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Madison
            Symphony Orchestra Program Notes
December
            2-3-4, 2022
97th
            Season / Subscription Program 4
J.
            Michael Allsen
            
          
Welcome to A
            Madison Symphony Christmas! As always, this concert is a
            rich and varied feast of music for the season, ranging from
            serious to lighthearted, and from classical works to popular
            holiday favorites.  We
            welcome a pair of fine vocal soloists: Madison favorite,
            mezzo-soprano Adriana Zabala, and baritone Nate
              Stampley, a UW–Madison grad and Broadway star. The Madison
              Symphony Chorus is joined by two community choirs: groups
              from the Madison Youth Choirs and the Mt. Zion Gospel
              Choir. We also feature soloists from the orchestra:
              flutist Stephanie Jutt, violinist Suzanne Beia, and our
              new principal oboist, Izumi Amemiya. And as always, after
              a rousing Gospel finale, you get a chance
              to join in.
 The music
            of John Rutter (b.
            1945) is nearly always part of our holiday concerts, and
            here we begin with his setting of the Christmas hymn that
            has the most ancient roots of all, O Come, O Come
                Immanuel. This hymn has its origins in the
            series of “O antiphons” (O sapientia, O radix Jesse, and several
            others) that were chanted as early as the 8th century at
            Vespers on the days leading up to Christmas—each one
            invoking an aspect of Jesus. In 1851, an English clergyman,
            John Mason Neale,
            adapted these ancient texts as an English poem, O Come, O Come Emmanuel
            and it was then set to the melody of a 15th-century
            plainchant hymn, Veni,
              Veni Emmanuel. Rutter’s arrangement is straightforward
            and effective, beginning with an unadorned version of the
            hymn in its beautiful simplicity.
The music
            of John Rutter (b.
            1945) is nearly always part of our holiday concerts, and
            here we begin with his setting of the Christmas hymn that
            has the most ancient roots of all, O Come, O Come
                Immanuel. This hymn has its origins in the
            series of “O antiphons” (O sapientia, O radix Jesse, and several
            others) that were chanted as early as the 8th century at
            Vespers on the days leading up to Christmas—each one
            invoking an aspect of Jesus. In 1851, an English clergyman,
            John Mason Neale,
            adapted these ancient texts as an English poem, O Come, O Come Emmanuel
            and it was then set to the melody of a 15th-century
            plainchant hymn, Veni,
              Veni Emmanuel. Rutter’s arrangement is straightforward
            and effective, beginning with an unadorned version of the
            hymn in its beautiful simplicity.
In
            1717 George
              Friderick Handel (1685-1759) moved to England to
            compose and produce opera. For nearly two decades, Handel
            was the most successful impresario in England, but by the
            1730s, Handel’s Italian opera had gone out of fashion, and
            he turned increasingly to the English oratorio. His
            oratorios—dramatic renderings of Biblical stories familiar
            to his English audiences—were enormously successful, and
            their popularity endured and grew long after Handel’s death.
            Messiah,
            composed in 1741 is, of course, Handel’s most enduring
            “hit,” but it is somewhat unusual among his oratorios in
            that his text is a pastiche of direct quotes from the St.
            James version of the Bible. The chorus For Unto Us a Child
                is Born is drawn from Part I, a series of texts
            from the New Testament on Christ’s
            birth, and Old Testament prophecies—in this case a passage
            from the Book of Isaiah. Handel was never shy about
            recycling his own music, and in this case, borrowed nearly
            of the chorus’s music from an earlier secular cantata. The
            striking statements of “Wonderful” and “Counselor” were
            created anew for this chorus, however.
