Baltimore's Renowned Modern Music Master, Philip Glass, At 87

 

Philip Glass                           Luis Alvarez Roure, U.S., 2016

Philip Glass is the most well-known minimalist composer and master of what he calls music of repetitive structure in our time. He was born into a musical family in  Baltimore and lived in an apartment above his father's record store. In that environment he developed a love of music, particularly modern classical music, by listening to promotional recordings and records that had been returned to the store. At eight he was studying music at the Peabody Conservatory of Music. At fifteen he continued his musical training and studied mathematics and philosophy at the University of Chicago. 

Listeners cannot help but "count" in one way or another throughout all of his compositions. And his work is surely a Calculus in our own time, retaining its minimalist core wrapped in a stylistic evolution. He has composed operas, symphonies, concertos, string quartets, chamber pieces, and film scores. Three of his scores received Academy Award nominations.

He wrote his first score for the film, Koyaaniqatsi (1982), a mesmerizing audiovisual feast by Godfrey Reggio and Ron Fricke examining the interface of people, technology, and nature. Glass's score for this film has become a signature piece, one that he and his ensemble have performed around the world for almost four decades. Glass has also composed for many popular films including Candyman (1992), The Hours (2002), and the memorable satire, The Truman Show (1998).

Listening to Glass is often more an experience where one can get be the music as a participant rather than merely listen. Even at its simplest, his work has complexities in tone, harmony, tempo and orchestration. For one thing, Glass counts. He plays by the numbers, practicing his musical arithmetic adding, subtracting, multiplying, dividing, and even solving some algebraic formulas here and there. In the end music to Glass seems like the mathematics he studied. Fortunately for our culture, popular as well as haute, he became an extraordinary, prolific, and popular composer whose significant international influences in the music world continue to this very day which happens to be his 87th birthday.

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
Collection of the Smithsonian National Portrait Gallery, Washington, D.C.

Text:
philipglass.com
wikipendia.org

In Creating New Musical Forms He Captured Even More Beauty In This World

 

Delius in 1907

The English composer, Frederick Delius, was born on this day in Yorkshire in 1862. At 24, he lived the classic story of breaking away from the family business - wool, no less - to pursue a love for the arts, in this case, music. The break was interesting for it took him first to Solano Grove and an orange plantation on the banks of the St. Johns River south of Jacksonville, Florida. Later, he would teach music in Danville, Virginia, before returning to Europe for formal education in Germany. He took the sounds of American culture with him. In 1888, he settled in Paris, later married the painter, Jelka Rosen - she painted the portrait below - and devoted his life to composition. In his last sixteen years he was tortured by the pain of a slow death from syphilis contracted during his early years in Paris. In the four years before his death in 1934, he was blind and essentially paralyzed from the neck down. He composed and completed some of his most significant work during this period, all of it reaching paper through the notations of his loyal amanuensis, Eric Fenby.

Delius patterned much of his music after that of his friend and fellow composer, Edvard Grieg, but tempered it with English impressionism, a love of naturalism, and his American experience, particularly his immersion in African American cultural themes while working on his father's grapefruit plantation. The result was a unique and demanding music for performer and listener alike and one that almost demands an acquired appreciation. From his death until the 1970's many in the classical music industry thought his compositions were "too sweet" and trapped in immature cliches. Today, his popularity continues to grow but I believe he remains an underappreciated figure in 20th century music.

Portrait of Delius by his wife, Jelka Rosen, Grez-sur-Loing, France, 1912

I first encountered Delius's music in a BBC program in 1968. The unique lyric quality of his compositions was like a magnet and there was no escape from the compelling soundscapes with such rich, complex imagery and depth. It was easy to fall under the Delius spell as a student of physical and historical geography. The appreciation increased when I began a life-long career focused on the nation's most significant and often most beautiful places.

Years ago, I had the opportunity to sit alone on a dock watching the evening move over the St. Johns River landscape not far from Solano Grove. Delius's music was in my head and all the beauty of "Old Florida" was in my heart. He had likely walked the river's edge at that very place, watched the same sun glistening on the water, heard the worker's songs blending with those of insects and the wind rustling the reeds and nearby palmettos.

Over his lifetime he would be identified with the English school of music, but would put much of that Florida experience into his work. In fact, he has a significant place in American music history having been the first classical composer to use musical themes of black Americans in the South. Those themes appear in several of his composition more than forty years before George Gershwin and Porgy and Bess. 

