I’ve done my usual going-far-afield process in trying to decipher this carol, and found that, as usual, Liberties Have Been Taken with the original text, this one from Catalonia. (That’s a region of Spain that speaks a dialect called Catalan; you may be aware that there’s a separatist movement there that seeks to have independence from Spain. The tune, by the way, is apparently Catalonian also, as I’ve seen no composer’s name anywhere.) To start off this post, then, here’s the original text and a quite literal translation:
So, What Are “Frankincense and Myrrh”?
These two items show up all over the place in Christmas music. This verse from the modern carol “In the Silence” by Craig Courtney with words incorporating an Appalachian folk song is particularly pointed, as it includes the symbolism quite plainly:
Have you ever in the silence wondered at the thought
Of how it came to pass the Wise Men chose the gifts they brought?
Frankincense for holy ones, and gold for kings, but myrrh?
Why a gift for tombs they brought on this, the Savior’s birth?
Why a gift for tombs they brought on this, the Savior’s birth?
Has Disney Lightened and Brightened Its Source Material?
Yes, it has. But that’s what always happens. If successive generations couldn’t put their own stamp on sources, we’d be pretty limited in what we could read, see and hear. There’s a theory that there are only around seven plots that show up in every piece of fiction ever written. I’m not sure that I quite buy that, but it’s certainly true that the same themes show up over and over again. We never tire of true love’s triumph, for instance. And I am especially fond of fairy tales, having devoured so many of them when I was in grade school. How exciting it always was to go to the bookmobile with my mom and see what new choices were there. If a book had the word “fairy” in the title, I was game.
Is There Any Actual African Folklore behind Disney’s “The Lion King”?
I assumed that the answer to the above question was “yes.” (And I have to admit here that I’ve never seen this movie or its live musical version. Our family has never been great fans of the Disney animated features, with the exception of Beauty and the Beast. But maybe now I’ll watch it, because I’ve gotten very intrigued by its creation.) So anyway, The Lion King has the distinction of being a Disney animated film based on an original story rather than a known source.
Just How Sappy and Goopy Can I Get about “When She Loved Me”?
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Image accessed via Wikipedia
And the answer is: Very. Like, a lot.
The funny thing is, when we first got our music in fall 2018, as part of a concert I sang with my own choir, the Cherry Creek Chorale in the Denver area, I didn’t recognize this song, just noting that it was by Randy Newman (“Mr. Mucus,” as far as I’m concerned—sorry, fans!). Then something our conductor said about Toy Story jogged my memory and I looked it up. How could I have forgotten this lovely rendition by Jessie the cowgirl doll? She’s explaining to Woody how she ended up in a toy warehouse: she was Emily’s favorite toy until Emily grew up. The song ends with Jessie being left in a donations box by the side of the road. She’s bought by a toy collector and ends up in storage.
That memory released a flood of nostalgia about my son’s childhood and his interactions with the TS franchise. There he is, running around the house with his Batman cape on, shouting his version of Buzz Lightyear’s motto: “To definity and beyond!” (It was a sad day when he got the word right.) And there we are after attending a showing of TS2 with Gideon saying, “I don’t like Stinky Pete!” To which I kept saying, “But honey, you’re not supposed to like him. He’s the bad guy.” To which he’d reply, “I don’t like Stinky Pete!”
What’s the Historical Background of “Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah”?
As I often say when writing these posts: Hoo boy. There ended up being lots to say about this supposedly simple song. My purpose in writing this post, as with all that I do, is to deepen your understanding of what you’re singing (or hearing, if you’re reading this post as an audience member). Along with the lighthearted words and fun arrangement of this piece there’s a darker background arising from its source material, both immediate and historical.
So let’s see—where to begin? I guess with the fact that “Zip” won the Oscar for Best Original Song in 1947; it had been performed in the 1946 Disney film Song of the South by James Haskett, a black actor who played the part of Uncle Remus. This movie is intriguing for a couple of reasons: 1) it mixes animation and live action, and 2) Disney has never released it in its entirety in the US on tape or digitally. I’m sure there are pirated versions out there, especially since the film was “re-released” several times. (You can watch the film in segments on YouTube.) And why has Disney kept this item in the vault? Here’s a good explanation:
What’s With All the Sets of Opposites in Lauridsen’s “Lux Aeterna”?
There are so many ideas packed into the texts of Lux Aeterna that it’s hard to know what to include. But since the main juxtaposition is that of light vs. darkness, I thought it would be interesting for my second essay on this masterpiece to look at other pairs of opposites before I regretfully move on to other pieces in our concert. (Next week: the deep inner meanings of “Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah.”)
How Many Sources of Light Are Mentioned in Lauridsen’s Lux Aeterna?
Well . . . that depends. Probably the best answer is that there’s only one: God Himself. The first creative act of God recorded in the Bible, in the book of Genesis, concerns light: “And God said, Let there be light: and there was light” (Gen. 1:3 KJV). When we get to the last chapter of the last book of the Christian New Testament we see the same idea: “And there shall be no night there; and they need no candle, neither light of the sun; for the Lord God giveth them light” (Rev. 22:5 KJV). All through the piece there are references to light that have clear origins. I don’t want to give so many that I wear out your patience, so here are just three (using the translations printed in our sheet music):
“Oread Farewell” and Its Many Meanings
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One of the great privileges of performing classical music is that you get to delve into pieces written hundreds of years ago and others written within this century. If you’re fortunate you get to read or watch interviews with the composers and lyricists of modern music. Such is the case with the modern choral composer Dan Forrest, whose music my own choir has performed multiple times. We are also familiar with the work of poet/lyricist Anthony Silvestri, who provided the text. “Oread” was featured in our May 2018 concert as the closing piece, performed in the round.
So the first question is, “What’s an oread? And why is Forrest saying good-bye to whatever it is?” First things first. “Oread” is a term from Greek mythology meaning a mountain nymph. (Echo was one such, who was a consort of Zeus and was doomed by Hera, Zeus’s wife, to speak only the last words that had been spoken to her. Thus, when Echo fell in love with Narcissus, she couldn’t tell him how she felt and was forced to watch him falling in love with his own reflection in a pool.) So “oread” would be a suitable name for a mountain itself.
In which I follow the quest to find out the origin of “The Quest”
I’m always interested in the origins of things: the why. So for the selection “The Impossible Dream” (titled “The Quest” in the actual script) from Man of La Mancha that I’ve sung with my own choir I wanted to know why on earth a popular Broadway show had been made from a 400-year-old, 700-page novel, Miguel de Cervantes’ Don Quixote. Doesn’t sound all that likely, does it? And yet it happened. (There are lots of other unlikely origins for Broadway musicals, though—Kiss Me, Kate is based on Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew.)