 Though Johann Sebastian Bach
            (1685-1750) spent
            most of career at the Thomaskiche in Leipzig, he seems to
            have spent some of the happiest years of his life at the
            court of Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cöthen. Bach served as Kapellmeister at
            Cöthen from 1717 until he left for Leipzig. Much of his
            composition at Cöthen was instrumental: chamber and
            orchestra, including most of the famous “Brandenburgs” and
            his orchestral suites. The prince maintained a small, but
            very skilled orchestra, including several fine soloists. The
            Concerto in C minor
                for Oboe and Violin, BWV 1060R was among the
            works written for the Cöthen orchestra. The violin part
            could have been intended for any one of a number of
            violinists at the court and the oboe part was probably
            written for Bach’s colleague Johann Ludwig Rose, who doubled
            as oboist in the orchestra and as the Prince’s private
            fencing instructor! No score for the concerto survives, but
            in around 1736, Bach rearranged the piece as a concerto for
            two harpsicords (BWV 1060). This version was intended for
            use by Bach’s Collegium
              musicum in Leipzig, a group of amateur and
            professional players that Bach directed throughout the
            1730s. The editors of the critical edition of Bach’s works
            used this keyboard version of the concerto to reconstruct
            the original version heard at this concert. Bach’s lyrical
            second movement Adagio
            is spacious enough to allow the two soloists to fully
            express an elegant theme. Their gracefully interweaving
            lines are set above a muted string background, until a short
            cadenza at the end.
Though Johann Sebastian Bach
            (1685-1750) spent
            most of career at the Thomaskiche in Leipzig, he seems to
            have spent some of the happiest years of his life at the
            court of Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cöthen. Bach served as Kapellmeister at
            Cöthen from 1717 until he left for Leipzig. Much of his
            composition at Cöthen was instrumental: chamber and
            orchestra, including most of the famous “Brandenburgs” and
            his orchestral suites. The prince maintained a small, but
            very skilled orchestra, including several fine soloists. The
            Concerto in C minor
                for Oboe and Violin, BWV 1060R was among the
            works written for the Cöthen orchestra. The violin part
            could have been intended for any one of a number of
            violinists at the court and the oboe part was probably
            written for Bach’s colleague Johann Ludwig Rose, who doubled
            as oboist in the orchestra and as the Prince’s private
            fencing instructor! No score for the concerto survives, but
            in around 1736, Bach rearranged the piece as a concerto for
            two harpsicords (BWV 1060). This version was intended for
            use by Bach’s Collegium
              musicum in Leipzig, a group of amateur and
            professional players that Bach directed throughout the
            1730s. The editors of the critical edition of Bach’s works
            used this keyboard version of the concerto to reconstruct
            the original version heard at this concert. Bach’s lyrical
            second movement Adagio
            is spacious enough to allow the two soloists to fully
            express an elegant theme. Their gracefully interweaving
            lines are set above a muted string background, until a short
            cadenza at the end. 
 Pietro
            Yon (1886-1943) was an organist and church composer.
          Born in Italy, Yon emigrated to New York City in 1907, where
          he held a series of prestigious posts, eventually serving as
          organist at St. Patrick’s cathedral from 1927 until his death.
          Yon was admired as a virtuoso performer, and composed dozens
          of works for the organ. His catalog of works also includes an
          oratorio, nearly two dozen masses, and many smaller choral and
          keyboard pieces, but his best-known composition by far is the
          Christmas song Gesů Bambino,
          composed in 1917. It is heard here in an arrangement for
          children’s choir and mezzo-soprano soloist. The next work is a
          feature for the younger voices of the Madison Youth Choirs. Mack Wilberg (b.1955), director of the famed Mormon
            Tabernacle Choir, wrote his One December Bright
                and Clear
            in 2001 for treble-voice choir. This work, a setting of
            words by David Warner, is a bright, folk-like melody that
            breaks joyfully into a round and then into full harmony.
Pietro
            Yon (1886-1943) was an organist and church composer.
          Born in Italy, Yon emigrated to New York City in 1907, where
          he held a series of prestigious posts, eventually serving as
          organist at St. Patrick’s cathedral from 1927 until his death.
          Yon was admired as a virtuoso performer, and composed dozens
          of works for the organ. His catalog of works also includes an
          oratorio, nearly two dozen masses, and many smaller choral and
          keyboard pieces, but his best-known composition by far is the
          Christmas song Gesů Bambino,
          composed in 1917. It is heard here in an arrangement for
          children’s choir and mezzo-soprano soloist. The next work is a
          feature for the younger voices of the Madison Youth Choirs. Mack Wilberg (b.1955), director of the famed Mormon
            Tabernacle Choir, wrote his One December Bright
                and Clear
            in 2001 for treble-voice choir. This work, a setting of
            words by David Warner, is a bright, folk-like melody that
            breaks joyfully into a round and then into full harmony. 
