It’s December 1992; a Friday night and I’m killing time in the HMV shop at (near?) Birmingham New Street Station. Soon I’ll be on the southbound train that will take me home to Berkhamsted.
Perhaps because it’s almost Christmas, the music playing over the shop’s speakers isn’t the usual chart-pop. There’s no pumping beat, no synthesizers or over-produced voices shouting banal lyrics.
I am listening to a choir. I am actually listening, captivated, to a group of adult voices swoop and rise in complex patterns and textures and harmonies. It is beautiful, magical, visceral.
I go to the counter, ask the sales assistant what is playing, and buy two copies of Requiem, composed by John Rutter and sung by The Cambridge Singers (the second copy is my Mum’s Christmas present — result!)
And thus begins my love of choral music.
I could choose any of the tracks from Requiem, but Sanctus is particularly lovely.
Glorium tuam translates (I believe) as “glory” or “your glory.”
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