Music in a Barn
Music in a Barn
Handel's 'Messiah' is performed among the cows.
This past weekend, I spent Friday and Saturday nights deep in the bowels of an old barn, playing Handel’s Messiah on my violin while surrounded by cows, horses, and chickens. I could hear cows mooing (and the occasional horse urinating loudly) in between movements, and several times a barn cat dashed past, likely chasing a mouse.
If it sounds like a bizarre juxtaposition of things, that’s because it is—and the jarring quality of seeing and hearing classical music played well in such a rustic setting is precisely what makes it so popular. Both performances were fully sold out, and 200 people squeezed themselves each night into the low-ceilinged space, perched on chairs and hay bales, to watch the performers recreate this beautiful choral music in the most unlikely of places.
The sensitive harpsichord had to be retuned each day before the performance. The stringed instruments had to be brought in ahead of time to acclimatize; mine was a bit finicky, protesting the humid-cool conditions, its strings needing some convincing to hold their tone. There was a full small orchestra—violins, viola, cello, double bass—plus oboes, bassoon, and trumpet, a choir, and top-notch soloists. Many of the musicians had traveled from Toronto or Kitchener-Waterloo to this farm in the middle of countryside to participate in what I heard one musician refer to as the “Moosiah.”
Last year, I was seated in the back row and a curious cow discovered my sweater and hair. While I played, it reached through the fence and started pulling and nuzzling at me. At one point, the soprano told me, it had a full mouthful of my wool sweater, which caused her to giggle uncontrollably. Then the cow moved to my hair, and I could feel its wet nose on the side of my neck; maybe it hadn’t seen a redhead before? The tenor soloist pushed at the cow with his music folder, until the cow put the folder in its mouth—all while the concert continued. This year, there was less cow drama, as I was sitting in the front, though many people remembered it and one man even showed me a picture he’d taken.
The event is the nightly finale to the Christkindl Market, which is a traditional German-style Christmas market held at Glencolton Farm in West Grey, Ontario. Little buildings are brought in for the event and filled with vendors. You exchange cash for wooden tokens that are used to buy plates of steaming food, like spaetzle noodles topped with beef stew and kartoffelpuffer (potato pancakes) and char-grilled sausages on a bun loaded with sauerkraut and caramelized onions. There are hot apple fritters, fried right in front of you, and fresh pretzels and glühwein (mulled wine).
And there are other musicians—carol singers, a local “sauntering band”, an organ grinder. There are fires where vendors are roasting chestnuts and letting kids roast marshmallows. There are arts and crafts vendors, as well, showcasing local potters and knitters and woodcarvers.
This was the market’s seventh year running, and it’s a fundraiser for the Waldorf-inspired high school in Hanover, Ontario. It’s also one of the most wonderful Christmassy activities you can possibly do with your family—completely unbranded, noncorporate, and delightfully traditional. My brothers, one of whom lived in Belgium and the other in Austria, both said it was the most authentic Christmas market experience they’ve seen outside of Europe. One German man I spoke to said it’s more traditional than many of the markets he sees in Europe, “where you see McDonald’s booths, which ruins it!”
The Messiah performance itself is a curious experience, from the perspective of a musician. The conditions are chilly; you have to dress your body warmly and hope your uncovered fingers will still work. The air reeks of manure. The acoustics are terrible. But when the farmer-conductor walks in with his tuxedo and the lights go down and the performance starts, there is something magical about it. He tells everyone not to clap, as this can “clap away the experience”; instead, the audience is instructed to hold the music in their hearts. The famous Hallelujah chorus ends the show, followed by silence, and then a slow version of Silent Night begins that the audience is invited to sing. Everyone files out in silence, into the dark night, exhilarated by what they’ve witnessed.
The third performance of the weekend, on Sunday night, takes place in a church in the nearby town of Hanover, where all the instruments smell faintly of barn but behave more predictably in the normal indoor temperature—and the acoustics sound better. But this venue lacks the quirkiness of the barn, and I can’t help but miss the sight and warmth of the large animals when I’m there.
I wonder what the animals think, if anything. There are very few cows that have ever listened to multiple productions of Handel’s Messiah in their lifetime. I wonder if they’re even aware of the presence of hundreds of people and the sound of music in the air. This year, there was a tiny newborn calf, just born the night before the first show, teetering around its pen behind the musicians. What a welcome to the world that little animal got, serenaded in this way.
And what a welcome to the Christmas season we all got. Something about the Christkindl Market and the Messiah gets me in the holiday mood more than anything else—and reminds me of how I want the season to feel, focused more on family, friends, food, and music than consumerism. I’m already looking forward to next year!
In Other News
I had an opinion piece in the Toronto Star this past Saturday, called “Where are all the real toys?” I wrote it in a fit of frustration/inspiration after Googling recommended gifts for teenage boys and realizing that almost everything revolves around screens and gaming. Surely, I’m not the only parent who wants more for my kid than that?
I did an interview with Frank Morano on NYC’s 77WABC Radio. We had a great half-hour chat about reducing screen time for kids. Morano was a thoughtful interviewer with good questions that I enjoyed answering—even if I did have to wake up in the middle of the night for our 1:30 a.m. call time! You can listen to the full interview here.
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Hi Katherine, Thank you for your blog and other thoughts in media that challenge our notions of what children and teens need and want, particularly with media. I loved your recent post in the Toronto Star. As someone with a new granddaughter I am encouraging my son and his wife to limit any use of screens while she is awake and to simply be present with her. Margaret