The Recovering Choir Director

Some readers may not be aware that, in addition to directing a choir and writing about sacred music, I also teach basic ballroom and social dance. As a result I am constantly in contact with music, not merely as a listener but as an active participant.

Those of you unfamiliar with dancing, I ask you to take a leap of faith and trust me on what follows—at least as far as dance goes.

As a dance instructor, I would be doing my students a disservice if I were to tell them to attempt dancing foxtrot to a piece of tango, rumba or cha-cha music. Can people dance foxtrot steps to tango, rumba or cha-cha? Absolutely. The basic tempo for all of these genres of dance music is very similar. Does it look or feel right? Absolutely not—to the informed dancer or spectator, that is. Foxtrot has a certain stylistic character that is informed by the music—when that is violated, cognitive dissonance results.

(This is one of the reasons I cannot stand Dancing with the Stars—Paso Doble to a cover of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”?)

As confusing as the above example is to beginning students, I would be doing my students a worse disservice if I were to tell them to attempt dancing the same foxtrot steps to salsa, quickstep, slow waltz, or Viennese waltz. In the first two cases, the tempo is much faster than a typical foxtrot; in the latter two cases, time signatures clash violently. In all cases, however, the stylistic character of both dance and music is violated. Far from being a synthesis of music and motion, the exercise becomes a conflict between the two.

Can I dance foxtrot to salsa? Yes. Would I want to? Not particularly.

As a Catholic choir director of the Latin Rite, it is my responsibility to be informed of the aesthetic of sung liturgical prayer and to complement it with selections that do not violate that aesthetic. This information is provided by plainsong, specifically Gregorian chant.

Gregorian Chant has always been regarded as the supreme model for sacred music, so that it is fully legitimate to lay down the following rule: the more closely a composition for church approaches in its movement, inspiration and savor the Gregorian form, the more sacred and liturgical it becomes; and the more out of harmony it is with that supreme model, the less worthy it is of the temple.

- Pope St. Pius X, Tra le sollecitudini

The more that Gregorian chant is given actual pride of place in the liturgy (i.e., actually sung within its intended context), the more that worshipers will be confirmed in the correct aesthetic of worship, and the firmer the foundation on which authentic compositions of sacred music may be wrought.

But to the composer, choir director, chorister, or worshiper uninformed by—or hostile to—Gregorian chant, it would seem perfectly appropriate, even laudable, to program music informed by other genres to sing at Mass*.

As a dance instructor it is my greatest frustration to work with students who don’t really want to learn the difference between the music and the dance. Thankfully, as dance instruction tends to be a relative luxury, such individuals are very few. As students and practitioners of Catholic sacred music, we should at least inform ourselves of the foundational relationship between music and worship before building on it. All ill-informed efforts will end up like the house built on sand, however well-intentioned they may be.

(I had no intention of mentioning liturgical dance; however, this post was created while listening to salsa music, in case you wanted to know.)

*Singing the Mass means singing, among other things, the proper texts of the Mass at the entrance, offertory and communion as set by the Graduale Romanum or other sources. See A Musical Journey through GIRM for more information. Singing at Mass is more properly classified as a devotional exercise; while not wrong per se, it is relatively less good.