Keep Winding the Clock

This may seem a strange title for a chant blog. However, I have been thinking recently about two aspects of the daily and weekly repetition of chanting: the effect that it has on my daily life and what it teaches me about simply “keeping at it.”

Living in a Benedictine community, we are privileged to chant the Divine Office multiple times a day. Catch me on a different day and I might say we have the discipline of chanting the Offices daily. Find me yet another day and I would say, “I can’t believe it’s already time to do the next Office – I can’t possible get there at this moment!”

When St. Benedict states in his rule to “prefer nothing to the work of God”–which in his case, Opus Dei referred to the Divine Office–I believe he knew all too well that at any given moment we might really feel inspired to get to the service and, in the next breath, not! However, regardless of feelings, he also knew how much we need repetition to stay focused on God.

Chant has the most wonderful and gentle way of reminding me that no matter the circumstances of the moment and their accompanying feelings for either good or ill, God is eternally present right now. Listening to the opening antiphon for Lauds, I am reminded that this has been the same sound heard at Lauds around the world, throughout this Easter season and for centuries! There are thousands of people today with all kinds of circumstances who are opening their mouths and chanting these words.

All of a sudden, I am not so focused on myself! Chant has the inherent ability to raise me out of myself and unite with others in this process of staying focused on God.

I can’t think of a better reason to “keep winding the clock!”

So Much Color!

We find ourselves today in a “liturgical waiting period” between the Feast of the Ascension and the Feast of Pentecost. The chants for both of these feasts always strike me with the extraordinary musical coloring of their respective texts!

Have any of you ever played the game where you stand and look up into the sky, and wait for others to stop and see what it is you are looking at? Well, the chants for Ascension do exactly this with each of us! For example, look at the opening of the Introit for Ascension – Viri Galilaei (O Men of Galilee) – in which angels ask the disciples why they are looking up. Instantly, your eyes will be led in an upward direction as will your voice, chanting from the bottom to the top of the mode on just the first two words!

The chants for Pentecost are equally descriptive but in a rather more “fiery” way. The Communion antiphon for Pentecost – Factus est repente (A mighty sound from Heaven) – opens with a dramatic horn-call motive that gives an almost operatic quality to the opening words.

These are but two examples of the incredible ways which the sound of the chant is really the “sound of the words.” If you have a moment, take time during this wonderful period of anticipation between Ascension and Pentecost to learn and chant these two works I mentioned and enjoy the “discovery process!”

Psalm 51: Have Mercy on me, O Lord

You might expect that this is a chant blog for Lent with such a title. No. At Friday morning Lauds, we chant Psalm 51 – perhaps the most well-known penitential psalm – throughout the year. Though we have often discussed beauty and the value of repetition in both the Divine Office and Eucharist, I think this psalm and chant deserve a special mention.
Chanting Psalm 51 reminds me that I am in need of God’s mercy and loving restoration. The gentle Mode VI antiphon creates an aural “portrait” of God welcoming us home, much as in the story of the prodigal son.
Chanting Psalm 51 reminds me that we are about to go into the weekend, which concludes with Sunday – the Lord’s Day. Though that may seem an obvious thing, I often forget this and think primarily (if not exclusively!) of the projects I must accomplish which received none of my attention through the week. Chanting Psalm 51 reminds me that I am in need of God’s mercy to help me prepare for the Sabbath.
Finally, and perhaps most important, chanting Psalm 51 reminds me that I need to offer God’s mercy, forgiveness, and love to others which has been so generously given to me. Once again, chant – the song of prayer – turns me and all of us to God’s loving and welcoming voice!

The Joy in Rehearsal

Any of us who are choir directors, choir members or choral accompanists know that one  - if not the - most important element of any good and effective rehearsal is attitude! Attitude effects every element of a rehearsal - from having good posture (or not!) so that our physical engagement is perfect for singing to our spiritual and mental approach to the music itself so that the message in the score takes on audible life.

One way that I have found that assists me is to remember "from whence I came." I do not for a moment believe I am alone in having had a series of extraordinary teachers and experiences from childhood all the way to today! How many of us take the time to stand back and actually recount those musicians - those people - with whom we have been so intimately involved in learning and practicing our art? It is so worth the time to do so.

I have mentioned before that Mary Berry, the extraordinary chant scholar and Augustinian nun, used to close all of her chant seminars with the question "You will pass this on, wont' you?"  She generally answered herself by saying "You must carry on." Every time I think of her and the smile on her face as she said this, my own level of joy rises! This is  one way that I have found to  "re-enliven" myself when I start to become bored with repetition of a piece or am having a day in which choir rehearsal is the farthest from my mind.

