Collaborative fervour: Matheison’s and Dauntsey’s choir (Picture by Rashbehari Das)

At the end, it wasn’t a “grand classical concert’’, as promised on the invite. It was even grander ? in spirit, pluck and outstanding dedication. Thus, the collective performance of the The Matheison Music School, Calcutta, and the Dauntsey’s School, Wiltshire, UK, exuded the happy face of humility and spiritual ardor, at Kalamandir on October 28. On offer was a cornucopia of music, varied and virtuosic, always tugging at your heart’s strings.

Starting with Ganesh Bandana, rendered soulfully by a staff member, it immediately softened the audience, and orgiastic cheers followed when the choir sang The Matheison School song, Let’s celebrate, with the verve that is concomitant to any anthem as also testifying to the unifying element it contains: the vocal might of members from the Dauntsey’s School showed, in a way, that they too thought of this song as their own. This collaborative fervour remained evident throughout the show ? thanks to which, music gained. And everybody pitched in.

Dawn Thompson, wife and vocal in-charge of the Dauntsey’s School, and wife of Christopher Thompson, its director, showed why she is where she is ? singing a Handel song, her octaval finesse shone, with her coloratura complementing her steady lower registers admirably. Equally impressive was 20-something Dipak, who justified a bold option ? Shostakovitch’s Spring Song ? by evincing the inherent conviviality of the piece, which said a thing or two about the seriousness with which he absorbs the tutelage imparted at Matheison’s.

The richness of instruction prevalent at Dauntsey’s, too, came to the fore time and again, but particularly shone during a duet from Mozart’s seminal Magic Flute, sung by two wards from Wiltshire, with diverse timbres ? one smoky, the other sonorous ? blending to a tee in an odic search for love. In fact, the vocal wealth residing in the warm sanctum at Dauntsey’s once again spawned frenzied applause when Emily sang Hammerstein’s evergreen Something wonderful, which was reminiscent of perhaps the greatest exponent of theatre songs, Barbra Streisand. Emily’s much-schooled technique and unwavering emotion were definitely one of the things the audience lugged home that evening.

A little after Suraj enthralled with wafer-crisp beats on the tabla in an all too heady taal, came an occasion which was a warm reminder of the nobility, a heart-wrenching exhibition of the mirth, and the undeterred buoyancy that exist as a compulsion at Matheison’s. Going gospel, when the choir passionately embraced the raunchy My desire is to please you, it was the picture of a family of eager eyes, pre-adolescent faces devoid of sin, the pride written on their deportment, and the smell of belonging in their uninhibited toothy grins that overwhelmed, all of which proved a pointer to a single-minded attitude that comes free at this august establishment ? a gargantuan appetite for life. A factor which could not have found a better ambassador than Anup Biswas, the most-noted old boy from Matheison’s.

Now a much touted cellist, Biswas regaled with three ? unannounced ? pieces, which primarily showcased his ceaseless wizardry: he feted the somber, the lilting, the teasingly elastic, and even steered the last piece into the bucolic terrain of Bengal ? indicating perhaps the glee that attends any home-coming.