Flash mob choirs, alpacas, speedboats – the wacky world of today’s weddings

THE bride and groom stood side-by-side, only the minister between them. No, that’s not strictly true. Also hovering between the young couple was a pertinent (and rather impertinent) question that needed to be asked.

The minister did the honours: “If anyone has any objections to this union,” he boomed to the congregation, “Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Peace, at this point, is usually held, of course. Though not this day.

Instead, peace, like a frisky pet cat in the clutches of a nervous owner, wriggled, writhed, wrestled and broke free.

A young female in the congregation stood-up, opened her mouth and… started to belt out a song.

“We-e-e-e-ell,” she trilled.

All eyes were on the crooning congregant. Though not for long, because something even stranger was happening. The bride was singing, too. A moment later she made her way towards her fellow songbird, and they were instantly in tuneful tandem.

Welcome to the world of wacky, way-out weddings, where anything

(but anything) goes. The entire musical interlude was choreographed, of course. Plotted-out in gleeful detail by the bride and GeO Gospel Choir.

Gerad and Alexandra McArthur tell me this tale when we meet at the Scottish Wedding Show in Glasgow’s SEC, where they’re fronting a stall promoting GeO Gospel Choir, the singing act they created and customised to provide entertainment at wedding wingdings.

The brother and sister aren’t content to merely provide the musical accompaniment at marital dances. Oh, no. They are a pop-up pop sensation. Springing up and singing out when you least expect them. Sort of like Monty Python’s Spanish Inquisition, only with less diabolical intent.

LIKE A SCOTTISH VERSION OF THE OSMONDS

“We call it our Secret Singers Package,” says Gerad, a cheery (slightly cheesy) chap, who flashes me a grin filled with more teeth than a grand piano has keys. The similarities to a piano don’t end there. He also has a disconcerting habit of interspersing fragments of chat with brief musical interludes (“La-la-la-la-la-la-la!”). As does his sister.

However, they’re both likable, bubbly and as wholesome as muesli, reminding me of a Scottish version of the Osmonds. Which no doubt comes in handy when you’re in the wedding-singer game.

Though even such a saccharine-sweet pair must have caused a bit of a ruckus on the day they tell me about, when they interrupted solemn wedding vows by breaking into song.

Gerad grins: “The groom didn’t know what was going on at first, and everyone in the congregation was looking a bit confused and shocked. But because the bride was a crazy girl, everyone started to cotton on. It was like: ‘Oh, yeah. She’s up to her old tricks.’

“It certainly won’t be something anyone who was there at the time is likely to forget. That’s the point. To make the day as memorable as possible.”

GeO Gospel Choir (the GeO stands for geographical) also perform less radical versions of their Secret Singer schtick. They disguise themselves as waiters during the wedding meal, then belt out Bruce Springsteen and Ed Sheeran numbers while guests, agog and agape, sputter half-chewed fragments of crème brulee.

Their imaginative methods of seamlessly integrating music into a couple’s big day has certainly proved successful. When comedian Kevin Bridges got married earlier this year, he chose GeO Gospel to provide the musical accompaniment.

“We were at the reception and we sang Kevin and his bride, Kerry, to the top table,” says Alexandra. “They came in to Signed, Sealed, Delivered. It was all great fun; a very intimate wedding. Only about 70 guests, no celebs. Just friends and family.”

Curiously enough, even though Gerad and Alexandra’s livelihood revolves around marriage, there has been a bit of a hiccup when it comes to them getting hitched.

“I can’t really get anyone to stay with me,” shrugs Gerad, “I’m a bit of a lone wolf.”

Alexandra is doing slightly better, having been engaged for seven years.

She hopes (cross fingers) to get married abroad in a couple of years.

“She’s obviously booked our choir for all of it,” chortles Gerad. “She had no choice!”

Gerad and Alexandra, who are based in Stirling and run the business with their brother Paul, realise that in the modern marriage marketplace every vow must come with an extra helping of wow.

AN ARMY OF MISS HAVISHAMS

Social media has made even the most sacred of ceremonies into a hypercompetitive sport, with wedding videos appearing online instantaneously, and brides and grooms competing over bragging rights to boast that they, alone, have devised the most innovative method of swaggering down the aisle.

It’s not enough to say “I do” anymore. The braying internet mob will merely respond: “Do what? And has it been done before?”

Strolling round the Wedding Show, I’m constantly confronted by this race to be the wedded best.

I wade through enough pale, puffy gowns to kit-out an army of Miss Havishams. There’s a stall promoting a teeth-whitening product, though I’m not entirely convinced the concept will fly. Surely chompers should be borderline yellow, with murky lumps of breakfast porridge wedged between molars and incisors, to ensure nothing outshines the blinding white of the bridal dress.

I spot a speedboat, too, though I don’t quite understand the point of it. Steering it down the aisle is bound to be a logistical nightmare. There’s also the latest concepts in wedding cakes, the

boldest ideas in bouquets.

Mostly it’s young ladies traipsing round the hall, eagerly absorbing every promotion. Though there’s the occasional bloke, too, trotting faithfully behind his girlfriend/line-manager. These nervous, twitchy lads manage to fit in at the Wedding Show about as well as a set of chop sticks at a custard eating competition.

Talking of things that are completely out of place: What the heckety-heck is that over there? Yup, my eyes don’t deceive me. It’s a herd of alpacas. And they’re proving to be an absolute hit. People jostle and shove to get a chance to stroke their graceful Grace Kelly necks and stare lovingly into their

Audrey Hepburn eyes. There’s no doubt that alpacas, up close, have heaps of Hollywood glamour. That still doesn’t make them the most obvious guests to invite to your wedding.

Cameron Pitcairn, the owner of these outrageously cute critters, disagrees.

“They go down a storm with guests,” he says. “They’re such amazing animals. They’re docile. They’re cuddly. They’re soft.”

Okay, I’m happy to go along with all of that. But what vital role can an alpaca play during a couple’s Big Day?

You can’t nibble on them like wedding cake. (Much too fuzzy. Hairs would get stuck in your gullet. Besides, they’re so darned adorable you’d feel guilty for weeks afterwards.) And, as sociable as they undoubtedly are, I can’t imagine an alpaca making a particularly witty best man’s speech.

Cameron, whose company is called Caledonia Alpacas, does his best to explain their wedding day worth. “You know that bit after the ceremony, and before the meal?” he says. “That kind of dead time? Well, we take these alpacas in amongst the guests and we talk to people about them. Everyone loves it.

I spot a speedboat, though I don’t understand the point of it. Steering it down the aisle is bound to be a logistical nightmare

They get to stroke the animals, feed them, take selfies with them.”

Aha! So alpacas are a social media sensation. Once more the internet comes into play in the modern wedding.

A TOUCH OF WOOLLY GLAMOUR

Cameron works on the family farm near Banknock, though tilling the soil isn’t entirely satisfying, so bringing alpacas into his life added some much-needed woolly glamour. He started by buying five, but quickly realised alpacas are very moreish. He now has 25.

The plan isn’t to only use them to zhush-up wedding ceremonies. There’s a grander scheme afoot, to produce kilts made of alpaca wool, something which has never been attempted before.

“These will be luxury kilts,” says Cameron. “Top of the range.”

And, no doubt, in the very near future these super-swanky kilts will be available to covet and coo over at a Wedding Show near you.

Proving yet again that in the modern world, it isn’t enough to be a loved-up pair, committed to a future entwined.

Today’s couples may still yearn for their happy-ever-after. But there’s no way they’ll be deprived of being celebrated as hipsters-ever-after, too.

BY LORNE JACKSON