I hope you might find this helpful - let me know!

Understanding the Baroque Musical Titans - Buxtehude and Bach

       If you take a few minutes to do a basic internet search on the music of either Dieterich Buxtehude or J.S. Bach, you will rapidly discover documents that speak about vast influences on both men! They were the musical pinnacles of German baroque sacred music. They  traveled far and wide and did things like hand-copy the manuscripts  in order to learn styles of other composers from other lands. (Realizing, of course,  that there were no photocopying machines, no pdfs on-line, and no regional aircraft to cross what now seem like small distances). Bach himself crossed several hundred miles to hear Buxtehude perform his own music.

      I am making this point because this week's Gloriae Dei Cantores concert is music of Dieterich Buxtehude and J.S. Bach  - North German Baroque composers who were composing within about the same 75 year time span. It is a perfect opportunity to do some personal reading and study about two famous composers who were the musical embodiment of the German High Baroque spirit and musical language!  Then, if you are able to attend, I will be doing a pre-concert talk on these two men and together, we will discover even more about listening with "their ears."

         

Dieterich Buxtehude - A name worth getting to know!

When we think of music of the baroque, often the first (and perhaps only!) name that comes to mind is J.S. Bach. Bach's name is more than synonymous with the musical time period generally defined as 1600-1750. But, if you look at those dates, and realize that Bach was not born until 1685, an obvious question arises: "What was going on musically during the first 100 years of the baroque?"

The north German musical world of the early 17th century was centered around the music of Dieterich Buxtehude. Though Buxtehude is known primarily today for his "progressive"  organ music - that is, much more technically demanding and musically developed than that of his immediate predecessors - he left over 100 choral works which have only in the past 25 years been "re-discovered' and hailed for their beauty and depth! On our next choral concert, Gloriae Dei Cantores will be performing Buxtehude's cantata cycle entitled "Membra Jesu nostri" in which he pays musical homage to Christ on the cross, adoring first Christ's feet and ultimately, His face. The depth of musical illustration of this text is is simply mind-blowing. Having spent some time with this particular work, I have a much better understanding of why the young J.S. Bach would walk the  250 mile journey from Arnstadt to Lübeck to hear the music of Buxtehude and why he felt it was worth losing his job to stay a full three months to learn from this great master!

The Joy of Bach!

Wir eilen mit schwachen, doch emsigen Schritten (We run with stumbling but eager steps) - the 2nd movement of J. S. Bach's cantata, Jesu, Der Du meine Seele -  is among the most beloved and recognized works of J.S. Bach- why? Is it the delight to be found in the voicing of a soprano and alto "speaking" to each other in duet? Is it the "bouncing" instrumental bass line? 

We often speak of the "joy" found in the works of Bach but do we really stop to think about why we experience that beyond just the surface textures? While preparing this work, I was reminded of a touching conversation between coloratura soprano Beverly Sills and the 'Tonight Show" host, Johnny Carson. Mr. Carson, a long time friend of Ms. Sills, asked her if she was a happy person. Her response, to his surprise as well as the audience was "No, I am not". Ms. Sills went on to say that she loved her work and her family but that the suffering in her personal life would never allow her to be happy. But, FOR THOSE SAME REASONS, she was quite joyful!

It is my personal conviction that had J.S. Bach been asked Mr. Carson's question, he would have given an answer similar to that of Ms. Sills. He suffered great personal loss in both family and business and yet, what an outpouring of audible verve in his music. Here is why I believe that, without even knowing it , we are "hooked" by the music of Bach. He knew incredible suffering and yet offers such hope and joy. It is his suffering which produces such genuine hope and joy in his music - and a faith in God that is both grounded and unmistakable!

A Year of Wonder

I suppose a title such as this could imply looking backward or forward.  Absolutely!   

As the 25th anniversary year for Gloriae Dei Cantores comes to a close, we stand in awe of what God has brought about. Our final Gala concerts were at the beginning of December and what a joy it was to see - under one roof - so many people who have supported the work of Gloriae Dei Cantores. And moreover - to hear them share their stories!

I believe, that much like the past 25 years, every new year will bring many blessings, struggles, and surprises.

So - where do we go from here?  The sheer variety of repertoire that we were able to cover this past year was incredible! Of course, in terms of the choral literature, we have only scratched the surface of that which is available to sing. I can't wait, because when journeying with God, the level of adventure is always tremendous!

