My childhood Christmas memories involve a lot of singing around the piano. The principal source for this was The Joy of Christmas by Edward Heath, who was the British Prime Minister in the early 1970s and in 1977 published this book of carols with attractive and playable piano arrangements and very sensible commentary about history, performance, tempi and so on. The Joy of Christmas formed my taste in Christmas music; fortunately Sir Edward’s taste was remarkably good.
There is a distinct lack of sentiment, a strong leaning towards the traditional and the old songs, and a wholehearted embrace of the true carol over the hymn.
And so it was that I grew up singing the macaronic text for “In dulci jubilo” instead of the nasty vowels of “Good Christian men rejoi-i-oice”, and knowing that “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” requires a “robust and spirited” approach (unlike the dirge-like recording Woolworths was playing the other day).
Heath included a good many interesting Czech and Polish carols; some lovely Appalachian carols, including “I Wonder as I Wander”; and the desperately sad Crown of Roses (The Legend) by Tchaikovsky. Another sad one was The Coventry Carol – with its strange shifts of metre preserved. (This is the other thing about Heath’s book that I’m able to admire in retrospect: no hint of dumbing down at all.)
But above all there were the traditional French carols, loads of them. These are real carols – by my definition this is a tune that you could conceivably dance to. Some are quite tricky to sing, like “Whence is that Goodly Fragrance”, which turns up in The Beggar’s Opera as “Fill every glass, for wine inspires us”: the distance between flowing carol and rousing drinking song is not that far. I used to love playing “Masters in this Hall” (another tricky one in the wide vocal range it covers), which zoomed along with wonderful left-hand arpeggiations. (The English words are by William Morris; it was only later that this meant anything special to me.) Then there were the two French tunes with their melismatic “Gloria” choruses: “When the Crimson Sun had Set” (also known with the words “Angels from the realms of glory”) and “Ding Dong! Merrily on High”. Great fun.
The French carol tradition is best summed up (at least in its English text) by “Il est né le divin enfant”, which begins “Dance and sing this happy day”. And these were the carols I played and sang more than any others. Several are included on this disc, Noëls and Carols.
Then there are two other discoveries from my Cleveland years:
One is Tina Bergmann’s recording These Winter Joys. Tina is an amazing performer on hammered dulcimer and these are lovely, spirited arrangements with double bassist Bryan Thomas. The colour does best in small doses, though, so I invoke “shuffle play” to mix this one up with other things…
Such as In the Fields in Frost and Snow by the Chris Norman Ensemble with guest soprano Suzie LeBlanc. (That’s this Chris Norman, not Chris Norman the soft rock singer.) The disc draws on Canadian traditions for carols that were mostly new to me, whether in French or English. One I did know, and that’s because it turns up in Charpentier’s Midnight Mass.
Once you move into the composed repertoire there’s Bach’s Christmas Oratorio. Normally I have two recordings to pick from, but since my Ton Koopman has been borrowed for a Christmas Day radio show I guess it will be Philip Pickett and the New London Consort this year.
Every year I set about listening to the Christmas Oratorio with each part assigned to the appropriate day of the season. But inevitably I just keep listening past the designated cantata or, by the time I get to part 4 or 5, I simply forget to put it on.
Beyond the traditional and liturgical music for Christmas, there’s the music of Christmas tradition. Nutcracker has never been an entrenched Christmas ritual here in Australia as it is in the United States. Certainly the Australian Ballet has always reserved that time of year for a classic story ballet, with Nutcracker taking its place in the rotation only occasionally.
In 1994 they premiered Graeme Murphy’s masterly retelling. When it was announced for the season I remember feeling a dread fear: he was going to reinterpret it with an Australian theme. For all that I admired Murphy’s work, I imagined the worst. And then I had the most wonderful surprise of my life. This version begins where Tchaikovsky’s world touched Australia, with the touring Ballets Russes, and makes a touching and plausible story of Clara, the ballerina who trains in pre-revolutionary Russia and grows old in a world where there’s a Hills Hoist in every backyard. In many ways this libretto has more coherence and dramatic power than the original and I love it. Murphy’s handling of the national dances is especially clever, although what Tchaikovsky and Ivanov would have made of Tai Chi I don’t know. If you haven’t seen it you should. It’s available on DVD and the Australian Ballet will be reviving it in Sydney and Melbourne in the middle of 2009 (see what I mean about Nutcracker not being a Christmas ritual in this neck of the woods?).
Or if it’s the music you love, you can’t go wrong with Valery Gergiev and the Kirov Orchestra. This is the very best Nutcracker on disc.
When you need a moment of peace and strength in the middle of all that is hectic, listen to the Intrada (Andante maestoso) from the Act II pas de deux for the Prince and the Sugar Plum Fairy.
With that, Thomasina wishes you a Merry Christmas.