I'm...(Insert Prepositional Phrase)

I could subtitle this post "Summer Stupidity." In the last couple weeks several friends introduced to me or reminded me of a couple of the world's more ridiculous musical numbers. They're catchy. Yet, in the same breath I can't exaggerate their utter meaninglessness.

First— "I'm at the Pizza Hut; I'm at the Taco Bell; I'm at the combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell." "Das Racist," a Brooklyn based group is responsible for this doozy. What are the lyrics for a majority of the song? You guessed it! I suspect illegal drugs were partly responsible for this song. Remarkably, some people feel this one is a stroke of genius.

I'm at the Pizza Hut etc.

A friend who attends law school in San Francisco alerted me to this song. Apparently Victor Vazquez, one of two in "Das Racist," comes from the Bay area and they have made recurring appearances at a particular club in the vicinity. Wannabe hipster site pitchfork.com has hailed this as the ultimate summer tune. I think they missed the mark. I dub it the ultimate validation of drugs-gone-wrong.

Second— "I'm on a Boat." SNL brings us this fine skit in the form of music video. A special guest appears with "The Lonely Island." This one, contrasting our former number, brims with sundry creative lyrics and a special guest who exemplifies use and abuse- here concerning Auto Tune! The song itself parodies many rap cliches and climbed to the top of You Tube in February 2009. Don't expect to find it there, however- NBC seems pretty diligent about getting its material pulled. Strangely enough, it really takes an effective jab a commercialized hip-hop's all-too-frequent absurd materialism. It sits a few notches up from the previous number on my quality ladder.



When I listen to these songs two things happen in this order:

1. I think of people who argue for "context" as the final determinant in Liturgical Music and those who draw lines quickly. I can't fathom a situation where music that sounds like this could ever be near a Church. However, there's not much to counter this if all that matters is how music "speaks to people" directly. On the other hand, I can't see where people who cast out whole genres quickly make their boundaries. Music exists on a massive continuum. If a congregation sings Tantum Ergo at benediction and Tom Booth immediately follows up with a crashing trap-set for the recessional, this seems perverse. But if the whole Mass was Tom Booth, young people who came expecting this, and most importantly, were edified by it— where's the beef? However, I think these songs show that we can imagine boundaries if not pinpoint them precisely!

2. My brain shuts down.

The Danger of Profiling

This is a hot topic, especially today with all the hullabaloo about the Cambridge MA Police Department arresting an African-American breaking into his own home, Obama commenting, etc. But that's not the application I wish to address.

In perusing Catholic blogs again (as I convalesce from a wretched tooth extraction) I become a little weary and wary when the soundbytes start to fly. I tend to believe that anything worthy can't be so simplistically reduced. Yet, I find myself continually disappointed.

I find myself in an awkward position for a couple reasons:
1. I am a Catholic musician who is converging on a music degree
2. I am a Catholic musician converging on a music degree living in an extremely conservative/neoconservative/orthodox? diocese who considers graduate studies at Notre Dame.

Regarding the first: There is an apparent chasm in Catholic culture, specifically in liturgical matters. Language has been duly appropriated, terms politically charged. This is unfortunate. For example: parish pianist vs. parish organist, choir director vs. choir leader, parish/pastoral musician vs. music director, pastoral musician vs. sacred musician, sacred musician vs. liturgical musician, Latin vs. no Latin.

I understand there may be substantive differences with these, particularly sacred vs. liturgical (Anthony Ruff distinguishes the two well in his homerun, landmark book). However, it's the political connotations that make this silly. Should we be confortable with making these profiles more from politics than informed theological positions (of which many are valid I must emphasize)!

I can't recall at the moment where I read this but apparently an Episcopal Church Musician once said that "pastoral musician" was essentially a synonym for "bad musician." I'm sure plenty of Catholics who read NLM, CMAA, Fr. Z. etc. would wholeheartedly agree and happily supply anecdotes. "Pastoral musicians" could easily retort with a wholly valid argument: the primary purpose of liturgy is not to showcase art.

