The Most Wonderful Time of the Year…for choral singers

Christmas means different things for everyone. For my childhood best friend, it means sleeping on the cold wood floor of her cousins’ attic listening for reindeer. For my half-Jewish-half-Catholic roommate, it means devouring fresh-baked chocolatines at her Grandmaman’s house minutes before midnight strikes on Christmas Eve. For my cousins in New York, it means a trip to Ratner’s Dairy Deli.

For me, it means a lot of things. It means catching that first whiff of brandy as my mother unveils the fruitcakes from their moist cheesecloths (my mom, though Jewish, absolutely loves Christmas - who could blame her?). It means rewatching “A Child’s Christmas in Wales” the night before St. Nick is scheduled to arrive to retrigger my faith in that jolly children’s deity. It means watching the Queen’s address on CBC while nibbling on some noon-time bagels and lox.

But mostly, it means singing lots and lots of music.

I’ve been singing in choirs on and off since I was nine, with a four-year choir hiatus from age 15-19. But in those four years I managed to land a job as a cantor with a Catholic church. This means that the past 15 consecutive Christmases have been replete with add-on rehearsals, midnight “concerts” (masses), the painstaking relearning of French folk songs and their many, many wordy verses, and the reasking of the question “can I really hit the high As in the ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ descant part?” (I can’t. I could when I was nine though). For both choral singers and church musicians, Christmas is the busiest time of the year.

Contrary to popular belief, Christmas repertoire is not limited to “Deck the Halls” and “Silent Night.” Some of the most sophisticated music in the world was written for Christmas. For the veteran choral singer, there are some classics. There’s Benjamin Britten’s “Ceremony of Carols,” John Rutter’s “Dancing Day,” and the ever-popular “Messiah.” If you haven’t performed all of these pieces at least once, you have no business calling yourself a veteran chorister (real veteran choristers like I will scoff at you with nerdy smugness). Then there are the many many Latin “Magnificats,” the 10-versed French Christmas madrigals, and the hauntingly beautiful, richly poetic Old English carols.

Choral singers themselves are an interesting breed. Choirs range from non-audition community ensembles and drop-in church choirs, to audition-level glee-clubs and university choirs, to serious (often paid) professional or professional-level choirs. Choral singers aren’t always the best singers in the world - in fact, a very fine soloist often makes a lousy chorister - but good choral singers can boast some of the finest musicianship in the business. Choral singing demands an excellent ear, an acute sensitivity to an ensemble, impeccable sight-reading skills, and a very precise awareness of diction, vowel placement and text. Above all, choral singing demands that you really listen. And when pulled off right, there are few things more beautiful (and more primal) than the sound of human voices floating together.

I’m singing with two choirs this year, as well as having a small group of gals I’m performing carols with at local events, and doing a Midnight Mass gig at a Westmount church. Between all of these projects and jobs, I will have sung ten stand-alone concerts of Christmas repertoire by December 25th. My choir-shoes are living in my backback these days - between rehearsals and shows, I’m rarely home evenings.

The choir world is such a funny culture, and so easily the subject of Choir-Nerd jokes. I am the butt of much tender ridicule in my apartment at this time of year, and receive my roommate’s “band-camp” taunts with fondness. I realize how nerdy I must seem. I spent the weekend furiously memorizing the German text for a Chorale we’re singing at the Montreal Symphony Orchestra’s Christmas Sing-along tonight, and quietly humming obscure atonal progressions as I studied the sheet-music (”is the fridge broken? Oh wait, that’s Sarah.”). If I was my roommate, I’d make fun of me too.

But there is nothing I’d rather be doing. When I explain how joyous the Christmas concert season is, I think of my old roommate, who worked as a cocktail waitress on a cruise-ship one summer in Toronto, the kind of boat that gets rented out for office parties or weddings. She loved that job, because every day was a whole new party. Similarly, every Christmas concert I sing is another hit of Holiday Cheer. Audiences adore Christmas concerts - for so many people, hearing a concert completely colours their entire holiday season. It’s the thing that really gets them in the mood.

As a performer, I get to experience that magic after every show - even after every rehearsal. I live in perpetual Winter Wonderland from the moment that repertoire is handed to me, until the final strain of Christmas morning Mass.

There is unquestionably something magical about this time of year. It transcends religion, it transcends commercialism, and it transcends language. Like all things ineffable, this magic finds its voice through music. I consider it a blessing to live in such a rich musical landscape at this time of year. It’s good for my soul, and it brings light into the world.

I wish you all a happy Solstice week - may there be light in the darkness for you!