Child of Aoide
Part 3 of A Life in Music
While swamped -- will try to catch up on reading when get a chance, apologies -- here's entry I said I'd post... a month ago, but finally got to finish and post today, about songs of love, songs about romance, songs of holiday cheer, songs celebrating carnal drunken debauchery...
In the medieval tradition, the Christmas holiday season did not end on Christmas itself, but continued all the way into the New Year, ending finally at Twelfth Night. And since the Christmas celebrations do not end until after the New Year, so, appropriately, neither does the winter season of the Cynnabar Collegium Musica. :-)
Almost exactly a full year before at Wassail, the m'Ladies Parsla and Magda had kindly invited me to join the Cynnabar Collegium Musica, the singing choir of Cynnabar. As I wrote back then:
What kind of music do we sing? The Collegium Musica goes year round, switching its repertoire in anticipation of different events. The Singers compete at Arts and Sciences competitions; perform for the Barony at events; and sing carols for the holiday season. We sing at Cynnabar events, at feasts, at community demonstrations, summer festivals, winter craft fairs, and even bundled up to perform on Main Street during the Christmas Season. Latin, German, French, English of various vintages -- we sing chants, two part melodies, four part melodies, an entire range of stuff.
Like much of Cynnabar, many years had most of the Singers practiced together as a merry group, meaning that, like with dance, I would be a newcomer supported by many experienced folks. And like with Dance, the Singers very kindly and warmly welcomed me among them, and shared with me their musical traditions, old and new. I actually came to the choir at a time when we were adding new pieces to the large repertoire the choir already had...
During my first season with the Choir, Elsa, our fearless musical leader, has proposed that we take selections from the famous 13th Century collection of poems and songs assembled by Johann Andreas Schmeller, the Carmina Burana, from which Carl Orff later set the more famous 20th century orchestral piece to. In contrast to most of the other surviving musical work from that period, the songs of the Carmina Burana are not, by in large, religious works. They instead cover an entire range of other, secular subjects that the anonymous 13th century scholars and college students who penned the pieces mused upon: the fickleness of fate; the ephemeral quality of life; the beauty of spring; the joy of love. One example was Virent Prata Hiemata, the beautiful ode to (as far as I understood) love and beauty that was the featured female-only choir piece. And then there were all the songs about drinking, drinking, debauchery and drinking...
As might be expected from a collection of songs penned by (13th century German) male college students, there were a heck of a lot of verses about drinking, getting drunk, getting into trouble while drunk, getting into trouble with members of the opposite sex while drunk -- basically, your standard modern fraternity scene, but in high Latin. Such was In Taberna Quando Sumus, literally translated While we are in the tavern, or Bacche bene venies, which salutes the ability of wine to dissolve good sense and restraint and then rapidly descends into the Latin equivalent of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. Of course, if one doesn't speak Latin -- and there aren't all that many members of the modern public who possess that skill -- it's just a energetic, cheerful tune. If one *does* speak latin, it's a energeic, cheerful tune about behavior immortalized in John Belushi's Animal House, except with less decorum and restraint. Let's just put it this way -- *not* going to be the verses we use for the next Children's Reading Day library demo...
( To my surprise, apparently said explicit Latin drinking ditties are still a staple of tavern verse in England today, as cerebrate informed me when he revealed he was quite familiar with said Latin verse at the October Toledo Social... )
The vast majority of the Choir's repetoire, of course, is not concentrated on Dirty Latin Drinking Songs. A substantial amount is in the exact opposite direction, the beautiful ecclesiastical music of the medieval church. Much else are ballads or madrigals re-made famous by modern singers -- Past Time with Good Company, Drive the Cold Winter Away, and much else from the same well of music drawn upon by artists like Owain Phyfe, Heather Dale, or Blackmore's Night. Certain themes are timeless, and certain songs immortal, just as cheerful or moving today as they were when first penned hundreds of years ago.
