Flash Choir Saturday, April 4

[April 1st, 2009]

[VOCAL FUN] The enormous, kitsch-filled rehearsal space that doubles as Pink Martini’s offices and studio is buzzing with activity. Rows of white chairs are hurriedly unfolded. Everyone bustles, eager to do what they came for: sing.

The 30 or so people in the room—men and women of all ages—are proud members of the Flash Choir. This vocal ensemble has, for the past two years, performed at events ranging from the Time-Based Arts Festival to shows with Portland Cello Project. But it is by no means a traditional choir. Like the flash mobs from whence the group gets its name, the choir is made up of, basically, anyone who shows up. This means that membership varies from a dozen to almost 50 people for some performances. There only requirement for participation is a desire to vocalize.

Although the choir itself is a constantly morphing entity, the constant presence in the group is the creative partnership of longtime Portland singer-songwriter Sarah Dougher and Pat Janowski (the Ditty Twisters). Tonight, the two run the group through vocal exercises, singing scales and repeating the phrase “cinnamon aluminum.”

The two started the group in an effort to “perform non-canonical works that are challenging but with the focus on really great singing,” says Dougher. This has included a commissioned piece by New York-based artist Rinde Eckert and the work the Flash Choir is rehearsing tonight: an original composition by Dougher, titled “Caesar’s Gate.”

The piece sets a collection of poems by the late Robert Duncan (perhaps best known for his 1944 essay “The Homosexual in Society”) to music­—in this case, vocals and single electric guitar. It’s a rousing score; brimming with forward momentum and curlicued melodies reminiscent of the work of both Sufjan Stevens and Philip Glass. “Who knew this rock maven could also be a talented and difficult choral composer?” Janowski asks during a break in rehearsal, flashing a wry smile toward her collaborator.

The jovial mood of the room is amplified when guitarist Marisa Anderson (Evolutionary Jass Band) arrives to accompany the group. As the choir exultantly voices Duncan’s feverish imagery (“Cloud of our concealed fury/ The eye sails to the end/ Casting its lines/ Towards its own vanishing point”), Janowski conducts them, urging them to greater heights. Dougher bounces behind her, stomping out time with her black boots. The music and the beatific looks on everyone’s faces become so infectious that I consider throwing down my notebook and joining in. I have a feeling they wouldn’t mind if I did.