The ‘two-bit’ bass singing a solo in our June concert!

So how come a two-bit bass from the chorus is singing a solo in the June concert? The short answer, says Will Anderson is:

I suggested to Harry that I sing my favourite G&S patter song – ‘The Lord Chancellor’s Nightmare Song’ from Iolanthe – in full costume and he was up for it.

Sadly, this little turn does not follow a long and glittering career in opera, though I started well. I have learnt that tricky Toreador’s song and performed it on stage, in costume, with a full band. The band was the London Symphony Orchestra, the man in front of it was Claudio Abbado, and the prima donna was Teresa Berganza. Edinburgh Festival Opera, 1978.

Needless to say, I was an urchin. It was an extraordinary experience, though at the age of 12 I did not appreciate quite what a distinguished company I had joined. I remember vividly waiting in the wings at the start of the show with my school mates, all boys, watching the action. The director, Pierro Faggioni, had the curtain rise at the point in the overture when the music turns dark, revealing Don José on stage awaiting his doom in shackles, turning the whole story into a flashback. Then, after a quick blackout, we were in sunny Seville, waiting for our cue to run on stage where we playfully marched up and down singing ‘Avec la garde montante / Nous arrivons, nous voilà!’

After this song we left the theatre and spent the rest of the opera in a nearby house, waiting for Escamillo to ride triumphantly into Seville. The Toreador’s song was phenomenal because everyone was on stage going crazy for the hot hero (Tom Krause). Only now, seeing the full SATB score, am I aware of how exposed we boys were. Nonetheless, we stepped up and there were no complaints, except once from Faggioni because one of my friends had forgotten to take off his chunky new digital watch.

The head of music at my school was evidently rather well connected for I also got to sing at Haddo House, the rather fabulous Georgian pile where June Gordon, the Marchioness of Aberdeen, oversaw a Scottish Glyndebourne. The Haddo House Choral Society included singers from a variety of Scottish sources, brought together to perform operas and oratorios with some world-class soloists. My fellow bass Hamish Norbrook was also there, though we didn’t overlap.

One summer, the show was Ruddigore, so I was delighted to find it on the rep list for our concert. ‘When thoroughly tired of being admired by ladies of gentle degree’ still trips off my tongue and brings back happy memories. Although I was only a teenager, I was tall enough to be cast as one of the ancestors who appear out of the paintings to threaten the dastardly baronet. It’s one of the best scenes in G&S and includes the brilliant song ‘The Ghost’s High Noon’.

On another occasion I appeared in the chorus for Verdi’s Macbeth. There were two casts of soloists: the locals who had rehearsed the show and the professionals who swept in for a couple of performances. I was chosen by the director to double as Banquo’s ghost because I had the same build as the local soloist. In the famous banquet scene, as he left one side of the stage, I walked on in the same costume from the other side, driving Macbeth to further madness. This went well with the local cast but the professional Macbeth forgot all about me so I just looked ridiculous and had to shuffle off sheepishly.

That wasn’t as bad as the occasion when I lost the Marchioness’s dog in the woods the morning before the Dream of Gerontius. Everyone in the household was out looking for him, to my total mortification. He was found just in time, or I think that Janet Baker, who had arrived to sing the angel, would have been roped in too.

I continued to sing at university. I joined one of the less distinguished Cambridge chapel choirs (Trinity Hall) where I sang evensong twice a week and toured English cathedrals. Then, after graduation, I stopped singing for about 30 years.

Ten years ago, I decided to return to one of my childhood pursuits and become an actor. I never got beyond off-west-end stages but I had lots of fun and started singing and playing trombone again. My scariest moment was a production of Sweeney Todd. I was only in the chorus but at the very beginning I had to walk on stage completely alone and start the show with the famous ballad: ‘Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd/ His skin was pale and his eye was odd’. Terrifying!

I took a post-graduate diploma in acting at Central School of Speech and Drama where, one day, our voice teacher gave us an exercise in diction. We were all given a couple of lines from the Lord Chancellor’s nightmare song from Iolanthe, one of the great G&S patter songs. I subsequently learnt the entire song and used it regularly as a warm-up whenever I was on stage. Which brings me back to the beginning. I couldn’t resist an opportunity to perform it so thank you to Harry for giving me the chance.

Will Anderson