Author: Mr. C

Posted on by Mr. C

Suffer the children? Hardly.

Dr. William Mahrt offered a treasure trove of historical, liturgical, theological, and anecdotal information to those of us fortunate to be in his sessions at the NOLA Chant Intensive. Some of the gold glimmered immediately, and so many of the gems will refract and challenge us to examine them with reflection for years.
One of the most compelling notions for me was his depiction of how the oral/aural transmission of chant melodies, associated with specific psalm texts succeeded by their inculcation with very young children in monasteries. Basically, Mahrt explained, the innate capacity of pre-adolescent children to permanently absorb environmental input by rote experience was capitalized upon by generations of monks, who as children themselves, were vessels storing vintages of chant, and ultimately transmitters of the continued progression of the repertoire necessary to celebrate the hours of each day, and each week.
After coming home from NOLA, one of my fellow teachers at our parish school who is also our accompanist for our Friday school Masses, as well as for weekend liturgies relayed to me that, as I was absent for our Friday Mass that week, the celebrant had his wires crossed, and recited the Kyrie, and as it was the feast of St. John Neumann looked over to her to initiate the singing of a Gloria, which is normally not part of the school’s repertoire.
In my mind I instantly linked that need to what Mahrt had said about the capacity of young children to easily learn, and decided to teach the ICEL MR3 Glory to God chant to the entire student body in one week. This was certainly not their first experience with learning chant. That’s been part of the curriculum for years. But this was a matter of intent and purpose from my perspective. I even created a score for our Bell Choir, knowing it would take them longer, as they are the 8th grade, outside of the “sponge” maxim.
The second week back, I prepared the school Liturgy of the Word for today on Monday, and having explained the “why” of singing the Gloria on the feast day of a saint during the previous week, was further motivated by knowing we would celebrate the life and sainthood of St. Agnes at the week’s end. So, refinement and practice, along with context was heavily accentuated in this week’s classes.
So, all I want to share is that likely for the first time in decades, students from our parochial school prayed, not performed, the Glory to God in the unique language of chant. I had provided all with half-sheet scores, but I know they could have sung the new translation even without them, and will likely do so next time around. They sang earnestly, some imperfectly, but most of them in a very solid, tuned unison. They phrased knowingly, keeping the text moving effortlessly and cadencing at full bars through listening together.

This is not about verifying Dr. Mahrt’s cognitive theories of learning modalities, or my ability as a teacher, or their ability to acquire a fairly formulaic setting. This was about their understanding, from the adolescents down to the primary first grade level, that this is how we best pray and praise God. It is not at all like some of their favorite songs or hymns, or akin to the “hiccup” style of recitation of the Lord’s Prayer or the Pledge of Allegiance. I felt the joy of the angels as my baritone flowed with their treble purity. And they know that the Gloria was a hymn given us by the angel choirs upon His birth, and a foretaste of unheard-of musics that attend our singing praise to our Creator and Father in the heavenly Kingdom.

I don’t think I want to think in terms of bricks anymore. Child by child, no matter what their age. Yeah, that works.
Posted on by Mr. C

And Now For Something Completely Different!

I received an email advert from The Liturgical Press touting a number of new releases. One one these, a short (184 pages) treatise entitled “Rock-a My Soul” was featured, though it won’t be released in book form or online until February 1. Now, in the interest of full disclosure, I have purchased an online version which contains an acknowledgement section and the author’s introduction. I perused the introduction, but I won’t reproduce any of that here, as the book is not formally “out.” However, the following was gleaned from existing reviews, from the publisher and a prominent review agency.