This post opened with Song of Summer, written in 1930 when Delius was blind and paralyzed. To conclude, here are two earlier compositions. The first is from the Florida Suite, written in 1888 when he was twenty years old. Music historians agree that this piece represents the first use of black American folk idioms in classical form by a European composer. He also composed the first black opera, Koanga. (George Gershwin is most often erroneously credited with this accomplishment, but his opera, Porgy and Bess, premiered fifty years later.

 

The second work,  In A Summer Garden, was composed in 1908. This and many other Delius works would go on to influence a number of popular music composers well into the 20th century. Perhaps the most significant of them was the iconic composer, pianist, and bandleader, Duke Ellington, whose composed - most likely with his arranger, Billy Strayhorn - In a Blue Summer Garden as a tribute. 

Over forty years have passed since I watched that sunset near Solano Grove. That's a long time to explore and mature in one man's music. It remains a most satisfactory experience filled with complex brushstrokes of sound so different, immersive, and timeless.

Music is a cry of the soul. It is addressed and should appeal instantly to the soul of the listener. It is a revelation, a thing to be reverenced.

                                                                          Frederick Delius

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:

Delius photograph, Monographein Moderner Musiker, Leipzig, Germany: C.F. Kahnt Nachfolger, 1907. Public domain in the United States
Portrait of Frederick Delius by his wife, Jelka Rosen.

Text:
title, from comments by Delius biographer, Christopher Palmer, 1976

The Delius Society
Before the Champions: Frederick Delius' Florida Suite for Orchestra, Mary E. Greene., M.A. Thesis, University of Miami, 2011
Radio Swiss Classic, Frederick Delius
Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, Frederick Delius

Stephane Grappelli: Jazz Violinist To The World

 

Stephane Grappelli, the unsurpassed master of the jazz violin, entertained audiences almost to the very day he died in 1997 at the age of 89. There was happiness and optimism in virtually every note of his music, even when those notes brought nostalgia and its touch of sadness to mind. No question he loved what he did and it flowed straight to his listeners. I doubt his songs ever came to an end without a sea of smiles in the audience.

Here is Grappelli in late 1995 performing with Bucky Pizzarelli on guitar, John Burr on bass, and guest guitarist, John Pizzarelli, at the famed Blue Note Jazz Club in New York.

Grappelli was born on January 26, 1908, in Paris, grew up poor and made a marginal living as a self-taught street violinist and silent film accompanist on the piano. In 1934 he met a gypsy guitarist named Django Reinhard - we commemorated his birthday a few days ago - and with him formed the Quintette du Hot Club de France, an ensemble that would make history in the world of jazz and popular music.

Grappelli made his American debut in 1960, long after the Hot Club dissolved, and enjoyed a second career playing to admiring fans around the world for the next 35 years. I find it interesting that Grappelli was almost forgotten in the U.S. until he began touring in the 1970s when he was well into his 60s. One would think that a jazz virtuoso would be well known in the country that birthed the genre. How thankful we should be that he was "rediscovered" here and lived to entertain us for so many years.

Here is one example of that entertainment, a stunning performance of Nuages, a jazz standard composed by Django Reinhardt. The recording features Grappelli with Oscar Peterson on piano, Joe Pass on guitar, and Niels-Henning Orsted Pedersen on bass.

 Simply stunning.

To conclude, here is the Quintette du Hot Club de France in their classic performance of Minor Swing, composed by Reinhardt and Grappell in the mid-1930's:

Yes, it's another jazz standard, and still going strong after eighty years.

A Toast To Robert Burns, The Bard Of Scotland

Today Scottish organizations and communities around the world are celebrating Burns Day, the 264th anniversary of the birth of Robert (Rabbie) Burns (1759-1796), the Bard of Scotland. Soon after the light fades, attention turns to Burns Night, a supper commemorating his life and work. In 2016 the International Business Times UK edition said this about him:

Burns is one of Scotland's most important literary figures, best known for his famous – and often humorous – songs and poetry. His most recognised works include Auld Lang Syne, which is often sung at Hogmanay on New Year's Eve, and Scots Wha Hae, which has become an unofficial Scottish national anthem.

Burns, commonly known as Rabbie, was born to a poor family in Alloway, Ayr, on 25 January 1759 and began his working life on the family farm. His father hired a local teacher to tutor Burns, who showed signs of having a natural talent for writing from a young age.

As Burns grew older, his passion for Scotland and his contemporary vision played important roles in inspiring the founders of socialism and liberalism. His first work, Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect – later known as the Kilmarnock Edition – was published in 1786.He also wrote in English and is regarded as a pioneer of the Romantic movement. Burns' poetry drew on references to classical, biblical and English literature, as well as the Scottish Makar tradition – a term from Scottish literature for a poet or bard.

