Gonna Sing

I want to continue a bit of background for the coming Substack post on the post-Vatican II liturgical music scene. Part I is here.

I’m in no way attempting to write a history here – it’s been done. But I simply want to point interested folks towards a few resources and highlight some aspects of the history.

As I said, Ken Canedo’s book Keep the Fire Burning is acknowledged by folks on all sides of the argument to be an excellent resource.

In addition, this post and comments at the New Liturgical Movement offers some excellent insight into that history as folks struggle to answer that persistent question, what happened? Even a quick perusal of the comments will disabuse anyone tempted to caricature people whose sympathies lie with a more “traditional” liturgical expression as having rose-colored glasses or nostalgic views of the past. The problems I touched on in the previous post are addressed and hashed over, honestly.

In short: The pre-Vatican II Catholic understanding of music, the Mass and the congregation meant that once the Conciliar reforms hit, there was a gaping hole under the category “music.” The chant revival was spotty, the High Mass disappeared, the chance to elevate English translations of chanted Mass parts and propers lost out to easier, more financially lucrative forms, and folk music was very popular, easy to sing and play and fit into the zeitgeist of the time.

In that NLM post, the author points out copyright issues, as well – that chant forms were copyrighted, but at first the folk music was initially not, and was distributed and spread in forms that cost only as much as your mimeograph machine.

Ray Repp, along with Fr. Clarence Rivers, were the leaders in that very first stage, followed quickly by other composers and performers – most from religious life or seminary at the time. As was the case with Repp and FEL, this next batch of music grew in popularity in ways that were partly organic, but partly driven and assisted by business and marketing decisions.

Again the point being – it didn’t have to be this way.

After the success of the Mass for Young Americans, the popularity of the Folk Mass grew, and with it the need for music:

Fitzpatrick’s FEL saw the opportunity to fill the gap:

Again, if you are interested in the story, I encourage you to get Canedo’s book. It’s very good and balanced, I think. The exciting sequel, From Mountains High, which covers the scene from the 70’s through the 80’s, isn’t as interesting – more a recitation of artists/composers (the St. Louis Jesuits being central) and their output.

Anyway, the point here is to clarify the situation, as much as that can be done. There was a gap in repertoire, there was a gap in knowledge, there was confusion, there were no guidelines, there was an assumption that young people, especially, needed to have this type of music at Mass in order to connect with the Faith, etc.

Canedo says:

Another part of this tale relates to copyright – a continual issue for all artists, and one of course for Catholic liturgical publishing. FEL, which had become a leader in Catholic music publishing in the mid-60’s, ended up mired in lawsuits. First, Fitzgerald got fed up with unlicensed use of his company’s music – very easy to do since, honestly, the music was so simple, involving basic rhythms and just a few chords and easily-retained melodies, even without written music – went on a mission to force parishes and dioceses not only to stop the pirating but to compensate his company for lost revenue. He also invented the general licensing agreement. And then he ended up being sued by some of his artists, including Ray Repp and the Dameans for unfair contracts and royalties issues.

So that’s a very interesting part of the story, as well.

As several have pointed out in the comments, as simplistic and even annoying as some of this early music was, a great deal of it was at least Scripture based. That core was forgotten at certain points – as we see below – but then picked up again by the St. Louis Jesuits who, even their detractors admit, wrote music rooted in Scripture texts.

Lord, teach us to pray…

It’s been a long and cold December kind of day.
With our hearts and hands all busy in our private little wars.
We stand and watch each other now from separate shores.
We lose the way.

I need to know today the way things should be in my head.
I need to know for once now the things that should be said.
I’ve got to learn to walk around as if I were not dead.
I’ve got to find a way to learn to live. (Refrain)

I still get so distracted by the color of my skin.
I still get so upset now when I find that I don’t win.
I meet so many strangers—I’m slow to take them in.
I’ve got to find a way to really live. (Refrain)

I stand so safe and sterile as I watch a man fall flat.
I’m silent with a man who’d like to know just where I’m at.
With the aged and the lonely I can barely tip my hat.
I need to see the sin of “I don’t care.” (Refrain)

I stand so smug and sure before the people I’ve out-guessed.
To let a man be who he is I still see as a test.
And when it all comes down to “must,” I’m sure my way is best.
I’ve got to find what “room” means in my heart. (Refrain)

This was one of the hymns that made me, even as a teen, go hmmmm. Well, I mean I was a teen in the 70’s so yeah, this would have already been dated by then. But the lyrics, even then struck me as wildly awkward and cringey to sing, not just me alone but with a bunch of other teenagers. I think people thought it would be super meaningful to us, but it was, even then, almost embarrassing.

But again…read the comments at the video. It was and still is meaningful to some.

I have more personal recollections, but I’m saving that for the Substack. The Substack is free and public, but only registered subscribers will be able to comment.

Do check out Henry Garcia’s YouTube channel for a deep dive into all of this.

ALSO – help a lady out here – even at the time (70’s) my least favorite church song was, I think, called “Men of Faith” – or maybe “Men of hope” – Anyway – the lyrics were something like…Men of faith, men of hope, sent to heal and sent to serve….etc…then the verses went through a litany of suffering…single mothers…homeless men…people dying on the streets or something like that, the drama of which always sent us into the dreaded land of Suppressed Hilarity in Mass and later, our own versions packed with as much misery as possible.

Help??