Why mention this at Chant Cafe? Well, as I chatted with Dr. Mahrt on the way back from NOLA, when one hears anecdotes about what actually goes on musically or otherwise at St. Perpetual Motion, the stark reality of just how far from center our philosophies and practices can stray from one another is breath-taking.
For your consideration:

Rock a My Soul
David Nantais is the director of campus ministry at the University of Detroit Mercy. He lives in Detroit, Michigan, with his wife Carrie and son Liam. Dave, a former seminarian in the Society of Jesus, has played drums in several rock bands for over twenty years and has attended over 150 rock shows since 1986.
“David Nantais is, hands down, one of the best young writers on Christian spirituality: inviting, inventive, and insightful. In Rock-a My Soul, he offers a fascinating look at how rock music, often thought to be a threat to faith, can actually support and nourish one’s spiritual life. If you’re a music fan, Nantais, a rock musician himself, will show you how the music you love can draw you closer to God. If you’re a believer, Nantais will serve as an experienced guide to modes of experiencing God that you might never have considered. And if you’re a music fan and a believer, well, then this book will, as the band said, rock you.”–James Martin, SJ – Author of The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything

…the review from “Publisher’s Weekly”

“A tension between the worldly and the spiritual has existed in “rock ‘n’ roll” since its foundations in African-American spirituals, gospel, and blues music. But for Catholic drummer (and PW reviewer) Nantais, the very music often feared by religious folk has served as both balm and outlet to help him understand God. In this short, first-person musing, Nantais argues that “theology can be done through music,” encouraging Christians to see “rock ‘n’ roll”as a “mode of theological expression.” Setting aside contemporary Christian music (which he says is not the only way to marry rock and religion), he argues that mainstream rock has many virtues: community building and transcendent elements, meditative qualities, expression of emotion. Nantais admits to some less edifying aspects of rock (e.g., segregated crowds at rock music venues, ties to consumerism). He also chooses not to address a major sticking point for some–offensive lyrics–and so may not be able to convince every reader of rock’s merits. Despite that, his enthusiasm for mix tapes and chord progressions is infectious. Christians will learn to find God in a rock concert, and lovers of all things drum and guitar will find spiritual validation.”
…the advert review from The Liturgical Press

“Rock music and organized religion have suffered a tense relationship for over sixty years. Rockers accuse religious people of being too rigid and irrelevant. People of faith have labeled rock “the devil’s music” and say that nothing good can come of it. But what if both of these groups are wrong? What if rock music can actually aid one’s religious faith and spiritual life?
Few styles of music engage the human body as much as rock and roll. From toe tapping to air guitar, listening to rock music, like religious ritual, requires attention to the present moment and can help the listener (or believer) reclaim a sense of identity as a creature of God. In addition, several social causes include both rockers and religious advocates. During some of the most tumultuous times the world has experienced, both groups have given succor and hope to millions. No matter what side of the religion/rock debate you are on, perhaps it is time to bury the hatchet (or pick up your axe!) and start rocking your religion!”

I remember thinking back around 1976, after about five years of being a parish choir director that “Whoa, wouldn’t it be righteous to be able to do music that sounds like BOSTON or TOTO at Mass. More than 30 years later, I can reflect that I simply mixed my desire to perform, innovate, inflict my enthusiasm via the megawattage of effects-pedal power and volume, and ultimately my ego upon a captive audience, sincerely believing the whole while that they’d get it or come around because I was ever so sincere!
I won’t comment further, because I believe I ought to read the book when it shows up on my laptop.
But another reality is also worth pondering. How did the editors at The Liturgical Press come to agree this was a serious enterprise to ponder for RC musicians and pastors?

Posted on by Mr. C

Winter Chant Intensive NOLA 2011 – A View from Upstairs…

The following is an article written by my wife, Wendy.
As tomorrow’s date includes the celebration of our wedding anniversary, I would like to take a moment to encourage all of us who assist the Faithful with their musical worship to also celebrate and honor our spouses and partners in life who generally do the “both/and” tasks of supporting us with our domestic and family concerns as well as often directly bolstering our musical enterprises with their amazing talents.

