Music at St John's
The Choir |
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| We are very proud of our
musical tradition which is ably led by our choir. Our choir is one of
the oldest in the south west of Scotland, having been established in
the 1860's. It is affiliated to the Royal School of Church Music. In
addition to the regular services at St. John's (Sung Eucharist and
Evensong), the choir sings at weddings and concerts throughout the
year, and at the now traditional Christmas Eve Festival of Carols at
the Crichton Royal Church.
Membership of the choir, especially for children, encourages a high standard of self-discipline and provides a solid base for a future ability to read and perform music. The choir practises each Wednesday from 6.30pm. Children are encouraged to join, if they show musical promise. It is not necessary to have singing experience, but it is important that the child can sing in tune. Children receive a small allowance to cover expenses, according to attendance. it is desirable that you read music, but not essential. But it's not all work! The choir also goes on trips, has days out and enjoys going to school musical events and pantomimes. |
 Choir Master: Jamie Brand, B.Ed. (Mus), RSAMD |
The Organ and the Organist
On 27th May, we lost our organist of many years, and a great teacher of many generations of Dumfries musicians. Tom will be sorely missed. May he rest in peace. You can learn more about the St John's organ on the organ page. |
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THOMAS ALEXANDER CARRICK1 February 1932 ~ 27 May 2010No verse or phrase from Scripture presented itself as a tag on which to hang this Appreciation and so I have simply titled it: “Was there something?” In this place, to borrow a phrase from the writer to the Hebrews, “we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses” who have gone before us in faith. Time is too short to tell of Marjorie Jackson and Jimmy McClure, of Alan Heaslip and Jean McBryde, of Betty Holloway, John Davies and so many others – of, in the past few days, Audrey Girling, Irene Brodie, Brian Bagnall, Peter Boggis. All these were people of faith, fondly remembered, but they would tell you that the doyen, the very embodiment, of the spirituality, the musicality, the faith of St John’s, Dumfries, is the man whose loss we mourn, whose life we celebrate, this morning: Thomas Alexander Carrick, Dip. Mus. Ed., RSAM, LTCL. Tom’s life was so rich and varied that it’s difficult to know where to begin – and, once started, may be equally difficult to stop. He was, among so many things: teacher of music; organist; choirmaster; bibliophile; horologist (who can forget the cacophony of chimes every hour on the hour? – and so artfully captured on the answering machine); caravanner extraordinaire; de facto curator of the Crichton Church; carer to his mother – and to so many others; indefatigable visitor of the sick; rescuer of pianos and organs around the country; cheese scone baker; world expert on the Glasgow and South Western Railway; and, of course, winder-up-in-chief to six Rectors of St John’s in succession. He was a Doonhamer through-and-through. Apart from his college years and National Service (when, as he said, “I suffered for my country on the beaches of Berwick-upon-Tweed”) he lived and worked here all his life. And he became a kenspeckle figure. Everybody knew Tom. Only yesterday, I was chatting to a coach driver in the garage waiting-room and, inevitably, my history came out. He said: “St John’s? My old music teacher at the High School was the organist of St John’s: Tom Carrick. That was some man!” And when I explained that Tom’s funeral was to be today, he was genuinely moved. That’s some measure of the affection in which he was generally held. Although he developed friendship and acquaintance all over the country, Tom’s closest friends were lifelong; people from the caring environment of this town and this congregation - many of you here today, others looking down on us. And here, I think, is the point at which to honour Robert’s – Robert Lind’s – gentle, supportive companionship over so many years, and to thank Robert and Colin, on behalf of all Tom’s friends, for the loving dedication with which they kept vigil with him these last, long weeks. A stanza of Hilaire Belloc’s comes to mind:
In the summer of 1956 Tom was appointed organist of the Crichton and then, in the autumn, of St John’s, and for the next 54 years he was effectively synonymous with both places. He always said he would only do 50 years, and if asked recently why he still struggled on, he would reply, “I’m playing injury time.” On his own at first, then in partnership with William Williamson, Frank Davis and Jamie Brand, he took a long musical tradition to new heights and consistent quality. He loved everything to be done decently and in order – most especially the Liturgy - and was genuinely distressed when things went wrong, or were not up to scratch. I wish I had been there on the occasion when, before a service, he stopped playing and turned to a particularly noisy congregation with the words: “Ssh! I don’t do cabaret!” No-one should think that it was anything other than jolly hard work. Saturday mornings, rehearsing the children, were particularly fraught, not least because the Altar Guild would turn up to clean the Chancel at the same time. The dusting and polishing and hoovering would go on until he could stand it no more. The voice would ring out, “Are we disturbing you, Mrs Miller?” And Jenny, all unawares, would reply, “Not at all Mr Carrick. Do carry on.” At which point he would collapse theatrically against the piano. | A high point for the choir was its concert tour in the United States in 1994, and there was general gloom amid the excitement of the preparations when Tom announced he would not be going. The concerts were no problem, but the attendant social round, the canapés, the small talk in crowded rooms, being hosted in the homes of strangers, was not for Tom. He summed it up to me: “Sleeping in other people’s beds is gall and wormwood to me. Pity I can’t take the caravan.” A choirboy, Stuart Chalmers, now a graphic designer, overheard the remark, and produced a cartoon of a transatlantic jet towing Tom’s caravan. It burst the bubble of anxiety nicely and the tour went ahead without him. That was probably just as well since, by the time they came back, he was already suffering from the heart problems that would plague him thereafter. Tom and I had a wonderful working relationship. We shared a love of Anglican worship, especially Evensong (which was never a chore to either of us), and of the warm, rich textures of British choral and organ music – Elgar, Parry, Wood, Vaughan Williams, John Ireland. As we grew to trust each other, I was awarded the accolade of “You announce it, Rector, and we’ll sing it.” At least, I think it was an accolade.... We didn’t quite see eye to eye on the more sugary catholic revival hymns – so he got “Sweet Sacrament divine” once a year for Corpus Christi, and “Shall we not love thee Mother dear” if he could slip it past someone else when I was on holiday. Nor were we entirely in tune on the matter of modern hymnody. I recall the organ copy of one that was headed “’Shine Jesus shine’, words and music by Graham Kendrick (born 1950)” against which, in the unmistakeable handwriting, was the annotation “Pity!” After my last Service here, he came into the sacristy with his characteristic benison, “God be with you till we meet again.” Then he shook his head and drew me a long look: “All these years,” he said, “and never a cross word between us.” And stumped out. To this day, I’m not sure whether that thought pleased or disappointed him.... His legacy in all kinds of areas is amazing, and we may be able to reflect on the breadth of it at the Memorial Service to come. For the moment, let me focus on St John’s. First of all, there is the organ itself, his joy for so many years. We first began to plan its restoration about 1993, and, since the consummation of that long process in the magnificent instrument we hear today, he has looked and sounded like a man whose life’s work is complete. Then there’s the generations of children, many hundreds of them, whose introduction both to music and to faith, and in some cases even to caring adults, was in the choir of St John’s – though (as he often pointed out) ex-choirboys seem as likely to end up in Barlinnie as in theological college. His policy of leaving the organ unlocked and of actively encouraging young people to try it out, along with his infinite patience with his many organ scholars, means that all round the world his former pupils are leading worship from the organ console. More than that was the example he set of living the faith and loving the Liturgy. It was Tom, more than any Rector, who, by his faithful attendance, maintained the tradition of the daily Eucharist. When Tom played or conducted, when his choir sang, it was not simply a musical performance, it was his bounden duty and service – to use his gifts for the glory of God. Something of that has seeped into the very fabric of this building, contributing to its atmosphere of holiness, and is far, far more precious than any tangible memorial. As all the foregoing has, I hope, suggested, the crusty carapace and Meldrew-ish exterior, was simply a device adopted to shield a man who was sensitive, emotional, private, frighteningly intelligent, fiercely loyal, deeply faithful – and much loved. As the chap in the garage said yesterday, “That was some man!” Like all of you, I was glad to call him friend. One of his favourite musical passages was the “Profisicere Anima Christiana” from “The Dream of Gerontius”. The combination of Elgar and Newman touched all his Anglo Catholic sensibilities. We shall hear the words again later, but I want to end with them here, as my farewell to an old friend.
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