On the other hand, I've read many a blog where "pastoral musicians" express disgust for the idolatrous aestheticism that can overtake the highly schooled musician or artist. One may simply counter, however, that the Catholic Church has perhaps the largest tradition of any institution to encourage the development of art. Bug off with the iconoclasm.

I'm not sure precisely where it appears I fall. I'm not sure that I have a choice. Currently the cards are stacked against me: organ is not a favored instrument in many Catholic parishes, organ literature holds even less relevance or prestige, degree holders are increasingly rare in church music. Thus, due to my love of something associated with the past and high artistic standards, I'm probably an elitist- and that's a bad thing.

Regarding the second: There are few places to pursue a sound, well-rounded liturgical/sacred music graduate degree in the US- especially with a Catholic twist. Notre Dame stands out as a rare and notable exception. Problems arise though. As one acquaintance recently put it, and he didn't mean it well, "Oh, you mean the newly christened University of Obama?"

This vexes me. People would be all too eager to make assumptions about my politics, albeit via flawed reasoning (the whole post hoc, ergo propter hoc thing.) This becomes a problem for no other reason than it can create tension with parishioners where I work- parishioners who happen to be both nosy and politically zealous. No, I don't love ND because the President spoke at graduation. No, I wasn't disinterested before he came either. Neither statement reflects my thoughts on the President or politics. Think carefully on that one.

It alarms me, however, that even bishops will encourage this kind of thinking. At a recent conference I helped with an attendee queried Bishop Jackels of Wichita regarding the preservation of "Catholic" identity in our "Catholic" colleges and universities. His answer was to boycott them- not just Notre Dame, but most others too. He suggested several alternatives.

The problem, however, is that the 4 alternatives probably have a collective 1500 students and 3 programs. That's great if one wishes to study philosophy, theology, or youth ministry. What about the novel idea of studying one of the world's many other topics at a Catholic school? Apparently, that's not a concern.

And really, all music schools are full of flitty, feather-brained liberals. "Birds of a feather flock together." Read: Orthodox Catholics beware of applicants armed with graduate music degrees! Thus, I'm probably a theologically dissident liberal.

But what ever happened to letting people speak for themselves? What about the possibility of a "both...and" solution. Can a person with a degree be a relevant "pastoral" musician? Yes. Can one without a degree be a competent one? Yes, as well. The answer truly varies from person to person, from situation to situation.

We all know the stereotypes, but what use has invoking them? Ultimately this calls for an explanation and explanations of stereotypes inevitably devolve into polemical rants or fierce anecdote wars. It's like a conversation I had this morning:

Me: I didn't realize Rush Limbaugh was fired from FOX for racist comments
Party 2: He only said that black quarter-backs were better.
Me: Which is meaningless and, like I said, racist.
Party 2: No, he's just stating the fact that blacks are better athletes
Me: really, we're going there?

Who knows if that stereotype really means something? It's possible, but the truth lies deeply buried in a myriad of converging explanations and a tangled web of sociology. In short, like most generalizations, their ambiguity and offensiveness far outweigh their usefulness.

So, I've been called an elitist— wholly due to my zeal for learning. In this case, I'll wear that badge with honor. If music school teaches me how to write a singable melody and that's "elitism" we're in bad shape. I'm not, however, going to go into a Byzantine fracturing of "Eagle's' Wings" or "Be Not Afraid" and tell 100 reasons why these are poorly written. They are. Yet, people sing them- however incorrectly. This is proof enough for me but winning an argument isn't the point. Improving the situation is- whether that's teaching the songs correctly, writing new ones, or resorting to the "Treasury of Sacred Music" when possible.

Elitism is not what you know but what you do with it- if I learn something I plan to share it with my parish and choir. Beauty and Truth will always be hot commodities. Conscious mediocrity might be second to dishonesty in things that set me off.

