Here we are, finally, three days after I should have written this post. I apologise for the delay, faithful readers. I might have been able to make an excuse for Christmas Eve, as I was extremely busy, however, no reasonable excuse can be concocted for the following days. I was merely lazy. All that aside, here we are at last. This would have been much more fitting being read on the day I intended to post it, but, after some contemplation, I decided to post it today, all the same. 

      I have probably shared this song before. It has become one of my favourites. I first heard it in Scotland, and then came home and heard the same tune with different words. This one, in my mind, however, fits the best. The song is originally German, no surprise there, written by Paul Gerhardt in the 1600s, and translated to English by none other than the esteemed Catherine Winkworth. There were two different men who wrote tunes to this hymn but the one I have in mind was composed by Johann Georg Ebeling who, in fact, wrote music for over 100 of Gerhardt's hymns. I just learned today that Gerhardt had written his hymns for private meditation rather than congregational use, of which this was one. I can see it in the lyrics, especially since many of the lines are in direct first person. How times have changed. This hymn is significantly more suitable for congregational worship than many of the songs written today for such a purpose. 

       I shall save that rant for another day. Whether you celebrate the twelve days of Christmas or not, I would encourage you, for the rest of this year, and, perhaps into January to keep singing the songs of Christmas, to familiarize yourself with magnificent old hymns such as this one. And then, perhaps don't put them away entirely for next year, sing them every now and again to remind yourself of that gift which was most precious and dear. The night when God became flesh and dwelt among us. There will never be a miracle as grand as this again, nor was there before this. It deserves more of our attention and gratitude throughout the whole year. 

        Let your heart rejoice this night for Christ is born. Let the air ring with joy, everywhere. In the words of the Sussex Carol, "Why should man on earth be so sad, since our redeemer made us glad?" 

        The answer is that we too easily forget the joyful blush of Christmastide in the distractions and foibles of this world. Too easily we allow ourselves to loose sight of what is truly important and crucial to our happiness and become flustered by things that do not matter.

        Too soon, I shall be given many opportunities to keep my own words, as I prepare for a wedding. I have assured friends, family, and myself, that I will not allow myself to get stressed by the planning of this, and yet, how easily I might fail. Throughout these next few months, it is especially important for me to fill my heart and mind with songs of rejoicing and thanksgiving, for "I am freed, all I need, [Christ] will surely give me." 

        Keep Christ's birth alive in your minds and Christmas, going into this new year, friends. For we serve a living and reigning King. How I often long for the day when I shall be forever united with Him in heaven and forever free from this toil of mortal sin, but until then, let us remember the joy of Christmas.

                        

       Today we return to wassailing, which we touched on briefly when I discussed the apple tree carol earlier. "Wassail" comes from the old Norse for "good health," and was the practice of going about town with spiced ale and drinking the good health of the people and things you encountered at each house. The wassail bowl was a large wooden affair meant to be drunk out of. The rich would fill their bowls and simply drink the health of those in their own households, while the poor would decorate their bowls and go from house to house seeking to fill it either with money, or food, or drink, or whatever generous souls had on hand. 

        In principle, it was a practice of asking for charity during the Christmas season, but often turned into a bawdy affair with the people getting successively more drunk as the night progressed, and causing a ruckus because of it. Eventually, it became a practice only engaged in by the least respectable members of society, and the Puritans banned it when they removed themselves to America. By the 1800s, wassailing had almost completely died out, being replaced by caroling, but they left behind some excellent songs on the subject, for our especial benefit. 

       Thus, I present to you our one and only non-sacred song selection this year, "Wassail, Wassail All over The Town." This one is old, probably going back to the 1400s at least. The verses vary as they would add in subjects and change them as they saw fit. Here is just one version. I've heard most of the verses they brought up, though a couple were new. Really, this song was designed for making up your own verses as you went along. The first verse, "Our toast it is white, and our ale it is brown," worked rather like a chorus and was the only staple, non versatile verse in the song.

                     

   Notice how they wish the health of the dog, the horse, the cow, and all they can think of. 

        If you go wassailing this Christmas season, friends, maybe go for a non-alcoholic beverage or don't drink at every house, and maybe don't wish health to every living creature you set eyes upon. ;) 

            Let me know what you think of the tradition as well as the song.

      Until Tomorrow,

                  ~ Christianna 

            

        Until Tomorrow(sort of),

                              ~ Christianna

      There are problems when one is trying to sing a carol written sometime in the 1600s, in a different language than the original. Tunes are preserved far more easily, I have discovered, and, with today's carol, I finally gave up trying to find something on youtube that sang either the original Catalan words, or a semi-accurate translation. The one I'm sharing with you today is the closest I could find and it's still a bit of a mish-mash. Anyhow, the words are still good, and I love the tune so much that I'm also sharing another version in which the author wrote his own lyrics; very good lyrics at that.

      El Can dels Ocells, known in English as "Carol of The Birds," was, as I mentioned earlier, a traditional Catalan carol probably written sometime in the 1600s, though the author's identity has, once again, been lost. The melody is the same, but the words, my friends, I have never seen such a universally widespread disagreement regarding how the Catalan words ought to be translated in English, or which verses should stay, or what birds should be included, and which should be scrapped. Allow me to demonstrate what I mean. Below are the original words with the literal translation in italics underneath.

                    

       And then, because I could, I am also sharing a lovely version with the same tune but with words written by Chris de Silva. It really captures the ethereal nature of the song, I think, and the words, of themselves, are quite beautiful.

                          

       This is one of those carols I might have shared five or more years ago. It is one that, in my zealous thunder-puppy years, I would have added to my roster that contained no songs written after the 1800s. I remember those. It took age to discover that good things had actually been created after that point. Then again, I may not have known about this song then, anyways.

       Be that as it may, far be it from me to put together a Christmas set without including at least one thing from the renaissance period or before. Just because I learned that some modern music can be good, means that I discard my primary mission for these posts, which was and is to unearth and share beautiful music that has become buried in history not simply obscurity. So, if you are already extremely familiar with this piece and it bores you, alas, but my guess is that for most of you this will be the first time you've heard it.

       Thomas Tallis took the text for this beautiful motet from a tenth century hymn book, either of French, English, or Italian origin. I cannot determine which. The author, once again, is anonymous. I don't recall who I've told this to, but now you'll know too, that I consider Latin to be the best language to sing in. I prefer singing in it even over English. Why? Because it lends itself so well to the tall, open vowels that characterize good singing. While other language's must be adapted slightly, pronunciation wise, to be understood while being sung, Latin need only be sung as it was meant to be pronounced. It is melodious and smooth. It rolls across the tongue like skater on ice, and once you have learnt the basics of Latin pronunciation, which are very, very simple, reading it becomes almost easier than that of English since a syllable or word pronunciation doesn't change based on the syllable or word that follows it, as it can in English. You know, like, "the song," and "the angel?" Say it out loud, and you'll know what I'm talking about. 

       I am a huge proponent of writing music in the language of one's intended audience, but every now and again I have a powerful urge to write something in Latin simply because I love it and it's beautiful to sing in. You may consider this odd, if you wish. I prefer to label it as polished and sophisticated taste, but to each his own. ;) 

       Leaving the language behind, the words are powerful too. I'm going to share the English translation with you here so you can see what's being said.