the Anglican choral tradition, and
they have a great responsibility to encourage it.
As the last notes of Michael Maybrick’s The Holy City fade away, the
singer, Niran de Mel, catches his breath. It is only the first time he has sung
a solo accompanied on this instrument, and in the sparkle of his eyes leaps the
little boy from the adage, who after knowing only sticks and mud, was finally
shown the seashore.
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