Do I have aesthetic standards? Yes.
Do I wish to engage people in the liturgy? Yes
Is it possible to maximize variables? No
Is it possible to optimize variables? Yes

Wow! Fancy that. As long as I don't turn into a philandering AGO grouch someday I'll consider myself marginally successful.

But, really, Vatican II got rid of that old music and Purgatory...

Just kidding.

Praha Part II- Kostel Nejsvětějšího Srdce Páně

That's "Church of the Sacred Heart of Our Lord" in Prague 2, Vinohrady district. Our Czech translator had no concept of the English expression and both our tour guide and our director were not Catholic. Thus, "Holy Heart of Lord" (emphasis on no article or possessive pronoun) became the operative name.

We sang the Saturday Mass of anticipation last weekend at this one-of-a-kind church. I can't quite pinpoint it- Greco-Roman-Art-Deco? Could there be such a thing? When Frank Gehry visited he reportedly said, "I didn't realize that Mike Graves had already got ahead of me in Prague."I guess this was his way of saying "Wow, this is impressive." And it absolutely is- one doesn't see many buildings, especially churches like this from the 1920's. As our translator put it, "They thought he [the architect] was mad, a crazy man." Plenty of the kids did too.

The liturgy itself was interesting. We arrived at 5pm. Mass was at 6 and we had an hour guaranteed to warm up, tune the brass etc. I had even less time to acquaint myself with the button/knob/tab laden gameshow box of a console. Just when things started to click a loud voice pierced the silence at 5:30 sharp. Choristers and director looked around in confusion. It was the Rosary! And in case we didn't realize it, an elderly congregant stood up, wheeled around, and heckled us to make it clear. So much for preparation- or communication for that matter! Our liaison informed me, "the blind organist will arrive in the gallery one minute before the Mass to play the holy tunes." Great! In many ways it could have been the liturgy of a small Czech parish in Nebraska. All things considered, it went okay.

We had good fortune to be inside- apparently the building is only opened during Mass times. Because of this, the lights were also on. This gave the rare opportunity to get some decent inside shots. When we entered we came in the back through the sacristy. I was surprised by the amount of room behind the sanctuary. It felt spacious. (Little did I know, this was part of the radical design). Who would have thought?



The interior, composed largely of brick, makes for an interesting acoustic. Though the body of the church has a flat ceiling it is a large enough space that it still has a significant volume. Additionally, there was so little physical obstruction that the singing sounded about right to me. The brass players weren't fans. Personally, I've always been fascinated by the brick sound (e.g. Westminster Cathedral.)

It's hard to judge the organ simply because I can't say I ever quite figured it out. The church website gives some information about the organ (and extensive general parish history too- all of which generally informs these posts and was horrible to translate and work through!) http://www.srdcepane.cz/

The organ was built in 1936 by the Kutna Hora firm of Josef Mölzer. The console has four manuals and pedal though only three manuals were completed- the fourth was to be in the tower where the sound would filter through two windows over the altar. This division was planned to have 23 ranks. Today the whole instrument has 45 ranks with 3234 pipes.

I confess I don't know much at all about Czech organs. For that matter, I don't know that anyone does. Therefore, it's alarming to me that even the church website explains, and I paraphrase, "Melzer was known as a company to build cheap things, to use cheap materials. Problems arose quickly..." Yikes! Starting in the 1960's the organ went through several overhauls, rebuilds, extensions, and revisions by a couple builders. For most of 20 years it was unplayable but all was "well" by 1992.

Thus, the current specs are something like this:
Melzer, etc. 1936, etc.

