A brief return to world music

I am a fan of global music. I enjoy hearing sounds of other cultures mixed with western music, but I would far rather hear the unadulterated music of another culture - even if that requires a bit of a stretch for my ears and taste.

In the western church, we have generally been the exporters of our music or the exploiters of non-western music. As exporters, as recently as 50 years ago we were still packaging the gospel in the hymn tunes and accompaniments of the 19th century. More recently, as exploiters, we have teaken the most easily accessible elements of another culture's music and used it as a veneer on our own. This is the essence of "pop" or "mass" culture - we see it, for example, in the difference between jazz and swing; between the rural blues and white rock & roll. Skim off the easy (accessible) bits and overuse them. (And generally don't credit your sources.) I'm not saying I don't enjoy swing ... but it isn't jazz. It's good to keep in mind the difference.

In the realm of global music, one reality is that the world is getting pretty small, and there are very few cultures that have not been influenced to some degree by western music, especially pop music. Where missionaries are now much more likely to respect the musical tradition of another culture, the radio and recorded media reach everywhere with very little effort. And indigenous musics are affected. Well, I guess that can't be helped.

Still, to the extent that it is possible to hear music of another culture, unalloyed, I like to hear it. Even when it is difficult to grasp, or only holds my academic interest and not my ears or heart, I like to hear the window into that culture. Naturally it is easier if there are some aural connections or intersections to western tonalities, structures, and instruments.

This Sunday College Church had Izibongo, the world music band from Wycliffe Bible Translators, in our services. Comprised of ethnomusicologists and other musicians, this group of 8 all played multiple instruments and sang. Through the course of the day they brought us the indigenous praise of the church in cultures as disparate as South American jungles, urban South Africa, India, and China. As familiar as Latin-tinged horns, and as foreign as parallel tone clusters from remote Brazil.

Sure, they did some cross-over, too. Going from a beautiful devotional song in Hindi, seamlessly into Andre Crouch's "Bless the Lord, O My Soul" was masterful, richly devotional, and satisfying. And when they led us in a cappella western hymns, we also did what we do well! What a great partnership, and a fine day for the church.

Retreat!

The weekend was spent with the Chancel Choir - or a good portion of the Choir, anyway. I'm always surprised that people will give so much of their time for Choir, and then give above and beyond at a Retreat. And stay cheerful. And then be thankful for it. It is a reminder of the greatness of this work - the church choir.

Reflections on why this is so might be apt and timely, but today I am simply thankful, and here is what for:

• A great workshop on choral musicianship, by voice professor (and bass singer in this choir), Gerard Sundberg. His overarching theme - why shouldn't a group that sings together week after week, year after year, be getting better? What a novelty! By way of introducing two of our retreat octavos, he helped us raise our game on Accuracy, Diction, Musicality. For me, it was like attending a conducting workshop.
• A nice new anthem introduced by its arranger (and bass singer in this choir), Greg Wheatley. His setting of the Welsh hymn "Here Is Love" (William Rees) with a Robert Lowry tune (Hope Publishing) is a lovely gospel gem.
• New octavos for Christmas - From Alice Parker's triptych Shepherds and Angels, the carol "Behold! the Grace Appears." And from Malcolm Archer, on a Timothy Dudley-Smith text, "Gold for a Manger Bed." These became instant choir favorites, and for some I think they made the weekend worth the trouble!
• Good refreshments, a great lunch, and a chance to hang out together without the press of a late night or a huge agenda.

Now, there were also some planning blunders. In my typical fashion, I put too much repertoire on for the event. We will do two extended works for the Christmas Festival, each about 12 minutes in length: Pergolesi (Durante?) Magnificat and Conrad Susa A Christmas Garland. They are well within the choir's reach, and we have an ample 10 more weeks to work on them. But in retrospect, I should have introduced only one of them (and it could have been either one) - and spent more time on that one, with the result of making more obvious progress on something big, rather than giving a sense of - oh, I don't know, dread? - at the end of a fire hose. I wouldn't change the way either piece was introduced, I just should not have introduced both of them.

We did have two familiar Christmas pieces which provided excellent balance, relief, and sheer pleasure. In addition to learning the earlier mentioned new octavos, picking up these old favorites "rescued" our Saturday repertoire session: "What Child Is This?" (Hal Hopson, Hope Publishing) and "All Is Well" (Smith/arr. Huff). And because of the raising our game workshop, coming back to these old friends was like hearing them anew. What fun!

