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by Genevieve Williams
If there's one thing that annoys me the most about this time of year -- more than long lines in the stores, heightened stress levels among holiday shoppers and interminable waits at the airport as I travel cross-country to visit my family -- it's the carols.
You know the ones I mean. You can't get away from them. It's bad enough when you go into a record store -- at least there, there's a chance that they've picked a good album to spin from now until December 25. But a few years ago, while doing some shopping along Broadway, I heard "Jingle Bells" no less than three times. This was on Capitol Hill, mind you, where one might expect a little originality. It's not just that every store and fast-food joint seems compelled to pipe Christmas carols at us until we crack -- it's that they always pick the most irritating, saccharine, mind-numbing songs in existence.
Pawing through the racks at Tower tends to yield no better results. However, in the interest of providing you with an antidote to the latest Muzak arrangement of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," I've included a few holiday-themed records for this Yule's column.
Some labels, instead of putting out Christmas collections, just label theirs "Winter," or maybe even "Solstice." Some of these are better than others by almost any standard; others are only vaguely seasonal, if at all.
A Winter's Solstice(Windham Hill) falls into this latter category. While the Windham Hill label claims to defy description (and has put out some good albums, notably from artists such as Cesaria Evora), it's chiefly notable for the ability to take almost any song and drain any capacity for excitement out of it. One gets the impression that A Winter's Solstice is supposed to encourage a peaceful, pleasant mood, but it's a little bit like getting one of those fireplace videos for your TV -- it's a reasonable approximation, but it just ain't the real thing. That said, there are a few rather nice inclusions here. The instrumental rendition of "Greensleeves" is decently done, and "The Silver Swan" has an elegant, melancholy beauty. "Down in Yon Forest" is probably the best of the lot, successfully capturing a quiet, wintry mood; listening to it is like going for a winter's walk in New England, where snow covers the trees and icicles dangle from rooftops. Overall, though, the effect of this recording is soporific, rather than inspirational; it's just too nice.
Somewhat livelier is A Celtic Solstice (Decca), although the title is something of a misnomer -- about half of the tracks are Christmas songs. Depending on your proclivities, you can give these a miss, although at least "Christmas Pipes" and "Christe Redemptor Omnium" aren't likely to be piped into Pacific Place or Bel Square anytime soon. There is, however, some good stuff here as well. One has better luck with the light, crisp "Fairy Child," or the medieval-sounding "Masters in This Hall." The lineup on this collection includes some luminaries of the burgeoning pan-Celtic music scene, such as Aine Minogue and Secret Garden, which means that the quality of the performances is generally high. Special mention needs to be made of the contribution from Ashley MacIsaac, sort of a "Night Before Christmas" meets "The Devil Went Down to Georgia."
If there's a holiday album that's worth getting, though, it's The Chieftains' The Bells of Dublin (RCA Victor), a star-studded extravaganza courtesy of the reigning ambassadors of Irish music. It opens with the title track, where a carillon of bells gives way to a lively, fiddle-led tune that's sure to get feet moving. Moving on, we encounter some truly entertaining entries: Elvis Costello singing "St. Stephen's Day Murders," for instance, is worth the price of admission. "A Breton Carol" has a desolate sweetness, accentuated by Nolwen Monjarret's vocals, and is a nicely complementary inclusion among more mainstream selections. The best part, though, is tracks 15 through 20. Here, with the assistance of several guest singers and musicians, The Chieftains treat us to a medley titled "The Wren! The Wren!", taking us through the story of the ancient practice of hunting the wren at midwinter, and its more modern practice of going from house to house, culminating in a big party. Even a brief excursion into "Deck the Halls" isn't enough to break the spell. While The Bells of Dublin has plenty of Christmas songs as well, if, like me, you rather like the ones that haven't been sanitized for flute and piano and piped through Kmarts across the country, this collection is a good mix.
In the end, however, if you're looking for Yuletide ritual music, it's probably best to avoid the holiday section of your local record store altogether; with few exceptions, it's pretty disappointing. Fortunately, there are other options.
