Harlem Gospel Choir in North Bohemia

"How you doin' OSEK!" Sister Bea yelled to minimal reponse. "I said, 'How ya feelin OSEK!"

What Sister Bea did not understand is that--though we were in the town of Osek--calling out for Osek was like Aerosmith coming to Houston, performing at The Woodlands Pavilion, and saying "How ya feeling THE WOODLANDS! We are so happy to be rockin THE WOODLANDS!" Osek is a small berg twenty kilometers from Teplice, an hour or two from Prague, and of the 700 or so in attendance, maybe 20 were from Osek.

The main reasons I decided to go to this concert were (A) It was in a part of the country I hadn't seen before, and (B) My student Richard invited me. To call Richard a student sounds funny because he's my parents' age, with children a little younger than me, but he likes a lot of different music and we got to talking and I was very flattered he invited me along.

Richard, his wife Jana, their friend Vira, and I drove from north of Prague to Osek, which is quite close to the German border. Though the landscape was beautiful, it could have been far more astounding if the weather wasn't awful. It was a cold, constant rain, the kind that doesn't smack at you but comes in soft, ceaseless swarms. It was one of those oil and water skies in front of us, and I figured once we passed into it we would be in the clear. But then we were just in water.

On the walk from the parking lot to the church, the wind was so hard that Richard's umbrella was snapped and destroyed, hanging limply like a kite.

We had to get there early to get seats (as opposed to standing the whole concert), so we sat waiting for the show for an hour. The church is not heated. It was below 40 outside. It was below 40 inside. We drank hot tea from a thermos at the beginning, but by the end its effects were long gone.

The Harlem Gospel Choir is a pretty talented group: astounding vocals, of course, and pretty cool arrangements. They played a Stevie Wonder medley that was the bomb-diggity. The thing, though, is that a gospel choir is supposed to be a show more than a music performance. The Choir wanted to get the audience on their feet, singing, dancing, interacting.

The Czechs were not having it.

"How many of you speak English?" Sister Bea called. About ten people raised their hands, none of which included the people in my row, all of whom spoke English. "Oh dear. How many of you speak Czech?" Slightly fewer raised their hands, and the whole church laughed. I would guess that 500 of the 700 spoke some passing form of English.

The Czechs are pretty restrained when it comes to outside displays of religious or political views, though: most don't like talking about it. And the Harlem Gospel Choir had quite an uphill battle to get the Czechs clapping their hands through the whole show (Oh, I'll mention this too: Czechs--pretty bad rhythm).

But the "show" aspect of things grated on me too. Sister Olivia said to the crowd, "Y'all are beautiful. go on, clap for yourselves, give yourselves a hand." Wait: what? I'm clapping for myself because you think I'm pretty? I do not need to clap for something like that.

Also of note was a particular song selection. I can only imagine the director breaking it down like this: "Alright, Brother Lawrence and Sister Maya are doing the Stevie medley and Sister Olivia's got Amazing Grace. Sister Theresa, though, we got something special for you--you're doing R. Kelly all by yourself." That's right. Sister Theresa believed she could fly.

It was a good time, and by the end of the show my feet and hands were frozen. We marched off into the blackness and they drove me back to Prague, listening to Czech bluegrass bands cover Johnny Cash.