He also felt a nagging tug, a pull toward something larger than himself. It was a bit odd, all things considered.
Not that he had rejected his faith. He’d just let it fade away.
“I got caught up in the world, and the teachings of morality in the Catholic Church didn’t really harmonize with that,” he says.
Then he read a few words that St. Augustine wrote around the year 398: “Restless is our heart until it comes to rest in thee.”
Read it all from the local paper.
Ken Myers grew up in a conservative Christian household in Beltsville, Maryland, during the 1960s. When he was in tenth grade, two important things happened to him.
His high school music teacher introduced him to the music of Bach, taking eight months to teach Myers and the rest of the boys’ choir how to sing the motet Jesu, meine Freunde. And he fell upon a copy of the Saturday Review.
Saturday Review is pretty much forgotten today. (A number of people still remember Bach.) The magazine began in the 1920s and flourished in the postwar years. Its writers ranged widely over the arts, from music and literature to painting and drama, cultivating a readership of strivers”‹”””‹professional and college educated, if not brainy by nature”‹”””‹who were eager for self-improvement and a kind of intellectual diversion that was sophisticated and accessible. The magazine was edited by a windy polymath named Norman Cousins, a model of the kind of well-meaning and high-minded public intellectual they don’t seem to make anymore.
“Everyone else in high school was discovering recreational drugs,” Myers told me not long ago. “I was discovering Norman Cousins.”
Fans of “Les Misérables” on film or stage may be surprised to know that not everyone in France was of good cheer when Victor Hugo published the book in 1862. The anticlerical set was especially offended by the pivotal role of the Bishop of Digne, who helped determine the course of the novel by resuscitating the soul of Jean Valjean.
As Hugo worked on the novel, his son Charles, then in his 20s, objected to the reverential treatment of the bishop. He argued to his father that the portrayal gave undeserved respect to a corrupt clergy, bestowing credibility on a Roman Catholic Church opposed to the democratic ideals that he and his father held. Charles instead proposed that the catalyst for Jean Valjean’s transformation be a lawyer or doctor or anyone else from a secular profession.
The pushback didn’t work. Not only did Hugo hold his ground, but he amplified the importance of Charles-François Bienvenue Myriel, affectionately known in the novel as Monseigneur Bienvenue (Bishop Welcome). The book’s first hundred pages or so are a detailed chronicle of Myriel’s exemplary life, showing that his intervention on behalf of Jean Valjean was part of a long track record and not a singular aberration.
In spite of tepid reviews from some film critics, “Les Miserables” is booming at the box office, and that financial success can in part be traced to a group of its biggest boosters: Christians, particularly evangelicals whom NBC Universal went after with a microtargeted marketing strategy.
The story in “Les Miserables” is heavy with Christian themes of grace, mercy and redemption. The line everyone seems to remember is “to love another person is to see the face of God.”
NBC Universal looked to capitalize on those components and promoted the film to pastors, Christian radio hosts and influence-makers in the Christian community.
Watch and listen to it all (the pictures of the chapel at about 1:09 and again at 2:22 are worth their weight in gold).
Andy Statman stood in the narrow basement of an Orthodox synagogue improbably wedged among the boîtes and boutiques of Greenwich Village. He wore a plain blue suit and white shirt, and from his waist hung tzitzit, the fringes meant to remind an observant Jew of the 613 commandments. Twisting together the pieces of his clarinet, he ran through a glissando that seemed to corkscrew through the air.
Four rows of folding chairs were arranged before Mr. Statman, and in them sat about 15 people, several in yarmulkes, one an Australian woman whose music teacher back home had instructed her to find and hear Andy Statman. The basement’s shelves bore Talmudic volumes and Sabbath candlesticks, and the room was so chilly on this November night that nearly all the listeners had kept on their coats.
“This is concert probably, what, 6-something, 650?” Mr. Statman asked his drummer, Larry Eagle.
Bach has quite a hoard of virtues. The rectitude is almost annoying: selflessness married to reason married to imagination married to lawfulness married to craft. Bach is a mirror to everything we would like to be; he is almost too good to be true, to be believed. But we believe in Bach on the evidence of the notes themselves. Having invoked fact, law, and logic, I think the larger and more precise term, the umbrella term, to sum up Bach’s mystique is truth. There is a lot of talk of truth and truthiness these days””the death of truth, a post-truth era, and a proliferation of fact checkers debasing the currency in which they pretend to trade. But in Bach’s case we are talking about a certain kind of truth, a necessary truth, even a divine truth, something unarguable. Bach allows us to deny our suspicion that music may be a tissue of lies, a sensory decadence. You cannot wander far into Bach discussion without the invocation of the divine, even in connection with his secular works: cue Beethoven’s “Well-Tempered Bible,” Lipatti’s remark that Bach was “one of the ”˜chosen instruments of God himself,’” and Goethe’s observation that it is “as if the eternal harmony were communing with itself, as might have happened in God’s bosom shortly before the creation of the world.” Combine the feeling of divinity with the experience of Bach’s logic and system and you have an intoxicating combination, as if the Bible made perfect sense.
Closely following upon the invocation of God is the invocation of virtue: Bach is music’s claim to morality. Perhaps this last step is the most dangerous. It is a lot for music to bear, this conflation with truth, not to mention virtue. Arguments about Bach become proxy arguments about purity and authenticity. For some reason, people love to tell the story of Wanda Landowska saying to Pablo Casals, “You play Bach your way, and I’ll play him his way.” A memorable boast (and insult), but underneath it you can feel Bach’s truth getting carved up, subjected to territorial disputes. The certitude of Bach’s command of tones seems, like a virus, to infect some artists who play him.
Although blind, [Albano] Berberi has played a musical instrument longer than he can remember. When his family still lived in Albania, 6-month-old Berberi began playing the keyboard. It wasn’t Mozart, but his father told him he played the notes sequentially. At 18 months, he reproduced the music demonstration tape that came with the keyboard.
When he was a year old, the family moved to Greece, where he continued playing keyboard until his kindergarten teacher decided to introduced him to another instrument. They first tried the recorder during a trip to a music conservatory. But he found it “rather boring,” and the two continued their tour of the facility in search of an instrument to pique his interest. A musician taking a break from rehearsals handed the young boy his violin. The instrument, built for an adult not a 5-year-old, hardly nestled under his chin. But it proved a perfect fit.
“It can be the sweetest thing or angry,” Berberi said. “It’s just a very expressive instrument.”
Lyrics:Now thank we all our God,
with heart and hands and voices,
who wondrous things has done,
in whom this world rejoices;
who from our mothers’ arms
has blessed us on our way
with countless gifts of love,
and still is ours today.
.
O may this bounteous God
through all our life be near us,
with ever joyful hearts
and blessed peace to cheer us;
and keep us still in grace,
and guide us when perplexed;
and free us from all ills,
in this world and the next.
All praise and thanks to God
the Father now be given;
the Son, and him who reigns
with them in highest heaven;
the one eternal God,
whom earth and heaven adore;
for thus it was, is now,
and shall be evermore.
The singers are Quire Cleveland under the direction of Peter Bennett.
Listen to it all.
When ‘Scandalous,’ a musical about Canadian-born evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson, opened on Broadway this week, it became the latest entry into the risky category of religious musicals.
With the exception of “The Book of Mormon,” which swept the Tonys in 2011 and continues to play to packed houses, many Broadway musicals with evangelical themes have had dubious track records in recent years.
Perhaps hoping to tap into audiences that loved “Godspell” or “Jesus Christ Superstar,” “Leap of Faith,” based on the 1992 Steve Martin movie, ran only 19 performances at Broadway’s St. James Theatre. “Sister Act,” based on the 1992 Whoopi Goldberg movie, was more successful but didn’t break any records.
Maybe because I lost power for almost three hours today, but I needed this–listen to it all. If you have a moment, here is a lovely 1993 NPR interview with her also.
Can you give us a sneak peek into the plot?
Son of a Gun presents an interesting mashup of music and narrative. And, from a story perspective, it’s funny. It’s a dark comedy with a serious arc to it. It addresses this question of family and how to hack your way through a life that can be filled with pain, and it asks where the redemption is in the midst of all of it.
Is it autobiographical?
The story emerged from my own life experiences. There are plenty of times where we would hit a roadblock in the narrative, like, What should we do next with this character or this thing? And I would say, “Well, here’s what happened to me.” And that would be the best dramatic solution to the problem. So there’s times it’s stunningly true to my own life, but, of course, I did not grow up in a family band. We were not from Appalachia. My dad didn’t play guitar or sing. There were no duels anywhere. And so on….
Imagine no “Imagine”: it’s easy if you are a crematorium with a moratorium on “unsuitable” songs for funerals.
Alongside its most recent survey on popular funeral music, the largest funeral director in the UK, Co-operative Funeralcare, has revealed that one in four funeral parlours has had song requests turned down by clerics. Among them is John Lennon’s song, with its lyrics “Imagine there’s no heaven”….
Huge numbers continue to ask for Frank Sinatra’s version of “My Way”. It has received the highest billing in each of the past seven surveys, and is requested at 15 per cent of all funerals. “Time To Say Goodbye”, by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli, is next on the list, followed by Bette Midler’s “Wind Beneath My Wings”.
Placido Domingo is one of the most influential people in classical music. During a 50-year career, he’s played more than 140 roles, conducted more than 450 operas, and won just about every award that a human being can win in opera and life.
Domingo has a new album of solo songs and duets with other singers, whose names might surprise you. Take, for example, his version of Shania Twain’s “From This Moment On” ”” a duet with Susan Boyle.
Listen to it all (slightly over 9 minutes).
Among the 23 recipients of the MacArthur “genius” grants this past week: an economist, a mathematician, a photographer, a neuroscientist, and a Boston-based stringed instrument bow maker.
Benoit Rolland acknowledges that the violin reigns supreme as the star of the strings, capable of fetching millions of dollars at auction. But what about the bow? “A violin with no bow is not a violin, that’s clear,” says Rolland.
“A lot of people, even some instrumentalists, in our younger years we believe that the violin is of paramount importance and the bow is just a tool,” says Elita Kang, assistant concert master of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. “But the bow is just as important as the violin because that is our breath. That’s how we draw the sound out of the instrument, so without a fine bow that’s responsive and flexible and finely made, we can’t express ourselves fully.”
One thing that is often said of Dudamel is that he conducts music as if it had just been composed, without regard for what one critic termed “the accretions of past performances.”
But that’s part of the Rite’s magic, the conductor says. “It’s a hundred years later,” he says, “and it’s still so modern. Still, Sacre is new all the time. For me, that is the secret of the piece. I love to bring every line up. Sometimes, you listen to something very horizontal, but when you see the music in a vertical way ”” I’m talking about the line, every line in the orchestration ”” it’s amazing. You discover new colors, you discover, ‘Oh look, this is a very traditional harmony,’ but then you see the details ”” and then every time it’s different. I’m sure that this version will be completely different to the last one that I did.
“I think that the Rite is a symbol of the beginning of life,” Dudamel continues. “It’s beautiful because it’s so natural. Of course, you have these crazy moments of wild dynamics, but at the same time you feel that the rhythms and the melodies are so natural. They’re like this ancestral feeling of … ‘Wow, I think I have belief.’ ”
Read (or better listen to) it all (emphasis mine).
By the time he put the finishing touches on the Rite of Spring in November of 1912 in the Châtelard Hotel in Clarens, Switzerland, Stravinsky had spent three years studying Russian pagan rituals, Lithuanian folk songs and crafting the dissonant sacre chord, in which an F-flat major combines with an E-flat major with added minor seventh. The rehearsal process wasn’t easy either. Stravinsky fired the German pianist and the orchestra and performers only had a few opportunities to practice at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées in Paris, where the Rite debuted in May 1913. But the Russian born composer pulled it off, and his composition now stands as a 20th century masterpiece.
Stravinsky is one of seven eminent creators of the 20st century profiled by Harvard professor Howard Gardner in his 1993 book Creating Minds. The others are Pablo Picasso, Sigmund Freud, T.S. Eliot, Martha Graham, Mahatma Gandhi and Albert Einstein. One can debate the list but Gardner’s foremost conclusion is uncontroversial: creative breakthroughs in any domain require strenuous work and a willingness to challenge the establishment.
The psychology of creativity”“both empirical research and popular literature for the lay audience”“misses this. It reduces creativity to warm showers and blue rooms, forgetting that the life of the eminent creator is not soothing; it is a struggle”“a grossly uneven wrestling match with the muses.
Read it all (emphasis mine).
Americans marked the 11th anniversary of the Sept. 11, 2001, terror attacks Tuesday in familiar but subdued ceremonies that put grieving families ahead of politicians and suggested it’s time to move on after a decade of remembrance.
As in past years, thousands gathered at the World Trade Center site in New York, the Pentagon and Shanksville, Pa., to read the names of nearly 3,000 victims killed in the worst terror attack in U.S. history.
But many felt that last year’s 10th anniversary was an emotional turning point for public mourning of the attacks. For the first time, elected officials weren’t speaking at the ceremony, which often allowed them a solemn turn in the spotlight, but raised questions about the public and private Sept. 11. Fewer families attended the ceremonies this year, and some cities canceled their remembrances altogether.
“I feel much more relaxed” this year, said Jane Pollicino, who came to ground zero Tuesday morning to mourn her husband, who was killed at the trade center….
Earlier this year, NPR told the story of Teresa MacBain, a United Methodist pastor who had stopped believing in God. In March, when she just couldn’t keep it to herself anymore, she told the American Atheists Convention that she was one of them.
Coming out as an atheist felt good. But when she got home to Tallahassee, Florida, she discovered that a video of her coming-out speech had gone viral. Her church and community shunned her.
I was saddened but not surprised. Many people attend seminary because they are seeking answers to serious questions about the faith. When they do pastoral care, those questions become sharper.
What really caught my attention about MacBain’s story was this: “I miss the music,” she told NPR. “Some of the hymns, I still catch myself singing them,” she said. “I mean, they’re beautiful pieces of music.”
France may be the most militantly secular country in Europe, but Paris’s gospel scene is flourishing.
The choir sways and their orange robes sway with them. The conductor, packed in an ice-cream-white suit, urging them on, while out front the Reverend Jean Carpenter – moving quite possibly like nobody has ever moved before in this ancient church in the medieval heart of Paris – sings praise to the Lord.
The person who emailed to say I should go and hear her sing described her voice in one word – “Biiiiiiiiiiig”.
She wasn’t exaggerating.
“I’m actually not a music major. This is really a hobby that accidentally became a profession,” [Alexis] Dawdy says. “I’m studying linguistics, and I’m 17 credits out from graduation. My goal is to do it debt-free, and this helps a lot. This pays for books and this pays for food.”
Dawdy says she’s encountered nothing but hospitality from her neighbors in Lansing.
Marvin Hamlisch, the stage and film composer who created the memorable songs for “A Chorus Line,” has died at 68. The composer died on Monday in Los Angeles after collapsing from a brief illness, his family said in a statement.
One of the most decorated composers in entertainment, Hamlisch had won a Tony Award, three Academy Awards, four Emmy Awards and the Pulitzer Prize for drama.
Hamlisch was still active just weeks ago. In his role as lead conductor of the Pasadena Pops, he conducted a July 21 concert at the Los Angeles Arboretum with Michael Feinstein.
For better or worse, we’re not the people we were when we fell in love with this music. I wrote a book about Christian rock in the ’90s, and one thing that struck me as I was putting it together was just how important some of that music was to my generation in pointing us toward the things that mattered to us: authentic faith, honest humanity, artistic integrity. Those are good things. But going to a rock show when you’re 18 and when you’re 35 are very different experiences. Have you noticed, for example, that when you go to see a band like Weezer or Jimmy Eat World, the fans are still mostly the age you were when you started listening to them? Have you noticed that you think less about buying their new records, and more about who you used to be and how you felt when you first bought their records?
I’m really happy to see new material from some of my favorite musicians, but I know that I’m not the same person I was when I started going to rock shows in church basements. I no longer put band stickers on my car or wear their buttons on my jacket. I no longer listen to Christian radio or buy my music from Bible bookstores. But these are some of the people who taught me what I know about faith, hope and love””and I’ll be forking over some cash this year to hear them do it again.
Te Deum – John Rutter – University of Utah A Cappella Choir
[Improve the sound through the ‘change quality’ cogwheel at lower right of video when playing]