Sublime

Yesterday I got up at 5:30 and went to the studio under the moon I wrote about in the previous post. By 11:30 I was at the cathedral, and spent the next four hours with this:

 

At 3:30 pm I walked out into this:

In the course of a day, Montreal had changed from 40 degrees (well, it was in the 20s a few days ago) to the 70s, and as they always do, the Montrealers got naked and started partying. There are no leaves on the trees, the grass is brown and soggy, and the only daffodils in bloom are in florists' windows. But I think everybody was outside yesterday, from the winter's new babies, blinking and confused in their shiny strollers, to the elderly, still bundled up and walking carefully but basking in the sunshine and the communal party that spring always represents here.

Coming out of the dark cathedral, where we'd been lamenting for four hours, I didn't question the decisions of this vast majority about how to spend Good Friday afternoon. I'm the one who's crazy. But if you want to know why, and what drug I'm taking, it's all right here:

(BBC story) (performance only)

Comments

[Deb]

Thank you for posting these videos. Absolutely stunning, and yes. I understand the drug's effects.

(Last night's Requiem was wonderful. It came together nicely, in a Tenebrae service, no less. My first.)

[john]

Sublime indeed thank you for this

[Natalie]

Yes, many thanks, Beth. I missed seeing this particular BBC programme in their excellent Sacred Music series.
I can well understand how you would be entranced and uplifted while singing this in the darkened church on Good Friday. I wish I could have been there. And that shock of contrast, coming out into the sun and the frolicking crowds in the park!

[Eric]

I'm not quite sure why would one want to restrain a piece of art within the walls of only one place in the world, but this being said, a rather delightful music.