For many in the choir, the highlight of a fall retreat is our service of commitment and prayer. We gather in the loft, sing, read, pray and wait in silence, and incorporate our new general anthems into this service. What a rich experience, with women and men who make each weekly rehearsal an act of worship.

The last Sunday night service in town?

I was at a social gathering about a month ago, enjoying the chance to catch up with friends from New Zealand. Guy Jansen had covered my duties during a sabbatical 5 years ago, during the academic year in which he was also covering 2 choral sabbaticals at the Wheaton Conservatory. He and Judy became good friends with many in the area, and as they were passing through town a barbecue was planned so we could all catch up with them.

Also present was a church music colleague who commented that "College Church is now the last church in Wheaton with a Sunday night service." Whether or not that is technically true, it is practically true. And this friend was simply informing me that his own church had decided to stop limping along with a struggling Sunday eve concept and attendance. (Strangely, the decision to cancel the service was made while he was out of the country! Not that he seemed to mind...) I do know that only a few years ago, when Wheaton College surveyed the colleges with which they have some relationship (staff or students or alumni), of over 100 churches in the area only 7 reported having regular Sunday night services.

I'll say right here that I have long felt it would be OK by me to be called to serve a church that does not have a service on Sunday evening. Especially if that church had multiple morning services, even in one "style." I'm not looking for a job change, don't get me wrong. But there's many a Sunday afternoon when I wish I did not have to get back to prepare and lead the evening service. (On the other hand, there are a very, very few services when I regret having done so. For which, read on.) At the same time, my Karen and I found ourselves surprised about the Sunday evening option, on sabbatical in 2004.

Our top priority while away was to be in a place where we could enjoy gathered worship, and spend Sunday evenings at home, with friends, family, and in fellowship with others in our sabbatical church home. So, imagine our surprise when from the very first Sunday away, we were drawn back to an evening service, thoroughly enjoyed our time there, and ended up in that pattern for the season. Naturally, for us, the experience was very different because we did not have responsibilities and duties in and for the service. What a rich summer we had at St. Andrew the Great, the Round Church, Cambridge, Summer Sunday evenings, 2004!

I reflect on that again today because yesterday was another of "those days." After a full, rich morning, what a pleasure it would have been to sit down to a leisurely dinner with others, no concern for the clock, no early trip back to church for the PM music rehearsal, to stay in blue jeans for the rest of the day, and to watch the sunset from our garden porch. And yet.

And yet, to work with musicians who are all about helping people sing. To stand in front of this congregation who love to sing. To hear a well-prepared sermon from someone who knows and loves God's Word and God's people. To hear and take part in the buzz of friendship and introductions after the service. To get back home with a sense that the day is complete.

College Church is the only church I have belonged to and not grown tired and disaffected with the evening service. It is the only church that has had a clear purpose for this service, and hewn closely to that purpose: gather, sing heartily, hear a well-prepared sermon, end the Lord's Day together. Not that the church at large "gets it" - we still only have about 15% of our morning attendance* back in the evening. But it is a cross-generational crowd, and man do they sing!

We may be the only game in town, but it's still a good one, and most Sundays when I get home - tired, retreating, and hungry - I'm glad we're still playing.


* To be fair, we do have another 200+ children in the building for choirs and Musikgarden classes. So that puts us closer to 30%, I suppose.

TRAF

I have spent this afternoon tackling the mounds on my desk. Granted, they should not accumulate in the first place. But, given that they do, this is hardly the time to be sorting them out. Where did August go? Now with the fall in full early swing, this ought to have been long done.

A tidy desk is definitely one of those unattainable but oh so attractive objectives in my life. I admire a tidy desk. A desk that gleams when the door is locked for the night, that is a beautiful thing. But it is not my desk. As I sit at my keyboard now, to my left are the stacks of music in progress or in waiting - guitar concertos for an upcoming afternoon concert, Christmas music, anthems to be filed away, a student composer's string quartet. To my upper right (NE, so to speak) - CDs that I have just played, intend to play, or tried to play and could not. Just beyond them, phone central, behind which is a short bookshelf with things I (supposedly) need to put my hands on often and quickly: hymnals, bibles, reference books, Sibelius users manual, "Introduction to Latin" (wait, what?), and a growing stack of CDs I am unlikely to open, much less listen to, but you know, I might, I might. Atop the shelves, publishers' recommendations. (Thankfully, I am on very few of those mailing lists.) To my immediate right, the desk blotter, and now I can see its entire surface; even that much, I am ridiculously proud of, when I walk out at night and my blotter is free of paper. Continuing to the far right and behind (SE, you might say) are the working vestiges of my afternoon organizing.

