"Patron Saints of the Unnecessary"

For some time now, I have been interested in the Magi, among other New Testament characters (e.g. Pilate, the three women on Easter morning). And lo, I encountered an interesting observation about the Magi in an article (of uneven quality, but worth a look-see, I think) on Evelyn Waugh's Helena, which I have not read but hope to read someday. The Magi, "attended by what outlandish liveries, laden with such preposterous gifts" (except the gold, perhaps), represent, in some way, all of us artists who offer our gloriously useless gifts: of music, of art, of words. Helena, the title character, addresses the Magi: "For His sake who did not reject your curious gifts, pray always for all the learned, the oblique, and the delicate." That's not a bad prayer, I think. Certainly we learned, oblique, and delicate sorts need prayers as well.

(My dear reader will forgive this blog-post better suited to Epiphany, I hope, even though we are not yet even in Advent. The church musician is always planning ahead, anyway. I have music planned through the new year, and am feverishly envisioning an organ recital for Transfiguration Sunday.)

Something Rich and Strange

I have succumbed and already begun listening to Christmas music. Well, not just any Christmas music. I had the great fortune of finding that recording of the Praetorius Mass for Christmas Day (by Paul McCreesh and the Gabrieli Consort, recorded in Roskilde Cathedral, which I can attest is a remarkable space) in a used records shop in Iowa City, and I simply had to buy it. It may be one of my ten favorite records. (I couldn't tell you the complete list, though I should say the Klemperer recording of the Brahms Requiem is always on it.) There's something about the music of that era (Praetorius's, that is) that is simultaneously quite familiar (we still sing some of the hymns — In dulci jubilo and Wie schön leuchtet, for example) and yet wonderfully strange. (McCreesh's recording accentuates the strangeness, in a way, by using period instruments. Shawms and krummhorns and sackbutts and all.) It is therefore an excellent fit for the Christmas season, I think.

It strikes me that we don't often recognize how strange the principal feasts of the Christian year are. Consider, for example, Christmas. How bizarre that God, this divine, omnipotent, sempiternal being, should take our flesh! How bizarre that a virgin should conceive and bear a son! This, this is the solution to the string of catastrophes that is human history: this profoundly strange plan that God should become incarnate in order to die. Christians, especially those raised in the faith from an early age, become desensitized to the very oddness of it all. (This is one reason why I am not altogether unhappy that we are rapidly losing any sense of being a Christian society: in a world permeated by Christian belief, one can discount Christian doctrine without the inconvenience of actually considering it. In a society that is materialist by default, Christianity may present a viable alternative.)

I think that the liturgical musician, in planning Advent and Christmas music, should take this into account. The hymns of the Christmas season are undoubtedly the most familiar in all the repertoire: even non-Christians are acquainted with them, thanks to that horrible custom of blasting Christmas music in public spaces from the day after Thanksgiving until December 25th. We church musicians must provide some measure of comfort, of course. I could not countenance a Christmas without Es ist ein Ros entsprungen or In the Bleak Midwinter. But I suggest that it may be beneficial to throw in, occasionally, a lesser-known hymn. Try Quem pastores, or the Huron Carol. (Perhaps the latter is quite common in Canada. But it isn't here.) We all need reminding that religion is not merely a source of thoughtless platitudes: it should discomfort and challenge us, at times, as well.

Attention Anglophile Organists:

The other day an Orgelbauer friend of mine had an excellent idea that I feel compelled to disseminate. We were watching Midsomer Murders and he commented that its theme would make an interesting basis for a chorale prelude (or, rather, a television programme theme music prelude, as it were).

To wit: I humbly suggest that all interested Anglophile organists select theme music from a British television show and compose a chorale prelude upon it. I shall accept all entries, Finale-ize them, make a very pretty title page and table of contents, and send a pdf copy of the compleat collection to anyone who might want it. To any interested dear reader, I entreat you: please feel welcome to forward this prospectus to anyone you know to whom it might appeal. You might leave a comment on this-a-here web-log, if you wish to express interest. Rather than have duplicates, though, I suggest we each claim a particular show's theme. As for me, I have selected the theme from Blackadder.

(I suppose we might open the idea up to all television shows of any origin, not just British ones. But for some reason the prospect of limiting the project a bit appeals to me. You needn't pay me any heed, though.)

Since organists are, in general, busy folks, I therefore suggest this might be a long-term project, lasting, perhaps, years. Oh well. I offer it for your consideration.

Admirable Words, Vol. VI

1. Apothegm
   
2. Credenza
   
3. Esurient
   
4. Hokum
   
5. Mephitic
   
6. Murrey
   
7. Oleaginous
   
8. Pleurisy
   
9. Rhombus
   
10. Woad

Beards

...sicut facies barbam, quam non esse munimento, sed virili ornamento...

Augustine, De civitate Dei, XXII, §24

Due to a combination of laziness, climate, and sensitive skin, I have resolved to attempt growing facial hair (viz., the beard sometimes called the "Verdi"). This is, in fact, the second time I have tried such a thing; the first essay, conducted one Lent during my undergraduate years, was a resounding failure. I am beginning to wonder whether this attempt might be equally unsuccessful. Unexpected facial hair is a conversation starter, to be certain. People feel no compunction about commenting on it. But my experience has been that most people, rather that ask "Oh, you're growing a beard, eh?", will ask "Oh, you're trying to grow a beard, eh?" I have received donations put forth for to buy me a razor (jokingly, har har). Nevertheless, I hope to persevere, until I am either successful or so obviously misguided that shame compels me to shave.

Organ Preludes and Postludes through New Year's

11 November:
attr. J.S. Bach: Prelude and Fugue in C Major, BWV 553
J.S. Bach: Liebster Jesu, wir sind hier, BWV 730
18 November:
Louis Vierne: Lied, Op. 31, No. 17
Jacques Boyvin: Grand plein jeu continu
25 November (Christ the King):
Felix Mendelssohn: Prelude in G Major, Op. 37, No. 2a
Gordon Young: Prelude in Classic Style
2 December (Advent I):
Flor Peeters: Creator alme siderum, Op. 75, No. 1
Nicolas de Grigny: Verbum supernum prodiens: Plein jeu
9 December (Advent II):
Johann Pachelbel: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, P.386
Gerald Near: Jerusalem surge
16 December (Advent III, Gaudete):
Gottfried August Homilius: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland
J.S. Bach: Herr Christ, der einge Gottes-Sohn, BWV 601
23 December (Advent IV):
Jeanne Demessieux: Rorate caeli, Op. 8, No. 1
J.S. Bach: Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, BWV 599
24 December (Christmas Eve):
Samuel Barber: Chorale Prelude on "Silent Night"
Claude-Bénigne Balbastre: Tous les bourgeois de Châtres
25 December (Christmas Day):
Gerald Near: Puer nobis est natus
J.S. Bach: Der Tag, der ist so freudenreich, BWV 605
30 December (1st Sunday after Christmas):
Dieterich Buxtehude: In dulci jubilo, BuxWV 197
J.S. Bach: In dulci jubilo, BWV 729
1 January (New Year's Day):
J.S. Bach: Das alte Jahr vergangen ist, BWV 1091
J.S. Bach: In dir ist Freude, BWV 615