What does macaroni have to do with the carol “In Dulci Jubilo”?

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Image by Dorothée QUENNESSON from Pixabay–note the correct use of

Picture this: You eat a plate of macaroni and cheese, followed by a macaron cookie, all the while listening to music with a macaronic text and wearing the costume of a macaroni. Have I finally gone completely over the edge, and what on earth does all this have to do with the Christmas carol “In Dulci Jubilo”?

Well, I’ll tell you. No, I haven’t lost it, because all of these macaronical words are related and come, at least indirectly, from the Sicilian word maccarruni, which refers to foods made from some type of paste, either flour based or almond based. (The word “pasta” in and of itself simply means “paste.”) There’s a long, long trail a-windin’ here, with Arabic influences in Sicily resulting in the melding of many North African foods with Italian ones. Here’s a summary from an excellent article in Slate:

The pasta and the almond-pastry traditions merged in Sicily, resulting in foods with characteristics of both. Early pastas were often sweet, and could be fried or baked as well as boiled. Many recipes from this period exist in both a savory cheese version and a sweet almond-paste version that was suitable for Lent, when neither meat nor cheese could be eaten. . . . Out of this culinary morass arises, circa 1279, the word maccarruni, the Sicilian ancestor of our modern words macaroni, macaroon, and macaroni.1

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The Birds that Sing in Christmas Carols

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Image by nathalieburblis from Pixabay

I would challenge you to find any animals in the actual nativity story of the Gospels with the exception of the “flocks” over which the shepherds are watching in the fields. We usually assume that these were flocks of sheep, but there could have been goats too. Other than that, I regret to inform you that those cleaned-up, prettified little animals that show up in manger scenes almost certainly weren’t there—with the exception, perhaps, of some ewes and newborn lambs. So when the little drummer boy says that “the ox and lamb kept time” while he played his drum for the Christ child, we can be quite sure that this is a later interpolation into the story, at least as far as the oxen are concerned.

Regardless of any scriptural basis for animals in attendance, there are surprisingly many carols that include animals, and not just as window dressing. Below is a selection of carols that include birds. (My own choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale, is singing a couple of them for our December 2024 concert. Follow the link if you live in the Denver area to get your tickets!)

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Why isn’t the miracle of the oil mentioned in the Hanukkah prayer “Al Hanissim”?

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From the website MyJewishLearning. The hard-to-read text at the bottom of the image says “Illustration in an 1880 newspaper of a Hanukkah celebration at the Young Men’s Hebrew Association at the Academy of Music in New York City. (U.S. Library of Congress)” Isn’t that, like, totally cool?

Whew. I had no idea that the story of Hanukkah was so complicated. My previous posts about this Jewish holiday have for the most part focused on the eight days that the menorah in the Temple at Jerusalem burned from a flask of oil that should have lasted only one day, with the ensuing symbolism of lights and candles, feasting and celebration. (Latkes, anyone?) But the actual Hebrew prayers, including “Al Hanissim”1 recited as part of the celebrations, say nothing about the miracle of the long-lasting oil. Why is that, and when did the oil miracle become part of the story? I will say up front that there are no completely definitive answers to be found here. It’s been fascinating, though, to dig through quite a few sources and see how the subject is handled. Here’s an overview about the holiday as a whole and also what I’ve found out about this particular prayer.2

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What Shall We Give? A Christmas Question

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Image accessed via Pixabay

There’s a whole category of Christmas songs/carols that concern the bringing of gifts to the Christ child in Bethlehem. My own choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale, is singing a less-familiar one, “Son of Maria,” but more accurately “Son of the Mother” (“El Noi de la Mare“), which is also sometimes titled “Carol of the Gifts.” It is labeled as a traditional piece from Catalonia, a region of Spain that has seen its fair share of conflict over its periodic attempts to become an independent nation. I was surprised to see the number of carols (14) listed on Wikipedia as having come from this region; we are also singing the “Carol of the Birds,” which I plan to write about later on this blog. Because this is a traditional folk song, there is no “original” version. Instead, the song would have been passed down orally for generations and then finally written down, but these written lyrics vary immensely. Here’s a simple version used in a medley by the great Karl Jenkins; since it’s not being used as a stand-alone piece it needed to be fairly short. I’ll share some additional wording later in this post.

Son of Maria, Son of Maria.
What shall we give to the Son of Maria?
What can we give him that he will enjoy?
Bunches of grapes we will give to the infant,
baskets of figs for the beautiful boy.

