Choral Review: The Black Tulip Chorale brings the "now" to "Nowell"

Even in today's high-tech, contentious world, choral music continues to strive and grow ever stronger. Historically, choral music is found almost anywhere humans co-exist. From its inception seven years ago, the Black Tulip Chorale and founding director Robert Stumpf have worked tirelessly and joyfully to build an ensemble that would carry the inherent unity of choral music to a level in which all humans of any orientation, so long as they remained united in good will to all, could join together, linked by the ineffable bonds of music and choral singing.

During this seven-year period of establishment and growth, BTC brought its most recent season to a close with an ensemble group that has more than doubled in size to nearly 60 individuals and has broadened its repertoire to include nearly every genre of choral works. Their annual holiday program this year, "Nowell" (spelled according to Chaucer's borrowing from the French in the 1300s), encompassed works in honor of the 200th birthday of Anton Bruckner and the 125th birthday of Randall Thompson.

The three works by Thompson were a particular joy to hear, "Nowell," "Solstice," and "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening." Each displayed Thompson's ability to cast a new light on familiar words and phrases in a haunting--yet sometimes scintillating--manner. One of Robert Stumpf's gifts as a conductor is his ability to blend voices into a velvety, organic whole. This effect was particularly remarkable in the Thompson works and in Bruckner's meditative setting of the "Tantum ergo" chant from 1845. As always, collaborative pianist Curtis Farrell continues to provide instrumental support to Robert and the Chorale.

Since its founding seven years ago, BTC continues to grow ever more "tight" as a well-tuned and well-oiled performing ensemble. The group's unified force is able to maneuver its focus to almost any genre and mood, ranging from comedic ("I Want a Hippopotamus for Christmas" by John Rox) to the Classical war horse, "The Heavens Are Telling" from Haydn's "Creation," to a boisterous rendition of "Deck the Halls" (sung with audience participation and directed by a raffle winner) to a bold declamation of "Do You Hear the People Sing?" from Les Miz, sung as the program finale.

Personal testimonies have always played an integral part in BTC's presentations. Music never arises from a background, and sometimes that background has as much to do with the performer as with the composer. Julie Brown delivered an emotional account of a trans person's struggle for acceptance. Ken Haller relived his bewildered and harrowing days as a medical resident in New York at the very beginning of the AIDS epidemic. Some of us have heard Ken's witness before, but the immediacy and intensity of his words made it seem that we were hearing it for the very first time. Hearing spoken words woven into the fabric of a musical program underscores the realization that music both shapes the stories of our lives and is in turn shaped by our stories. Following their sharing of such dramatic and rending histories, both Julie and Ken drew on their personal strength to perform as soloists. Julie sang in Robert Stumpf's own arrangement of Percy Grainger's "Willow, Willow," and Ken performed Stephen Sondheim's "Not a Day Goes By."

In closing, a somewhat personal note. Even though the BTC concert focused on Christmas and was held in a church, it was deeply gratifying to see at least two persons wearing kippahs (yarmulkes) present at the program, and who clearly felt comfortable in so doing.

I have always noticed that the Black Tulip Chorale is able to present its message of advocacy of the LGBTQ+ community, and of humanity in general, without expressing hatred of oppressors and without mounting personal attacks on those who disagree with them. When we believe strongly in a cause, it can be difficult to hold back resentment, hatred and fear of those who believe strongly in the opposite direction. Yet BTC has magnificently resisted any sort of temptation to denigrate others. There seems to be an inherent and ingrained desire to foster communication and understanding rather than driving a wedge even further. I think I learned that lesson when a former SS officer in Germany and his wife made a snap decision to give my two young daughters--whose only living grandmother bore a tattoo from Auschwitz--children's gifts that they had originally bought for their own grandchildren.