O Come!

Great Advent and the O Antiphons have held a special place in my heart ever since I was first introduced to them as a novice over 30 years ago. In fact, as novices, the tradition so fascinated us that we constructed an O Antiphon Tree and decorated it with homemade "O" ornaments like keys, roots, scrolls, stars, etc.......
They link the old and new testament in unique and clever ways. The kinds of ways that make you feel smart for discovering them.
They are the basis for the beloved carol - O Come, O Come  Emmanuel
So even today when their season arrives - advent kicks up a notch.
I sit a little more forward and try to find something new.

O Come!

What God Hath Wrought

(A letter from Gloriae Dei Cantores, printed in the program for our 25th Anniversary Gala Concert)

It was 1988, and under the direction of Elizabeth Patterson, the choir had just

finished two month-long study periods in Cambridge, England, singing more than

one hundred pieces of choral repertoire, and completing eight levels of the Royal School

of Church Music theory program, the Modus Novus sight-singing course, daily

classes of Gregorian chant, and weekly personal voice lessons. In this same year,

one of the Community’s Founders died, and the dream of the future Church of the

Transfiguration began to take shape.

We had no idea of the adventure that was about to unfold.

As the winds of dramatic change began to sweep across Eastern Europe and the

former Soviet Union, the breath of the Holy Spirit was leading the newly named

Singers to the Glory of God to sing his praises in countries that had been

closed both to America, and to the sung word of God. From the outposts of Irkutsk to

the mountains of Croatia, the choir bridged cultural and ecumenical divides,

sharing the love and hope of Christ in churches and concert halls in twenty-three

countries. No one but the Divine Orchestrator could have brought together the

people in the places at the time we were there, to fling open doors in ways that would never have been possible.

Over the years, the challenges were manifold and daunting, as we struggled

to achieve the excellence and beauty that would honor and glorify God. We

sometimes flagged -- in faith, in effort, in energy, and in charity. But there were

many who stood with us, encouraging, teaching, and challenging us to the highest

standards of performance artistry. And there were others who sacrificed time,

resources, and prayers, supporting the mission of inspiration and healing that

can come through sacred texts sung from the hearts of consecrated lives. Along

the way we had the privilege of wonderful collaborations and performance

opportunities, forming deep friendships through shared musical experiences across

this country and abroad. God took our feeble offerings, and like the miracle of the

loves and the fishes, multiplied them to feed a hungry world.

Join us tonight, as with heartfelt gratitude,

we celebrate 25 years of God’s abundant faithfulness.

Gloriae Dei Cantores

Crash

"In any real city, you walk, you brush past people, and people bump into you. In L.A, nobody touches you. We’re always behind this metal and glass. I think we miss that touch so much, that we crash into each other just so we can feel something."  Opening Monologue, Crash (2004)

Keeping things at a distance makes for a life half-lived. I often feel that avoidance is the logical antidote to messy. However - I'm coming to realize that mess isn't so bad if I'm part of it.  Just like hearing an argument in another room is often far more intimidating than actually arguing.

The same is true in music. Not all works are major keys and Hallmark happy. The Magnificat was in fact as terrifying as it was joyful.  I'll only experience that if I engage.  I have to get my hands dirty - or "crash" into the music - to feel something. 

It is in the crash that new - present today - music is created.

Seeing Things in New Light

I love the fall. Especially here on the Cape. The summer has has had months to heat up the surrounding water - so frosts are delayed, but the air is still crisp. The sky morphs to a steely blue which contrasts beautifully with the browning beach grass and the water on the bay. The light changes too. It feels sharper and full of contrasts - like the weather.  I noticed it this morning on the stone walls and the bright frescoes in the church.  Even the singing sounds different. Everything seems it's best self.

Cheerful Whistling Permitted

Music has an innate ability to lift the spirits. It's a default that courses through our very being. Think about it.  How often do you choose to set out singing as you work? I never do - It just happens. (and oftentimes I'm not even aware of it until a co-worker asks me to stop)  Why is that? What is it about music that causes even tone-deaf howlers to whistle, hum, or sing unknowingly?  Worth exploring.....

Playing the Rests

"Playing the Rests" is a term or tool musicians use to help keep an ensemble together. In theatre you might say "play the pause". Essentially it means to consciously give energy and life to those moments where no notes are being played, or no words sung or spoken. Silence can never be just "time off" - it needs to be filled. Otherwise the performer is left with the arduous task of re-energizing after every rest.

