In the midst of the earth

My offering today is new to me, although it’s about a hundred years old. Technically, it’s not about Christmas, but it is sacred and how can something titled “Salvation Is Created” not be about Christmas?

The preponderance of Pavel Tchesnokov’s compositions were sacred, until he was forced by the Soviets to concentrate on secular music. He was a triple threat—composer, conductor and choirmaster (kind of like Bach). This one, published in 1913, was one of his final sacred works.

The words are pretty simple; in English it’s “Salvation is created, in the midst of the earth, O God, Our God. Alleluia.” So, yeah—pretty Christmasy, in my opinion.

Here’s a choir from Yale singing it in Russian:

Teach my feet to fly

We listened to a couple of Quebecoises yesterday, so today we’ll feature another Canadian songwriter. The first time I heard Joni Mitchell’s “River” (on a compilation CD) it absolutely stopped me in my tracks. Yes—that’s what Christmas is like, when you’re not aligned with your expectations, when you’ve screwed the pooch in a relationship, when you just can not get into the rhythm of the season—whatever that might mean to you.

I love the imagery of a river not as something that lets you sail, but something that you can skate away on. It captures the dislocation that a Northerner feels in an environment like Los Angeles. Even though that’s my native land, I understand fully the sense that it’s not quite real, more façade than substance, and how that adds to the alienation.

There are many covers of “River”, but I like Linda Ronstadt’s the best, so that’s what I’m sharing with you.

Mitten im kalten Winter

Michael Praetorius is one of my favorite composers; I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything of his that I don’t like. He makes the transition from medieval/Renaissance-sounding things to a more modern—or maybe a more universal—feel, that touches me every time. He was one of those court composers—like Bach or Handel or (sort of) Mozart, which perhaps gave him the freedom to set his hand to whatever struck his fancy. Masses, motets; experimenting in surround-sound (by placing mini-choirs in different areas of the space)—these days, in the Valley They Call Silicon, they’d dub him a paradigm-shifting, disruptive-tech, game-changing thought leader, and venture capitalists would throw money at him.

In those days he served a succession of German princes, ending at the court of Dresden.

“Es ist ein Ros entsprungen” is my all-time favorite Christmas carol. I first learned it in a German class and I still only know the words auf Deutsch. You probably know it as “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming”. The intricate polyphony of this piece always speaks to me of voices echoing in huge, candle-lit Gothic spaces, merging together on the final note of each verse. I love it.

Here to sing it for you is the Dresdner Kreuzchor, as seems only appropriate, it being the home team for Praetorius.

Cet heureux temps

Today’s carol dates from the 19^th Century, but across La Manche from Britain, where a lot of the other music I’ve been sharing comes from. It first appeared in a collection of carols called “Airs des Noëls lorrains”, meaning Christmas songs from Lorraine.

As with yesterday’s offering (and a whole lot of them, really) it’s about Jesus’s birth in a stable, and it has a rustic feel to me. I almost expect to see frost on the breath of the singers, and bits of straw flying about in the air.

This rendition by The Chieftains (coupled with another carol, “Ça bergers”) with Kate and Anna McGarrigle reinforces that notion for me. (This is from the same album that has Jackson Browne's "The Rebel Jesus".) The song makes mention of the bagpipes, so it seems appropriate that what’s in essence an Irish ceilidh band (with uilleann pipes) should be singing it with a couple of French Canadiennes.

And His shelter was a stable

You have to admit that the Victorians were aces at writing Christmas carols and songs. “O Little Town of Bethlehem”, “Away in a Manger”, “We Three Kings” and “It Came upon a Midnight Clear” all date from the years when that little woman reigned over the empire and set the standards for middle class stuffiness and rectitude that still pervade the Anglo-Saxon world today.

She also jump started Ye Olde Christmas Traditions (including the Christmas tree that her husband brought over from Saxe Coburg) that pretty much define what the holiday should be in a the minds of millions today. Between her and Charles Dickens, we have a lot to live up to.

