Why is the quality of singing in English churches so unpredictable? On one Sunday morning, I can have mediocre musical accompaniment with a couple of singers with colds, and the congregation sings like the Telstra stadium at the end of the World Cup in Sydney.
The next Sunday morning I can pull out all the stops musically, stick some tub-thumping tunes on the sheet, and the singing sounds like Twickenham would if England ever lost a rugby match against Germany.
I wish I could explain it. Sometimes it’s due to lots of people being away on church weekends. Sometimes it’s humidity that makes everything seem turgid. Sometimes it’s because I’m playing like a donkey. Sometimes it’s simply because it’s February.
