Catherine Mooney, who sings alto in the GSA Choir, writes about her experience of rehearsing Brìdghe – composed by Pippa Murphy, with lyrics by Karine Polwart.
It is very early. My eyes are closed, but I am awake. The first tangible thought to filter through is a refrain, a wisp of music. If I keep my eyes closed, slowly the whole melody will unfurl in my mind until I can replay the whole of last night’s choir rehearsal. We were learning Brìdghe, composed by Pippa Murphy with lyrics by Karine Polwart. How fitting we should be singing about our Brìdghe. This is not classic St. Bride as seen by the likes of John Duncan: this is St. Bride, our intimate friend and confidant.
The GSA Choir lies between the place Brìdghe first landed in Scotland – West Kilbride – and some of her many cult settlements at East Kilbride, Callander and Bothwell. Members of the choir come from East Kilbride to sing, and some are from West Kilbride. Brìdghe is remembered everywhere in the west of Scotland.
I was going to be called Bridget. There may well be choir members with that name.
She is a saint: a special person that can be in Bethlehem, but still visits our humble kitchens. I like the use of the opening lyric, ‘smoor the fire’, setting the piece in a domestic female surrounding, with references in the work alluding to a transition from winter frost to spring fertility. No one had sung the word ‘belly’ before, there was some amusement about that (coming across new words to sing is rarer than you might think).
There are parts that are almost like a carol…a carol for the spring to come. The music is very pretty – not earnest like the masculine contemporary Iona leanings – but still reverential. There is mention of the St. Bride crosses that are still made in parts of Ireland.
Importantly the music is joyful. I am not too old to sing a lullaby, that is what is dancing in my head. The Germans have a word – ‘ohrwurm’ – that translates as ‘ear worm’, which is not very attractive. I think of the music in my mind more like audio smoke. Audible, then blown away by the day. I know that I will be woken tomorrow by the same lilt.