Many readers are familiar with my husband, Charles, who spends time with his colleagues here in the Chant Café discussing, with devotion, our Holy Mother Church and her liturgy. I am an estate administration paralegal by profession but have had the joy of working beside my husband in the ministry of pastoral music since 1974.

This year, after attending two Colloquium and listening to Charles’ experience at Chant Intensive in San Diego two years ago, I decided to join the many others this past week in New Orleans in the Beginning chant seminar offered by Scott Turkington. Approaching the seminar facility – a two story building nestled in the courtyard behind the rectory of St. Patrick’s Catholic Church, it seemed only fitting that those of us beginning our study of chant, its history and performance, its prayer, ascended two flights of stairs to spend a week learning from our instructor and, often, being supported from below by the strains of chant melody sung by the Advanced seminar members led by Dr. William Mahrt (Charles included…). The week passed in that manner…ascending to learn, descending to reflect and to join with the other seminar attendees to share experiences and, finally, to sing at the solemn celebration of the Mass for Epiphany with Benediction and Exposition of the Blessed Sacrament. What a glorious week!

Our beginning group gathered from Canada to California, Minnesota to New Mexico, and was made up of professional directors and brand new volunteer directors seeking tools to use in locating repertoire and teaching their choirs; cantors and choir members (new members and experienced members); seminarians, deacons and priests, all there to invest themselves in the beauty of chant as clergy; together with new Catholics without musical backgrounds seeking the beauty of their new faith in the ancient chant of the Church…all of us, together, hoping to gain an understanding of the neumes and nuances of modes and the ictus, propers and ordinaries, solfeggio and lonely punctums, psalm tones and chironomy…word accents…all elements illuminated through Scott’s expertise and dedication.

Ascending those stairs for each session brought all of us into the presence of a master teacher…Scott saw each of us at our ability level and need and was able, in a room of 35-40 individuals, to gather us into the one voice of the chant melody with care and confidence, humor (“Oh…listen to the semiologists downstairs…” Scott would quip) and challenges! Each aspect of chant study was accompanied by authoritative references to Solemnes masters and historical writings, anecdotes offered by Scott from his personal experience of Gregorian chant study and his own writings which informed the instruction along the way. Scott conducted through our stumblings and rejoiced in our successes as we learned Mass IX, the Introit and Communion antiphon for Epiphany, the Te Deum Laudamus and other chants for the Friday celebrations.

Our Beginning seminar, now a familiar ensemble, descended the steps of St. Patrick’s last Friday to take up our journeys with and through Gregorian chant in our own communities. For my part, I have given up Sudoku to spend time with a pencil (with eraser!), my PBC (Parish Book of Chant) and Gregorian Missal, and the rules of chant worksheets now rough-edged and worn. There with me, as I pour over the 2s and 3s and liquescents, is Scott with his smile, lifted palate and pitch to voice the Great Song at the heart of our worship. Deo gratias!

Thank you, Scott, for everything. See you, and hopefully many of our Beginning seminar members, at Colloquium in Pittsburgh!

PS from Charles:

The blue skies above the Gothic beauty of St. Patrick’s, the Pro-Cathedral of New Orleans, attest to the notion of recovery and clarity, after tumult and devastation, both things that our liturgy and NOLA/Gulf States residents have experienced accutely over the last number of years. But as is stated in Chant Café’s mission statement excerpted from St. Augustine, “singing is for those who love.”
Happy Anniversary, my beloved Wendy.
Posted on by Mr. C

I Love My Choirs

We’ve had quite a week out here in the Central Valley of California. Not everyone would regard our once parched and now deluged farmlands as having been the result of “rorate caeli,” but I tend to see His handiwork in all things. At our parish, from a week ago to now as I type, the students of our parochial school performed the annual Christmas Musical twice, our Festival Choir presented a concert “commissioned” by our pastor to commemorate the 150th anniversary of our parish, and we had one helluva rollicking final rehearsal last night before tomorrow night’s Midnight Mass.

