Another of my favorite English carols is “The Holly and the Ivy”—the roots of which reach pagan times. Here is King’s College Chapel, Cambridge:
[The original but now defunct video was of Winchester Cathedral.] Like most English cathedrals, Winchester Cathedral is quite lovely. Jane Austen is buried there.
The lyrics are . . .
The holly and the ivy,
Now both are full well grown.
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.
Oh, the rising of the sun,
The running of the deer.
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing in the quire.
The holly bears a blossom
As white as lily flower;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To be our sweet Savior.
The holly bears a berry
As red as any blood;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
To do poor sinners good.
The holly bears a prickle
As sharp as any thorn;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
On Christmas day in the morn.
The holly bears a bark
As bitter as any gall;
And Mary bore sweet Jesus Christ
For to redeem us all.
The holly and the ivy,
When they are both full grown,
Of all the trees that are in the wood,
The holly bears the crown.
The rising of the sun
And the running of the deer,
The playing of the merry organ,
Sweet singing in the choir.
When I was studying at the Sorbonne, I frequently had bouts of homesickness, which I would treat in various ways. Sometimes, I would go to see an American film in the original language at the cinema; at other times, I would stroll past an American establishment, like the American Embassy. I even took trips to La Défense to surround myself with the lifeless forms of modern architecture, which reminded me of American cities. Yes, the dog returns to its vomit.
My cultural nostalgia even prompted me sometimes to visit an English-speaking Protestant church in Paris—the American Cathedral of the Holy Trinity. I was there once for a Christmas concert when I heard the Anglican carol, “Once in Royal David’s City.” Though I had never heard it before, I immediately fell in love with it.
Though confused about so many things, you have to credit the Anglicans with a great sense of style. A discontinued video that I had posted earlier featured Saint George’s Chapel, in Windsor, England. My brother Adam and I attended an evensong service there once in the choir (quire). It was clearly the most beautiful Protestant service that I have ever attended. It must have struck Adam, as well, as he told me afterward that he had never witnessed a mass so beautiful.
Adam had not experienced many French masses, though. I think that while the English have the loveliest Protestant services, the French perform mass in the most solemn, beautiful manner. As far as Orthodoxy is concerned, some might charge me with phyletism when I, without hesitation, claim that the Russians worship the best. Well, they do . . .
(The replacement video is from the Chapel at King’s College in Cambridge. Adam and I visited it, as well, and we loved Cambridge.)
One of my favorite rock bands is also perhaps the most under appreciated group in popular music—The Guess Who. Perhaps they were dogged by being Canadian, which is no slight disadvantage in life, or perhaps people got them confused with Britain’s rebellious superstar band, The Who. Maybe, Randy Bachman took all the fame to B.T.O. Regardless, they have not garnered the acclaim that they deserve.
As with many bands, I do not have a favorite song by them, though “Laughing” is a fine ditty.
I like Burton Cumming’s voice, as well as the group’s harmonization.
The Guess Who’s most well known hit is either “These Eyes”:
Or “American Woman”:
For the less charitable, there is “No Time”:
It’s misanthropic, but I find it rather catchy. The fan video is annoying, as they almost always are.
During the last few years, my nephew has developed a direct interest in rock and roll unmediated by my sister, as teenagers typically do. While I was home on break this week, he played Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” several times. He has become a fan.
The videos below simply feature album cover art, sine corny and obnoxious graphics and printed lyrics, which suits me just fine. For I usually hate fan videos; they are almost always painful or boring to watch. However, the drug addled productions before MTV often lack official videos. What else is there to embed?
The music starts about a minute into the video for some odd reason.
My own favorite Pink Floyd song is “Time”
I like Pink Floyd but find their music bleak. A lot of rock reverberates with teen angst, but Pink Floyd’s music does sound like despair. A professor of mine in a course on Plato’s Republic, when covering the modes of music discussed in the city in speech’s proposed educational program, suggested that the Lydian mode was the Pink Floyd of the day. I always think of his comment when I listen to the band.
If Belle and Sebastian is a soft band for indie folks mildy estranged from the demographic center, They Might Be Giants is straight hardcore for socially dysfunctional super nerds. Naturally, I love them both. One of the most fun concerts that I ever attended was with They Might Be Giants at the 9:30 Club. Geeks have more fun; it really is true, and their only drug is caffeine.
I am fond of almost all of T.M.B.G.‘s songs, but having to hear about Obama’s Clintonization this week makes me feel a bit more vermicular than usual; ergo my mood for “Doctor Worm”:
John and John, thanks for all the good times.
