#news just in i have been listening to good king wenceslas on repeat for three whole days bc i am SICK of work's christmas music

[i-am-become-a-name]

Prompt - December 4th. Good King Wenceslas.

The wind was howling a lament through the trees above them, but the small hollow they’d tucked themselves into was dry, even if Ace’s hands still ached from the cold. Camping, the Doctor had said. Bloody well camping. Well this was nothing like skiving off with her friends back home, campfires, charring sausages over the fire, being stupid with no adults around to be boring and sensible. 

“C’mon, Professor, can’t we go back yet?” 

“No,” he informed her sternly, and pointed the end of his brolly at the pitiful pile of sticks she had scrounged up, “fire, please. My nose is starting to get a chill.” 

“Yeah, well maybe you can use that to keep the wind off,” she sniped back, and rubbed the sticks together again. Pointlessly. Her hand strayed towards the inner pocket of the jacket, but a pointed cough sent it back down. That would’ve made one hell of a bonfire, she thought mulishly, even if it would’ve blown their shelter sky high. Best place for it, and they could head back to the TARDIS where there was- was there heating? There were blankets anyway, and a kettle for tea.

Something white landed on the sticks in front of her. Then another, and snow was coming thick and fast, and any hope of lighting a fire with these stupid sticks was over. 

“Professor,” she groused, drawing it out, and he relented, propping the brolly behind her and releasing the catch to protect them from the weather. 

“Go on then,” he said, nodding at her pocket, and cast his eyes to the overhanging log that protected them in lieu of the sky as she triumphantly pulled out a lighter and scraps of paper. Old receipts, notes they’d left for each other at various points, handy little firestarters. She screwed them up, tucking them under the sticks, but the Doctor’s hand was lightening fast, snatching a piece back from the brink of destruction to smooth out and tuck back into her pocket. Nope. Mysterious nonsense, she was Not Going to Ask. Survival skills, meet disposable Bic lighter. Hah! At least her hands were warm now, and the brolly was protecting them from the worst of the bitter wind.

“What was the plan next?” and the Doctor screwed up his face. “Campfire songs?” she suggested, grinning. “Stop me if you know this one.” She opened her mouth as if to sing, but was immediately silenced by- pastry? She bit down, and yeah, a croissant. Huh, with chocolate. 

In her distraction, the Doctor had conjured up a cake tray. Tiered and all, like they were having a posh afternoon tea in the middle of the woods in a snowstorm. He hadn’t even brought a bag! Bloody Time Lords. She crossed her eyes, and picked a piece of lint off the end of her croissant. That explained something, she guessed, and her eyes went blurry as she focused back on the Doctor, who was pulling out a teapot so comically out of size compared to his jacket pocket, spout already steaming. 

“An’ yoo ma’muse icks?” she complained through the pastry, ignoring the chiding look at her lack of manners. 

“I won’t always be around to play Prometheus for you, Ace,” and there was a brief old sadness to his voice, before he started patting his pockets, making tutting noises, before he pulled his hat off, and pulled two teacups out of the crown, wiping them out with the end of his scarf. 

He poured hers first, leaning around the side of her cheerily blazing fire to pass it over, and she supposed she could manage without milk or sugar. So long as he passed over one of the muffins off the stand too, and her hopeful eyes bore fruit as he sighed, passing it over balanced on top of his hat. 

There were no sausages, no being silly with her old mates, but when she stretched her legs out to press her boots against the side of the Doctor’s trousers, he didn’t shift away, and it wasn’t too long till dawn when they could get back to the TARDIS. Her jacket clinked reassuringly when she moved, and she hoped she’d be allowed to break camp. Camp would go flying, she promised, as a stray snowflake caught the back of her neck.

#fic #advent fic #seven #ace #news just in i have been listening to good king wenceslas on repeat for three whole days bc i am SICK of work's christmas music #also. also. the pulling out a full tea set? that is from my absolute favourite piece of totally straight comedy. The Avengers Town of No #Return - on the train Steed takes a tiered pastry stand. a boiling kettle (?) and a teapot out of his tiny travelling bag and makes himself #and Emma Peel a classy afternoon tea. I laughed so hard I cried the first time i watched it. impeccable. amazing television. #anyway seven definitely would #also shhhhhh i think i've posted these about half midnight on the day after every single time but hey. still posting them. so far. #this one is even new. not just from my notebook like the sea and narvin.

[autodidact-adventures]

Music History (Part 12): Secular Music & Christmas Carols

Many of Josquin's secular songs were also unhappy.  His most well-known song was Mille regretz (A thousand regrets), in which the singer is regretful and self-pitying at having abandoned his beloved.  Sad love songs were common all over Europe, and the advent of music printing helped to spread them widely.

The first piece of printed music that we know of was a piece of plainsong, printed in 1476 by Ulrich Han, in Rome.  Around 1500, Ottaviano Petrucci (a Venetian printer) began publishing songbooks with movable type.  This sped up the dissemination of printed music throughout Europe, although it was expensive.

In England, the songs of the nobility and ordinary people had much the same themes (as do songs today) – the great difficulties of courting, and nature (which was used to describe the difficulties of courting).  The most popular love songs of the Tudor period (1485-1603) were That was my woe; Woefully arrayed; Absent I am; Adew, adew, my hartis lust; I love unloved; and I love, loved, and loved wolde I be.

Not all secular songs were sad, though.  Pastyme with good compayne (by Henry VIII) was a popular favourite.  Others were Hey Trolly Lolly Lo!; Hoyda Hoyda; Jolly Rutterkin; Mannerly Margery; Milk and Ale; and Be Peace! Ye Make Me Spill My Ale!