And, as it should always be, the magic of what choirs are and do, was omnipresent in last night’s rehearsal which prompts me to post this reflection. The fulfillment and joy of what choirs do at performance testifies to the beauty and grace of God’s creation and creatures and that it is offered back to Him in the form of a gift to His people is a most natural endeavor. But, who we really are is the essence of rehearsal, a pilgrim band.

For my friend RedCat I will try to keep this as direct and concise as how one lovingly strokes the downy spine of a beloved pet. (Spoiler! I fail miserably at the attempt.)

I love the kids I teach. They seem to love me. (I know they actually do love me, but I’m wired to wonder why and how that happens?) The wee ones, my youngest grandson in Pre-K among them, singing Appalachian carols like “Hurry On,” “Dear Little Stranger,” and “I Wonder as I Wander” with precision and abandon holding hands! There is no rose of such virtue. The elementary grades carrying the heavy water of singing the musical numbers in two parts while the middle school kids, especially the boys, whose voices are all over the map, give more than credible and sometimes tenderly resigned efforts. Make no mistake, they sing as a choir, in tune, legato, not English boychoir blend, but blended pleasingly to the ear.

I’ve heard plenty of school “choirs” over the last two decades where not a shred of melody could be found in the tattersall mess, and my kids ain’t one of those choirs. And then, we have my 8th grade Bell Choir kids- with precious little rehearsal time amongst their fall semester duties, undaunted by a new arrangement (mine) of the Ukranian Bell Carol, getting those running eighth note scales which none of their predecessors could aspire to master. These young men and women tortured me as sixth/seventh grade Einsteins/Lady GaGas, and this year, with Malmarks in hand, they don’t ever want the weekly bell rehearsal to end. They sigh “Just one more time, Mr. C” like a mantra every week.

Then there are our schola/ensemble singers who come together for Festival Choir concerts and Midnight Mass. Many of them go back 17 years with Wendy and I, and some pre-date our taking direction of the programs at the parish. They have put up with me and my perfectionist tendencies (that’s stating the case lightly, actually) week after week, year after year. We’ve read and sung the gamut lo these many seasons. This year, with the kind help of MOC and DS (two fine musicologists over at MSF) we took upon the task of honoring civil war and Victorian era American composers’ works. Composers such as Albert RoSewig, whose work was later disavowed (understandably, truth be told) by another Philadelphian, Nicolai Montani. And portions of a classical Mass by J. Cummings Peters that had all too brief moments of brilliance amid many more measures of warmed over Hadyn or Schubert. I added villancicos (as opposed to the Serra Mission hymns along the coastal El Camino Real) and Mexican carols that were so idiosyncratic as they were compelling in beauty and rhythm! The concert was a success.

But I love my choir ever more so after last night’s rehearsal for Christmas Mass. Some of them mentioned their disinclination to repeat the “antique” concert before Midnight Mass and I concurred. So I had gone back and reviewed past programs and pulled out folders of Marenzio, Praetorius, Holst, different versions of the plainsong “Puer natus..” and so forth, and we gleefully read through each of them heartily, with mirth and occasional mischief. And under the enamored and forgiving ear and eye of the Big Elf, democracy ruled the roost and we declared ourselves ready for Christmas! I love my choirs. I don’t wonder after so many years of wandering why we can confidently navigate Marenzio’s “Hodie…” after two or three sing-throughs.

Oh, I do rehearse any blemishes, rest assured. But they’ve become so few and far between after so long. After all, Luca and Michael and Gustav are fast friends whom we don’t visit often enough. And when they show up, we hug them as if they were “engeleinen mit eselein.” And at night’s end, one of my altos who’s resistence to square notes is well documented, offered up that she was glad we chose the plainsong version of “Puer natus…” with the broadest smile of one who’s surprised herself with that realization!

