“It Came upon a Midnight Clear” is one of the staples of
Christmas pageants. Or it was in the days when they had Christmas pageants. I
have to say that I was never that enthused about it because it, like “O Little
Town of Bethlehem”, it always sounded to me like whoever was singing it was
drunk.
However, it turns out that there are alternative melodies
to both of them, and these, I find, are quite appealing.
In the US, “Midnight Clear” is sung to a tune called
“Carol”, by Richard Storrs Willis, but in the UK it’s to one called “Noel”,
adapted from something older by Arthur Sullivan (yes, that Arthur Sullivan). Here it is, performed by the choir of
Winchester Cathedral (yes, that
Winchester Cathedral):
If you’re interested, the alternative to the Fleet Week
version of “O Little Town” uses an English hymn tune called “Forest Green”. Here
it is from my pals at King’s College, Cambridge:
Okay, technically today’s music isn’t specific to
Christmas—it’s actually a Welsh lullaby. I first heard it at the beginning of Empire of the Sun, when it impaled me on
its beauty and simplicity, and you not infrequently hear it at Christmas
concerts.
“Suo Gân” probably dates from around the beginning of the
19th Century; just your basic lullaby, which Mary might have sung to
baby Jesus, if she’d been, you know, Welsh.
This rendition is from the choir of King’s College
Cambridge, those folks who also bring us the festival
of lessons and carols every year.
Today’s song is another in the lullaby style that we find
throughout Christmas music. It’s based on the folk song “Joseph Dearest, Joseph
Mild”, but was written in 1912 by Max Reger as an art song.
I learned it as “Maria Wiegenlied” in a German class; in
English it’s known as “Mary’s Lullaby” or “The Slumber Song”. Regardless of the
language, you get a strong sense of a rocking cradle from the beat and the
melody. And in honor of Saint Lucia’s Day, today, let’s have it in Swedish, where
it’s known as “Marias vaggsång”, and sung by Swedish mezzo Katharina Fallholm.
There’s also a beautiful duet version with Kathleen
Battle and Frederica von Stade, which you can enjoy here.
You might consider today’s piece an unlikely Christmas
carol, but it fits right in to the theme of pushing aside all the clamor and
clutter of typical holiday activities. Written by Jackson Browne, and performed
here by him with The Chieftains, I think “The Rebel Jesus” is a perfect
reminder of what things are done these days in the name of saviors, prophets
and gods of one stripe or another.
In the case of a baby born in a stable in the backwater
of empire, the idea of churches spending millions to cover up long-term crimes
against the most vulnerable of their parishes, of televangelists in $3000 suits
barely visible behind the pay-by-credit-card logos and of Bible-spewing maniacs
spraying innocent people with death on full-auto is just surreal.
And I say—right on, my brothers. And sisters. Right on.
It’s time to bring out the heavy hitters—in this case,
perhaps the heaviest hitter of all time, J.S. Bach. The man wrote cantatas,
oratorios and all kinds of stuff on a weekly basis, year after year for
decades. Of course there’s something suitable for Christmas from him.
I’m choosing “Wachet
auf, ruft uns die Stimme”, from Cantata 140 (out of more than 200 of them;
think about that). It’s not strictly Christmas, but it’s suitable, because it’s
about us being watchful, awake for the arrival of the long-awaited salvation. “Wachet auf” opens the cantata,
proclaiming “Awake, we are called by the voice”. This is one of the busiest
pieces I’m going to give you this season, but Bach did love his complexity, so
just enjoy.
(This recording is of the entire Cantata. You’re welcome to put up your feet and stay
through the whole thing.)
Last night marked the beginning of Hanukkah, and I’ve
been thinking about a friend of mine, whom I’ve known for more than 20 years.
All I’m going to say right now is that he’s the kindest, most generous man I
know, and he saved my life.
That’s something you don’t say very often, so seems like
a good thing to bring up on Gratitude Monday.
Today’s Christmas carol comes to us from a Victorian, who
wrote it on his sickbed in 1859. It’s technically for Epiphany (which is the
post-Christmas season), but my house, my rules and I’m putting it here.