In high school, when I first began to explore pre-modern music outside of church services, I became a fan of the women’s chant and polyphony group, Anonymous 4. If you are not familiar with medieval or Renaissance Western music, you will still find them somewhat familiar due, I think, to Christmas and hymnal traditions that have preserved a bit of that sound in our contemporary culture. Anonymous 4’s work is astoundingly beautiful. English speakers frequently abuse the adjective “angelic” but it suits the music of Anonymous 4 very well.
I highly recommend their albums. I love them all, but if I had to choose a favorite, it would probably be Miracles of Sant’iago: Music from the Codex Calistinus. On Harmonia Mundi’s web site, you can listen to samples of their recordings.
Here is “Congaudeant Catholici” from their Miracles of Compostela:
If you like Anonymous 4, you may wish to explore other medieval and Renaissance works, as well. You ought then to consider the works of William du Fay, Josquin des Prez, and Giovanni da Palestrina, which are relatively easy to find and quite remarkable. Below is “Ave Maris Stella” by William du Fay.
The West has its splendor. I wonder if it can retain it.
On this election day, I would rather be abroad. At least I can write about something other than politics.
Iconography is theology in color, as they say. It seems that iconography plays a more significant role in the Orthodox Christian life than religious art in the West, though perhaps medieval church architecture provided such a role for Western Christians centuries ago. If you ever go to an Orthodox parish, you might experience stimuli overload with all of the iconography; the story of God’s economy is illustrated on every wall, from creation to the martyrs of the Soviet monster. I cannot explain here the richness of the iconographic tradition, but there are many electronic materials online, such as the Orthodox Christian Information Center.
My favorite icon is the Vladimir Icon of the Theotokos:

Aaron and I had the wonderful opportunity to venerate the icon in Moscow. The Soviets confiscated it but, in their shame, did not destroy it. The Tretyakov Gallery is the current custodian of the icon, but the Russian Church demanded it back. The museum struck a compromise with the Church; there is a church next to the museum, Saint Nicholas in Tolmachi, and the museum owns the church, in which the icon is kept. Therefore, the faithful can venerate the icon during liturgical worship, while the museum’s visitors can see one of the most remarkable icons ever written.
One of my favorite liturgical pieces is Αγνή Παρθένε, “O Pure Virgin,” by Saint Nectarius of Aegina:
Sublime.
Antonín Dvořák is one of my favorite composers, as one would expect: Czech heritage, an interest in the nineteenth century, a love of Romanticism, and fond memories of Bohemia make me rather susceptible to his charms. I paid my respects to the illustrious man in the Vyšehrad cemetery just south of Prague, as I like to visit the graves of famous folks. Anyway, I probably love the Slavonic Dances most, obviously followed by his Ninth Symphony, From the New World. As an American, it is a civic duty to love this wonderful tribute to our land. Indeed, I cannot understand how anyone could not love it. Below is Z nového světa, performed by the Wiener Philharmoniker, and conducted by Herbert von Karajan:
First Movement:
Second Movement: I
Second Movement: II
Third Movement:
Fourth Movement: I
Fourth Movement: II
Incredible!
Earlier in the “Fun” realm, I discussed Renaissance Festivals and how they bring together the diverse demographics of American geekdom. As the Negroes say, I can pass—when it comes to geekiness. Perhaps, I have full-fledged nerd street creds, but I never really fit well in any crowd—even among the social pariahs of yesteryear who have now come into their own, as David Brooks wrote some months ago, “The Alpha Geeks” in that Graying Old Whore. Well, I am glad that the alphas now have a safe haven from the benighted epsilon-minus semi-morons. Yet, didn’t all that social ostracism give nerds the necessary time to innovate and to make America technologically superior? If potential Bill Gates get peer respect and girls, then we might as well send the White House’s keys to the Peking oligarchs now; the contest is over.
Brooks’ account of nerd ascent misses entirely the covert nerd integration into mass consciousness through the work of Led Zeppelin. What? Did I just call perhaps the greatest rock band ever a bunch of nerds? Yep! In what might be the best executed stealth maneuver in pop cultural history, Led Zeppelin succeeded in bringing geekdom to the masses in the language of rock, thus paving the way for George Lucas’ Star Wars. I know the accusations of heresy that I shall incur from the dogmatists. Yet, I stand and can do no other: “Before there was Hans, there was John Bonham.”
Should you have any doubts, consider Robert Plant’s fantasy sequence in Led Zeppelin’s movie, The Song Remains the Same:
Even without mentioning Tolkien, the defense rests.