Burns died in Dumfries at the age of 37. Inspired by Scottish history and culture, as well as Scotland's countryside, Burns remains one of the most celebrated figures in the country's history – as demonstrated by the annual Burns Night celebrations.

Here are interpretations of three of Burns's best known poems. The first two are by the late, great Scottish folk singer and educator, Jean Redpath:

There's nought but care on ev'ry han',

In every hour that passes, O

What signifies the life o' man,

An' 'twere na for the lasses, O.

Green grow the rashes, O

Green grow the rashes, O

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,

Are spent among the lasses, O

The warl'y race may riches chase,

An' riches still may fly them, O

An' tho' at last they catch them fast,

Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O.

Green grow the rashes, O

Green grow the rashes, O

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,

Are spent among the lasses, O

But gie me a cannie hour at e'en,

My arms about my dearie, O,

An' warl'y cares an' war'ly men

May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!

Green grow the rashes, O

Green grow the rashes, O

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,

Are spent among the lasses, O

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this

Ye're nought but senseless asses, O

The wisest man the warl' e'er saw,

He dearly lov'd the lasses, O.

Green grow the rashes, O

Green grow the rashes, O

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,

Are spent among the lasses, O

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears

Her noblest work she classes, O

Her prentice han' she try'd on man,

An' then she made the lasses, O.

Green grow the rashes, O

Green grow the rashes, O

The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,

Are spent among the lasses, O

Cauld is the e'enin blast,

O' Boreus o'er the pool,

An' dawin' it is dreary,

When birks are bare at Yule.

Cauld blaws the e'enin blast,

When bitter bites the frost,

And, in the mirk and dreary drift,

The hills and glens are lost.

Ne'er sae murky blew the night,

That drifted o'er the hill,

But bonie Peg-a-Ramsay

Gat grist in her mill.

Every Burns Night ends with the singing of Auld Lang Syne, a poem written by Burns in 1788 from old song fragments and his own words and set to a Scottish folk melody. This version has the complete and original lyrics.

For everything you ever wanted to know about Robert Burns and Burns Night go here. If you were fortunate enough to attend a Burns Supper tonight we trust you enjoyed the haggis and the extra dram or two of fine single malt whisky to wash it down.

Alba gu brath - Scotland forever

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
Alexander Reid, miniature portrait, ca, 1795, National Portrait Gallery Scotland

Text:
poems are public domain

Django Reinhardt: The Unforgettable Jazz Manouche Master

Jazz manouche - gypsy jazz - swept the clubs of Paris in the mid-1930's. The club responsible for this new sound was the Hot Club de France, founded by jazz fans and promoters, Hugh Panassie and Charles Delaunay. They brought together two performers who would become the core of their house band, the Quintette. That band's music continues to both influence jazz and entertain listeners today. Our post today commemorates the guitarist, Django Reinhardt who with violinist, Stephane Grappelli founded the famed quintette. We'll explore Grappelli's story on his birthday later this week.

The 20th century produced a number of fine guitarists in the fields of classical and popular music. And then there was Django Reinhardt, born January 23, 1910 in Belgium. He was a poor gypsy who by the age of twelve could earn his way playing the guitar in the streets and small clubs around Paris. At seventeen a trailer fire left him with a severely injured hand but he soon developed a new fingering style and with it a unique sound. By 1930 Reinhardt developed an appreciation of American jazz and began incorporating its elements in his playing. In a few years he would go on to meet the violinist, Stephane Grappelli, an equally free musical spirit and innovator. They soon formed a new group, the "Quintette du Hot Club de France", and a "hot swing" sound that would make music as well as music history for the next twenty years. At its core was the Reinhardt style that has influenced guitarists for more than eight decades.

And here is the Reinhardt sound as part of the group he co-founded with Grappelli.

Reinhardt died in 1953 at the age of 43, but his impact has lived on for decades. Even today, almost every celebrity guitarist in the world of popular music, jazz, blues and rock and roll would acknowledge Reinhardt as an influence in their music. Here is an entertaining musical link to an NPR Jazz Live blog expanding on Reinhardt's legacy.




Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
Reinhardt photo, William P. Gottlieb Collection, Library of Congress


Text:

wikipedia.org
theguardian.com, Nigel Kennedy article, December 19, 2007
Louis Miner, Paris Jazz: A Guide From the Jazz Age to the Present, The Little Bookroom, New York, 2005

Edgar Allan Poe: He Dreamed Into The Darkness Of Possibility

This week marks the birth of Edgar Allan Poe, one of the most influential writers in western literature. In our home we have a shelf reserved for such writers and treasured books. Among the first editions, autographed copies, rare titles, and nostalgic family favorites is a small and well-worn paperback from my high school years. Great Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe has been a part of my life for over 60 years. I'm happy to report that virtually every high school graduate in the U.S. still encounters the suspense, mystery, and magic of Poe even if it is nothing more than a reading and discussion of The Raven. The poem brought Edgar Allan Poe instant fame in 1845 and ensured him a secure place in American literature. His appeal to readers, especially young ones, rests in his dark and stormy subjects, his fantastic plots, and rich, descriptive writing. There is a timelessness about his work as well that in part accounts for his appeal to contemporary readers.

From The Raven:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.'

I don't recall when Poe's work first entered my life but it was long before high school. Little did I know that we would eventually share a bit of history at Fort Moultrie, on Sullivan's Island, South Carolina. He was stationed there for about a year beginning in 1827. The fort and island are the setting for his short story, The Gold Bug. During my career, I spent several weeks walking the damp tunnels, the grassy terreplein, and studying the character of this historic fort and those who garrisoned it over the centuries. I watched the sun rise and set over its walls, and stood at the gun emplacements at midnight listening to the invisible surf breaking on the beach or watching ship traffic moving in and out of Charleston harbor. For all I know, Poe's shadow watched my every move. For certain his work and legacy will continue to provide all of us with fantastic entertainment.

Poe was born in Boston on January 19 in 1809. He spent his lifetime living and working between the coastal cities of Boston and Charleston. Death found him in Baltimore in 1849 wrapped in the mystery and tragedy that surrounded him during much of his life. Here is his last complete poem written a few months before his death.

Annabell Lee

It was many and many a year ago,

In a kingdom by the sea,

That a maiden there lived whom you may know

By the name of Annabel Lee;

And this maiden she lived with no other thought

Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea,

But we loved with a love that was more than love—

I and my Annabel Lee—

With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven

Coveted her and me.

And this was the reason that, long ago,

In this kingdom by the sea,

A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling

My beautiful Annabel Lee;

So that her highborn kinsmen came

And bore her away from me,

To shut her up in a sepulchre

In this kingdom by the sea.

The angels, not half so happy in Heaven,

Went envying her and me—

Yes!—that was the reason (as all men know,

In this kingdom by the sea)

That the wind came out of the cloud by night,

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love

Of those who were older than we—

Of many far wiser than we—

And neither the angels in Heaven above

Nor the demons down under the sea

Can ever dissever my soul from the soul

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;

And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side

Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,

In her sepulchre there by the sea—

In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Few American writers have had such a broad impact on the arts. In his 2009 commentary on the bicentennial of the author's birth, Jeffrey A. Savoye, Secretary/Treasurer of the Edgar Allan Poe Society of Baltimore said this:

We can see that his writings still work their magic on succeeding generations of readers, and yet Poe’s secrets remain distinctively his own. We can ape and parody the form, but legions of would-be disciples have too often created mostly pale imitations, and scholars have laid waste to forests of trees in printing articles and books that attempt to explain the essence of his genius. Yet, traces of Poe’s influence can be seen in the writings of such diverse authors as Jules Verne and Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Arthur Conan Doyle and Ray Bradbury, Charles Baudelaire and Allen Ginsberg. (His writings have also been translated into every major language. One Japanese author and critic so greatly admired Poe that he changed his own name from Tarö Hirai to Edogawa Rampo.) And this influence has not been limited to the written word. Such artists as Gustave Doré, Arthur Rackham, and Édouard Manet have illustrated his works. Sergei Rachmaninov, Leonard Slatkin, Philip Glass, and many others have composed musical tributes. In an interview published in 1960, Alfred Hitchcock, the great movie director, commented that “It’s because I liked Edgar Allan Poe’s stories so much that I began to make suspense films.”

This year marks the twelfth anniversary of another mystery surrounding Poe. Beginning in 1949 an anonymous toaster appeared at Poe's grave in Baltimore's Westminster Burial Ground in the early hours of his birthday. The toaster left three roses and a half full bottle of cognac. Over time he became somewhat of a celebrity himself appearing suddenly in the cemetery only to do his duty then disappear as mysteriously as he had appeared. In 2012 the tribute stopped. Did the toaster lose interest? Was he tired of the media circus and copycats? Was he infirm? Had he passed away? The world has no answer for these questions and thus the Toaster adds a fitting mystery to Poe's legacy, a window into fantasy that lives on in classrooms, in private libraries, on glowing screens or anywhere readers enjoy imagination at its best.