The melody for “As with Gladness Men of Old” may be more
familiar to you from one of my favorite Thanksgiving hymns, “For the Beauty of
the Earth”. It lends itself to beautiful harmonies regardless of the lyrics. As
you can hear in this rendition from the Wells Cathedral Choir.
Wells Cathedral was one of my surprise discoveries when I
lived in Britain. You walk into a 14th Century building and see an
example of scissors arches that you think had to date from the latter part of
the 20th Century. See what I mean?
I’ve written about one of my favorite modern American Christmas
songs before. It came along at a time when there were powerful
forces working on our national sensibilities, and I believe it captured
everything in one place—melody, lyrics, even Judy Garland, of whom I’m not a
fan.
“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” was the lynchpin
of the 1944 Vincent Minelli film Meet Me
in Saint Louis. It speaks of carrying on in the face of unsettling times,
and hoping for the restoration of family and loving friends in the future, even
if the present is more than a little frightening.
It was a perfect song for Americans who’d been led to
believe that, following the Normandy invasion in June of that year, the world
war should have been over by Christmas. Not only had that not happened, but the
German
Ardennes offensive—a total surprise to the Allies—engendered confusion and
fear; fear as frozen and bitter as the weather around Bastogne.
We live in unsettled times now, more than 70 years later;
recent events have proven that we don’t need to cross an ocean to face terror. So
“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” is just as timely as it was in the
darkest nights of our fight against Nazi totalitarianism. Wherever you are,
wherever your loved ones are, take a moment to step away from the current
struggle that has enveloped us, and let your hearts be light.
“Ríu Ríu Chíu” is a Spanish carol in the villancico style popular from the 15th
to the 18th centuries. This one was first published in 1556, in
Venice, and it makes the rounds at Christmas concerts here in the Bay Area. It’s
about the Immaculate Conception and the Nativity.
I’ve got it on a number of CDs (because I have about…a
lot of Christmas CDs). It’s lively, with an intricate harmonic pattern, and
even if you don’t understand ancient Catalan, it’s lovely to listen to. Here
are the lyrics, with translation courtesy of Wikipedia:
El lobo rabioso la quiso morder
Mas Dios Poderosa la supo defender
Quíso la hacer que no pudiese pecar
Ní aun original esta virgin no tuviera
The raging wolf sought to bite her, but God Almighty knew
to defend her; He chose to make her so that she could not sin; no original sin
was found in that virgin
Éste que es nacido es el Gran Moncara
Cristo Patriarca de carne vestido
Ha nos redimido con se hacer chiquito
Aúnque era infinito finite se hiciera
This one that is born is the Great King, Christ the
Patriarch, clothed in flesh. He redeemed us when He made himself small, though
He was Infinite He would make himself finite.
Yo vi mil Garzones que andavan cantando
Por aquí volando hacienda mil sones
Diciendo a gascones Gloria sea en el Cielo
Y paz en el suelo pues Jesús nasciera.
I saw a thousand boys (angels) go singing, here making a
thousand voices while flying, telling the shepherds of glory in the heavens,
and peace to the world since Jesus has been born.
The chorus is the sound of a kingfisher scaring away the
wolf from Mary (sparing her from Original Sin):
Ríu, ríu, chíu, la guarda ribera
Dio guardó el lobo de nuestra cordera.
The very first time I ever heard “Ríu Ríu Chíu”, it was
performed on TV by a group that would not have appeared anywhere near the top
of your list of interpreters of Renaissance classics. Nonetheless, they do a bang-up
job.
It’s the first Friday in Advent; in case you’re getting a
little wound up I’ve got something to help you step away and remind you to
breathe.
I don’t even know how I acquired George Winston’s December CD, but I’m glad I did, because
there’s a purity in the simplicity of his interpretations of seasonal music
that often can—like us—become overwrought.
Take “Jesus, Jesus, Rest Your Head”. The Appalachian folk
carol was first brought to the world’s notice by John Jacob Niles about a hundred
years ago, and I’m sure you can find pages and pages of choral renderings on
YouTube. But I like this version best.
