Friday, December 31, 2021

The Old Year Now Away Has Sped--- and Good Riddance to It.

 This has been a very odd year-- one of the oddest I have ever lived through. It was most certainly eventful. There were many natural occurrences. It began with one of the warmest and driest winters on record (a great grief to those of us who require a good, long cold spell to feel human). Then there were earthquakes-- so many that I have quite lost count, and cannot even give you an estimate of the numbers we had from the first of the year through May, when they happily stopped. Despite the lack of serious winter, we had the usual war between winter and spring that always happens here, with periodic, short lived snowfalls-- usually those go through about Memorial Day, but this year, our last measurable snow fell in mid-June.... and in less than a week, we went from that, to catastrophically hot weather. At least, hot for here. We seldom get above the mid-to-upper-eighties during the summer. When we do (and I recall only a very few times in my life in which that has happened) it is a one or two day occurrence, which so colours our perception, that we talk for many years after about that "one hot summer". This year, we were at ninety and over for a whole week, and the local population was prostrate from it-- and people like myself, who cannot tolerate hot weather at all, were unspeakably miserable. It broke at last, thanks be to God and all His little helpers (to quote my estimable mother), but then came the smoke. The entire arid, crying-for-water West Coast, from Southern California, to Northern Washington, apparently went up in flames, and this summer will probably be remembered as much for the ever-present pall of smoke, as for the record heat. My lungs still ache when I think of it. There was a wildfire to the North of us, which was troubling, but not too close. And a fire to the East of us, which was a bit more alarming... and then, in mid-August, a fire to the West of us, burning uphill through the river canyons, driven by the late Summer zephyr winds that I usually welcome as a blessed reminder that summer cannot last forever, and that cooler, happier days will come again. That last fire burned far too close for comfort, and we were forced to evacuate in the middle of the night, saving what we could, and living for a week with friends. Words cannot express the unbounded joy of hearing that your very beautiful home has been spare from conflagration, nor how that joy is compounded by driving back up the mountains, and seeing the Lake in all its glory, and the town itself untouched and nearly smokeless. Nor can one adequately describe the wonder that colour-- the good, clean, natural colours of the world-- can inspire, unless one has looked at the world through smoke, and ashes for the better part of a month, and suddenly sees the world in its own, proper light again. Then finally, it was October, and there came rain, and snow, and the thirsty Earth rejoiced, and the inhabitants of wildfire-country rejoiced, and since this year was bound and determined to be a year of extremes... that was a record spell of weather, and November, not to be outdone, outdid itself with being warm and dry, and December decided that at last, this was her moment to shine, and tore open the floodgates of the skies, and snowed us in right properly. And here we stand, at the end of a wild-ride of a year, rather hoping that none of that ever happens again.

But the natural eventfulness was accompanied by Life events as well. Three weddings we had in my family this year-- one during evacuation, and one with an outdoor reception on the first, snowy day in October. I came down with shingles of all things-- a strange and fascinating disease it is.. and painful. I was painfully fascinated with the condition for a month or so, and got woefully behind on things that I was supposed to be doing... because it is quite difficult to concentrate when one is either a great big giant itch, or suffering from weird, shooting nerve-pains. The ridiculously difficult situation at work came to a head at last, resulting in a long leave that is resolving itself slowly into a more permanent solution-- much grief and anger at first, giving way to a profound relief and sense of release. God clearly took matters into His own Hands, and made a difficult decision for me (since I clearly was not going to make it myself). It was a great blessing, the way things worked out, for all of the stress and worry that the different steps entailed. So, while I cannot say that I am happy about the way things played out... the way things played out has resulted in a happier me, so all is well after all.

All and all, a memorable year-- some happy memories, some not so happy memories, some down-right miserable memories... and I am glad to have gotten through it all, but am not sure I am looking to the futures with quite the sense that "next year will be a good year"  that I have previously looked to New Years... I'm not even sure if I am looking towards the future with "surely the coming year will be better than this one.".... Indeed, I am standing on the brink of a New Year, looking out on its impassive surface, and feeling a good deal of misgiving about it. If I were a Doctor Who character, I'd no doubt poke at the New Year (unadvisedly) with a stick. Still, it is the turning of a page, and I am hoping to carry the good of this year with me into the New, to leave the bad of it behind in the burned out mess that this last year was, and perhaps... just perhaps to find a way to grow and be happy in this new place, now that so much of the burden of the last couple years has been cut away from me. That is a rather pious aspiration, and I have a limited track record of success with such hopes and wishes, but I intend this evening to have a very nice whisky, in a very nice glass, and toast to that hope. 