And timeless too is the thrill of singing as part of a coordinated whole, the interplay of different melodies locking together into a single flowing part, the same rush that came once by the orchestral work I was once a part of, all that I first excerpted in this entry. And more than that, being a part together with the merry, cheerful and fun folks of the Cynnabar Collegia Musica, a warm, welcoming group of friends who also happen to sing together. Generous they have been with rides and time and expertise, patience and suggestions and friendship, and much lucky have I been to be so welcomed. From bringing me into the musical fold, to the long summer nights helping me prepare my new set of garb, to roast beef at Elsa's home and geeking out on WarHammer minatures with Elsa's husband to their joining the Dance folks in sponsoring me before the Midream Throne, much have they done to help me be a part, and many thanks for their collective kindness I owe -- many warm thanks to the Singers and Friends of the Cynnabar Collegium Musica.
For some reason, the Greeks later conflated in one Muse both song and tragedy; but earlier, when there was but three muses instead of nine, it was in Aoide who was the patron of the singer. In Playford's Children, I touched on all that I have been lucky to have been a part of in the world of the Middle Ages reborn as a dancer; but thanks to members and friends of the Singers of Cynnabar, in this world within a world I am just as much child of Aoide, too. :-)
While swamped -- will try to catch up on reading when get a chance, apologies -- here's entry I said I'd post... a month ago, but finally got to finish and post today, about songs of love, songs about romance, songs of holiday cheer, songs celebrating carnal drunken debauchery...
- The Boar's head in hand bear I!
Bedecked with bay and rosemary
And I pray you, my masters, be merry--
Quot estis in convivio!
- - The Boar's Head Carol of Queen's College, Oxford, first published 1521
In the medieval tradition, the Christmas holiday season did not end on Christmas itself, but continued all the way into the New Year, ending finally at Twelfth Night. And since the Christmas celebrations do not end until after the New Year, so, appropriately, neither does the winter season of the Cynnabar Collegium Musica. :-)
Almost exactly a full year before at Wassail, the m'Ladies Parsla and Magda had kindly invited me to join the Cynnabar Collegium Musica, the singing choir of Cynnabar. As I wrote back then:
- Dance is something that I've only, relatively speaking, discovered a love for, a world silmaril first introduced to me just a few seasons ago. In contrast, music has been something that has been a part of my life almost as long as I have been alive. The story of my life in music, from performing in Detroit's Orchestra Hall to scrambling through the overhead decks working Tech for the medical student musical, I overviewed in In the Houses of Euterpe. Music was something I have always loved and once was heavily involved in. Of my last major involvement in music I wrote in Brahms and Butterflies, my participation in the medical school choir Voices of Healing more than five years ago. But the music bug never does go away. I wrote about singing in Come and Lift up your Voices, and those recent adventures inspired me to take up Magda and Parsla's invitation to join the Collegium Musica...
Even at the height of my involvement in music my ability to sightread was weak at best; I had always leaned upon my ear and my memory for melody to carry me. Once I've got the melody committed to memory --something that does happen reasonably quickly for me-- I can reproduce it passingly well; and in orchestras as a violinist there's always someone ahead of you to follow, melody-speaking. But to pull a melody straight from the written page has always been very difficult for me, and even more so after almost a decade of relative inactivity. It's been years since I've driven electrical impulses through the parts of my brain responsible for reading musical notation, for tracking rhythm and manuvering melody, and I can almost feel the creakiness and the billows of dust as long-disused gray-matter tries to stumble back to life.
But it is exhilirating to be back on the musical road again, the warm familiar feelings of wrestling with hitting the notes and the beats, the interplay of different parts, the anticipation of catching the cues and the simple joy of being a part of a group of musicans again. It's been a long, long time. I'm glad to be back. :-)
What kind of music do we sing? The Collegium Musica goes year round, switching its repertoire in anticipation of different events. The Singers compete at Arts and Sciences competitions; perform for the Barony at events; and sing carols for the holiday season. We sing at Cynnabar events, at feasts, at community demonstrations, summer festivals, winter craft fairs, and even bundled up to perform on Main Street during the Christmas Season. Latin, German, French, English of various vintages -- we sing chants, two part melodies, four part melodies, an entire range of stuff.