One of our number is a young person, who should be a senior in high school. She was in the 8th grade my first year at the parochial school after public school retirement. She was the brightest and the best of that class. In her frosh year, something neurologically devastating attacked her brain and whole person. Her condition was dire enough to require months of hospitalization at one of our premier university’s medical centers. Constant and profound prayers from our whole school and parish community also attended many different diagnoses and medical regimens over, at least, a year’s time. She stable-ized sufficiently to return home to her family, but her world seems forever changed. But she always loved to sing and we brought her into the parish music program to be a home and haven. This precious child of God might never return to whatever constitutes a normal life. We witnessed another former student undergo a similar malady roughly during the same period who has recovered fully. But, this beautiful, angelic-smiled girl takes her place next to Wendy and gives her all week after week. That (Dr. Dawkins and Mr. Hitchens) is my proof of a loving God.

I write this partially as an antidote to the now polluted discussions at our sister blog forum, at Pray Tell and Catholic Sensibility over what could have presented a golden opportunity for us to collaborate and push through our entrenched ideologies and biases. What was that all about anyway? An assemblage of words, sounds, phonemes intended to honor the Mother of God? And we, pastors and leaders of our own flocks, slavishly held onto our own precious staffs and territories, and collaboration, not to mention peace and harmony disintegrated and the scaffolding for a possible tapestry of joy was literally dismantled.

But, I primarily write this to remind myself that none of what we conjure and consume here, there and everywhere in our encamped blogs, no primer, no Kyriale, no historical tome, no new hymn, no old hymn, nothing that we can express with these alphabetical symbols, is greater than love.

We know how Jesus responded to the interrogation of the Pharisees, who intended to tongue tie the Lord of Lords by asking Him to qualify and quantify the commands of God. And I do love God above all else. But didn’t my Lord deliver one kick-butt rejoinder to their prideful arrogance?

Love one another….as

“Cantare amantis est.”

And in that spirit, I’ll finish with a great axiom by the bard Stephen Stills: “If you can’t be with the One you love, love the one you’re with, love the one you’re with.“

Posted on by Mr. C

Short Review of the Big Three

I have sinusitus…and a sore throat. I’m not singing at a dress rehearsal for the Rutter “MAGNIFICAT” among 150 other singers tonight. What to do….what to do?
I know! Let’s visit the Big Three and do a “meet and greet” with their newly proffered preview Ordinaries (well, to be honest, the segments that each decided would put the best foot forward) which they anticipate and have obviously banked upon as their thoroughbreds when first we take up the Holy in Advent I, ’11 and the Gloria at either Guadalupe or Christmas Vigil thereafter.

Yes, I pushed “play” for each “newly composed” setting movement from each of  the OCP/GIA/WLP preview pages. And I listened with a purpose founded upon hope. Alas, it was somewhat like Hannibal Lecter commanding Clarice Starling to “Thrill me with your acumen.”

So, this might be the shortest post for CC I’ve ever written. And so it should be. Out of all twenty or so new settings that I, the bait fish, actually looked for the hook, there was nothing but Popeil Pocket Fisherman implements, compositionally speaking. Pale, as advertized on TV clever amusements. Not gonna name names here. I respect all of these folk for their effort and tenures of service. But, not but one setting, to this reviewer, contained a baker’s dozen of thought-through innovation and invention that would capture the attention of both musicians and congregations sufficiently enough to compel them to desire repeating the experience the next Sunday.

So, before I unleash this heresy upon you, I ask you to consider stepping outside of the comfort zone of the WIZARD OF OZ’s pleas and pitches, and consider: the chants for crying out loud to heaven on high! If you ignored JUBILATE DEO, then, out of penance alone, obligate yourself to programming, teaching and, of most difficulty, selling the ICEL chant ordinary. If you long for more, then do some homework, and if you are gifted or know someone who is, compose a worthy setting that either celebrates chant in an obvious, unique and artful manner, or is otherwise worthy of more consideration than a Tinker Toy or Lego formulated setting.