This week let us lift our own toast to Poe, refiner of the short story, inventor of detective fiction, shaper of science fiction, and master of written language whose mystery and imagination treads the boundaries of fantasy and reality in our own lives.

My well-worn treasure of Poe's mystery and imagination

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
commons.wikimedia.org, public domain photograph by Edwin H. Manchester taken November 9, 1848 in Providence, Rhode Island

Text:
eapoe.org
poetryfoundation.org

Carl Sandburg: Poet, Musician, Biographer, And Voice Of The People

January 6 marked the 146 birthday of the American lecturer, journalist, poet, biographer, editor and folk singer, Carl Sandburg. He remains my favorite American socialist. Those of us who had a childhood in the 1950s grew up knowing Sandburg rather well as he enjoyed near iconic status as a literary figure. By 1950 his most significant work had already appeared but he maintained a busy working retirement at his farm, Connemara, located in western North Carolina, where he produced about one-third of his total literary output.

Carl Sandburg, 1955                    Library of Congress Photo

Sandburg was widely known as the voice of the American people, especially the working men and women who built a new and prosperous nation out of dreams and sweat. In spite of his popularity, he was a family man at heart who loved the warmth and activities associated with his close-knit family consisting of his wife, Lillian Steichen Sandburg and their three children and their families.

Here is a fascinating 1956 interview giving us a glimpse of Sandburg the man, his personality, and his works, all delivered in his wonderful oratorical style developed over many years on the lecture circuit as a young man. I think this is thirty minutes readers will enjoy not only for the entertainment value but also for Sandburg's commentary and insight on the American experience. As you will soon discover we could certain use his wisdom today.

There is much more on Sandburg and his family at the National Park Service website for Carl Sandburg Home National Historic Site. Over the course of my career I had the pleasure of working several months with the staff and resources at this historic site. In fact, I was offered the opportunity to manage the place in the mid 90's. As time and fate would have it, my only direct association with Lillian and Carl Sandburg at Connemara will remain my late father-in-law's goat trading with them and their award-winning herd of Chikaming dairy goats.

If you decide to read one biography, make it Penelope Niven's Carl Sandburg: A Biography (1991). Most enjoyable.

Epiphany 2024

 

Today is Epiphany, the celebration in Western Christianity of the visit of the Magi to the infant Jesus, and their recognition or revelation of Him as the King of Kings.

The Adoration of the Kings                 William Blake, 1799

There is but one popular American carol for the celebration of Epiphany. It was written by the Episcopal clergyman, John Henry Hopkins, Jr., and appeared in print in 1863 in a collection of his sacred music.

And here is a piece I first wrote in 2009 about the celebration of the Twelve Days of Christmas, an event that often ends in Twelfth Night parties or the presentation of gifts on Epiphany:


We can only imagine what it must have been like to celebrate Christmas for twelve days. The festivities, including the giving of one gift a day, then opening all of them on Twelfth Night or the following day (Epiphany), must have delighted children. I suspect that a few of those gifts were modest by today's standards, perhaps as simple as an orange or bag of special candy. My dad once told me that as far back as he could remember, his Aunt Lizzie (shown here in 1912

when she was 24) had always given her nieces and nephews several gifts including a popcorn ball wrapped in colored cellophane. I'm sure they were a part of Lizzie's childhood in the late 1880s and 90s when popcorn was wildly popular. Like many women of her era Lizzie never married choosing instead to care for her parents and brothers. When my dad's generation married and had children of their own she continued her generosity, including the distribution of those popcorn balls up through her last Christmas in 1958. By that time, her popcorn ball making had turned into a small industry - we were a large family.

And so, every Christmas for my first twelve years, I accompanied my parents to the Victorian parlor of Lizzie and her brothers to talk about family and exchange gifts.  We always returned home with a generous bag of colorful popcorn balls. For some reason neither my parents nor I carried on Lizzie's popcorn tradition beyond a string or two for the Christmas tree. It's certainly too late for my kids, and grandchildren are rather unlikely in the near future. Still, I think it's never too late to enjoy the memory of Lizzie's Christmases and a batch of her popcorn balls. A essential ingredient in my opinion would be your children, young and old. Once you assemble them all you need is this recipe which I found decades ago scribbled in one of her address books. I know you'll enjoy both the process and the product.


