Part of the beauty of this version is that it’s just one person. Yes, in the Lower Lights, we lean a lot on collaboration and combination and (sorry, Ayn Rand) group dynamics. But sometimes it’s nice to hear one person’s unique take on a song from start to finish, untouched by anyone or anything else.

One reason I love this song is its capture of both the sadness that the holidays can seem to bring and the hope that they are intended to bring. There is a tension/pull between the two, just like in real life. Christmastime is not all jingle bells and perfectly packaged presents for everyone. The narrator/singer, at one point, tells us there is no peace on earth. That can certainly be true on both micro and macro levels. Yes, the song resolves and I think it should. There is sadness and despair. But there is also hope, there can be peace..

The first thing you hear, when “Angels We Have Heard On High” starts up, is Dominic percussively strumming a silver resonator guitar. Then Ryan Tanner comes in with some delicate fingerpicked guitar. Then comes the part that, to me, is most surprising.

“Silver Bells” encapsulates some of the things that make the Lower Lights work– great harmony singing by an ensemble of male/female voices, each with its own unique flavor; fine, subtle playing by a bunch of great musicians; and a folksy spin on a song that’s typically pretty well known and, maybe, beloved. There’s something about Pat’s drumming, especially in the intro, that immediately takes me to a snowy downtown; it’s like the brushes are the snow falling on windows and the sloshing of cars and boots through the streets.

Is it the snowflake beauty of the 3-part harmony (this time executed by Debra, Sarah Sample, and Stephanie Mabey)? Is it the rich intersection of Mark Smith’s cello and Ryan Tilby’s bouzouki? Is it Darin’s bell ringing? Debra’s distinctive guitar playing?

“Go Tell It On The Mountain” is an African-American spiritual, first compiled in 1907 by John Wesley Work Jr., a Nashvillian teacher and important leader in the movement for the preservation of African-American spirituals. It had been sung by African-American slaves, dating as far back as 1865. It’s a song that’s been around for 150 years and still sounds as good as the first time it was sung. I assume they’ll be saying the same thing about (enter a rather popular artist that you might not be so fond of here)’s songs in 2160.

Let’s give the first word to Dominic Moore, who spearheaded and sang our version of “Silent Night”:

“It’s one of my favorite lullabyes to sing for my daughters. I often sing it alone in the dark, imagining someone else singing it to keep themselves company or to celebrate Christ in solitude, with the angels joining in.”

You can hear the essence of all of that in the version we recorded– Dom’s quiet, almost lonely vocal that, in the end, is buoyed up by our makeshift version of an angel choir joining in.

Dustin Christensen heard “Stars of Glory” as a kid, being sung by a choir. He loved the song, searching for a version of it for years with little luck. So, Dustin did what any smart person with a set of golden pipes, super talented musician friends, and access to a killer studio would do: he recorded it himself.

This arrangement of “Little Drummer Boy” is purely the brainchild of Ryan Tilby (baritone acoustic guitar, upright bass, bouzouki) and Ryan Shupe (fiddle, vocals). The two Ryans took their instruments into the hallway outside of the control room, resurfacing what seemed like a mere few minutes later with this song. One of the many things I really like about it is how rhythmic it gets without any big drums, which is a tribute to the bluegrass roots of the Ryans.

sort of old-time, AM radio sisters’ harmony sound. Picture the little radio station in the middle of southern nowhere in O Brother, Where Art Thou, on a classic radio show like A Prairie Home Companion between ads for Dapper Dan and Powder Milk Biscuits, and then three beautiful singers huddled around an old school microphone