It's often believed that Henry VIII wrote Greensleeves, but this is unlikely – it probably became well-known in England long after he died.  A more likely author was the composer-poet William Cornysh (1465-1523).  He wrote regularly for Henry VIII's court and strange occasions, and one of his most well-known works is Field of the Cloth of Gold (1520), a strange mixture of fashion & politics.  His other songs have similar chord usage as Greensleeves, and have the same plaintive air.  His most famous song was Ah, Robyn, Gentle Robyn, in which the singer asks a robin for advice on the faithfulness of women.

Church music, on the other hand, was not so cheerful.  Before the Reformation, the singing was mostly done by the choirs & priests; the congregation were expected to repeatedly ask forgiveness, while listening to music on the same theme.  The exception to this was the Christmas carol, and it would have a significant influence on the development of melody & communal music-making in Europe.

The first printed collection of Christmas carols was in 1521, printed by Wynkyn de Worde (William Caxton's apprentice & successor). There was a strong increase in carol composition around in northern Europe around this time, inspired partially by an earlier Italian tradition of lauda (meaning “praises”) or cantiones (meaning “songs”) – tuneful sacred songs that welcomed the Christ-child's birth, and were written for the whole community, including the peasants.  They were written around the same time as the concept of the model manger, which Franciscan friars had thought of in an attempt to get the local shepherds down from the hills and into church.

Dancing songs were another origin of the Christmas carol – in fact, the word “carol” comes from the Ancient Greek choros and Latin choraula/caraula (a circling, singing dance).  Other influences were the pagan celebration of the winter solstice; and some fragments of Advent plainsong.  The northern European carols Personent hodie and Gaudete have their origins in earlier plainchant melodies, and so does Good King Wenceslas.

In dulci jubilo was a very popular carol in the 1400's & early 1500's.  It had a catchy melody, and also two of the distinctive elements of early Christmas carols – 1) a burden or refrain, where it repeats the final line “Oh that we were there, Oh that we were there”; 2) the mixing of Latin with English (or the language of the country it was written in).  This language-mixing was very popular in the 1400's & 1500's, and these lyrics are called macaronic lyrics. (The term macaronic may come from the Italian maccare, meaning “to crush/knead.  The word macaroon, a sweet cake made from crushed almonds, also derives from that verb.)

In countries that had a very cold winter, two non-Christian elements got mixed into carols.  The first was the pagan celebration of the winter & spring solstices, such as in The Holly and the Ivy, which is almost entirely pagan – evergreen shrubs, bark, blossom, horns, berries, the rising of the sun, the running of the deer – only the grafted-in line “and Mary bore Sweet Jesus Christ to be our sweet Saviour” is Christian.

The other non-Christian element was seasonal binge-drinking.  Wassailing (Anglo-Saxon for “saying cheers”) runs through many Christmas carols, such as the early Tudor carol Bryng us in good ale:

Bryng us in good ale, and bryng us in good ale;

Fore owr blyssyd Lady sak, bryng us in good ale.

Bryng us in no befe, for ther is many bonys,

But bryng us in good ale, for that goth downe at onys.

And bryng us in good ale.

Bryng us in no mutton, for that is often lene,

Nor bryng us in no trypys, for thei be syldom clene

But bryng us in good ale.

Bryng us in no eggys, for ther ar many schelles.

But bryng us in good ale, and gyfe us nothing ellys.

The song continues on, comparing various foods to ale and finding them lacking.  After the one line as lip-service to “Our Lady”, it's basically a drinking song.  During the Tudor era, carols about food, drink were very common, surpassed in popularity only by the Victorian era.

The Boar's Head Carol is a once-popular Victorian carol, which actually began as a tribute to an excessively gluttonous banquet at an Oxford college.  Its focus eventually shifted onto the Nativity, comparing Christ's later crucifixion to a wild boar on a spit.

It was quite common for carols to anticipate the Crucifixion.  Those that weren't thinly-disguised drinking songs, or pagan descriptions of forests, tended to focus on the fact that the baby Jesus was eventually going to die a terrible death for mankind's sins.  This trend suggests that Christmas and Passiontide (Easter) songs may have once been linked – the Coventry Carol, for example, is a Christmas lullaby that originated in a Passiontide “Mystery” Play, performed during Holy Week.

While the Christmas carol was gaining popularity, a change in choral texture was taking place.  The tune was shifting to the top voice.

Around 900 BC, monks had begun adding new parts with different notes (rather than just paralleling the main part a certain octave apart) to plainsong tunes, thus beginning the journey towards polyphony. Between 900-1500, two voices became three and then four, and the melody stayed where it was pitch-wise – and because all these new parts had been added, it was now in the middle of the texture.  This is why the top male part in a choir is called the tenor – it was the part that held the main tune, coming from the French tenir & Latin teneo.

The tune had begun to shift to the top voice in some songs during the 1400's, but it was during the 1500's that it became the norm, especially in choral music.  The only European vocal genre that still has the tune in the middle is in barbershop quartets, where the 2nd-highest voice usually sings it.

There were two main reasons for this shift.  The popularity of love songs created a demand for songs that were memorable, which wasn't as possible if the tune was hidden inside the texture.  Second, singing was becoming less constrained by the 3-part/4-part structure. Polyphonic singing was still a popular pastime among the nobility, it is true, but a new generation of singers was growing up, who had learned to accompany themselves to sing solo songs.  At this time, there were a number of instruments to choose from, as new instruments, and improved variations upon old ones, were arriving on the scene.

#book: the story of music #music #music history #history #josquin des prez #ulrich han #ottaviano petrucci #henry viii #william cornysh #wynkyn de worde #william caxton #mille regretz #greensleeves #bryng us in good ale #the boar's head carol #christianity #catholicism #christmas carols #barbershop singing