Son of Maria.
What can we give to the Son of Maria?
What can we give to the beautiful boy?
Olives and walnuts and raisins and honey,
cherries and figs and some dates to enjoy.

Son of Maria.
Tampatam tam if the figs will not ripen,
what shall we do if the figs are still green?
Tampatam tam when our sins are forgiven,
Lovely ripe figs will at Easter be seen.
Tampatam tam when our sins are forgiven,
lovely ripe figs will at Easter be seen.

The sheet music says “English words by Carol Barratt after a translation from the Spanish”
Barratt is Karl Jenkins’ wife and a music educator in her own right.

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A Compact Masterpiece–Mozart’s Coronation Mass

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Interior of Salzburg Cathedral, where the first performance of the Coronation Mass probably took place. Image source: Image by 🌼Christel🌼 from Pixabay

Unemployment is a terrible thing—except when it leads to the composition of a masterpiece. In Mozart’s case he was only 23 years old when he wrote his Coronation Mass in 1779, having reluctantly taken up once again the position of court organist and sacred music composer in Salzburg after having failed to find anything more attractive over 16 months of traveling around Europe. He heartily disliked his birthplace Salzburg, considering it to be a backwater, and he also disliked his employer, Archbishop Hieronymous Colloredo. Mozart’s position lasted only two years, at which time the Archbishop decided he’d had enough of his court composer’s frequent absences and disrespectful behavior. Mozart describes in a letter being “kicked in the backside” by the Archbishop’s steward, an act which ended his career in Salzburg. He’d go on to (some) fame and (less) fortune in Vienna, where he would live for only ten more years.

During his time at the Archbishop’s court he wrote only two masses, one of which is rarely performed and the other is the one labeled “coronation” for reasons that remain somewhat murky. Mozart had written about a dozen masses before returning to his native city, but this would be the first one published, and it was probably first performed on Easter Sunday, April 4, in the Salzburg cathedral. He dated the mass’s completion as March 23, so the choir, soloists and orchestra had less than two weeks to prepare. Yikes! (But they were, after all, paid professionals.)

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The Text of the “Te Deum”

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Imagine yourself to have traveled back in time to around 400 A.D. You’re in the Italian city of Milan, standing in the Basilica of Saint Lawrence, at this point a Roman Catholic church but showing definite signs of its early origins in the Roman Empire. Suddenly you hear a choir of monks start to sing a hymn (I almost wrote “an ancient hymn,” but of course to them it’s brand new) starting with the words “Te Deum.” ‘Hmmm,’ you might think. ‘I’ve sung those words myself in October 2024 with the Cherry Creek Chorale, my own wonderful choir. Cool!’  This (now) ancient hymn is usually dated to around 390 and seen as possibly written by either Saint Ambrose or Saint Augustine. Or perhaps someone else, for all we know. Whoever wrote it, however, surely knew what he (or she!) was doing. Some real heavy hitters over the centuries have taken a crack at it, with one of the most famous being Franz Joseph Haydn in around 1800.

Haydn was a tremendously prolific and popular composer. His output is astonishing: this evening I scrolled through the list of his compositions on Wikipedia, and honestly–I think it probably took me longer to do that than it took Haydn to write the piece. He produced a huge range of compositions, from symphonies to oratorios to string quartets to masses to operas to folk song arrangements to everything else you can possibly imagine. (If there had been MOOG synthesizers around back then, be assured that he’d have written a concerto or two using that instrument.) The composer spent 30 years under the patronage of the Hungarian Prince Esterhazy, who was extremely jealous of Haydn’s time. The patronage was therefore both a blessing and a curse: Haydn had an assured income, but he was also limited in his ability to travel and to take on other commissions. The prince was finally persuaded, however, to allow Haydn to fulfill the request from the Austrian Empress Maria Theresa to write her a setting of the “Te Deum.”

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The Long and Winding History of “Ain’t No Grave”

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Image by person678 from Pixabay

I used to get a Sunday newsletter from a journalist named David French, and he’d always include a video of a contemporary worship song. I’m not a big fan of such music as a usual thing, finding most of it syrupy and breathy. (Sorry!) But I’d usually click on the video at least briefly, and one Sunday he’d put up a performance of “Ain’t No Grave” with a singer named Molly Skaggs. Hmmm, I thought, is she related to Ricky Skaggs, the great bluegrass performer?

