On this St. Patrick’s Day, I am thinking back fondly to this past Saturday night and a memorable night of Irish music of which I was privileged to be a part. It was a concert given by the Choral Arts Society of Southeastern Wisconsin (formerly the Racine Symphonic Chorus) in which they collaborated with a superb local Irish folksinger by the name of Jeff Ward. The chorus has done several of these type concerts in which they put aside their Bach and Brahms and let down their hair, musically. And for the third time, artistic director Jim Schatzman brought me in to arrange choral accompaniments to sing with the guest artist. (In other words, I was writing parts for the Pips so they could sing with Gladys Knight.)
It’s been interesting to chart how the chorus has done over the course of these three concerts. In the first of these folk collaborations, with a wonderful folk duo called the Dalzehls, I got the distinct impression that most of the chorus was very nervous at how vague and unspecific the arrangements were – but that was so we could bend them to whatever the Dalzehls wanted to do. There’s a certain fluidity to these kind of collaborations that is very different from taking a masterpiece like the Brahms Requiem off of the shelf, where you know every note like familiar old friends. But by the time the performances rolled around, the chorus came to see the uncertainty of it all more as spontaneity (a much better word) and managed to have a very good time. A second concert with the Dalzehls went even better, as did a third concert with Caritas. And with this latest collaboration, they seemed excited from the get-go, which I think says a lot about the value of taking a choral ensemble outside of their comfort zone, as Jim has done with these special concerts.
Speaking of which, these collaborations represent a sort of stepping-out-in-faith for the guest artists as well, finding themselves backed up by a full-fledged choral ensemble and putting their music into the hands of an arranger they barely know. And as Jeff said, it’s a little bit odd when a given singer is used to being in the spotlight by themselves and able to do whatever the heck they like- whereas in this kind of situation, they need to stick to the score at least for the most part and be especially mindful of their new musical collaborators. It makes for an uneasy moment or two right off the bat, but when it starts to gel, it’s SO sweet! And what made me especially happy about this project was that Jeff was very pleased with my arrangements, and by the time the concert rolled around, this felt like a musical match made in heaven. And fortunately, an exceptionally large and enthusiastic audience was there to enjoy the fruits of our labors, and their heartfelt standing ovation was a clear indication of how much they enjoyed the night.
So what is it about the Irish which makes their poetry, stories and songs so distinctive? Surely one reason is that the Irish have collectively experienced such upheaval and heartache through their history, which in turn has only enriched and deepened their artistic legacy. There is such heart and soul in Irish texts, and something very poignant in their melodies. The combination is irresistible.
Among the songs I arranged for the chorus is an Irish favorite called “Boston Rose,” which paints a memorable picture of what it’s like to fall for a girl and be haunted by the memory of her. Part of the words go like this. . .
The autumn leaves have fallen and the tourists have all gone
and the children they have all gone back to school.
And my life is as it was before. I work eight hours a day
but the company’s still making all the rules. But
there’s a girl in Massachusetts south of Boston town she said and her lovely face is with me all the day.
I met her down in old Tralee – golden hair around her head.
I took her heart and she stole mine away.
So goodbye my Boston Beauty. Farewell my Boston Rose.
I’ll think of you. I’ll wait for you. My love just grows and grows.
So goodbye my Boston Beauty. Farewell my Boston Rose.
I wish that you were here but I know that’s the way life goes.
There is such wistfulness is a song like this, and yet it’s not the least bit maudlin. The Irish have this way of conveying their melancholy through party cloudy rather than overcast skies – and always with a sense that life – for all its sorrows and disappointments – is beautiful. I also get the sense that the Irish seem not to expend very much time or energy on Regret- unlike a lot of Norwegians and Germans I know! 🙂 Certainly there is a good-hearted spirit of acceptance in a song called “The Parting Glass” which is often sung at the end of Irish gatherings. It was the quiet finale of the concert and I can’t imagine a more moving way to end the evening. . .
Of all the money that e’er I had, I spent it in good company.
And all the harm that e’er I’ve done, alas it was to none but me.
And all I’ve done for want or wit to memory now I can’t recall.
So fill to me the Parting Glass. Goodnight and joy be with you all.
Oh of all the comrades that e’er I had they’re sorry for my going away.
And of all the sweethearts that e’er I had,
they would wish me one more day to stay.
But since it falls unto my lot that I should rise and you should not,
I gently rise and softly call, Goodnight and Joy be with you all.
Perhaps most memorable of all was our performance of something that was not actually an Irish folksong but rather a song by American composer Stephen Foster – “Hard Times,’ which could not have been more timely, given the tumultuous times in which we find ourselves. And as Jeff and the chorus returned again and again to the words of the chorus, “O hard times come again no more” there was this uncanny sense that performers and audience alike were sharing something very intimate with each other. It was a brilliant example of how music can express our deepest feelings and point us toward a better and brighter day. What a gift!
Let us pause in life’s pleasures and count its many tears
while we all sup sorrow with the poor.
There’s a song that will linger forever in our ears.
O hard times, come again no more.
‘Tis a song – a sigh of the weary.
Hard times…. hard times… come again no more.
Many days you have lingered around my cabin door.
O hard times come again no more.
While we seek mirth and beauty and music light and gay
there are frail ones fainting at the door.
Though their voices are silent, their pleading looks will say
O hard times, come again no more.
To be perfectly honest, the timing of this concert was absolutely atrocious for me, coming on the heels of both Racine’s and Kenosha’s solo & ensemble competitions. But in fact, being part of this concert was like getting the most invigorating sort of blood transfusion. Or to be more poetic, I should quote a line from the famous Irish Blessing: May the road rise to meet you; may the wind be ever at your back. Nothing could better summarize what it felt like to be part of this memorable night with the Irish.
pictured above: Irish singer Jeff Ward.