Franz Gruber’s Silent Night (1818)

It’s Christ­mas time and once again, like many of you, my fam­i­ly and I enjoyed a can­dlelit car­ol ser­vice at our local church. I do like this event each year; it marks the arrival of Christ­mas-prop­er and is the time when you can pause from the mer­ry-go-round that is Christ­mas-in-prac­tice and just enjoy the moment. Car­ols such as O Come All Ye Faith­ful and Hark, The Her­ald Angels Sing are ide­al for a packed church with a rous­ing organ (who doesn’t enjoy blast­ing out those barn­storm­ing Vic­to­ri­an lines such as “Lo, he abhors not the Virgin’s womb” and “Hail th’incarnate Deity”?). The car­ol that I want to write about today, on the oth­er hand, is bet­ter suit­ed to a far more reserved affair: Silent Night is made for hushed tones and a gen­tle accom­pa­ni­ment, and for me is the very epit­o­me of the reflec­tive ele­ment of the sea­son.

The sto­ry goes that the car­ol was first per­formed on the evening of Christ­mas Eve in 1818, in St Nicholas Church, Obern­dorf, in present-day Aus­tria. The young Catholic priest at the church, Joseph Mohr, found him­self in a bit of a pick­le when the church organ became inca­pac­i­tat­ed just before that evening’s Christ­mas Mass ser­vice (in the man­ner of boil­ers break­ing down at just this wrong time of year, I sup­pose). Think­ing on his feet, he remem­bered that he had writ­ten a nice poem a few years before called Stille Nacht, and won­dered if local school­mas­ter and organ­ist Franz Gru­ber might set its six stan­zas to music for gui­tar.

Gru­ber read­i­ly agreed to step into the breach and wrote a melody there and then — and that night, the two men sang Stille Nacht for the first time at the church’s Christ­mas Mass, with Mohr play­ing gui­tar and the choir repeat­ing the last two lines of each verse. Accord­ing to Gru­ber, the organ builder who ser­viced the instru­ment at the Obern­dorf church, was so enam­oured of the song that he took the com­po­si­tion home with him to the Ziller­tal val­ley in the Tyrol where he shared it with musi­cal friends. From there, two trav­el­ling fam­i­lies of folk singers, the Strassers and the Rain­ers, includ­ed the tune in their shows, and its pop­u­lar­i­ty spread all over Europe.

Rain­er fam­i­ly

It’s a very mov­ing and hum­bling song; as a tes­ta­ment to its glob­al pop­u­lar­i­ty, it was sung by troops dur­ing the famous Christ­mas truce of World War I, per­haps because it was the one tune that was famil­iar to all of them. How poignant the words must have seemed at that par­tic­u­lar moment!

Ger­man lyricsEng­lish lyrics
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft; ein­sam wacht
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.
Hold­er Knabe im lock­i­gen Haar,
Schlaf in himm­lis­ch­er Ruh!
Schlaf in himm­lis­ch­er Ruh!Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Hirten erst kundgemacht
Durch der Engel Hal­lelu­ja,
Tönt es laut von fern und nah:
Christ, der Ret­ter ist da!
Christ, der Ret­ter ist da!Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Gottes Sohn, o wie lacht
Lieb’ aus deinem göt­tlichen Mund,
Da uns schlägt die ret­tende Stund’.
Christ, in dein­er Geburt!
Christ, in dein­er Geburt!
Silent night! Holy night!
All is calm, all is bright
Round yon vir­gin moth­er and child!
Holy infant, so ten­der and mild,
Sleep in heav­en­ly peace!
Sleep in heav­en­ly peace!Silent night! Holy night!
Shep­herds quake at the sight!
Glo­ries stream from heav­en afar,
Heav­en­ly hosts sing Alleluia!
Christ the Sav­iour is born!
Christ the Sav­iour is born!Silent night! Holy night!
Son of God, love’s pure light
Radi­ant beams from thy holy face
With the dawn of redeem­ing grace,
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth!

Here is a ren­di­tion by the Span­ish sopra­nos Montser­rat Cabal­lé and her daugh­ter Montser­rat Martí. Mer­ry Christ­mas!

Franz Gru­ber

Dire Straits’ Sultans Of Swing (1978)

As well as writ­ing about art and cul­ture, your blog­ger has also been known to wield a mean gui­tar (by “mean”, I mean “aver­age”) and, although fame failed to beck­on after the van­i­ty-fund­ed release of the damn fine album Sara­ban­da by The Mavis Trains in 1999, I still know my approx­i­mate way around a fret­board and con­tin­ue to play from time to time in the com­fort of my home. Recent­ly, for a bit of fun, I videoed myself per­form­ing an acoustic ver­sion of Michael Jackson’s Thriller, to mild­ly amuse some select­ed friends. As a result, I was chal­lenged by the son of one of those friends to have a go at that Dire Straits’ clas­sic, Sul­tans Of Swing.

I sus­pect, giv­en Mark Knopfler’s obvi­ous tech­ni­cal prowess, that the chal­lenge was deliv­ered with some­thing of an inter­nal chuck­le and the thought “good luck with that!”. And so, the ensu­ing weeks have seen me watch­ing online tuto­ri­als, scru­ti­n­is­ing line after line of tab­la­ture, and furi­ous­ly prac­tic­ing with a view to bam­boo­zling my imag­ined detrac­tors’ assump­tion of fail­ure. Curse them, and curse Mark Knopfler’s super-fast dex­ter­i­ty and total com­mand of his instru­ment!

In all seri­ous­ness though, Hugo (for it was he), Sul­tans Of Swing is a great shout; it’s a tremen­dous song. It was inspired appar­ent­ly by a real-life encounter with a jazz band in an almost emp­ty pub in Dept­ford on a rainy night in 1977. Amused by the jux­ta­po­si­tion of the band’s non­de­script and shab­by appear­ance (I’m imag­in­ing Chas and Dave types) with their grandiose name (“we are the Sul­tans of Swing!”), Knopfler began to pen what would become his band’s debut sin­gle in the fol­low­ing year.

Knopfler wrote the song on a Nation­al Steel gui­tar (a spe­cial kind of res­onator gui­tar used by the Blues­men of old before the days of elec­tron­ic ampli­fi­ca­tion) but it wasn’t until he played it on a Stra­to­cast­er that the song took on the vibran­cy with which we asso­ciate with it today: “It just came alive as soon as I played it on that ’61 Strat … the new chord changes just pre­sent­ed them­selves and fell into place”.  It cer­tain­ly came alive: let’s hear it again in all its glo­ry, below.

Dire Straits