It dawned on me this morning - life is a little bit like that. 

We just finished a concert - our next performance isn't until November 1. 

Inertia is a killer. The longer I take time off in the"silence" the harder it is going to be to re-energize for the next event.

Note to Self:

Play the Rests!

Mathias 150 - Surprised by Joy

I'm on Timpani for the concerts this weekend. I love playing - the choir is great , the church is stunning (both visually and acoustically), I'm a percussionist at heart, and I get to dress up in a tux.  What's not to like?

By the time we hit dress rehearsal I like to be ready. I do my prep. I know my music - what the piece sounds like, who plays when, major themes, etc....  I want no surprises.

My prep for this concert - the Mathias' Psalm 150 in particular -  was a real challenge. I've been away (or otherwise overwhelmed) for the last few weeks. There are no known recordings of this piece, so the usual youtube/itunes listening sessions were unavailable. All that was left to me was score study. 

I'm a very aural person. I would rather watch a movie than read a book, and would choose a conversation over an e-mail. So score study is like reading braille for me.

I came to rehearsal last night totally out of my element. I'd never heard the piece - ever!  

I knew my part. On paper I was ready - but if scores are braille - I was blind. 

Not the way I like to play.

Well......

Mathias took me on an unexpected journey. Being physically present and actively participating in my first hearing was such an immediate experience. The music was fresh - and therefore Psalm 150 itself became new and alive. I was truly surprised by joy.

Life lessons come in unexpected ways.

Embrace surprises.

Bringing "The Twelve" to Life

William Walton and W.H. Auden, classmates in Oxford as boys and ultimately two of their country's most famous men - composer and poet! Walton's "The Twelve", composed on Auden's text - truly acts as a miniature "Pilgrim's Progress"! This text is so poignant and the music so wedded to it that, as I sat in the first orchestra rehearsal last evening, I found myself embraced and embroiled in a story which lives in the instruments themselves. Personally, I have never heard a more moving orchestration - can hardly wait until the choir comes in and puts "face" to music with this text!

Hard Act to Follow

We have two concerts, back-to-back, with very different repertoire, just two weeks apart.
It's hard to compete with the likes of Faure and Mozart. (A little bit like following the the reigning gold medalist in the olympic trials.) But, my experience with the last concert has opened the door for a whole new appreciation of the newer works.  Getting under the skin of the Requiem and the Mass have inspired me to explore the why's and how's of next week's program.  I find that if I can establish a relationship with the works they take on a new life of their own. So hello Hanson, Berger, Bach, and Finzi - I look forward to getting to know you.

A Friend Called Death

Gabriel Faure said:  "it has been said that my requiem does not express the fear of death and sorrow, and someone has called it a lullaby of death. But it is thus that I see death: as a happy deliverance, an aspiration towards happiness above, rather than a painful experience". 

In four nights we will lend our hearts and voices to the vision Faure had of the beautiful passage called death, and as I sit here listening to the orchestra rehearse the Requiem I can feel what he means, and I find myself feeling a strange affection for this event I normally find so fearful. 

Even in moments of pain, there is light and beauty. 

Even when faced with what we do not know, there is comfort in the knowing that Love itself draws us. 

I want to see with Faure's eyes when my time comes. 

No wonder his Requiem has become so beloved- love answers Love.

Under the Skin

I'm the first to tell you that "Classical" music is not my first love. The radio dial quickly drifts to easy listening or pop when I am in the car. I've always assumed it was an indication of my immaturity (which it very well may be) - but when we, the orchestra, gathered to rehearse the Mozart Mass in C Minor the other night I was hooked.
It caught me totally by surprise.
What hooked me was not just the music - but the insights and anecdotes that our conductor was sharing. Suddenly - knowing the why's and where's, and the who's and how's - the work took on flesh. It became a breathing, living, work that I could relate to - that I wanted to know more about. And maybe that's where the immaturity comes in. I let the easily accesible lyric or clever rhythm catch me and pull me in, and too quickly dismiss those things that require work and investment to discover.
It's worth the investment!

Imitation is the Highest Form of Flattery

Mozart was, among many things, tireless when working to hone his own skills of composition! While working for one Baron von Swieten, Mozart actually studied and "copied out" works of Bach and Handel. In Mozart's great C Minor Mass, those influences are strongly audible! If you have familiarity with Handel's "Messiah" or Bach's B Minor Mass", you will instantly spot the influence of the two older masters within the work of the younger!