Go Nordic for Yule
Hedningarna have one of my favorite tracks on the Nordic Voices compilation, reviewed last issue. So, naturally, I had to check out their albums. (This is, of course, what sampler CDs are for.) I came across Karelia Visa (NorthSide), and after a single spin, immediately put it into heavy rotation. The band members are Swedish and Finnish, and while what they do is often described as folk rock, this isn't the quiet, low-key, guitars-and-fluff sort of stuff that term implies. Hedningarna, which means "the heathens," work in layers of sound, frequently using a drone as a base and then adding successive lines of melody, rhythm and harmony atop it. They make use of traditional instruments and modern electronics with equal aplomb, and the overall effect is entrancingly dramatic. If all of this sounds rather epic, it is; Karelia, a region overlapping the border between Finland and Russia, is the place where the old Scandinavian runesong has been best preserved. Runesongs form the basis of the collective masterwork known as the Kalevala, the national epic of Finland -- and one of Tolkien's inspirations for Lord of the Rings. Listening to Karelia Visa, you can almost see a landscape of mountains, snow and forest rolling away beneath you. I cannot recommend this recording highly enough, particularly at this time of year; there's something very primal about Hedningarna's music that seems tailor-made for a winter festival--and the perfect antidote to carol overexposure.
Similarly, the enticingly titled Wizard Women of the North (NorthSide) compilation seems tailor-made for midwinter. Nineteen tracks from women artists, featuring a variety of textures and styles, make this a perfect anthology from which to pick and choose your Yuletide ritual music. Aside from the fact that all of the performers are women, the songs included here have little in common, though most do have a haunting, wintry quality that, like Karelia Visa, suggests a landscape of mountains, trees, and deep waters. The liner notes suggest that the compilers, and the artists themselves, are well aware of this effect; there's talk of wood nymphs and the goddess Freyja. This eclectic collection ranges from the light, dancing "Svevende Jord" from Tone Hulbækmo, to Hege Rimestad's liquid, melodic "Krishnas kusine," to Mari Eggen and Helene Hoye's shimmering "Ferdavals." Kirsten Bråten Berg's "Heiemo og nykkjen" is a special treat. A soaring vocal with extremely spare accompaniment, it has an invocatory, meditative quality. There's not a bad one in the lot, really, although admittedly a few of the tracks are an acquired taste. "Manaus," essentially a layered chant, is somewhat startling at first, although as incantations go, one can imagine that it's quite effective.
Generally sunnier is A Magical Gathering (BMG/Rhino), the latest anthology from Clannad. Over the course of its 30-year career, this group has shown great adaptability and flexibility, morphing their distinctive sound from traditional songs from their home region of Donegal to contemporary pop, and back again. This two-disc collection charts that musical journey and includes an instructive booklet detailing both the band's history and the origins of the songs chosen for A Magical Gathering. If Clannad doesn't have the darker edge that characterizes much of, say, Hedningarna's music, one of its many strengths is the ability to contain many contrasting moods, sometimes within the same song. Another strength is to breathe fresh air into traditional songs, giving them new interpretations and impact. Woven throughout is a kind of solemn conviviality that puts the cheerful instrumental "Galtee Hunt" on the same footing as love song "A Mhuirnín Ó." Clannad is also, in its own way, a piece of history -- bits of the American Revolution-era "Johnny Has Gone for a Soldier" show up in "Siúil a Rún." Or perhaps it's the other way around, as songs cross oceans and are adapted to new circumstances. There are a few familiar selections as well, including songs composed for the Robin of Sherwood television series, and "I Will Find You" from the film Last of the Mohicans. The nice thing about this set is that there's plenty here from which to pick and choose, to suit whatever mood or activity you wish.
If there's a conclusion to be drawn from all this, it's probably that it's best to avoid holiday collections entirely, in favor of something that speaks to you about this time of year, and the ways our community has of celebrating it. Come to think of it, it might not be such a good thing for Solstice anthologies to start shouldering aside the Christmas music at Tower Records, given the quality of those collections thus far. If you're not fortunate enough to have a gang of Wren Boys descend upon you this Yule, at least you can drown out the umpteenth rendition of "The Twelve Days of Christmas."
On a final note, as of this writing, the score for The Two Towers has not yet appeared, although by the time you read this the movie will be out in theaters. Nevertheless, having heard a few tracks from the score via various online avenues (I love the Internet!), I have no hesitation in recommending the next installment of Howard Shore's sweeping, epic composition. See you in the theater!
Genevieve Williams is a Seattle freelance writer and drummer. She can be reached at rimrun@drizzle.com with feedback, suggestions or recommendations. Local and/or pagan musicians are encouraged to submit material for review.