Aunt Lizzie's Christmas Popcorn Balls

8 cups of popcorn
1 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup of sorghum syrup
1/3 cup of water
1/4 cup softened butter
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1/2 teaspoon of vanilla

Red and green cellophane or similar transparent wrap
Colorful ribbons or ties


Combine the sugar, sorghum, water, butter and salt in a saucepan over medium heat and stir until sugar dissolves. Continue cooking until the mixture reaches about 250 degrees or hardens when dropped into cold water. Remove from heat, stir in the vanilla, and pour over the popcorn. Working quickly, mix thoroughly, butter your hands and shape popcorn into balls about four inches wide. Let them cool on wax paper. Wrap each ball in red or green cellophane and secure with a ribbon or tie. Distribute to wide-eyed youngsters or oldsters alike.


Sounds like a tradition in the making.

Alan Watts: A Contemplative Epicurean Who Danced In The Present

By the late 1960s he had become rather well-known on the American scene as much for living "in the moment" in alcohol, experimental drugs, and other excesses as for his writing and vast collection of audiovisual productions. Classical Zen masters criticized him for practicing a light version of Buddhism. Many in the counterculture of the time latched on to his eccentrism and independent thought as a beacon in what they viewed as a western world in decline. Either way, he would say that he was what he did. We can do nothing more or less than accept the full man. So who was this man whose portraits seemed to remind me of a clever and mischievous child?

His name was Alan Watts. He was born January 6, 1915, in Britain where he developed a keen interest in Asian studies. He moved to the U.S. in the late 1930’s and became an Episcopal priest in 1943. After seven years Watts left the church and returned to the study of Asian philosophy and religion full-time. When he died in November 1973 he left the world over two dozen books, hundreds of pamphlets and briefs, and well over a thousand hours of audiovisual recordings offering his original thoughts on the Western expression of Zen/ Zen Buddhism and Asian thought. For further reading I recommend his autobiography, In My Own Way, published in 1972. It is an entertaining book providing readers with a memorable glimpse at American culture and character in the generation following World War II.

And how did I come to know of Watts and his world? In 1968 documentary filmmakers, Irving and Elda Hartley, produced a fourteen-minute film entitled Buddhism: Man and Nature. Watts wrote the script and provided the narration. For the Hartleys, it was an award winning addition to their series on spirituality and religion. For others, particularly those studying or working in natural resource management, ecology and related fields, the film was a compelling prescription for understanding and appreciating our natural world. It is in that context that I encountered it in the early 1970’s as a new employee of the National Park Service.

Within days after seeing Buddhism: Man and Nature I transcribed the narration and proceeded to carry it with me for more than 36 years fulfilling my employer's mission to help people appreciate, understand, and preserve some of the finest natural and cultural landscapes throughout the nation.

The film never influenced my personal religious convictions but it certainly impacted my understanding of the human place and role in natural landscapes. Alan Watts’s powerful script writing as well as his transcendent narration motivated me to look deeper into the man and his writings. Over the next decade his books on Zen, Asian philosophy and the West's response, and human behavior grew to occupy well over two feet of shelf space in my library.

What happened to the transcript I typed on my trusty Smith-Corona portable way back when? Well-tattered and coffee stained, it sits enshrined in the household safe. Its message is still on my mind as I work with a group dedicated to the preservation of Watt's last residence. The rustic home and library is in Druid Heights across the Golden Gate from San Francisco. Now essentially abandoned and overgrown, this cultural landscape and cluster of vernacular architecture these mid-20th century  beats, bohemians, and activists sits quietly on Mount Tamalpais in what is now Muir Woods National Monument.



Sources

Photos and Illustration:
kpfa.org

Text:
title: from a self-descriptive quote in his autobiography, In My Own Way

wikipedia.org
alanwatts.com

Twelfth Day Of Christmas And The End Of Christmastide 2023-24

Today is the twelfth and final day of Christmastide or the Twelve Days of Christmas. This day is important among Christians who maintain liturgical traditions: first, it marks the end of a 1500 year-old festival celebrating the birth of Christ, and second, it is the eve of Epiphany. It is also the beginning of the carnival season ending with Mardi Gras and the beginning of Lent. Those who are reluctant to bid Christmas farewell can take heart knowing that some traditions of Christmastide extend through February 2 or Candlemas, the Feast of the Presentation of Jesus at the Temple. Candlemas occurs on the 40th day of and the end of the liturgical Christmas-Epiphany season. In my home I'll be removing decorations day by day until February 2 when our simple manger scene stands alone in the library awaiting Christmas future.

For some the Twelve Days of Christmas will end with elaborate costumes, masks, feasting, music, dancing, and theater at Twelfth Night festivities where misrule is the only rule. They are indeed topsy-turvy events. Only the Surveyor of Ceremonies will appear without a mask. He will direct the company through a series of games and other activities beginning with the distribution of the Twelfth Cakes. When all the party goers have arrived, each will select a small festival cake or cake slice. Three of those cakes contain a hidden bean or token designating them as the king cake, queen cake and fool cake. The lucky holders of the royal cakes oversee the evening's activities before returning to their normal lives, most likely "below the salt."

Twelfth Night (The King Drinks) David Teniers, ca 1634

These Twelfth Night traditions have been part of western culture for over a thousand years. Some traditions carry over the night into Epiphany, January 6. This is the case in New Orleans where Twelfth Night parties have been popular for centuries due in part to their role as opening events of the Carnival season.

Twelfth Night festivities in New Orleans in 1884

We trust that you have experienced a wonder-filled Christmas. May you live throughout this new year in the spirit of Twelfth Night, finding joy and happiness in what often seems a disordered world. In the words of William Shakespeare, who had a bit to say about this evening in Twelfth Night, (Act II, Scene 5):

Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
Great or common - What you will!

And speaking of greatness here is music for the season, Johann Sebastian Bach's Magnificat in D Major. The composition was originally written in Leipzig for Christmas 1723 and contained four seasonal hymns. In 1730 the composer revised the work by dropping the four seasonal hymns and changing the key to D Major. The second version is the one most often head today. An English translation in parallel format is available here. This 2000 performance is by the Arnold Shoenberg Choir and the pioneer period instrument ensemble, Concentus Musicus Vienna. Conductor Nikolaus Harnoncourt and his wife founded the ensemble in 1953. 

Hope you're enjoying a serving of Chatham Artillery Punch tonight.

The Eleventh Day Of Christmas 2023-24

On this penultimate evening of the Twelve Days of Christmas it's cool and quiet at Laurel Ridge. It's so clear the first stars shining blue white, yellow, and red feel close and the anticipation of seeing a fireball from the Quadrantid meteor shower at its peak runs high. I am reminded of other stars and other nights as this festival nears its close.

Lux Aurumque (Light and Gold)

Lux,

Calida gravisque pura velut aurum

Et canunt angeli molliter

modo natum.

Light,

warm and heavy as pure gold

and angels sing softly

to the new-born babe.

Sources


Photos and Illustration:
Family files

Text:
ericwhitacre.com, Lux Aurumque, lyrics by Edward Esch translated to Latin by Charles Anthony Silvestri

The Tenth Day Of Christmas 2023-24

The church calendar is rather quiet on this tenth day of Christmas much like the monochrome gray skies and perfect stillness embracing east metro Atlanta as the region awaits heavt storms and rain later in the day. To match that mood, here is some profoundly simple and beautiful music written in 1894 by the American modernist composer, Charles Ives. He moved quickly from traditional composition to experimental music which sadly left him unrecognized during his lifetime. Years after his death he would emerge as one of the most influential composers of the 20th century.

Little star of Bethlehem!

Do we see Thee now?

Do we see Thee shining

O'er the tall trees?

Little child of Bethlehem!

Do we hear Thee in our hearts?

Hear the angels singing:

Peace on earth, good will to men!

Noel!

O'er the cradle of a King

Hear the Angels sing:

In Excelsis Gloria, Gloria!

From his Father's home on high,

Lo! for us He came to die;

Hear the Angels sing:

Venite adoremus Dominum

And in case you didn't meet a chimney sweep or kiss a pig on New Year's Day to ensure yourself a year of good luck, perhaps these postcards from the Vienna Succession's Wiener Werkstatte will work.

And if two chimney sweeps, a pig and a pretty girl don't leave you with high hopes for the fortunes of the new year, this music from the genius of Igor Stravinsky should do it. The music is the finale from The Firebird, composed in 1910 for a ballet based on a Russian fairy tale about a mythical bird who helps a prince conquer evil. The Firebird is a brilliant work as fresh today today as the day it was composed. I like to think of it as a symbol of the promise of a fresh new year bringing an end to a rather anxious 2023.  Enjoy.

Out of the remains of an old year a new year rises.







Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
postcards, theviennasecession.com

The Ninth Day Of Christmas 2023-24

 

With New Year's Day and the Eighth Day of Christmas behind us we move on the Ninth Day, a rather quiet day in Christmastide. In the Catholic tradition it is the Feast of Saints Basil the Great and Gregory Nazianzen, Bishops and Doctors of the Church. It is a day to celebrate the virtue of friendship. Christmastide does indeed focus us on the memories of family and friends. Over many years the happenings of this season become riveted in our memories as significant and unforgettable emotional events. In the quiet hours following Christmas Day and the coming of the new year, I sit conversing with the faces in the fire. My thoughts meander over those Christmases past, of friends one time near and dear now lost in time, of family and our traditions in America now reaching their eleventh generation.