Like much of Cynnabar, many years had most of the Singers practiced together as a merry group, meaning that, like with dance, I would be a newcomer supported by many experienced folks. And like with Dance, the Singers very kindly and warmly welcomed me among them, and shared with me their musical traditions, old and new. I actually came to the choir at a time when we were adding new pieces to the large repertoire the choir already had...
During my first season with the Choir, Elsa, our fearless musical leader, has proposed that we take selections from the famous 13th Century collection of poems and songs assembled by Johann Andreas Schmeller, the Carmina Burana, from which Carl Orff later set the more famous 20th century orchestral piece to. In contrast to most of the other surviving musical work from that period, the songs of the Carmina Burana are not, by in large, religious works. They instead cover an entire range of other, secular subjects that the anonymous 13th century scholars and college students who penned the pieces mused upon: the fickleness of fate; the ephemeral quality of life; the beauty of spring; the joy of love. One example was Virent Prata Hiemata, the beautiful ode to (as far as I understood) love and beauty that was the featured female-only choir piece. And then there were all the songs about drinking, drinking, debauchery and drinking...
As might be expected from a collection of songs penned by (13th century German) male college students, there were a heck of a lot of verses about drinking, getting drunk, getting into trouble while drunk, getting into trouble with members of the opposite sex while drunk -- basically, your standard modern fraternity scene, but in high Latin. Such was In Taberna Quando Sumus, literally translated While we are in the tavern, or Bacche bene venies, which salutes the ability of wine to dissolve good sense and restraint and then rapidly descends into the Latin equivalent of Closer by Nine Inch Nails. Of course, if one doesn't speak Latin -- and there aren't all that many members of the modern public who possess that skill -- it's just a energetic, cheerful tune. If one *does* speak latin, it's a energeic, cheerful tune about behavior immortalized in John Belushi's Animal House, except with less decorum and restraint. Let's just put it this way -- *not* going to be the verses we use for the next Children's Reading Day library demo...
( To my surprise, apparently said explicit Latin drinking ditties are still a staple of tavern verse in England today, as cerebrate informed me when he revealed he was quite familiar with said Latin verse at the October Toledo Social... )
The vast majority of the Choir's repetoire, of course, is not concentrated on Dirty Latin Drinking Songs. A substantial amount is in the exact opposite direction, the beautiful ecclesiastical music of the medieval church. Much else are ballads or madrigals re-made famous by modern singers -- Past Time with Good Company, Drive the Cold Winter Away, and much else from the same well of music drawn upon by artists like Owain Phyfe, Heather Dale, or Blackmore's Night. Certain themes are timeless, and certain songs immortal, just as cheerful or moving today as they were when first penned hundreds of years ago.
And timeless too is the thrill of singing as part of a coordinated whole, the interplay of different melodies locking together into a single flowing part, the same rush that came once by the orchestral work I was once a part of, all that I first excerpted in this entry. And more than that, being a part together with the merry, cheerful and fun folks of the Cynnabar Collegia Musica, a warm, welcoming group of friends who also happen to sing together. Generous they have been with rides and time and expertise, patience and suggestions and friendship, and much lucky have I been to be so welcomed. From bringing me into the musical fold, to the long summer nights helping me prepare my new set of garb, to roast beef at Elsa's home and geeking out on WarHammer minatures with Elsa's husband to their joining the Dance folks in sponsoring me before the Midream Throne, much have they done to help me be a part, and many thanks for their collective kindness I owe -- many warm thanks to the Singers and Friends of the Cynnabar Collegium Musica.
For some reason, the Greeks later conflated in one Muse both song and tragedy; but earlier, when there was but three muses instead of nine, it was in Aoide who was the patron of the singer. In Playford's Children, I touched on all that I have been lucky to have been a part of in the world of the Middle Ages reborn as a dancer; but thanks to members and friends of the Singers of Cynnabar, in this world within a world I am just as much child of Aoide, too. :-)
- Part 4: A Fiddler Still