Pedál
44. Principálbas 16’
45. Subbas 16’
46. Salicet bas 16’
47. Oktáv bas 8’
48. Flétna špičatá 8’
49.Chorál bas 4’
50. Mixtura (3x) 2 a 2/3’
51. Pozoun 16’

I. Manuál
16. Principál 16’
17. Principál 8’
18. Kryt 8’
19. Salicionál 8’
20. Oktáva 4’
21. Flétna trub. 4’
22. Superoktáva 2’
23. Mixtura (6x) 1 a 1/3’
24. Trompeta 8’

II. Manuál
2. Kryt 8’
3. Kvintadena 8’
4. Kopula 4’
5. Principál 4’
6. Roh lesní 2’
7. Kvinta 1 a 1/3’
8. Flétna syč. 1’
9. Cymbál (3x) 2/3’
10. Klarinet 8’

III. Manuál
30. Kryt 16’
31. Principál 8’
32. Flétna 8’
33. Vox angelika 8’+4’
34. Prestant 4’
35. Flétna příčná 4’
36. Nasard 2 a 2/3’
37. Flageolet 2’
38. Tercie 1 a 3/5’
39. Akuta (5x) 1’
40. Hoboj 8’

Couplers
12. III - II. 8 '
13. III - II. 4 '
14. III - II. 16 '
15. Vacant
25. I. - I 4 '
26. II. - I. 8 '
27. III. - I. 8 '
28. III. - I 4 '
29. III. - I. 16 '
42. III. - III. 4 '
43. III. - III. 16 '
52. P - I 8 '
53. P - II. 8 '
54. P - II. 4 '
55. P - III. 8 '
56. P - III. 4 '

Auxiliary equipment
1. Power hand records
11. Tremolo II.
41. III Tremolo.
Switch language
Free combination of 1
Free combination of 2
Loose 3 combinations
Free combination of 4
Power
Pleno
Tutti
Power crescendo
Switch connectors from cerescenda
Aut. ped. (a combination of pedal)
Crescendový cylinder
Blinds III. man.
Indicator War
Indicator blinds

And so, hooray! I found the Wicks of Communist Czechoslovakia! What to do? I just played a Dupré piece with lots of woofy 16, 8, and 4 and called it a day.

The best part of the organ were the many decorative lightbulbs which ornamented the sleek case below the facade pipes. It reminded me of St. Francis Church in Humphrey, Nebraska!

The architecture, however, will blow your socks off...

The Correct Translation

I have a confession: rather than practicing those indespensible scales I have been perusing the Catholic blogosphere- both time consuming and occasionally frustrating! After two hours of digging I feel like every synapse in my brain is firing. There are just too many worthy issues to discuss and not nearly enough time... and given that this is an big election year everything is spinning in overdrive.

A series of posts on the Commonweal blog caught my eye. The USCCB's rejection of the newly proposed Roman Missal translations (reported 8 July) has generated a firestorm of response.

And here is where I descend into the generalizations: On one hand many US Bishops disliked the archaic language of the 2008 ICEL proposal. There is a great need for sensitive and resonant texts. Afterall, if people can't comprehend language what use has it?

On the other side champions of the newly proposed texts see this as a refreshing return to the authentic spirit of of the Latin texts- or at least a bona fide step in that direction. The 1997 ICEL translation was a 'watered-down' politically correct sham.

Looking at side-by-side excepts from the Missale Romanum, the Cramner/Duffy Reformation-era English, and the 1997 and 2008 ICEL renditions we can make some interesting observations. The differences are clear but the the motivations, ideology, and Ecclesiology behind them is at best debatable and at worst open to pure and shameless speculation.

For example: the 11th Sunday in Ordinary Time: from 1997 we get "O God, the strength of all who hope in you..." From 2008 we have "O God, the strength of those who hope in you..." What's the difference? "All." Oh, we can read so much into this!! It's just like that worn over "pro multis" debate: 'God didn't come with that hippy inclusive language. He came with law and hard teachings. The Church is a special club and only certain people can make it.' Well, maybe. To echo the Academy Award-winning film There Will be Blood, "The doctrine of universal salvation is a lie, a lie!..."