Some time ago, someone helped me deal with the paper blizzard (thinking in that metaphor, it must have been in Minnesota) with the acronym TRAF: Toss, Read, Act, File. It is important to get the acronym in the right order, for at least two reasons. The one I'll mention here is based on the old saw, "the quicker you file something, the longer it takes to find it." I think I know what that means, but the practical side of that is that paper piles up on my desk! So, one does not start the process - and definitely not the acronym - from the Filing end.

Toss - this is my favorite. My recycle basket fills up fast, and it looks like I'm accomplishing a lot from the get go. I rarely have regrets about things that get tossed. If they are overdue, they generally were not that important. I hardly ever find something that makes my heart sink with regret. One of the few perqs of procrastination.

Read - my first pile, on my left, and the last one I'll get to at the end of the process. Things I should read, whether they will take a minute or hours. I'm not going to sit down now and read them, but I know at the end of the day what reading is ahead of me.

Act - this is my "oh oh!" pile. As in, "oops, I should have done this by now." It may also include things that are on my own, self-imposed, long-range projects list. It is a pile that has to be got to, though not necessarily urgently. I may be able to dispatch the Act pile right away, but in any case it will be my work cut out for me.

File - finally, what is left can be put away. Today's Files went into my choir resources (Stuff that had accumulated for rehearsals, newsletters, and my own choral development), into general files, and that sweet folder "encouragement."

Now with everything sorted, I have a clear(-ish) desk, a better handle on the resources and materials at my immediate disposal, and an agenda for getting at some important work matters. My Act pile turned out to be smaller than I feared, and my Read pile more interesting than I dared hope. (Much of the Read pile is music, it turns out. Yippee!)

So, today was TRAFic control, and a timely exercise it was. I have just ordered my autumn weeks to provide blocks of time for a weekly definition and pursuit of goals, for a protected time monthly to keep up with my professional reading, and for a quarterly session off-site - an afternoon and morning "retreat."

Now to press on, in hope ...

On my iPod

Someone recently asked me if I run with my iPod. What a frightful idea. Yes, I have an iPod. No, I do not listen to it when I run, and especially not when I am cycling. As for cycling, I can hardly imagine anything more dangerous than tuning out my surroundings while on the street, nor more depressing than tuning out my surroundings while on forested bike paths.

And as I answered my running friend, I have so many voices going in my head, I could hardly stand the competition of an iPod while exercising!

Which is not to say I don't have music going in my head when I ride, and when I run. I suppose there would be some performance-enhancement from pumping into my head the kind of music typically used for working out. I hear this in indoor cycling coaching sessions, during the winter. And, while I don't listen to that kind of music on my own, I don't mind it for 90 minutes twice a week. I get it. (Not to mention that it meant I knew at least a few songs when I sat down to "Rock Band" last winter ...)

But I find the soundtrack in my head works quite well, thank you very much, for riding and for running. My mind, as fragile as it may seem, is quite capable of setting the metronomic pace for the exercise. And what a surprise and treat it often serves up! It may be a Beatles tune, an old children's song, a hymn (lots of hymns), or a sacred anthem. I almost never set out with something particular to "accompany" the exercise ... the songs, or snatches of song, come unbidden and serve their purpose. And more often than not, I find they serve more than one purpose. In addition to pacing, getting my soundtrack from within generally ends up serving my spirit as well as my workout.

I can't say how many solo rides have ended up solving particular choral problems or issues I've struggled with. Or how often an old song, long forgotten, will come back to me fully formed. Running is a new enterprise for me, but I am finding the same to be true on foot as well.

There's a place for my iPod, and I'm thankful for it. But I'm sure glad I don't need it to provide internal motivation. I have lots to learn from those internal voices!

