Lilacs in bloom
Grey gloom behind wet windows, visible from every corner of the flat, sooner or later makes one smirk. Mid April weather calls for sunshine, birds, and songs and joy; heavy skyes drizzling moisture onto dirty pavements seem so much out of place that it borders with ridicule. Longing for a change, I envisioned an alternative scenario; indulging in exploration of imaginary scent of fresh flowerbuds and of warmth of sunshine, I recalled an experience from last spring:
‘It is only today that I have realised something that’s been with me since I remember. Walking down my street I stopped by the blossoming lilacs - like I usually do, smiling, when encountering spring in full bloom. And then, as usual in such moments, I heard one of the Easter songs, the long-established favourites of mine - not on the street though, but resurfacing in my mind, bright and clear among the mumble of everyday routine thoughts.
This time I’ve been more aware than ever of this association being no coincidence. Why is it that the experience of lush nature, foretelling summer, brings up thoughts of old Easter chants? I cannot tell despite the relative frequency of such occurences. Blame it on my Catholic upbringing, or on being surrounded by Early Music throughout my life, or even on something else entirely. Whatever the reason, I continued my way home gently rocking to the catchy tune of “Pange, lingua, gloriosi” with its 16 Polish strophes dating back to 1550s, which - accordingly for the notions of the Counterreformation, though surprising in the light of the theme of the Passion - focused rather on the Virgin Mary’s experiences than those of Jesus himself.
Is it the fantastic balance between F major and D minor in dorian modal melodies that universally enchants us? Or perhaps simply familiarity with the music makes us “like what we know” and engage with it ever more? Then it dawned upon me. The so-called Gregorian chant, more than any other type of music, has literally been constructed to match the range, possibilities, and ergonomics of human voice and breath. If indeed no music works better on an instrument than one composed especially for it, then medieval melodies for unaccompanied solo voice will be perfectly suited for learning them once and remembering forever. Enjoying spring, I recall what is beautiful and comfortable, what feels natural and obvious in its simplicity. And apparently have been doing so ever since my debut, when as a 5-years-old I entertained my fellow passengers on a random bus ride with a 16th-century chant of Christ’s story one hot July afternoon years ago.’
(Originally posted on Instagram on 27.04.2022)