The hymn How Great Thou Art
          was originally written in Swedish in 1885, as O store Gud (O Great God) by Carl
          Boberg, and it was soon paired with a traditional Swedish
          melody. The familiar English lyrics were penned in 1949 by an
          English missionary, Stuart K. Hine. This grand arrangement by
          Dan Forrest begins with a forceful choral introduction before
          the tune enters, working its way to richly-harmonized final
          verse.
 One of the great
          ironies in the career of Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) is that this
          composer—a professed atheist for much of his life who later
          drifted into what his wife described as a “cheerful
          agnosticism”—seems so much to have embodied modern English sacred
            music. Beginning with his edition of The English Hymnal
            (1906), he composed a huge body of hymn tunes, anthems,
            Christmas carols, and larger sacred works. In his Magnificat,
            he turned to one of the most traditional of liturgical
            texts, one of the Biblical canticles (Luke 1: 46-55), sung
            here in English. This prayer, in the voice of Mary, is her
            response to the Annunciation that she had conceived a child
            by the Holy Spirit. The Magnificat was sung
            during the Vespers (Evensong) service in both the Catholic
            Church and the Church of England. Vaughan Williams’s Magnificat was
            composed for the mezzo-soprano Astra Desmond in 1932, and is
            among the most innovative settings of this text. He was
            careful to place a note in the score that his version “is
            not intended for liturgical use”—recognizing that both the
            spirit and the form of this work made it unsuitable for the
            staid ritual of the church. He wrote to his friend Gustav
            Holst that this was an effort to “lift the words out of the
            smug atmosphere which had settled on them after being sung
            at evening service for so long.” Here we have not merely a
            prayer, but a dramatic scene with three characters. While
            the soloist sings the canticle, a chorus of women plays the
            role of the Angel of the Annunciation, inserting new
            Biblical text. A third character appears in the guise of a
            solo flute, described by Vaughan Williams as “the
            disembodied visiting spirit”—that is, the spirit that enters
            Mary’s womb. The choral music of the Angel is ethereal
            throughout, while the flute’s line is unabashedly sensuous.
            Mary’s part is operatic in both its style and in its breadth
            of emotion, from her ecstatic opening phrase to the
            power—and even warlike anger—of the line “He hath shewed
            strength with his arm.” After a great moment of choral
            rapture on “and of his Kingdom there shall be no end,” the
            ending is quiet and understated, with a passionate duet
            between the soloist and flute, and a hushed prayer by the
            chorus.
One of the great
          ironies in the career of Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958) is that this
          composer—a professed atheist for much of his life who later
          drifted into what his wife described as a “cheerful
          agnosticism”—seems so much to have embodied modern English sacred
            music. Beginning with his edition of The English Hymnal
            (1906), he composed a huge body of hymn tunes, anthems,
            Christmas carols, and larger sacred works. In his Magnificat,
            he turned to one of the most traditional of liturgical
            texts, one of the Biblical canticles (Luke 1: 46-55), sung
            here in English. This prayer, in the voice of Mary, is her
            response to the Annunciation that she had conceived a child
            by the Holy Spirit. The Magnificat was sung
            during the Vespers (Evensong) service in both the Catholic
            Church and the Church of England. Vaughan Williams’s Magnificat was
            composed for the mezzo-soprano Astra Desmond in 1932, and is
            among the most innovative settings of this text. He was
            careful to place a note in the score that his version “is
            not intended for liturgical use”—recognizing that both the
            spirit and the form of this work made it unsuitable for the
            staid ritual of the church. He wrote to his friend Gustav
            Holst that this was an effort to “lift the words out of the
            smug atmosphere which had settled on them after being sung
            at evening service for so long.” Here we have not merely a
            prayer, but a dramatic scene with three characters. While
            the soloist sings the canticle, a chorus of women plays the
            role of the Angel of the Annunciation, inserting new
            Biblical text. A third character appears in the guise of a
            solo flute, described by Vaughan Williams as “the
            disembodied visiting spirit”—that is, the spirit that enters
            Mary’s womb. The choral music of the Angel is ethereal
            throughout, while the flute’s line is unabashedly sensuous.
