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Easter 1998 I joined an audience of 2000 in Winchester Cathedral for a performance of Bach's St. Matthew Passion. The memory of that evening will stay with me forever.

All around me the soft murmuring of two thousand souls filling the vast space of the ancient building. Expectant, excited, impatient.

One by one members of the orchestra amble toward the platform then sit chatting to each other and looking out into the sea of faces watching their every move.

A choir of a hundred file to the rear. Cherub faced boys resplendent in scarlet robes giggle behind cupped hands and behind them a black and white wall of expressionless singers sit, manuscripts on their laps.

Suddenly the audience breaks into spontaneous applause as the leader of the orchestra appears violin in hand followed by the imposing figure of the conductor who briefly acknowledges his welcome then turns to the musicians, tapping his baton on his music stand. At once the instruments burst into a discordant scramble of random notes as they tune up, and then quiet.
The choir stands, the baton is raised and suddenly every corner of this grey building is lit up with the colour of the Bach's inspirational music.

The steady rhythmic beat soon gives way to souring voices and lush orchestral blankets of sound. The elbows of two dozen string players dart in and out in perfect synchronicity. Red faced trumpeters with balloon like cheeks sit alongside pinch faced oboists whilst the percussionist looms over the orchestra hammers in hand.

I close my eyes and everyone around me disappears. It's just me and the music, lifting me, dropping me, faster, slower. Bliss.

My pulse increases, my heart beats faster. I feel excited, uplifted. I am at the mercy of the music. I am in another world.

It's nearly over but I want more. I crave more, please let it never end. The sound rises and rises taking me with it and I shudder as it reaches its magnificent climax!

Then silence. A second's silence that lasts for ages.

I feel the warm glow of satisfaction. I am emotionally drained yet filled with contentment. I slowly open my eyes and am suddenly aware of thunderous applause. 2000 people standing, whistling, shrieking for more.

One by one the people leave. I am left alone with just my memories of a night of passion.

Learn more about this author, Keith Hillman.
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