The Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos are of a great comfort first thing in the morning. Their vague, Latinate lyrics, ambiguous as dawn, harmonize with the primordial solitude of waking in that time before you want to be with people or attempt any kind of interaction. The simple monotonic chanting bears no threat of bright chords or a false sense of sunshine. It’s not a requiem to your hangover; it just sounds like a bunch of guys who haven’t had coffee yet either. The music gives you space to forgive yourself of whatever you were doing the night before. The low unison voices well up from deep commiseration, but they don’t come near castrati range. This is NOT the Vienna Boys’ Choir. These are men. They pour prayers over your head in slow-moving phrases. They remind you to take one breath at a time. They send you on your day feeling disciplined and holified, so everything you do can be sacred again.
1 comment:
Having recently gathered on the shores of Lake Gertrude in Mount Dora FL on Easter Sunday in the predawn with a half a dozen robed, ersatz monks (and monkas) to chant up the sun, I concur with CJ's review. The Stabat Mater, the De Angeles Gloria and Sanctus, the Magnificat with Gloria Patri, and finally the Regina Coeli oped the eyes of about 30 worshippers who were bundled up against the unseasonably cold weather. Yes, it was a plaintive cry for hot coffee.
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