            Mary’s part is operatic in both its style and in its breadth
            of emotion, from her ecstatic opening phrase to the
            power—and even warlike anger—of the line “He hath shewed
            strength with his arm.” After a great moment of choral
            rapture on “and of his Kingdom there shall be no end,” the
            ending is quiet and understated, with a passionate duet
            between the soloist and flute, and a hushed prayer by the
            chorus.
Though Antonín Dvořák (1841-1904)
          has most often been represented in Overture Hall by his
          orchestral works, he was also a prolific and sensitive choral
          composer throughout his career. Some of his choral
          works—particularly his great settings of Latin sacred texts:
          the Stabat Mater, Te Deum, Requiem, and the Mass in D Major—were
          tremendously popular in their time, and remain in the choral
          repertoire today. The Mass in D Major is
          his only surviving setting of the Latin Mass: he wrote and
          discarded a pair of masses as a young man, while still
          studying at the Prague Organ School, but the Mass in D Major was a
          mature work written by an accomplished and, by then,
          world-famous composer. Dvořák composed it in 1887 at the
          request of a wealthy Czech architect and patron, Josef Hlávka, for the
            consecration of a private chapel on Hlávka’s estate. This
            initial version was a small-scale work that reflected the
            resources Hlávka could provide: soloists, chorus, and organ.
          Dvořák’s
            London publisher Novello, published the work, but Novello
            almost immediately asked for a larger version. The version
            heard here, with orchestral accompaniment was completed in
            1893, and was premiered in London on March 11 of that year.
            The choral Gloria
            movement heard here sets the standard Latin text from the
            Mass. It begins with a—well—glorious choral fanfare on the ecstatic
            opening words. Dvořák’s setting heightens the
            changing meaning of the text, with a fugue leading to a more
            prayerful middle section with a simple organ accompaniment.
            This gradually leads to more exalted music and a rousing
            fugal coda on the words Cum sancto spiritu.
 As
            always, we return to Handel’s Messiah for the finale
            to our first half: the
            concluding Hallelujah
            chorus from Part II. This chorus,
            undoubtedly the single most famous work by Handel, has been
            a sensation since the first performance of Messiah in Dublin
            in 1742. 50 years later, while on tour in England, Joseph Haydn heard a festival performance of Messiah in May of
            1791, and was profoundly moved: bursting into tears during
            the Hallelujah
            chorus. (The experience was a primary inspiration for
            his own great oratorio, The Creation, of
            1798.) The chorus is heard today in contexts that
            Handel—tireless self-promoter though he was—never dreamed
            of: movies, TV ads and sitcoms, and in cover versions in
            styles ranging from gospel and jazz to rock, punk, and rap.
            The music is in no danger of becoming a mere cliché,
            however: it remains true to Handel’s original intent.
            Following the first performance of Messiah in London,
            the composer remarked: “My Lord, I should be sorry if I only
            entertained them. I wished to make them better.”
As
            always, we return to Handel’s Messiah for the finale
            to our first half: the
            concluding Hallelujah
            chorus from Part II. This chorus,
            undoubtedly the single most famous work by Handel, has been
            a sensation since the first performance of Messiah in Dublin
            in 1742. 50 years later, while on tour in England, Joseph Haydn heard a festival performance of Messiah in May of
            1791, and was profoundly moved: bursting into tears during
            the Hallelujah
            chorus. (The experience was a primary inspiration for
            his own great oratorio, The Creation, of
            1798.) The chorus is heard today in contexts that
            Handel—tireless self-promoter though he was—never dreamed
            of: movies, TV ads and sitcoms, and in cover versions in
            styles ranging from gospel and jazz to rock, punk, and rap.
            The music is in no danger of becoming a mere cliché,
            however: it remains true to Handel’s original intent.
            Following the first performance of Messiah in London,
            the composer remarked: “My Lord, I should be sorry if I only
            entertained them. I wished to make them better.”
Nicolai Rimsky-Korsakov
          (1844-1908) completed The Snow Maiden (Snegorouchka) in
          1881—one of innumerable Romantic operas based upon fairy
          tales. It retells the story from Russian folklore—by way of a
          popular 1873 play—of the love of the young fairy princess, the
          Snow Maiden, who has been raised by mortals, for a young man
          of her village. This kind of fairy tale rarely ends “happily
          ever after,” and this one is no exception, as both the Snow
          Maiden and her lover die in the end. However, though it is a
          tragedy, The Snow
            Maiden includes some of Rimsky-Korsakov’s finest
          operatic writing, and it apparently remained one his personal
          favorites among his own works. There is nothing tragic about
          the opera’s Dance of the Tumblers,
          which opens our second half. This energetic and bumptious
          music opens Act III of the opera, where the villagers are
          throwing a wild party in celebration of the visiting Tsar.
 John
              Rutter is
            celebrated as both a choral conductor and as a composer of
            choral works, from small anthems to settings of the Gloria, Magnificat, and Requiem. Rutter has
            explained that Christmas music has “…always occupied a
            special place in my affections, ever since I sang in my
            first Christmas Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols as a
            nervous ten-year-old boy soprano. For me, and I suspect for
            most of the other members of the Highgate Junior School
            Choir, it was the high point of our singing year, diligently
            rehearsed and eagerly anticipated for weeks beforehand.
            Later, my voice changed and I turned from singing to
            composition, but I never forgot those early Highgate carol
            services.” His Angel Tidings,
            published in 1969, was based upon a Moravian carol, though
            the words are Rutter’s own. This is a bright and joyful song
            of celebration over the birth of Jesus.
 John
              Rutter is
            celebrated as both a choral conductor and as a composer of
            choral works, from small anthems to settings of the Gloria, Magnificat, and Requiem. Rutter has
            explained that Christmas music has “…always occupied a
            special place in my affections, ever since I sang in my
            first Christmas Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols as a
            nervous ten-year-old boy soprano. For me, and I suspect for
            most of the other members of the Highgate Junior School
            Choir, it was the high point of our singing year, diligently
            rehearsed and eagerly anticipated for weeks beforehand.
            Later, my voice changed and I turned from singing to
            composition, but I never forgot those early Highgate carol
            services.” His Angel Tidings,
            published in 1969, was based upon a Moravian carol, though
            the words are Rutter’s own. This is a bright and joyful song
            of celebration over the birth of Jesus.
The hymn Come Thou Fount of
              Every Blessing was written in 1758 by the British
          pastor Robert Robinson. In the United States, this hymn was
          paired with an anonymous tune known as Nettleton. This had
          first appeared in 1813 in a “shape-note” collection titled Wyeth’s Repository of
            Sacred Music. (Shape-note music, in which noteheads are
          printed in different shapes corresponding to solfege
          syllables, was a distinctly American tradition created in the
          late 18th century. Like Nettleton,
          many of these tunes have a rustic, sturdy beauty.) This
          arrangement by Mack Wilberg opens simply with an a capella verse by
          the women that replicates the simple spirit of the original,
          moving gradually towards a lushly-orchestrated conclusion.
 Our next two works are Christmas
            songs in Spanish, in arrangements created especially for
            this concert by local composer Scott Gendel.  Los peces en
                el rio—a familiar favorite in the
            Spanish-speaking world—is an anonymous song from Spain. It
            is a villancico, a form from the
            Middle Ages, and the song itself is ancient, possibly dating
            from as early as the 13th century. Its verses describe the
            beauty and gentleness of the Virgin Mary and the poverty of
            her baby boy, but its refrain is a joyful reminder that the
            entire earth celebrated the birth of the Baby Jesus, even
            the fish in the river. The line “Beben y beben y vuelven a
            bebe” (They drink and drink, and drink again) is probably
            meant to evoke an image of the fish chattering excitedly to
            one another. According to Gendel, Adriana Zabala, for whom
            this arrangement was created, describes this song as a kind
            of “anti-Silent Night.” That is, that the birth of
            Jesus is not met by quiet and calm but by noisy joy!  A la nanita
                nana was arranged as a duet for both of our
            vocal soloists.  This
            song was published in 1904 by the Spanish songwriter José Ramón Gomis
            (1856-1939).  It
            was written as a tender lullaby, with the kind of soothing,
            murmuring refrain heard in lullabies of every culture.
            Gendel injects a gentle dance feel into this setting,
            reflecting, as he says, the “swaying
              and dancing of a mother rocking a child.”
Our next two works are Christmas
            songs in Spanish, in arrangements created especially for
            this concert by local composer Scott Gendel.  Los peces en
                el rio—a familiar favorite in the
            Spanish-speaking world—is an anonymous song from Spain. It
            is a villancico, a form from the
            Middle Ages, and the song itself is ancient, possibly dating
            from as early as the 13th century. Its verses describe the
            beauty and gentleness of the Virgin Mary and the poverty of
            her baby boy, but its refrain is a joyful reminder that the
            entire earth celebrated the birth of the Baby Jesus, even
            the fish in the river. The line “Beben y beben y vuelven a
            bebe” (They drink and drink, and drink again) is probably
            meant to evoke an image of the fish chattering excitedly to
            one another. According to Gendel, Adriana Zabala, for whom
            this arrangement was created, describes this song as a kind
            of “anti-Silent Night.” That is, that the birth of
            Jesus is not met by quiet and calm but by noisy joy!  A la nanita
                nana was arranged as a duet for both of our
            vocal soloists.  This
            song was published in 1904 by the Spanish songwriter José Ramón Gomis
            (1856-1939).  It
            was written as a tender lullaby, with the kind of soothing,
            murmuring refrain heard in lullabies of every culture.
            Gendel injects a gentle dance feel into this setting,
            reflecting, as he says, the “swaying
              and dancing of a mother rocking a child.”
 We continue with
          features for our vocal soloists. The Sound of Music
          was the eighth and final collaboration of composer Richard Rodgers and
          lyricist Oscar
            Hammerstein II. Beginning with Oklahoma! in 1943,
          they created a series of phenomenally successful musicals that
          ruled the Broadway stage, most of them becoming equally
          successful Hollywood movies. The Sound of Music, a fictionalized version of
          the story of the von Trapp Family singers, was a smash hit on
          Broadway when it opened in 1959, running for some 1443
          performances. The 1965 movie version was every bit as big a
          hit, becoming one of the highest-grossing films of all time. My Favorite Things
          is feature for Maria, the high-spirited governess of the von
          Trapp children—sung by Mary Martin on Broadway and by Julie
          Andrews on film. It is a quirky list of those things that she
          thinks about to cheer herself up whenever it’s needed. Winter Wonderland
          was one of many cheerful holiday songs that came out of the
          Great Depression. It was a 1934 collaboration by lyricist Richard Smith and
          composer Felix Bernard,
          and was a No.2 hit that year for the Guy Lombardo orchestra.
          The song, with its cozy, sentimental imagery of snowmen and
          cold winter walks—and warming by the fire afterwards—had
          tremendous staying power and was a hit for both Perry Como and
          the Andrews Sisters in the 1940s. Since then, it’s never left
          the list of holiday standards.
We continue with
          features for our vocal soloists. The Sound of Music
          was the eighth and final collaboration of composer Richard Rodgers and
          lyricist Oscar
            Hammerstein II. Beginning with Oklahoma! in 1943,
          they created a series of phenomenally successful musicals that
          ruled the Broadway stage, most of them becoming equally
          successful Hollywood movies. The Sound of Music, a fictionalized version of
          the story of the von Trapp Family singers, was a smash hit on
          Broadway when it opened in 1959, running for some 1443
          performances. The 1965 movie version was every bit as big a
          hit, becoming one of the highest-grossing films of all time. My Favorite Things
          is feature for Maria, the high-spirited governess of the von
          Trapp children—sung by Mary Martin on Broadway and by Julie
          Andrews on film. It is a quirky list of those things that she
          thinks about to cheer herself up whenever it’s needed. Winter Wonderland
          was one of many cheerful holiday songs that came out of the
          Great Depression. It was a 1934 collaboration by lyricist Richard Smith and
          composer Felix Bernard,
          and was a No.2 hit that year for the Guy Lombardo orchestra.
