THE PALESTRINA BOYS’ CHOIR
They’ve performed for popes, gave former presidents their final send-off and are a staple of Christmas in Dublin, yet when you meet the Palestrina boys’ choir, you discover that though they have a special talent, underneath it all, they’re just a lively b
I n the topmost floor of Dublin’s Pro Cathedral, scoffing biscuits, chewing gum and leafing through Beano, Ireland’s most famous boys’ choir is having a break from rehearsals. It’s well-earned, too – these 35 lads, aged 7 to 14, rehearse at least three times a week, for 12 hours in total – not including Latin class and Mass every Sunday morning.
The Palestrina parents car-pool and understand that this level of commitment is what it takes for their sons to win invitations to sing at the Vatican, Carnegie Hall and the state funerals of former presidents of Ireland. Plus, it’s all free and you can brag that your son is following in the footsteps of feted tenor Count John McCormack. Or, perhaps, UCD historian Diarmaid Ferriter, who was once head chorister here, and, rather improbably, wrestling superstar Sheamus O’Shaunessy.
All the boys we speak to today have other interests too – hurling, rugby, football, squash, tennis, scouting, swimming, table tennis, violin, piano. Whenever there are timetable clashes – and inevitably there are plenty – choir must come first.
After all, musical director Blanaid Murphy reckons she could have ‘six or seven Palestrina choirs’ such is the demand for a chance to don those prestigious bright blue robes and continue a 115-year-old tradition. So what is she looking for? ‘Someone who is intelligent,’ she says. ‘Not necessarily the best voice, someone who can join in and who shows interest. After that you can always develop their voice. Most seven-year-olds, with the best will in the world, don’t even know they can sing, not to mind sing really well.’
A ‘very child-friendly, aural test’ is all it takes to find potential singers. Depending on the results, children are invited to audition.
Even if you make it through that audition, there is no guarantee you will be kept on. At the moment there are eight ‘junior probationers’ who rehearse twice a week for a year and will only then make the full choir ‘if everything works out’, says Blanaid.
Both Blanaid and choir manager Germaine Carlos are tasked with keeping their charges in line, and a whole team accompanies them on trips abroad. ‘They are very regular boys,’ says Germaine. ‘There’d be biffing and all the rest going on. People see them walking out in their robes like little angelical doties. Well, a minute before they’ve just gone out they’re either pucking or trying to trip somebody up – all the very normal things boys get on with! You do have to be able for that or they would make mincemeat of you.’
Indeed you would. There is fierce suppressed giggling and rib-nudging going on as they are interviewed. The boys are open, friendly, confident – and, at times, unintentionally hilarious. What was Pope Francis like? ‘Old!’ replies one.
The boys sang in St Peter’s Basilica with the Sistine Choir at Pope Benedict’s last Mass in 2013 and for the Feast of the Epiphany in 2016 with Pope Francis. ‘It was mad the way we were so close to them,’ says Adam Coates, 13, from Hollystown. ‘It was literally like me and you.’
Most of the boys say ‘the trips’ are the best part of being in the choir. ‘We were in America, we sang in Carnegie Hall, in Pennsylvania, in Washington DC and New York,’ says David Smith, 11, from
Howth. ‘It was amazing. I just loved that we get to stay in rooms with our friends.’
So are they actually sleeping or just talking and messing? The boys laugh and Oliver Maughan, 10, from Rathmines confesses: ‘Talking and messing and telling secrets. It’s great craic.’
Blanaid’s son Conor says: ‘You’re not only singing on trips, you’re seeing stuff and learning about the place. It’s kind of educational. It’s like going on a school tour except there’s no teachers!’
There is only one problem, of course. That their coveted place in the choir will come to an abrupt end the moment their angelic voices break. This coming of age is surely bittersweet. ‘They leave the choir either in their second year in secondary school or when the voice breaks, whichever happens first,’ says Blanaid. ‘Some at that stage are happy to move on and some are really upset.
‘Their larynx, their voice box grows as the boy grows,’ explains Blanaid. ‘They may not grow in sync with each other. They might grow really tall and have a small larynx still. Sometimes their voice sort of slips down instead and if they’re very lucky, they can slip down in the choir quite easily.’
The thought of a voice imminently breaking floods her with nostalgia. ‘Sometimes I feel, “I wonder do they realise they’re singing that piece for the last time?” Because it might be a piece we sing just once a year.’ The boys have the option to come back as Junior Men from Transition Year upwards in school, and some do. In the meantime, they enjoy their Palestrina experience while it lasts.
Max Bennett, 13, says: ‘I love the way you can express yourself through music, you get lost in it and you feel it in your bones, kind of.’
Do the boys worry about their voices breaking? There are nods all around the table. ‘My voice ranges are going down and down and down,’ says Cameron Drumm, 13, from Drumcondra.
I wonder, how do their teenage classmates react? ‘Not good,’ says Dylan Casey, 14, from Clontarf. ‘Kind of like, “Can you come out?” “No, I have choir”, “Ah, you’re a choirboy!”’ Germaine pipes up, ‘You’re well able for it!’ Dylan agrees, ‘I slag them back’. Light-hearted banter aside, these boys have access to a seriously sophisticated repertoire of music – and they appreciate it.
‘You get to sing choral pieces. It’s not like a pop song that anyone could sing so you feel a bit special,’ says Nicholas Meehan, 12, from Drumcondra. ‘The Haydn Sancti Nicolai is one of my favourite Masses. It’s really fun to sing.’
Germaine notices that one of the boys, Eric, has had a haircut featuring two lines shaved into the hair above his ears. ‘The wardrobe mistress will not be happy about that,’ she tuts, adding that the most frequent admonishment is to cut their fringes.
Having brought Christmas joy to the National Concert Hall on Tuesday, the boys are gearing up for two concerts in Pro Cathedral tomorrow and Monday, so what is Santa bringing to the little probationers? ‘A Kindle’, ‘He’s bringing a house to me’, ‘a bubble football you get into and whack people with – I’m going to knock my brother out’.
In more recent years, under pressure from the boys’ sisters, St Mary’s Girls’ Choir was formed. Why not mix them? ‘They’ve tried that in many cathedrals in England and as soon as you do that the girls slightly overtake and the boys drop off,’ says Blanaid. ‘There’s something very special about how a boys’ choir sounds. I’m not saying one is more important than the other because they’re both valuable in their own ways. But with the boys I think you hear there is something fragile about it because it’s not going to last, you can hear something fleeting, I suppose. There’s something very beautiful about the sound of boys.’