“Once in David’s Royal City” dates from 1848. My pals at King’s College, Cambridge, begin their Christmas Eve service with it as their processional. The arrangement they use has a boy chorister sing the first verse solo and unaccompanied; second and third verses are the full choir; and the congregation and organ join in on the fourth. It’s truly stunning, especially the last verse with the descant.

Let the heavens sing forth

We’re going to another of the all-time heavy hitters of the music world today. As with Bach, trying to pick one thing from Mozart is almost paralyzing. The phrase “spoilt for choice” comes to mind.

“Exsultate Jubilate” is one of my favorites from him. It’s not for Christmas, but it’s religious, and it does call us to rejoice. The first part says:

Rejoice, be glad,

O you blessed souls,

Rejoice, be glad,

Singing sweet songs;

In response to your singing

Let the heavens sing forth with me.

I’ve got about a squillion recordings of different sopranos singing it. Kathleen Battle really goes to town on it, and I very much like Kiri Te Kanawa’s rendering. But no one sings it with such brio as Cecilia Bartoli, so I’m giving her the real estate today. And I’m giving you the whole motet, not just the part about the Alleluia that you usually get.

Sit back, crank up the volume and enjoy.

Gratitude Monday: Boldly going

Last week was rather hectic for me—started my new job, met a lot of new people, reconnected with some old friends, began wrapping my head around the challenges, tried some new things. It’s clear that 2016, when I permanently relocate to D.C., is going to be a time of stretching for me.

Today I’m grateful for the kindness and generosity of new friends, who (without having ever exchanged a word  with me except by social media and email) offered me their hospitality for the entire week, set me off in the right direction for the Reston Metro station the first morning (I never saw that place in the daylight, so good directions were crucial), lent me an operational sat-nav device (one that actually recognized the existence of the Commonwealth of Virginia, which mine did not), and enthusiastically received my nightly reports about the day’s events.

I’m also grateful to them for the sharing of the kittehs, mostly Worf and Kes (the downstairs felines), the revisiting of an old Herndon eatery favorite and the introduction to a new (to me) one—with wiener schnitzel. And a lovely Saturday night dinner with neighbors over delicious Szechuan food.

It was an extraordinary gift to have an actual home to go home to each night and it made a huge difference to my capacity for showing up at work each day pretty confident that whatever happened, I’d be okay. And I am deeply grateful for it.

Heal this place inside my heart

Yesterday was Gaudete Sunday, so let’s talk a little about holiday joy.

There’s such pressure for us to be joyful during this time. Savior born! Family togetherness! Bright colors, yule log, bubbles in the wine, miracles, feasting and kids on Santa’s lap. Everything meant to be perfect, sparkling, cinnamon and nutmeg, happy.

Jesus wept—it it’s enough to make you open a vein when your heart feels as hollow as a dried gourd because of grief or loss that you’ve suffered in recent times. There is nothing like mandatory merrymaking to lay a pall of darkness on your soul. We are engulfed in a relentless Christmas machine that can be more destructive than the 82^nd Airborne, and it overwhelms our lives, even when we have all the "proper" pieces in place.

My Christmas song today, from the Indigo Girls, speaks to this. I sent it to my BFF last September, because I feared (rightly) that if I waited until Christmas she wouldn’t hear it, and I wanted her to.

Listen to “There’s Still My Joy”, and if you’re in that awful place of pain, try metaphorically laying bread on the branches of whatever tree you prefer. Let the birds sing to you, and think about past joys that can return—if not this year, then in future ones.

Now sing in brightness

Today is Gaudete Sunday in the season of Advent. So what else should I give you but “Gaudete”? It’s a carol dating way, way back, and has the kind of hollow echoes that I think of as emerging from ancient holy places, where people made it their vocation to come together to create a powerhouse of prayer.

There are plenty of versions out there, but because it’s primarily about the godhead becoming human through birth by Mary (the refrain is “Rejoice, rejoice, Christ is born of Mary. Rejoice!”), I’ve always thought the best versions are by women’s voices. My favorite (so far) is by the group Mediaeval Baebes: