Hej, Sverige! It’s two-for-one day at The Daily Tune-Up! This fun indie band is from Stockholm, Sweden, and the first half of this track has been going through my head all week. I love the driving energy of this song, which makes it good for a mid-week pick, and also explains why it’s been in heavy rotation on my running playlist. The lyrics are amusing, memorable, and fun to belt out when you’re commuting to and from work. And it also sounds like a song that would be used in a slick TV ad to sell shoes or beer or cardigans or something – so now you can feel even cooler having heard it here first. You’re welcome.
The second half of this track sounds like what the protagonist in the song would listen to the morning after the adventures in this song take place. I really like it when artists complete the thought, as it were – when the music switches gears to give you a glimpse into the next part of the story the lyrics portrayed. It’s like the end of the movie “The Graduate,” when the camera just keeps rolling after the young lovers made a break for it. It sounds like real life. There’s always a next stage.
One wonders why it took me this long to play Bach, since he is one of the major reasons I adore classical music. This piece in particular makes me beside myself with happiness. It’s slightly more constrained than the Schumann piano concerto I posted a few weeks ago – far more regulated – but it still has the same fire underneath. I especially love Perahia’s interpretation here, which takes it at a wonderfully assertive clip. The slow build-up beginning at 6:02 is so exciting, and you think it’ll resolve but psych! There’s more! Oh, Bach, you card. You slay me.
Bach and Steve Reich both wrote music that satisfies the same craving: music that sounds like the part of my brain that is constantly jumping up and down, wanting to play. Putting this energetic piece on allows that part of my brain to go on a play-date, leaving the calmer, quieter side behind to get some work done in peace. Bach alone got me through about a quarter of grad school. I should put some flowers on his grave or take one of his descendants out for a beer. (Aside: how incredibly cool would it be to have a beer with a Bach descendant?)
I am, as you’ve no doubt guessed, a big fan of early music. I love its simplicity, I love its richness, and, to me, it is very centering. Whenever things get overwhelming and I need to create an eye in the storm, I put on this piece. It sounds mysterious, and therefore timeless. Also, because its melody follows the Dorian mode, it is neither happy nor sad – which is what makes it such a good piece to listen to when you need the universe to just quit it for a second. (Quick music theory tutorial! A “mode” is another word for scale, a scale being a succession of eight notes in ascending order of pitch. What makes the Dorian mode cool is that it includes both minor and major tonalities. For example, a D scale is in the Dorian mode.)
“Resonemus Hoc Natali” is a very early example of the use of polyphony – polyphony literally meaning “many sounds,” and in more common terms, the use of harmony. Like many early music pieces, we don’t know who wrote it exactly, but we do know it hails from the old region of France called Aquitaine in the 12th century.
Hey! It’s Aquitaine!
When the words begin to describe the reason behind God taking human form – “that he might bestow aid to the human race, the heavenly assembly is astonished at this” – the rest of the choir falls away, hushed like a gasp, to leave a singer solo to tell the story. Gets me every time.
The final reason I love early music? It’s old. When I listen to this piece, I contemplate the number of men and women over the last nine centuries who have heard it, too, and the joys and sorrows they carried with them as I carry mine. That comforting connection makes me feel immortal.
—
Resonemus hoc natali
cantu quodam speciali,
Deus ortu temporali
de secreto virginali
processit hodie,
cessant argumenta perfidie.
Magnum quidem sacramentum,
mundi factor fit sic mentum,
sumens carnis indumentum,
ut conferat adiumentum,
humano generi,
cetus inde mirantur superi.
Post memorem redit risus,
aperitur paradisus,
et in terris Deus visus,
lapis manus ne precisus,
quem vidit Daniel,
quem venturum predixit Gabriel.
Hic est noster angularis,
spes iustorum salutaris,
hic est noster salutaris,
potens celi, terre, maris,
facture condolens,
quam premebat tirannus insolens.
At this birth let us sing out with some special song, God comes forth today in temporal birth from virginal mystery, let the disputes of the faithless cease.
Indeed the mighty maker of the world thus is made the sacrament of the spirit, taking on the cloak of flesh that he might bestow aid to the human race, the heavenly assembly is astonished at this.
After mourning, laughter returns, paradise is opened, and God is seen upon the earth, the stone uncut by human hand which Daniel saw, whose coming Gabriel foretold.
This is our cornerstone, the healing hope of the upright, this is our saving power over the heavens, earth, and sea, consoling by his act those whom the insolent tyrant oppressed.
PSA: Before you press play, be alerted that this song contains some mild to medium swearing and vaguely salacious themes.
After a certain period of time, you realize that, man, life doesn’t get easier – if you’re lucky, skillful, and have the energy, you just get better at managing. 2014 is already going gangbusters for your Yankette, so Monday mornings are always better with a little extra something to go with my coffee. Santigold and M.I.A definitely deliver on this track, and it puts a little extra swagger in my step when I need it. “Always standing in the door, always the same reason you’re stuck: no guts. No guts. What will you get it up for? What will make you want it more?”
If you read the news yesterday, you probably saw the following stories:
– Half the population of Bangui, the capital of the Central African Republic, have fled their homes. North of Bangui, an armed Christian militia has surrounded the city of Bozoum, raising fears of a massacre of the city’s Muslim residents. France and the African Union, with the help of U.S. military transport, has sent more than 5,000 troops to bolster an international peacekeeping mission, but so far, efforts have failed to stop the violence.
– An eight-hour firefight between government forces and the Mai Mai Kata Katanga in Lubumbashi, Democratic Republic of Congo, killed at least 26 people. The Mai Mai Kata Katanga are fighting for independence.
– Nigerian gunmen stormed the city of Shonong, in Plateau state, killing at least 30. Violence in Plateau has been going on for years, fueled by land disputes between Muslim Fulani herdsmen and mainly Christian Berom farmers.
– The government of South Sudan appears to be close to recapturing the city of Bor, but peace talks, being held in Ethiopia, continue without a breakthrough.
You know this song. It’s a cover of Phil Collins by the Senegalese band, Touré Kunda. Not to knock Phil Collins, but this version flat-out knocks the wind out of me. It’ll leave it at that.
If you’ve seen Ken Burns’s documentary on the history of our national parks, you’ll recognize this piece. Al Petteway is a terrific and talented musician, and I’m thrilled he’s getting more recognition since “National Parks” came out. This piece reminds me of sailing up the wet, dank coast of Newfoundland, whose native music is similar in style to “Sligo Creek.” This is a very good tune to listen to when you need to square your shoulders and face the day. This makes it especially suited for a cold and rainy Monday, be you on the prow of a boat headed to Labrador, or behind the wheel of your car headed to work.
Where to begin with this piece. There is so much to say. I’ll start with its history. The piece was written in Quechua, an ancient language native to the Andean region in South America, by the Franciscan Pastor Juan Pérez Bocanegra around 1610 and published in 1631. Bocanegra sang and ministered at San Pedro de Andahuaylillas in Cusco, Peru. This piece was meant as a processional hymn to be sung as parishioners entered church. It is originally about 20 minutes long and has twenty or so verses; this version only contains the first two.
I find this piece entirely chilling. First of all, it uses Amerindian words to express European religious concepts set to a European Baroque tune. Second, though it’s a hymn to the Virgin, which would ostensibly sound sweet and calm, this piece is firmly in the Church Militant camp. Yes, it’s a processional, and processionals are supposed to be rhythmic and metrical, but this goes beyond metrical to martial. I think this is fitting, given the context.
By the time this piece was written, the Spanish colonization of the New World had been underway for just about a century. In 1532, Francisco Pizarro and his soldiers ambushed and captured Emperor Atahualpa of the Incas, effectively defeating the mightiest of the indigenous South American empires and easing further Spanish conquest. Ten years later, the Spanish government established the Viceroyalty of Peru, which, until the early 18th century, spanned almost the entirety of the South American landmass save only for Venezuela, which was under a different Viceroyalty, and the eastern half of Brazil, which was under the control of Portugal. This was the second of four such viceroyalties that consolidated and administered Spain’s territories. Control of the land, control of the government, and control of the economy comprise three-quarters of the recipe needed for complete domination – the last quarter is, of course, control of religion. In this, the Catholic Church was masterful.
Thatis why I find this piece so chilling. Religion has always been one of the strongest influences on society and culture, and as music is a part of culture, this piece is, to me, an audible relic of one civilization’s violent conquest and subjugation of another.
Bocanegra himself was born in Spain, but at some point (and for reasons I can’t find), emigrated to Peru. I can only surmise that he actively chose to put the hymns he wrote into Quechua to encourage conversion. Words and English translation are below. Before I close, I want to be absolutely clear that this is meant in no way to be a dig against the current Catholic Church. All denominations of all religions have done some fairly odious things in the past. Finally, while this recording is perfectly serviceable, I highly recommend finding the one done by Ex Cathedra off their “New World Symphonies” album.
Oh, Joy of heaven forever adore you, flowering tree that gives us the Sacred Fruit, Hope of Humanity, the strength that sustains me, yet I still fall.
Keep in mind my veneration You, guiding hand of God, Mother of God, Flourishing amancaicito of tender and white wings, my worship and my tears; to let Him know this son places his stock in the Kingdom of Heaven.
The Daily Tune-Up 