Wick High School, Friday 3 October 2003

A LEADING Scottish poet once told me that any poet doing a reading could never assume the audience would outnumber the performer! On Friday night, a huge audience (full house, standing room only sell-out, 250+) was nevertheless still outnumbered by the performers.

The Song of Wick was a cycle of ten songs performed by the P6 and P7 classes of the four Wick primary schools: Pulteneytown Academy, North Primary, South Primary and Hillhead Primary, in conjunction with the Grey Coast Theatre Company and professional musicians, choreographers, directors and actors.

Wick was once the bustling herring centre of Europe, but has fallen on harder times with the decline of some traditional industries, particularly fishing and its attendant industries of coopering, haulage and warehousing. Most important of all, this decade and has seen a mass exodus of local young people seeking work and education. This celebration of Wick’s past, present and future was thus particularly poignant.

With the aid of lights, backdrop projections, live music and a few basic props to suggest ships at sea, Viking longboats and war raids, the children moved and sang. The young people had abundant energy and enthusiasm and the response from the audience was equally enthusiastic.

I was sandwiched between several Wick families who had children or grandchildren performing, and they expressed the same enthusiasm for what they were hearing and seeing: a thumbnail history of their burgh and county from the broch builders to the final song, “Wick is a Miracle.”

Local poet and playwright George Gunn wrote the words. Professional musician Andy Thorburn set them to music. Eric Tessier-Lavigne was the director, but make no mistake, the children were the real focus. Gallus, humorous, sombre in turn, they starred, no easy thing in front of their own people and community. Particularly moving was the song “Wick in a War Zone”, which paid tribute to the many children killed in the German bombing raids in Wick in July and October, 1940, a sad episode of Highland history not widely known outside of Caithness.

Many performances by children are by a pre-selected crème de la crème, bringing back many unpleasant memories for us all of being kept on the sidelines because of a changing adolescent voice, or lack of technical skill, or just a face that somehow didn’t fit. Such performances are often flawless, technically perfect but unmoving because they fear risking the spontaneity that all children communicate best.

This performance was all-inclusive and yes, at times raw and bursting at the seams, but it was, like Wick itself, accepting and inclusive. No place for divas or stars here; a big team, singing a history that belongs to all, not a few. Indeed, there were minor moments of acoustic clashes, maybe the voices receding at times, or fluctuating.

Some voices and actors were of course better than others, but the whole performance was essentially fluid and vibrant. The young people got a genuine encore when the curtains to the side of the hall parted at the end and all the children, literally in your face, belted out the reason for this whole performance: we will sing our history and future to you but now, it is our song.

Did the performance dwell too much on a past that implies Wick is past its sell-by date, that the future is as grey and cold as a Wick November? I didn’t feel that way at the end. Many people around me were actually moved to tears by the performance because the message was clear to all: the salvation of Wick must be these very young people, now of many races and accents, who know that the people here have survived everything nature and man threw at them.

It was an accomplished performance in the face of great odds: time, numbers, acoustics, and space. Yet, this performance of music, song, drama and voice was ultimately a successful work of art on its own terms.

© Tom Bryan, 2003