Although German traditions remain strong in our family one of my dearest memories is that of my Welsh bloodline introduced by my grandmother's parents who immigrated to the United States from Cardiff, Wales, in the early 1870's. Although I don't remember my grandmother - she died before my second birthday - my father always reminded me of her Celtic pride and Welsh ancestry expressed especially in a love for song and singing. It wasn't until the 20th century that Wales produced artists in English who were know internationally. One of them was was the poet, Dylan Thomas, whose compelling recitations approached hypnosis where words became song.

My family likely became aware of Thomas through his trips to the U.S. made over a span of about four years beginning in 1950. His trips always made sensational news for he was not only a rising star worshiped in metropolitan and university salons but also a boisterous character prone to drunkenness and colorful language. Indeed, his trip in 1953 ended in death from pneumonia while in New York. One could say he covered the full spectrum of life and when he spoke of it in verse or prose he made music. I first heard a recording of Thomas reading his work in anelementary school English class sometime in the mid-1950's. I've read and listened to him since then. What follows has been a favorite Thomas story in my family for over sixty years. In that time I read it or portions of it to women I loved, to a thousand students, and to my children.

When Dylan Thomas brings voice to his work it makes for some of the finest readings in the English language. When he reads A Child's Christmas in Wales it is magic. It is my gift to you in this holy season:

What an extraordinary reading. 

To continue our theme of memory and love of friends and family here is the 
internationally known Welsh bass-baritone, Bryn Terfel, singing All Through the Night, an ancient lullaby from his homeland. Complete lyrics follow the video.

Sleep my child and peace attend thee,

All through the night

Guardian angels God will send thee,

All through the night

Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,

Hill and dale in slumber sleeping

I my loved ones' watch am keeping,

All through the night

Angels watching, e'er around thee,

All through the night

Midnight slumber close surround thee,

All through the night

Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,

Hill and dale in slumber sleeping

I my loved ones' watch am keeping,

All through the night

While the moon her watch is keeping

All through the night

While the weary world is sleeping

All through the night

O'er thy spirit gently stealing

Visions of delight revealing

Breathes a pure and holy feeling

All through the night

Angels watching ever round thee

All through the night

In thy slumbers close surround thee

All through the night

They will of all fears disarm thee,

No forebodings should alarm thee,

They will let no peril harm thee

All through the night.

Though I roam a minstrel lonely

All through the night

My true harp shall praise sing only

All through the night

Love's young dream, alas, is over

Yet my strains of love shall hover

Near the presence of my lover

All through the night

Hark, a solemn bell is ringing

Clear through the night

Thou, my love, art heavenward winging

Home through the night

Earthly dust from off thee shaken

Soul immortal shalt thou awaken

With thy last dim journey taken

Home through the night

Sources

Photos and Illustrations:
themagpiesfantasy.blogspot.com; photo still from Marvin Lightner production of A Child's Christmas in Wales, 1963.

Text:
catholicculture.org
wikipedia.org

New Year's Day 2024 And The Eighth Day Of Christmas

Happy New Year
2024!

In much of Western Christianity this day is also celebrated either as the Solemnity of Mary or the Festival of the Circumcision and Name of Jesus. The Word for the day is simply one verse, Luke 2:21:

And at the end of eight days, when he was circumcised, he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

Here are two music selections for the day. The first is Johann Sebastian Bach's cantata for New Year's Day, Jesu, nun sei gepreiset, [Jesus, now be praised.], BWV 41. Those who would enjoy an English translation will find one here.

The second selection is Levy-Dew, a Welsh carol for New Year's Day set to the music of the British composer, Benjamin Britten. The custom of Levy-Dew derives from an ancient tradition of drawing water from a well and sprinkling it on townspeople as a means of cleansing or preparing them to face the new year.

Llanllawer Holy Well and stream Pembrokeshire Richard Law

Here we bring new water from the well so clear

To worship God, with this happy New Year

Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, the water and the wine;

the seven bright gold wires and the bugles that do shine.

Sing reign of Fair Maid, with gold upon her toe,

Open you the West Door, and turn the Old Year go.

Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, etc.

Sing reign of Fair Maid, with gold upon her chin,

Open you the East Door, and let the New Year in.

Sing levy dew, sing levy dew, etc.

The postcard at the top of the page was sent to Charles, my great uncle, in 1907. The message on the back reads, "May the new year prove a bright, happy and prosperous one to you is the wish of your Brooklyn friend." Her name was Nellie. I know nothing about their friendship and although they are now both lost to history she certainly left us with a timeless message for the new year.

Bright
Happy 
Prosperous
2024