I go to concerts held in Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre. It was built in the twelfth century. It is dark. It hulks practically across the river from the Notre Dame. It claims it is the oldest church in Paris
Inside it is heated, which is very important. It is lit with candles, which is very atmospheric.
Saturday night I went to an Hommage of the Castratas. The male singers of yore who, because of the castration and subsequent rigorous training which created huge lung power and unchanged voices, had eerily gorgeous singing voices.
I'm fascinated by the whole castrata lore. So I hastened over to Julian's, took a seat and was wowed, just as I thought I'd be.
The tenor-contralto was a young man named Duy-Thong Hguyen. He came into the church singing. He sang constantly for over an hour and a half. He also introduced every song, which had me shuffling from the length of the intros (start a person speaking French, and they just can't help themselves...on and on they go), and worried sick about what all the talking was doing to that incredible voice of his.
The music was all very serious, I can tell you. I know this about opera--the heroines are always dying. Singing mightily while dying. Singing lustily while collapsed on their lover's/murderer's arms. Singing their hearts out just before that last pitiless high C.
And so it was with our singer last night.
Until his encore...when he came back up front, smiled into our beaming faces, and let loose with "Roses in Picardie".
WOW! Such lightness. Such yummy froth. Such whimsy. Such a delightful tune.
Such English!
I am in love with this song. And you can be too. Click on this link Roses in Picardie, and listen.
Ms. Paton sings it almost as well as Mr. Nguyen did.
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