Music / The King’s Singers. At Snow Concert Hall, March 7. Reviewed by NICK HORN.

The King’s Singers strode on to stage jauntily, umbrellas raised, immediately putting us at ease as we waited for our socks to dry from the downpour outside.

And then they gathered in a close semi-circle to Blow Away The Morning Dew, dismissing any vestiges of dank evening moisture still hovering.

For more than 50 years, the group’s identity and reputation has been sustained through devotion to close harmony a cappella singing with superlative musicianship, eclectic repertoire, and a particular vocal sound, with two high male voices and a tenor over the solid foundation of two baritones and a bass. This particular incarnation of The King’s Singers comprises Patrick Dunachie and Edward Button, counter-tenors; Julian Gregory, tenor;  Christopher Bruerton and Nick Ashby, baritones, and Piers Connor Kennedy, bass.

Three traditional arrangements set the tone for an evening of story-telling in melting close harmony, highlights being Gregory’s tenor in The Oak and the Ash and magic from the countertenors in the Cuban street song The Peanut Vendor, their lilting melody echoing the nut seller’s morning whistle.

The plainchant refrains of Robert White’s renaissance motet Christe Qui Lux Es Et Dies were sung in heavenly unison. William Byrd followed with a bounce: the complex polyphonic lines of Haec Dies have never sounded so distinct. For Steve Martland’s Oranges and Lemons, the group stunningly recreated the chaotic change-ringing of the London church bells of the nursery rhyme, before raucously baying for a decapitation at the end. Later in the show, in quartet formation, the group strutted their romantic stuff in a swaggering rendition of Camille Saint-Saëns’ Salteralle.

Much of the evening was devoted to contemporary pop, with a touch of vaudeville and jazz on the side, and a dash of Disney. Sentimental? Yes, but who can object to sentiment s(w)ung with such impeccable taste, timing, and tuning? They sold us tasty treats (complete with whistle) with disarming generosity and good humour – think Brian Wilson, Billy Joel and the Beatles (Ob La Di with a high G from Molly and cossack dancing). A stand-out was Randy Newman’s miniature gem, Texas Girl at the Funeral of Her Father, Dunachie’s aching soprano lead over a recreation of Newman’s gorgeous strings stabbing straight to the heart (Papa we’ll go sailing).

We were charmed with Aussie standards Horses (Darryl Braithwaite) and Peter Allen’s… (you’ve seen the Qantas ad).  The surprise of the night was And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda. Eric Bogle’s searing ballad, sung almost too perfectly, brought us together for a shared moment of anger and sorrow – “And the young people ask ‘what are they marching for?’ / And I ask myself the same question.”

Such natural easeful singing, seamlessly blended and tuned, each arrangement treated with individual care and love. The King’s Singers may have sung these songs thousands of times on other stages – but it felt like all those earlier shows were mere rehearsals for this special evening in Canberra.