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[title]‘Boys Will Be Boys’ hits differently when it’s sung by the London Gay Men's Chorus. The Ordinary Boys’ original is a laddish banger but at a rehearsal, on a glum Monday evening in Camden, Europe's largest male voice choir turns it into something slinkier. Performed by more than 100 queer men who range in age from 25 to 85, lyrics like ‘I've had nights that I'll never forget’ are less of a bolshy boast, more of a cheeky wink.
The group, is practising for its 30th birthday shows, steered by artistic director Simon Sharp. The singers rehearse ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ and ‘Bring Me Sunshine’, reading from iPads, while downstairs a choreographer runs through staging routines. It’s all serious business, but there's easy camaraderie in the room. After a stressful day at work, singing with the LGMC looks like a lovely way to let off steam.
Since forming in December 1991, LGMC now has nearly 200 members. Hundreds more are currently on a waiting list to join an institution that playfully calls itself ‘Britain's Biggest Boyband’. The group has sung with Dolly Parton, Elton John and the Pet Shop Boys while building a reputation for putting on glowing, emotional live shows. ‘I think of us as a kind of Trojan horse,’ says acting chair Peter Ptashko. ‘When people think “wouldn't it be fun to book a gay choir for our event”, they already have a picture in their head of what this might look like. But then when we get on stage, we offer something really quite unexpected.’
The LGMC prides itself on being a true community choir – anyone LGBTQ+ who can sing a male vocal range can join, regardless of talent – and not a lobbying group. But in a way, it’s always been subtly political, simply because it exists. It formed during the dark days of the HIV/AIDS epidemic when nine members of the UK’s oldest LGBTQ+ charity, London Friend, decided to sing a few carols at Angel tube station. Their aim wasn’t just to raise money for the HIV and sexual health charity Terrence Higgins Trust, but also to project a sense of brotherhood. Freddie Mercury had died a few weeks earlier, becoming the most high-profile victim to date of a disease that remained cloaked in ignorance and stigma.
‘We always had a mission to change some of those negative perceptions of gay men in the media,’ says former chair Martin Brophy. ‘When I joined in the '90s, it felt like we were doing politics with a small “p”. Whatever song we sang took on a different nuance because we were gay men singing it.’ Brophy says it felt especially poignant when they performed ‘We Kiss in a Shadow’, a song about a secret love affair from ‘The King and I’. Lyrics such as ‘when people are near, we speak not a word’ really resonated with chorus members who came of age before and shortly after sexual activity between men was finally decriminalised in 1967.
During its 30-year history, the LGMC has celebrated other major milestones for the LGBTQ+ community: gaining an equal age of consent in 2001, the right to form civil partnerships in 2005, and finally the right to marry in 2014. ‘It's really easy to assume that everything's fine for gay people now, especially in London, but of course it isn't,’ says Sharp. LGBTQ+ hate crimes in the UK are disproportionately on the rise, according to a 2021 report, and only one in five survivors are able to access support. ‘I think it's really important for our members that they have this safe space they can call home,’ he says. ‘It's also a space where they play a part in promoting fairness and equality, which is something we always try to do without being too preachy about it.’
In 2013, Labour peer Lord Waheed Alli shrewdly asked the LGMC to perform at Parliament Square while marriage equality legislation was being debated in the House of Lords. ‘He knew the bill would pass but he also knew there would be protests from anti-gay marriage groups,’ says Chris Calvert, who's been singing with the choir for more than a decade. ‘He wanted to make sure there would be jubilant images in the media [when it did pass], and sure enough all the papers ran pictures of people celebrating with the LGMC. It definitely felt like “mission accomplished”.’
The LGMC brought a galvanising presence to this historic day, but some members had to brush off shocking homophobia between songs. ‘We were all there in wedding suits, singing “A Little Respect” in quite a dignified way, especially compared to what was going on next to us,’ Calvert says. ‘One [anti-same sex marriage] protester came up to me and another guy and asked if we had been sexually abused as a child and if that had made us gay. I was absolutely stunned by his ignorance and remember thinking “how dare you ask me this at such a joyful time?”’
As well as marking moments of celebration for the LGBTQ+ community, the LGMC has also been there for grief. Members helped to organise, then sang at, a 1999 vigil honouring the victims of a barbaric nail bomb attack at a gay pub on Old Compton Street, London's queer heartland. When thousands gathered on the same street in 2016 to mourn the 49 people killed in a mass shooting at a queer nightclub in Orlando, the LGMC performed 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' to pindrop silence. ‘It's in those harrowing moments that we can really bring everyone together,’ says Calvert. ‘My phone was going off constantly after the Orlando vigil because so many people were sharing our performance on Twitter and Facebook.’
It’s not just audiences that the choir has impacted. The LGMC is a rare and wonderful thing: a place where queer men of all ages, ethnicities and social backgrounds can come together for a common goal. Some members have come out to family and friends after finding strength in numbers there; others have found their chosen family at its weekly rehearsal sessions. ‘I joined originally because I love music and it looked like great fun, and I ended up meeting my husband there, which was the last thing I was expecting!’ says Ptashko.
It’s also evolved to include its own support groups including a network for HIV positive members, and one for recovering addicts. Longtime member Nicholas Gurreri started the latter in 2016 after sharing his recovery journey at a show themed around shame. ‘Right afterwards, a member asked me for help in dealing with his drug problem, so I took him to his first twelve-step meeting,’ he says. ‘I realised there were other members with addiction issues so I started a group to connect them with support service and arrange social events that don't revolve around alcohol. I love all the guys in the chorus and I want us to be happy and healthy enough to sing in front of people, which is what we came here to do.’
Performing is very much the LGMC's lifeblood, which is why its shows aren't just well drilled, but also powerful and uplifting. ‘When you come to see us, you should expect to hear some great singing, but also to leave feeling better about the world than when you arrived,’ says Brophy. I can definitely vouch for the latter – and I’ve only seen a rehearsal. The LGMC hardly needs me or anyone else to sing it ‘Happy Birthday’, so let's just say: Here's to the next 30 years.
The Big Birthday Bash takes place on Dec 2, 3 and 4 at Clapham Grand. Get tickets here.