          The song, with its cozy, sentimental imagery of snowmen and
          cold winter walks—and warming by the fire afterwards—had
          tremendous staying power and was a hit for both Perry Como and
          the Andrews Sisters in the 1940s. Since then, it’s never left
          the list of holiday standards.
Let There Be Peace on
              Earth (And Let It Begin With Me) was written by
          the husband-wife team of Sy Miller and Jill Jackson, as
          they were at a weeklong retreat on a California mountaintop.
          Miller later recalled: “One summer evening in 1955,
            a group of 180 teenagers of all races and religions, meeting
            at a workshop high in the California mountains locked arms,
            formed a circle and sang a song of peace. They felt that
            singing the song, with its simple basic sentiment—’Let there
            be peace on earth and let it begin with me,’ helped to
            create a climate for world peace and understanding. When they came
            down from the mountain, these inspired young people brought
            the song with them and started sharing it...” This
            inspirational song has developed an association with the
            Christmas season, but its appeal and intent are much
            wider—it became, for example a widely-heard anthem of peace
            amidst the anger and sadness following the 9/11 attacks. 
          
          
          
          
          
          
          
          
          
           Once again this year, we are
          privileged to welcome the Mount Zion Gospel Choir and its
          directors Leotha and Tamera Stanley, presenting gospel songs
          for the season arranged for these concerts by Leotha Stanley. Mt.
          Zion opens with a new gospel arrangement of Do You Hear What I
              Hear? This holiday standard was written in
            1962 by composer Noel
              Regney and his wife, lyricist Gloria Shayne Baker
            wrote the holiday standard Do You Hear What I
              Hear? in 1962 and it became a huge hit for Bing
            Crosby in 1963, selling over a million records. Though
            usually heard as a sentimental song to the Baby Jesus,
            Regney later said “I am amazed that people can think they
            know the song, and not know it is a prayer for peace.” It
            was written in October 1962, at the height of the Cuban
            Missile Crisis, when nuclear war seemed imminent. Contrary
            to their usual practice, Regney wrote the lyric, and his
            wife wrote the melody. The result was a song that they found
            so moving that they couldn’t bear to sing it at first. The
            final stanza, with its “Pray for peace, people everywhere!”
            makes this as relevant in 2022 as it was in 1962.  The Mount
          Zion group then sings a Stanley original, The Spirit of Christmas
              is Love, which was introduced at these concerts in
          2014. Our finale, sung by every voice on stage, is a
          newly-written song by Stanley, Christmas Bells: The
              Message They Ring.
Once again this year, we are
          privileged to welcome the Mount Zion Gospel Choir and its
          directors Leotha and Tamera Stanley, presenting gospel songs
          for the season arranged for these concerts by Leotha Stanley. Mt.
          Zion opens with a new gospel arrangement of Do You Hear What I
              Hear? This holiday standard was written in
            1962 by composer Noel
              Regney and his wife, lyricist Gloria Shayne Baker
            wrote the holiday standard Do You Hear What I
              Hear? in 1962 and it became a huge hit for Bing
            Crosby in 1963, selling over a million records. Though
            usually heard as a sentimental song to the Baby Jesus,
            Regney later said “I am amazed that people can think they
            know the song, and not know it is a prayer for peace.” It
            was written in October 1962, at the height of the Cuban
            Missile Crisis, when nuclear war seemed imminent. Contrary
            to their usual practice, Regney wrote the lyric, and his
            wife wrote the melody. The result was a song that they found
            so moving that they couldn’t bear to sing it at first. The
            final stanza, with its “Pray for peace, people everywhere!”
            makes this as relevant in 2022 as it was in 1962.  The Mount
          Zion group then sings a Stanley original, The Spirit of Christmas
              is Love, which was introduced at these concerts in
          2014. Our finale, sung by every voice on stage, is a
          newly-written song by Stanley, Christmas Bells: The
              Message They Ring. 
And then, friends, it’s your turn to sing...
________
program notes ©2022 by J. Michael Allsen