Magic, Moonlight & Madmen

Twice a week, we gather to perform a members-only ritual.  Throwing off the stifling cloak of the Ordinary, standing in circles, we engage in the practice of magic both light and dark.  Deciphering strange symbols in extraordinary spell-books, we ruminate on the nature of Things and dispel the Norm with a dash of Alto here, a shriek of Soprano and rumble of Bass there, a swooping fire-starting Crescendo and a sprinkling of Tenor for good measure.

For us, the magic is Music.

Tonight we celebrate the musically magical - the enchanted and the enchanting; and lament the passing of magic from the Everyday.  Putting on our shaman robes, we march as Trees and battle grim giants in a quasi-LOTR soundtrack number; make fences fall, bears dance and fireflies glow; and string garlands of vowels and liquid consonants together in the hope of communicating with Extra-Terrestrial beings.

We find delight in the whimsy of nursery rhymes, in settings inspired by Calder's surreal line drawings; and in the sarcastic with of DH Lawrence.  This performance of Love Thy Neighbour is both premiere and farewll gift to Americ, who leaves us for further studies next month.  We also mourn lost ideals:  the chivalry and honour of Cervantes' Don Quixote; the quiet mystery and unknowable sounds in an epitaph for moonlight, knowing that the departure of Silence would herald the end of music.

It takes a certain madness to devote our off-duty hours to howling at the moon.  But for 43 years, we have been keeping the Monsters of the Mundance at bay with the sharp blade of cutting-edge incantations.  With one foot mired in the reality of day-jobs, lecture-tutorials and boot-camp, and the other rooted in the greatest RPG of all time, we are keeping the magic alive.

Beam us up, already.