And here we come to the song I am posting. Novus Annus Dies Magnus. What can I tell you about it? Next to nothing. It is clearly Medieval, and it is clearly heralding a new year, and it is clearly referencing the Birth of Christ ("Lux eterna de superna venit ad nos regia". Even for those of us with a poor knowledge of Latin can find the phrase "Eternal Light", and the word "come" and the word "reign" in there... ). And there are clearly references to the Fall of Adam, and our redemption by Christ on the Cross. However, I cannot find a translation of it, nor can I find any actual history about the song. Its been recorded many times-- I have listened to a ridiculous number of them, both because I like the tune, and also because youtube vids sometimes have the equivalent of "liner notes" in the descriptions underneath, and I was hoping someone might see fit to tell me about it, only no one did. The two most notable recordings I can find of it place it in wildly different settings. One is in an album called Campus Stellae, which (as one might guess from the title) is music associated with the Santiago de Campostella pilgrimage. The other is from an album called The Feast of Fools which is full of exceedingly... odd... and possibly blasphemous titles, such as Mass of the Asses, Drunkards and Gamblers... it includes Orientis Partibus as First Vespers.... I have nothing to say about the inclusion of this tune into two such disparate albums. I shall offer that the Feast of Fools and Lord of Misrule nonsense was a Christmas/New Year phenomenon, so a song which references that... may be at home with other songs of the season? But then... how did so tainted a song get associated with the pilgrimage of Santiago de Campostella? Or did it work in reverse: pilgrimages were times of festivity and it gradually got associated with a festive season? Or is one or the other... or even both?... recordings were wrong to include it with their themes? Perhaps, if I were truly a Medievalist (and not an armature wannabe) I could offer you a better explanation. But I'm not and I can't. But it is a dandy wee song, so here it is anyway. 



Thursday, December 30, 2021

Fermarono i Cieli

 I have mentioned the Chieftains' Christmas in Rome album before on this blog (here and here in case you want to look them up). It is a bit of an odd outing for the traditional Irish band-- even when they do World-Musicky albums (such as Santiago) they tend to simply throw a bunch of music at you. There may be a theme to the album, but in general, it is a collection of music. Christmas in Rome does do that too, but it also uses tunes (most notably The March of the Three Kings and Canzone de Zampognari) as reoccurring motifs that anchor the various orchestral and traditional pieces into a unified whole. The album does have a both a distinctive Italian and an Irish vibe, as one would expect from such an album title, coming from such a band... But there are also random odd things in there, such as a very French version of O Holy Night, and Silent Night in various languages, and a Bulgarian carol... and a German carol... and an Irish Gaelic carol, sung by the monks of Glenstall Abbey.... and most inexplicable of all, the Harlem Gospel Choir, doing very Gospel covers of songs which-- given the album's lush mix of classical orchestration, the Chieftains' distinctive sound, and traditionally approached European carols-- is rather jarring to my ear. Unlikely the aforementioned Santiago album, which has no real unifying theme, other than to look at Spanish (including New World Spanish) musical traditions, Christmas in Rome is at once a more focused and a more scattered collection of music, which nonetheless, manages to mostly work, and which is still one of my favourite out-of-the-box Christmas albums. 

A particularly beautiful Italian carol is featured in it. Fermarono i Cieli is sung by Paola Cecchi, and a beautifully arranged by Monsignor Marco Frisina. The words are written by St. Alphonsis de Liguori (who also wrote Tu Scendi dalle Stelle a.k.a. Canzone de Zampognari) and a translation can be found here. On the CD, this song medleys into an Irish Gaelic lullaby, which is quite charming, but I thought I'd like to just share the beautiful Italian Christmas song on its own, so here it is:



Wednesday, December 29, 2021

Welcum Yul!

