Although I would agree with the basic premise of this piece, I wonder who would decide what is trite? My parish loves the 1982 Hymnal, classical music, chant, AND contemporary pieces that some would quickly dismiss as not worthy of either God or the church. There are times when I am not completely sold on some of the choices of our choir or musicians even though we work together to plan liturgies. My taste and theirs sometimes differ. (I must confess that I tend to assume that they're wrong.) How would we resolve this dilema?

One way to begin to solve the dilemma Peter points out is to expect ourselves and others to be able to articulate why we would choose certain music as appropriate for liturgy. Obviously, "it's nice/pretty/etc." is not a real or sufficient answer. Further, something like "it evokes majesty," while better, remains in sufficient. From there one should be able to articulate why a piece evokes majesty or whatever else it evokes. I don’t think be assumed that contemporary music (which I’m assuming means pop music) is inherently unworthy, but I do think we do ourselves a disservice if we do not expect ourselves to be able to articulate why we think it is worthy, if indeed we think it is. I suspect that much “praise music” would have a hard time making the cut though if we expected it to truly hold its own against works such as those of Tallis, Bach, Bruckner, Parry, Gorecki, et al. But it’s not really a fair comparison. We are talking two different worlds. Pop music is inherently limited and pedestrian. It is precisely “denuded of both intellectual challenge and poetic imagery…reduced to the most basic and arid of formulae.”

-Grant Charles Chaput

I have the same taste in music as Shepherd, and what he calls trite is music that would drive me away from church. That in turn defines which places of worship I choose to attend.

But however much he wants to deny he is elitist (or at least paternalistic) he has crossed that line. He wants to define for others what is good for them.

Churches that offer the best in music are often the ones that are the emptiest. Likewise, I might be attracted to a church that offers a study of the Cloud of Unknowing, but this surely isn't the path that works for many.

What I think we must insist upon is that whatever we do in worship we do it well. Sloppy is the worst.

Peter's parish describes many I know in terms of the eclecticism of music. What was unclear is what direction the choir leans. Is it resistant to trying contemporary music that the congregation appreciates?

Finally, it feels to me that George has in mind compositions that are beyond the skills of the typical church choir. Naturally, for the typical choir we need think in terms of what they can do well.

Being the musician for a university chaplaincy, I struggle every week to find good liturgical music amid hymns that are unsingable by a congregation, lyrically inane, or overly intellectual (failing to evoke real spiritual involvement). There is good-and-singable music in the Hymnal and the other available resources, but it can be hard to find. There's a couple things I'll say on the matter.

First, most of the tradition of hymnody that we've inherited is performance-oriented, not participation-oriented. We tend to value beautiful music for its own sake. The liturgy has changed to give the congregation more ways to participate; no longer is it the job of the clergy to perform. Liturgical music seems to have yet to make that leap.

Now, there are traditions of liturgical music that are radically participation-oriented, but we seem to have lost touch with them. The Hymnal is rife with Reformation-era and beyond German hymns that came out of Luther's revival of congregational singing. There is also the shape note tradition, which is a living and US-native tradition of participatory, harmonized congregational singing, maintained by Sacred Harp singers all over the country. But Episcopal churches seem to prefer the professional church musician to the skilled hymn leader.

Second, most new liturgical music that has been written recently lacks the lyrical skill of either the older hymnody of the Wesleys and Isaac Watts or of current secular music (corporate pop music notwithstanding; the good lyrics are to be found in more independent artists). The lyrics are either overly sentimental or overly intellectual—they aren't honest or bold enough to hit the spiritual truth that makes for authentic worship. They may speak to particular people at particular times, but they don't have the same enduring and unifying quality.

Then again, the older hymns, much as I may love them, are often theological or linguistic stumbling blocks to new and long-time worshippers alike. I long for liturgical music that both skillfully and plainly expresses the deepest and best of modern spirituality, that congregations can wholeheartedly sing and not merely sing along with. Am I missing something fabulous? Are there Episcopal congregations out there who sing all worshipfully together? It seems rather that we all share similar complaints about the state of things.

Can't better Kevin, but I do want to underscore one of things I believe he is saying -- if the congregation isn't singing the congregational hymns something is wrong. Worship is participatory, and that includes our music. It harkens back to what I wrote about quality of worship. If the congregation stumbles, mumbles, or cringes through the hymns that's a market of sloppy worship.

I'm not saying there's an easy answer. Just that we should be cognizant -- as the other commenters are reminding us.

Just to toss out one idea that sometimes works -- at least in smaller congregation settings (campus ministry?) -- what about Taize, and other music of that kind?

Shepherd raises a very significant question and then shifts ground in his article to something easier to describe but less central. 'Trite' music (whatever we might mean by that) lacks depth and richness of meaning. Talking about what music ACCOMPLISHES in liturgy by rhythmic subtlety, harmonic progressions, tonal expectations and surprise takes the conversation back to personal taste.

'Trite' music sells out on meaning. But for us to have that conversation seriously, we have to ask not just what music 'does for us' but HOW it means. Our Cartesian/Enlightenment cultural inheritance prejudices to think of real meaning in terms of logic, thinking, and discourse.

Repeated workshop experience of getting people to sing the childhood taunting melody 'nanny-nanny-nanny' (3-3-1-5-3-1 on a minor triad) and then sing it as 'kyrie eleison' is that makes people cringe. Something in us says, 'that's just wrong.' the melody means something else.

When the conversation is framed as an argument between people with classical taste in music and people who prefer pop, it bypasses the question of how any genre conveys meaning.

Edward Foley and Mary McGann (two very capable RC theologian-musicians) have explored how music communicates meaning and how we can use that understanding in shaping liturgy in a number of books and articles. Daniel Levitin's 'The World in Six Songs' ventures into the same territory of how music means as a pop musician (and neuroscientist), and he's looking at music across all kinds of genres. William Benzon's Beethoven's Anvil takes us to territory like Levitin and for anyone who cares about liturgy and ritual also provokes us to think of underlying rhythm, cultural understanding of rhythm and how the pulse and flow of a gathering gets expressed in the particular rhythms of any specific culture.

'Classical' vs. 'pop' won't get us any closer to the aliveness of the assembly. Classical can be deadly...and so can pop. What has people joining irresistibly into the singing? What has people singing the tunes (and texts) through the week? What moves us so much that we don't want to stop, or when we've stopped leaves us together in a holy silence? Those questions start to put us in touch with music's intrinsic meaningfulness (and hence potential significance or triteness).

Many of us are discovering world liturgical music helps us hear something of what music does in a new way. I think Iona and John Bell are doing work beyond Taize precisely because the variety of sounds and composers in Iona's tradition and Bell's drawing on global liturgical music takes us to the richness and subtlety of meaning beyond one sound (Taize at its weakest). But both Iona and Taize are looking for what invites people to sing and helps them settle in to find how the music means. All Saints Company's Music that Makes Community workshop/conferences and our publication (with Church Publishing) of Music By Heart is also, beneath the evident freedom that paperless singing can add to the worship spectrum, an effort to renew tradition and understanding of HOW music means. A good conversation on those terms about classical or pop/contemporary or any other music will serve the liturgy. The best data is watching and listening as people sing (better than asking what they like).

One answer the the problem that typical church choirs (and congregations) simply can't sing so much of the "good" music is to get better choirs. Obviously easier said than done. Balance certainly needs to be struck, but lowering musical standards is not the only way to address the issue of poor musicianship. We could look to improve musicianship instead.

Like learning any language, you'll never get any better if even when living in the foreign country everyone only ever speaks English to you. Indeed, I think that might be John Shepherd's point. How do we expect people to be able to become fluent in God if churches only ever to talk to people in World (i.e. not-God...needs some metaphor help here).

This is a big problem though. I know how I would like to fix it, but I don't think it's actually a good idea. On the one hand, drawing people in is important. On the other hand, it seems to be no coincidence that the most obvious examples of churches with shallow, simplistic music, also tend to display shallow, simplistic theology. (For example: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=31ZXliHbo5Q&feature=player_embedded#)

-Grant Charles Chaput

I think it helpful to distinguish between liturgical music and liturgical texts (lyrics). I want to talk primarily about hymn and hymn-like music.

There is good and bad music, and contemporary music often falls into the latter category. Evaluation is difficult here, however. How often have you heard a rock song you hated recast in a more mellow arrangement that actually causes you to like it?

In fact, however, music, divorced from text, has limited power to produce a strong emotional response. Martial music may be a general exception and why people get worked up over “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” I find that music seldom moves me to ecstasy, though I can think of brief passages from Schumann, Prokofiev, and Fauré that do. (OK, so I’m weird.) I cannot think of a hymn tune, that, as absolute music, gives me an emotional jolt.

Hymn texts are another matter, and I often am trying to hold back tears as I sing material from the 1982 hymnal, rather a disadvantage for a choir member. The problem with so much praise music is not the music but the text. Singing “praise, praise, praise” or “God, you’re so great, and I’m such a worm” just doesn’t grab me emotionally.

I am in complete agreement with Don Schell on this. :-)

Somehow, I think the issue is wrongly put. Grant is right that we should be able to articulate what about a particular work moves us (and that may be text or tune or both); and I would partially agree with Donald that "Talking about what music ACCOMPLISHES in liturgy... takes the conversation back to personal taste." However, I think that's sort of the question we need to ask.

Blessed Marion of Sewanee (those who have ears, let them hear) emphasized to us that it's important as liturgists to think through what we want to accomplish, based on the current needs and context of the congregation. So, there might be as much a time and use for praise music that I sometimes think of as liturgical bubble gum (exercising the jaws, and sweet, but with no nutritional value) as there would be for the Old Hundredth in four part harmony. (Heck, I can even think of one or two.)

Which means that it continues to be hard work to decide, to shape the liturgy, and to lead the liturgical team. As a frequent supply priest, I'm usually out of that loop; but I'm also quite aware of which parish colleagues ahve done the work and which haven't.

Marshall Scott

This article has provoked lively discussions in many places. For many it hits home, articulating so well why music strikes us as the heart and soul of the liturgy. But for others (and sometimes even its defenders), the elitism is discomfiting, especially for people on the U.S. side of the pond, where we value cultural diversity and artistic freedom, and are steeped in a rich musical culture that encourages and celebrates music of humbler origins, from folk, to jazz, to gospel, to rock, and even hip hop (just to name a few). "Quality" is very much in the eyes (or rather the ears) of the beholder. For those of us who love Anglican church music, whose experience of corporate worship and membership in faith communities is inextricably intertwined with it, it is hard to reconcile our desire to have some places that carry on these traditions while, at the same time, remaining open to variety within our own parishes and being willing to support and help other parishes, who might serve those with different tastes and needs, to thrive and stand on their own merits. It takes a delicate balance and good working relationships among clergy, musicians, and laity to, as Tim Gunn would say, "make it work."

The problem, as I see it, is that in our attempts to balance on that tightrope between old and new, and to not be afraid to risk falling off (and getting back on) now and then, we often lose sight of the fact that, as difficult as it may be to define and identify it, there is such a thing as "quality" and lack thereof - whether we call it "banality" or something else. One of the key passages in the article is this:

"Too often, in a quaintly deluded attempt to achieve so-called relevance with a largely unidentified and notional constituency, the words of worship are denuded both of intellectual challenge and poetic imagery, and the music of worship is reduced to the most basic and arid of formulae. This toxic combination has achieved what many thought impossible. The emptying of our churches of those with minds to think, and emotions to inspire."

Sometimes I think we try way too hard "to achieve so-called relevance" especially for "a largely unidentified and notional constituency." We have aging Baby Boomers badly misperceiving what young people today like or need, and we discount the possibility that they, especially, are capable of appreciating, in fact being drawn to, traditional church music. Those of us with teens and 20-somethings are continually amazed at the eclectic mix of music found on their I-pods - contemporary and "classic" (i.e. OLD) rock, jazz, folk, and all kinds of classical music. In our church, it is the choir that brings the young people (and their families) in, and it is amazing to see them spending an evening in rehearsal with Anglican chant, Renaissance music, classical composers ranging from Mozart to Bruckner, and the more recent Anglican music from the likes of Rutter and Proulx, and then go out with their contemporary music blasting in their I-pods. For them, it's all music.

The other problem, as I see it, is the insistence on simplicity and singability. I understand and appreciate what Kevin is saying -- indeed, I have had conversations about it with church musicians. But I think the problem with congregational singing in the Episcopal church is as much a matter of historic practice rather than the nature or complexity of the music. It is true that people in the pews in all denominations are not as musically literate as they were in times past. But, having spent a number of years in Methodist and Lutheran congregations, I find it sad and peculiar that Episcopalians seem to think that they must be professionally trained vocalists in their prime to sing hymns with any kind of enthusiasm, let alone sound. In other churches, people belt out the music well into their 80's and do not worry whether they can carry 4-part harmony. To some extent, I think our musicians feed into this by deciding only to offer simple "singable" hymns and thus, unwittingly, telling people that that is the best they can do and they do not dare hitting an occasional note off key.

The bottomline, as far as I'm concerned, is that there is too much ignorant, sometimes beligerent, insistence on doing away with traditonal Anglican music all on the basis of mad delusions that churches will once again be overflowing if only the music would change, if priests would preach from the nave (doing the old Phil Donahue walk), and if everyone becomes more forcefully cozy and intimate, as if the vertical dimensions of corporate worship are to be avoided at all costs and as if there was no real hunger and thirst for that "out there" among the "spirtual but not religious." The problem is that most of the people "out there" -- especially young people -- are expert BS detectors, and they know better than be taken in by such marketing strategies. So, it is the people already there who are left to suffer with banality, and those who leave because of it are visible to those "out there" whom they join in being skeptical about what organized religion really has to offer anyone when it cannot treat "its own" with more respect and care.

@Kathryn—absolutely right that many younger folks are drawn to the old hymnody, having never formed the bad associations with it our elders did. I'm lucky in that we get to play around with that fact, being that our congregation is mostly in that age range.

Grant and Kathryn also both raise the idea of improving musicianship. I totally agree. That's one of the major strengths of the shape note tradition—"singing schools" are part and parcel. I see the same strength in the work All Saints' Company does. Donald, I promise I'll get to one of your workshops one of these days.

One thing about incorporating "world" liturgical music traditions: we have to be careful not to co-opt traditions that aren't our own. There's something wrong with having a privileged white U.S. congregation singing Latino/a or African or other "world" hymns (or even using Lift Ev'ry Voice). Then again, many Episcopal congregations actually have significant Latino/a and/or African and/or African-American and/or otherwise non-northern-European membership. And then there are all- or mostly-white congregations for whom using Celtic hymns (or translated Swedish or German ones, or ...) is totally authentic.

OMG who in the world can even leave a comment on a blog about this, this issue, this one issue that has more arms than a Tibetan Bodhisattva??

First of all, church has got to sound like church. Period. If you don't want to hear church when you go to church, then stay home and pray. "Well who gets to decide what church sounds like?" Um...2000 years of great Traditions--Gregorian, Byzantine, Syriac, Reformation hymns, British hymns, American shape note singing, etc.--that way it takes the decisions out of the hands of self-made Tastemakers, like, for instance, those officious Catholic church music publishing companies that have ruined Catholic music for a couple of generations now, which forces them to hire Episcopalians like us (like me--I work for Catholics!) to give them their music back!

The deal is, it takes a well-seasoned, practiced and attentive *liturgical* musician (I didn't say "trained", they don't offer that kind of training in any school I know of) to have the intellectual and artistic chops, and sensitive ear, to pull it off. I have lots of purty music, and enjoy lots of so-called "non-elite" (as if normal people can't enjoy Beethoven!) music too but I would never ever expect anything that sounds like that to show up in church. Why? Because it's church, not my living room, not my car. It's not about me and what I like, it's about a certain sound in a certain place that conveys something very specific. Anything else is subservient to the modern cult of identity, where people want their sound, their look, and their people to be around them ALL THE TIME, and that includes church. Anything else isn't "relevant to their life", or "uplifting" or whatever other kind stupid, canned, thoughtless things that people say when they don't want to, indeed are too lazy to, shift emotional gears to really come to church. The music conveys the emotional content--Didn't Wagner and Strauss already get this figured out?--and if something sounds like a Lionel Ritchie love-croon, but about Jesus, it's still a Lionel Ritchie love croon.

Church does that, conveys a very specific thing. If it doesn't, why have church? And if it doesn't sound "Episcopalian", why do it at an Episcopal Church? Do some people have such a low opinion of their Anglican roots that they think the sound must be changed to be relevant--in other words, so others will "like us"? Updating is not the same as changing, for updating continues in the Stream, just throws off some junk, even pretty junk that just might be wore out.

See what y'all made me do?? LOL

All the above doesn't mean church music should all sound the same all the time. Taize is not necessarily appropriate for your 11 am High Mass, and Palestrina or Parry isn't usually appropriate for your 5.30 mid-week or Saturday night Eucharist. John Bell has music that can be sung in lots of occasions--those Scots folk tunes are miraculous--but he's best in small groups as much as a John Goss tune is a great crowd-rouser. 8 people mumbling "Praise, my soul, the King of heaven" is kinda sad but singing, say John Bell's "A Touching Place" is a great idea (well, not if you're Catholic at THIS particular moment in history, whoops).

"Trite" was a bad word choice...but trite music anywhere at anytime and in any style is a bad idea. Fortunately trite music usually doesn't last...look at some of those groaners from, say, the 1917 Episcopal Hymnal that didn't make the cut, YUK. But that's updating for you, that those eye-rollers are no longer with us and are passing out of collective memory, and Deo Gratias for that ("...Where apes swing to and fro"--Really!!??)

Plenty of trite old music didn't make the cut. That biases our perception that new music is mostly trite.

Fascinating article and discussion, people! Thanks!

Well, I'm not a musician at all, but have sung in parish choirs in past years.

In our parish, at the end of the laid-back, multi-generational Eucharist - with all the congregation circling the alter (in the chancel) - we sing a round (e.g. Jubilate Deo or Shalom Havarim). If we know the tune and words, the choirmaster encourages us to get into it and sing it without the aid of the service leaflet.

I like the mix of old and new and abhor that bubble gum stuff. However, I wish I could attend a service with music from the Morning Glory Mass just once again before I die. Not for nostalgia's sake, just because I liked the beat! Ha! Just sayin'. - Jay Vos

"I like...I abhor...I wish..." That's just my point, who cares what you like, or what I like, or what anyone else likes? Just have church, you know what it's supposed to sound like. Just do it.

A big shoutout to a group preserving early church music:

http://www.facebook.com/ZephyrusCharlottesville?v=info

Follow the link and click on the Music Player.

Prepare to "enter into another consciousness"

I have come around to the opinion that a good church music program is like a good sermon; it should push us a bit beyond our comfort zone once in a while. If that is paternalism from the organ bench, then it is paternalism from the pulpit as well.

Let me give you an example. At one time, I attended a small church in Mississippi. The church was predominantly white, while the town had a large black population which worshiped elsewhere. One of the initiatives pushed by our choir director was to introduce us to "Left Every Voice and Sing", edited by the late Horace Boyer. (For those of you who don't know, this is a compilation of African American inspired music for church use.) Many choir members knew Dr. Boyer from clinics he ran during the summer. The rest of us picked it up along the way. It was a marvelous experience for me, and I think it was a necessary one for a church in the deep South.

I have my own preferences for church music, which mostly run to Bach, Palestrina, Victoria and the like. I wonder, though, if we are being self indulgent if we limit ourselves to our own preferences. What would the reaction be if a black family happened into our Mississippi parish to hear nothing but Bach? Would that be a message of welcome?

I am grateful to more choir directors than I can name for broadening my taste in music. Every old chestnut I love is a tune I heard once for the first time. I hope that the multiculturalism we claim to cherish extends to our music as well. If it does, a lifetime of discovery awaits us all.

Why limit the above comments to just music. The same can be said about the church and art, architecture, vestments and appointments.

A church that is alive will be contemporary in its use and blend of all the arts. A church that is dying or dead will stick with the familiar forms and the schlock art of commercial catalogs.

Out! Out! I say with "In the Garden," IHS brass vases, and coronation tapestry on polyester vestments.

I grew up in a tradition that had no instrumental music or choirs. All the singing was acappella, and it was done well and joyfully. After 14+years as a very happy Episcopalian, I have come to love most of the music in the 1982 Hymnal, but I still miss that singing...

There's something wrong with having a privileged white U.S. congregation singing Latino/a or African or other "world" hymns (or even using Lift Ev'ry Voice).

I know most of the hymns in LEVAS by heart, because the all-white, Southern, fundamentalist congregation I grew up in sang them all the time. I know now that they were co-opting African American hymns, but that is the music through which I experienced God for many years.

There were many things "wrong" about my experience in that church--but the music was not one of them.

Paige Baker