Rising – MacMillan, The Gallant Weaver
James MacMillan – The Gallant Weaver
Sunrise, Tuesday April 14
A new day. One of celebration.
Today is the major anniversary of The Crossing's calendar: six years since we lost Jeff, our co-founder, friend, tenor, polymath.
While corn grows green in summer showers...
We want to hear Jeff today, so we retrace the steps of these astounding six years and return to one of the last recorded concerts in which he sang: The Month of Moderns 2013. In doing so, we also return to one of his favorite composers, a composer seminal to the gathering – the event – that was and is The Crossing: James MacMillan, and The Gallant Weaver, a song of his Scottish homeland and its bard, Robert Burns.
We love this recording...and that Jeff is singing on it. It isn't perfect, for sure. But it's another one of those live performances in which you can hear something "happen" between us. After the opening verse - a trio for our amazing sopranos - the alternating chords in the lower voices are left to hover, serving as a transition to the refrain. In that moment of hovering, in this performance, you can hear the horizontal movement of the piece give in to a kind of attenuation of time. (We suspect the conductor released the forward motion!?) So, while the tempo is the same, the intention of the tempo changes to something entirely different, creating a quietness between us that nearly evaporates into silence. The ensemble becomes one, and, from there, we can hear ourselves listening to the music tell us where it wants to go (which it will do, if you let it).
To us, that fragile quietness is what it's like to love wholly; the sense that the feeling of love itself could vaporize into mist, could transform into a singularity, a silence, memory. Unbroken. Unspeakable.
Love, in Sound.
We love to sing The Gallant Weaver because it invites us to flow into clouds of 'everything' and disappear into ethers of 'nothing.' And, we love to sing it because Jeff loved to sing it. That makes us smile.
It's fascinating how, over time, we can heal from losses. It's not really healing; it's more like resetting or restoring; maybe it's finding a new way to remember.
The Earth does it too – resets, remembers differently. In this unexpected suspension of our otherwise ceaseless assault on our only home, we see wildlife flourishing on beaches, mountains suddenly visible to children that had never before seen them, birds more present and more vocal, the canals of Venice visibly cleaner*. To that point, we can hear Jeff's voice saying, we've been "ass-deep in alligators" and we'd do best to take this opportunity to "punch holes in some ideas."
That guy had a way with words...and with truths.
The Crossing, punching holes in ideas.
Remembering.
The Gallant Weaver: Love, in just a few chords.
While bees delight in opening flowers...
– The Whole Team at The Crossing
You can join us in remembering Jeff on this special day by contributing to The Jeffrey Dinsmore Memorial Fund @ The Crossing
*thanks to 2019-2020 season artist Christopher St. John for adding to this list of Earth's response!
The Gallant Weaver
music by James MacMillan
words by Robert Burns
recorded live in concert during The Month of Moderns
June 30, 2013 at the Presbyterian Church of Chestnut Hill
audio by Paul Vazquez of Digital Mission Audio Services
art by Jeff Dinsmore (creator of the Crossing Knot)
* * *
Note: The Cart River runs through the town of Paisley, a thriving 18th-century center of textiles and, thus, home to the gallant weaver.
A translation into contemporary English may be found below the original.
Where Cart rins rowin to the sea
By monie a flower and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me-
He is a gallant weaver!
O, I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine,
And I was fear'd my heart wad tine,
And I gied it to the weaver.
My daddie sign'd my tocher-band
To gie the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I'll add my hand,
And give it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
While bees delight in opening flowers,
While corn grows green in summer showers,
I love my gallant weaver.
Contemporary English
Where Cart runs rolling to the sea
By many a flower and spreading tree,
There lives a lad, the lad for me -
He is a gallant weaver!
O, I had wooers eight or nine,
They gave me rings and ribbons fine,
And I was afraid my heart would be lost,
And I gave it to the weaver.
My daddy signed my dowry deed of settlement
To give the lad that has the land;
But to my heart I will add my hand,
And give it to the weaver.
While birds rejoice in leafy bowers,
While bees delight in opening flowers
While corn grows green in summer showers,
I love my gallant weaver.