Oh my! She is indeed his daughter, and a worthy representative of his musical tradition. I don’t know how many times I’ve watched/listened to that video. (It’s great for getting myself going on cleaning up the kitchen.) I love the words, and the music, and Molly standing there with her acoustic guitar and belting out the song. No glamor, no glitz—just pure talent. Later I found out that the song had been covered by many, many artists—including Johnny Cash. (After I insisted that my whole family watch the video my son said he really liked the song, and when I expressed astonishment he said, “Someone made an animation sequence to go with the Johnny Cash version.” Oh.)

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Two Bittersweet Ballads Teamed Up in a Melancholy Medley

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Source: Pixabay

As I write this post it’s only a little over a week until Labor Day, the official end of summer. Fall is my favorite time of year: I love the colors, the smells, and the crisp air. I remember so vividly how exciting it was for me as a kid to go shopping for school supplies with my mom. There was the pristine Big Chief tablet (a paper one with lines, not an iPad) and new pencils. Maybe even an unsmudged pink eraser. Everything seemed possible.

But for some autumn is a sad season, as it starts the inevitable slide toward winter with its darkness and cold. Two songs with lyrics by Johnny Mercer portray this viewpoint: “Autumn Leaves” and “When October Goes.” They’ve been put together in a lovely medley by the modern composer/arranger Paul Langford, a true powerhouse whose arrangements I’ve sung myself. Both of these songs have a fascinating backstory.

Let’s take a look first at “Autumn Leaves.” Its first iteration was as a French art song that appeared in a 1946 film. Originally titled Les Feuilles Mortes, which translates to “the dead leaves,” it caught the attention of Mercer’s co-worker at Capitol Records, Mickey Goldsen. He begged Mercer, who by this time had become an established lyricist, to put the rather nuanced and subtle French wording into English. Mercer eventually obliged, producing something much more simple and straightforward than the original and which sold very well. Mercer said later that he made more money from “Autumn Leaves” than from any other song he wrote—and that includes such mega-hits as “Moon River” and  “That Old Black Magic,” as well as many, many others. While Mercer was capable of composing melodies, he preferred writing lyrics—in particular, being given a tune and then working to find words to fit it. In “Leaves,” we’re told a very simple story in quite sparse words: there was a summer romance, but it ended with the beloved’s departure that took place (probably) in autumn, since the speaker’s sense of loss is especially strong when the leaves start falling. It doesn’t hurt that the melody is truly lovely, composed by the Hungarian-born Joseph Kosma for the original film music.

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“Swifter than Flame”–Elaine Hagenberg Hits Another One Out of the Park and Up into the Stars

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Image by carloyuen from Pixabay

This latest piece (as of June 2024) from Elaine Hagenberg perfectly embodies her style: the use of an unfamiliar and enigmatic text and dramatic, sweeping musical lines: “Swifter than Flame,” for SATB chorus with the text from a poet by Carl John Bostelmann, who wrote primarily in the 1920’s and 30’s. I don’t do musical analysis in these posts  and so will simply say that she manages harmonic sweetness that never topples over into syrupiness. There’s an edge there, a drive. My own choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale, has sung a number of her pieces and also participated in the commissioning consortium for her first major-length work, Illuminare, with Hagenberg herself participating in one of our rehearsals during concert week. Those of us who were privileged to be present that evening will never forget it.

I was very intrigued by the lyrics and wanted first of all to know more about the author, Carl John Bostelmann. He is perhaps best known as having written a behind-the-scenes look at John D. Rockefeller, Neighbor John, in cooperation with the photographer Curt E. Engelbrecht, who was allowed unusual access to the usually camera-shy Rockefeller. Bostelmann was also involved with various historical survey projects. For my purposes here, though, I’ve found that he published at least four volumes of poetry, a couple of which are available on Google Books, and that his work appeared during his lifetime in a number of poetry magazines. “Swifter than Flame,” however, doesn’t show up in any of these available sources.

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Welcome, Subscribers! And a Plan for the Rest of the Summer

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Image by Schorsch from Pixabay

I’ve been very pleased over the past few months to see a steady trickle of new subscribers to this blog, with very few unsubscribes. All this in spite of the fact that I haven’t written much new here for awhile. This gap isn’t at all because I’m losing interest; it’s just that most of my material stems from concerts that my beloved community choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale, is in process of rehearsing. Because I didn’t sing in the May concert I sort of lost that connection. But now I’m back, and looking forward very much to our 2024-25 season. You’ll be seeing lots of material about that concert in upcoming posts, with a multi-part post on the biggie we’re performing in October, Mozart’s Coronation Mass. I can hardly wait!

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