The Heresy: the only major publisher Mass setting excerpts that I thought measured up to those minimal standards- “MASS FOR A NEW WORLD,” David Haas.

I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what else to say.

I suppose I’ll have to pass this on to my unrepentent youth ensembles….David Haas……God bless ‘im.
Posted on by Mr. C

Confluence

As Wendy and I were preparing to leave for Masses this morning, I tapped my charging Iphone and saw a text from our vicar informing us that our bishop, Excellency John T. Steinbock, passed peacefully away in his sleep this morning at St. Agnes ICU surrounded by family at 3:15am.

Out here, most of us with access to parish offices and rectories knew that bishop had not much time left in the valley, and to him that time wouldn’t necessarily be precious. But, as with most such communiques in my experience, the stark letters forming words on the screen came as an unwelcome, unexpected disruption to the plan for the day, the mundane or exorbitant.

I had, more out of convenience than thought, programmed “Jerusalem surge” for the Communio instead of a Rice choral setting. The Introit was a “Rice.” Arriving at the church, assembling materials in the sacristy as the first Mass was concluding, I planned to tell the celebrant that we would not sing the Introit (for habitual readers, that functions more as a prelude) and sing L/W’s “Pie Jesu” in its stead as an actual prelude. The pastor was the celebrant for the early Mass, and our youngest vicar was the upcoming celebrant. Coincidentally, the vicar had casually asked me at a staff meeting last Friday if I “liked” Lloyd-Webber’s setting. He’s a Missioner of Charity and I sometimes don’t know if his questions are loaded with agenda or not (which I love about him.) I truthfully replied “yes,” though I liked other settings more. He said, in response, that he thought it beautiful. I, at that moment, didn’t connect any dots.

After chanting the antiphon of the Introit “Requiem aeternam” after a brief announcement by the vicar that the bishop had passed, Mass began with the “In Nomine…”

The vicar’s homily was about his experiences in Calcutta with some castaway untouchable adolescents, both mentally and physically handicapped. The one whose utterances were garbled gibberish was so filled with joy that overwhelmed our vicar back then. And the other interpreted those utterances with a precision, and exactitude that was demonstrable and inexplicable. Obviously, our vicar never forgot that reality. He then was moved to tears. I, sitting in the choir, was fighting the impulse.

When Communion was upon us, I began the chant of “Jerusalem surge.” Three years ago I had used Finale to transcribe the chant for my schola’s ease, and I simply cut and pasted that version onto their Order of Music sheets out of convenience. We have sung chant longer than just three years together, and the schola watches and reacts to the slightest gesture of my conducting, so the antiphon was as vibrant as the ordinaries we chant regularly.

What I experienced for the first time today, and I knew that a conversion within me was happening during Father’s homily, was that the intelligibility of gregorian neumes finally blossomed within me, and then as I chanted the verses from Rice’s Communio. A few weeks ago, when Jeffrey posted a 1956 primer at Musica Sacra, I had a ball chanting the examples, page by page, in that volume, with confidence. But at Communion today, “Mr. ChoirMaster” finally graduated into the joy of flying with the wings of square notes born by the winds of chant.
The Handel anthem we sang afterwards was, of itself, a joy as well.
But, I can only wish that each of my choristers could somehow, someway, suddenly be on the same page with myself and my beloved Wendy, who will become faster friends with neumes this January. What that would speak to, or portend, would be a true conversion to God’s will, and the mind of His Church.