Anyway - on my iPod; listed here as it comes to mind, since I don't have it with me at the moment:
Podcasts from Public radio: Wait Wait Don't Tell Me; The Sunday Puzzle; Writers Almanac
Music Genres: pop, rock, classical, choral, world music, indie rock, folk, country
Surprises: Johnny Cash, The Decemberists, U2, Harry Nilsson
Favorites: Concordia College Choir (Moorhead); Paul Simon (almost everything); Christmas choral music; the last thing I downloaded
First item I loaded on my iPod: Bach Christmas Oratorio, complete (and yes, I did listen to it; I also put it on first so I could say it was the first thing on my iPod. I know - lame.)
What I'd listen to if I did ride or run with an iPod: nothing! What would happen to all those songs in my head?

Heavenly Worship

Like many, there was a time when I wondered just how boring heaven is going to be ... just one long worship service! Kids of a certain generation, in particular, had I think the sense that the unengaging services we sat through held some kind of eternal threat for us. Is that really what we had to look forward to?

(An interesting sidelight observation: To the extent that children ever actually thought this way ... or was it really just me? ... there was an interesting connection being made, that somehow our weekly worship supposedly modeled the heavenly. Which, I think it can be argued, it ought to be - or at least we ought at least to be conscious of heavenly worship when we are gathered "here below." The Orthodox aspire to this intentionally. I think we can get there in any tradition.)

Aging, if not actually maturing, I have a deeper sense of what might just possibly be in store in the eschaton, the new heavens and new earth, the new creation which we are experiencing now only vaguely, in fits and starts. Cities and rivers and fruit trees and seasons and feasting ... it boggles the mind, in a way I wish I had known enough 20 years ago, to begin to instill into my own children's imagination. I pray they are gettting that at some level anyway.

Today (and I really mean, today, 17 August 2009) the notion of a never-ending "worship" service is more appealing than ever. Yesterday at College Church was timed to the minute, and I spent the day fretting over hitting all the marks. In a church already pretty uptight about the clock, we wound it up pretty tight and put every staff person on alert as to their responsiblity to "make the services come in on time." I was a wreck. We made it, morning and evening, but am I glad we don't live like this every week.

I could never function in a church tied to a television or radio broadcast. I've seen the service outlines for some of these churches, with their cues and time-lines. No thanks. It's bad enough just trying to make a 3-service morning work without mobs forming in the narthex and parking lot, as people go and come.

So I am adding this to the arguments for a single-service congregation: let us relax, focus, and breathe as we are likely to in heaven.

Ensemble

Last night Bill and Kevin played the evening service. Piano and guitar, with one singer and me. While we generally have at least another instrument and maybe another voice, the makeup for congregational song was pretty typical. But the playing was anything but typical.

We are rich with resources at College Church. If I let myself, I can be smitten with the embarrassment of riches. I'm just as likely to take them for granted. I try to stay somewhere in the middle - appreciating the many who give so much for this great work, and not being apologetic that other churches would pay huge sums to get any number of our volunteers on a regular basis.

But with Bill at the piano, and Kevin on guitar, we enjoyed the subtle dynamics of two skilled servant musicians, whose primary purpose was to play so that the people can sing. Not because they can't play to impress! Kevin is capable in many styles, on every guitar-type instrument (I love to have his mandolin and his banjo involved); Bill is a repetiteur with the Lyric Opera of Chicago. The men are no slouches. But each gives himself to the support of others. And, man, what they give!

It has been a while since they played together in our evening service. So in rehearsal it was a delight to be reminded what they bring - individually and in ensemble. They listen to one another, without a word changing roles and parts, complementing and drawing each other out. Kevin would pick up the melody, and Bill was immediately chording. Bill would brig out the melody, and Kevin would slip into a new rhythmic accompanying pattern - completely apt for the melody, and altogether surprising.

I don't know how much the typical singer in the pew could have said what was happening. But this interplay evoked some extraordinary singing. Our evening services tend to be laid back. They mix hymns - classic, modern, gospel - with new songs that may or may not be Praise & Worship (but are normally not identified with that genre, whatever that may be). Another planner would turn up the heat a bit in the services; and these musicians would be right there for that, too. But the beauty of their leadership last night was that even with this laid-back vibe, there was variety, energy, and a musical vitality ... a fecund creativity ... that lifted us all in glorious song.

It was something like jazz, spontaneous and responsive. It was a treat to stand in front of them and lend my very average voice to the mix, with a sweet soprano also on mic, and be caught in the middle of a beautiful night of song. Because Bill and Kevin gave themselves the way they did, we had a true ensemble of the whole - a room united in voice, heart, intent, and worship. That's glory.