nazard wrote:If it isn't pop then it has to stand on its merits, and most catholic recent music hasn't got any.
I suspect many of us on here would debate that with you until kingdom come. The youngsters in our parish belt out most contemporary stuff but really aren't very interested in the kitsch from the 1970s. (Yes, I'm sure there was some good stuff produced then but it didn't become too popular.)
Our ancestors sang quite a few pop tunes in church, including Mozart's
Se vuol ballare from the
Marriage of Figaro which stood for an early version of
O Purest of creatures. Pope Pius X banned such tunes (as had the Council of Trent) for their theatrical associations.
nazard wrote:Most , but not all, older tunes which have survived are at least good tunes, if not exactly cool, so they are tolerable.
In his preface to the 1912
Westminster Hymnal, Sir Richard Terry said he had included some “bad” tunes because they were “bound up with the pious associations of so many holy lives”.
Anyway, he composed alternative tunes so the yukky ones need not be used by “those to whom they are distasteful.” Among those “bad” tunes which Terry tried to replace was
Faith of Our Fathers. Yet it is this “distasteful” tune which has survived.
Of the 46 tunes by Terry which appear in the 1912 edition, just seven were retained in the later edition by his former pupil Gregory Murray. Just like Terry before him, Murray tried to replace well-loved melodies with his own. Many deliciously squelchy tunes from Hemy’s
Crown of Jesus were relegated to the appendix.
And again, it’s Murray’s melodies which are forgotten while some of those – IMHO – deliciously syrupy crappy but easily-singable tunes have survived into present collections.
I’m sure it’s not coincidence that Stephen Dean’s
Water of Life sounds like
Hail Queen of Heaven from
Crown of Jesus. And think how singable and well-loved are Bernadette Farrell’s
Unless a Grain of Wheat and
Christ be our light.And I know exactly why our parishioners love Christopher Walker's
Teach Me, O Lord - it's because they can make it sound like the final song of the night, after a few gins in a Scottie Road pub.
You can’t stop folk voting with their voices.