Indulge me with another highlight, this time from the 12th Sun in OT. The 1997 version says "Lord God, teach us to hold your holy name both in awe and in lasting affection..." 2008 goes like this: "Grant us, O Lord, fear and love of your holy name always and in equal measure..." Key words that pop out , for me, are "teach" vs. "grant," "fear" vs. "awe," and "affection" vs. "equal measure."

My guesses on each... "Teach" is an everyday word that any English speaker comprehends quite quickly. "Grant" sounds legalistic or even archaic, to put it negatively...maybe 'formal' is a less derogatory description. I am trying to imagine, "Mom, prithee grant unto me thy blessings such that I may take the car for the evening." Who talks like that? Should the language of the Liturgy be the language of everyday (vis-a-vis meaningful and comprehensible)? Perhaps the broader question is, what kind of God do we have and how ought we approach him? "Does God wait to smite us with his divinely jeweled orb and sceptre?" or is he our "friend"? Maybe both, perhaps? If so, how do we strike a balance?

"Fear vs. awe:" Like "Fear of the Lord" disappearing from some Cathechetical texts, this is another one that draws the battle lines. Screams the Trad: "People these days need to be reminded that everything we have comes from God! We would cease to breathe if he forgot us for an instant! We can die at any second! Did I mention how terrible Hell is and that real people you and I know will probably go there?" Anyone ready for 1950's style sexual repression, depression, closet alcoholism, and abuse? An authoritarian culture of fear? Well, purely correlated, purely correlated. Then Sr. Starbeam butts in: "You stupid people and your fixation on fear. God loves all and forgives all- I'm okay, you're okay, God too. We care way too much about these old fashioned legalistic concepts of God and the Church. God is a woman and a beautiful one. We should be in awe of her feminine mystique. Fear? The only thing you should fear is me and my improvised liturgy!"

As for "affection" vs. "equal measure"...Huh? How do they even come up with this stuff?! Don't tempt me to start stereotypes about clergy, loony Latinists, and intimacy hangups. Ever read Song of Songs? God loves the Church in a visceral way, to put it mildly. These were earthy Mediterraneans writing- they knew how to be blunt and have fun. I guess I gave away my preference on this one.

Okay, I digress, massively! One of my Latin professors, a weathered classicist with more books in dead languages than the Library of Congress, once relayed this relevant story to our class: "As we were translating passages one day I had three students with three rather distinct renditions of one line. We heard them all and then one girl, sitting in the very back row, right in there" (he pointed to the very same seat), "asked, 'But, Dr. W-, what is the correct translation?' And then I just laughed." Why? **Disclaimer: This answer may cause some folks' skin to crawl**: there isn't one! Yes, I know, this seems to reek of "moral" relativism. But think, if you've ever studied a language you know this is absolutely true. And what about Babel? Don't we believe as a matter of Faith that language and communication hurdles are just one of many consequences of sin?

So, the point to all my ramblings: chasing the perfect/correct translation is chasing the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We'll never get it. To me this seems almost common sense but I am always surprised by what I find out there! To be clear, I acknowledge that a translation may be correct insofar as it is 'officially' endorsed or prescribed by the Vatican. I cannot, however, believe or even take seriously someone who thinks any given translation is unquestionable. There are too many factors to consider and none can accommodate them all: formality, accessibility, intelligibility, rhythm, ...even length, to name a few (how dryly pragmatic)!

Rather than the 'correct' translation we ought to seek the 'best' translation- and even that presupposes expectations built on a consensus. I hope and pray that the USCCB can agree on some concrete parameters which will guides its suggested revisions. Otherwise we're back with the same problem... And whatever they eventually agree upon I'm okay- even if I can't reconcile it with my ideology and preference. That's hard to swallow. When we say something is "correct" I suspect we often mean that it is merely congruent with our strongly held convictions or preferences- which is nice if it happens, incidentally. Either way, I trust the Bishops of this Country to make a choice that anyone can respect. If I don't like it I'm not going to go off and switch Rites or found the SSPX.

And then, some day, getting the ICEL and Vatican to validate it all? That mountain is safely in the distance, for now.