My blog entry about Bishop John

Posted on by Mr. C

An investment in the future of responsorial psalms

When first I browsed through the Chabanel Psalm Project, I typically afforded it only the critic’s eye and ear. If I randomly listened to a setting by Arlene Oost-Zinner, Brian Michael Page or Jeffrey Ostrowski, that critic inside me simply measured value by wondering “Where are the hooks, or the melodic or harmonic nuances, or an over-all “style” that sets them apart from the standard?” The standard? Well, in most cases that would mean OCP’s “Respond and Acclaim” or WLP’s equivalent- the functional, durable vehicle that simply gets one from here to there. So, responsorials, to a veteran critic, are like a mid-size sedan. A Honda Accord, Toyota Camry, Nissan Altima, Chevy Malibu, Hyundai Sonata- they’ll all get you to and fro reliably.
Over the course of a few years, having read and listened to the wisdom and passionate discussion of our mentors such as William Mahrt about responsorial psalms and graduals, having heard absolutely majestic interpretations of psalm versicles by Mary Ann Carr Wilson, Ostrowski, and newly minted teen age soloisti scholas at colloquia, et cetera, I’ve come to realize “reliable” does not serve either the Word or the Faithful the full measure of beauty and justice both deserve within our liturgies. Though I would never deride the venerable Owen Alstott for providing a serviceable body of psalm settings in R&A, settings such as “This is the day the Lord has made…” or “Lord, send out your Spirit, and renew….” seem clearly to be too convenient, especially after decades of use. Make no mistake, many people, both lay and cleric, adhere to this ethos of convenience strongly and with good-hearted intent. But, with the significant turning point of a revised Roman Missal soon to be upon us in the U.S. (it is upon the Kiwi’s this very day, as Adam Bartlett celebrates) it is time to consider whether convenience should be the sole determinant when choosing psalm settings?

I’m going to dispose of one consideration up front: should a responsorial function equally well accompanied or a capella? Well, yes, obviously. But though either of the Alstott examples above can “succeed” without accompaniment, I wonder if their value is diminished by maintaining a strict rhythmic performance? I think yes, that was a built-in factor and intent. Were I to have the occasion to lead a capella Alstott settings, I’d likely enchant the melodies away from their noted value for declamation’s sake alone. In addition, there remains a mandate that calls musicians towards “chant” in the first place. So, do you “chantify” a song-like setting, or opt for a setting whose intent was centered within the chant ideal from the incept?

Let’s take a look and listen to Jeffrey Ostrowski’s setting of Psalm 24 for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, the promotion selection accompanying the debut of the printed volume Psalter: “Let the Lord enter; He is the King of Glory.”

There ought not be any contention over whether the melody, either in neumes or notes, is inspired by the principles of chant. This melody, to my eyes and ears, compliments the text in subtle and graceful movement- “Let the Lord enter…” rises as if the command were accompanied by the motion of a hand extended in invitation, with the slightest of repose at the “enter” with the upper neighbor tone on the first syllable descending a minor third. And even though whether one would argue that the melody (with accompaniment) employs a tonal center or not (I think not,) the F# mid-cadence does seem to function in a 7-1 manner that leads to and moves directly into the antecedent phrase “He is the King of Glory.” And the same note, F#, functioning as the third of the cadential D Major chord, is approached from below and is no longer transitory but stable.
Harmonically, Jeff Ostrowski uses self-described walking bass lines in the response, which isn’t uncommon in metrical settings, but he sketches the pedal lines in such a way as to keep the voice and ear anchored away from strict meter. And I love how he establishes cadential stability with a chord in first inversion in the accompaniment. No wonder Barber shoppers call that ending chord “the sweet chord.” He also doesn’t venture too far into choral ambiguity. He uses minor and major seventh chords with discretion, and as an integral coloration within the melodic and bass note foundations.
I also love how his verse settings allow the Psalmist to apply as much “bel canto” to the text as might be desired.

So, I’m going to invest much more personal interest in folding the Chabanel settings into our parish Masses here in Central California. We’ll use them in two specific Masses, the Vigil where Wendy and I cantor and accompany ourselves and the Sunday morning schola Mass, and we’ll hopefully enable those two congregations to experience more chanted opportunities other than portions of the ordinaries, and specific propers, sequences and hymns.