Once I started posting songs for this Christmas season-- as I so commenced on December 27th-- I had every intention of posting once a day regularly until the end of the 12 days. Alas for good intentions: we have had some adventurous times in these regions, and whilst I have thoroughly enjoyed the adventures for the most part, it has rather gotten in the way of musical research. I have, of course, already mentioned the snow-- a snowfall which seemed to me to be entirely in keeping with the sort of snow that is quite usual for us here, but which, it transpires, has set a record for snowfall in the month of December. Well and good that is, especially given Saharan conditions of the past year, but even mighty snowfalls do not, in themselves, adventures make. For a proper adventure we must throw in very badly plowed roads and several main roads in and out of one's small, mountain tourist town shut down due to the weather; and when the street in front of your house finally gets a lick and a promise from the plow drivers, a staggeringly epic berm at the entrance of your driveway, many feet high, and many feet wide, which requires several hours of hard labour to clear away; and masses of people who have not been able to ski here in 3 years for various reasons, running up in a veritable stampede to partake of the fresh white powder; people who, having come up for skiiing and/or Christmas, find themselves snowbound for several days, and who, in their desperation to leave again, attempt to flee en masse, resulting in deadlocked traffic that prevents anyone (including the local population, many of whom are dragging their stiff-from-shovelling bodies in to work) from getting anywhere again ever... and this deadlock exists for miles upon miles upon miles, so that a state of emergency must be called, and the deadlocked motorists are turned back to whence they came; and the town running out of gasoline; and, in the midst of all of this attempting to visit one's own family members who have come in from out of town for this most festive and beautiful of season, specifically to partake in the beautiful festivities, and who must leave sooner than anyone wishes to be the case. All of which is a very round about way of saying that I was too much occupied yesterday to spare much thought for carol-hunting, much less attempt a post. But snow has temporarily ceased to fall, and it is again possible to get from one point of town to another in a reasonable time, and the plows went by twice, leaving considerably less epic berms this time (though the state of the roads is still pretty appalling) so life is quite tame at present, and I can again consider such things as appropriate Christmas songs. 

And I got quite lucky with this one. Today is the feast of St. Thomas a Beckett, which is not generally an easy feast to match music to. However, I stumbled into this recording of Welcum Yule, which is not only in fine Middle English (which is, of course not the language of St. Thomas, but its still fun), it specifically mentions the martyred bishop of Canterbury. I am not sure how old it is. Hymns and Carols of Christmas finds it in a collection of Ancient Songs and Ballads From The Reign of King Henry the Second To The Revolution. (1790), and lists it as "Class II. Comprising the Reigns of Henry IV, Henry V, and Henry VI."... but I do not know from which reign it actually comes. The lyrics listed on the website include several more verses than are sung here, and welcome various other parts of the Christmas celebrations. It is an all together cheerful little carol:



Monday, December 27, 2021

Snow Had Fallen, Snow on Snow....

 

....Snow on Snow. In the bleak Mid-Winter.....

I am quite delayed in posting my usual Christmas tunes this year, and the explanation is in the title of this posting: It has been snowing on and off for a week, and I have been shovelling tremendous amounts of snow. Behold, the current state of my yard and the street where I live:



This is not a particularly unusual amount of snow for this area. We have, alas and alack, suffered from drought for the last few years. And last year in particular was an extremely paltry winter, dry and warmer than average. So, it has been a few years since we have had to contend with quite this much of the fluffy, white stuff all at once. But those slack years are something of an exception, and storms like this generally occur here two are three times during the season, with numerous small storms in between.... And I love them. I always love them. I never get tired of the snow. Not even when it occurs in non-winter months, such as September or June. Not even when-- as with this year-- the plow drivers are sort of awol most of the time, and when they do show up, leave awe-inspiring berms of ice and snow (mine was something absurd like 3 feet high, and 6 feet wide, and the one in my mother's yard made mine look small and gentle by comparison.), which take several hours of hard labour to clear. 

Since, however, I have been so busy shovelling, I have had little time to put serious thought into the sorts of songs I wish to share this year, so I am beginning with something that has nothing whatsoever to do with today's feast of St. John, but rather is simply something that has been going around in my head for obvious reasons. In the Bleak Midwinter is based on a poem by the incomparable Christina Rossetti. This version is sung by Julie Andrews, and is likely my favourite version: