My uncle Tim loves it more than any of them.
His love is a fiery, weepy, decidedly uncool kind. Videos like this will choke him up, just as easily as music like this.
Music takes him straight to God.
He directed music for several years at the Baptist church where my parents met. He’s been through all the “worship wars” you could ask for, and risen above them. His love for music, for itself, transcends all preferences, his own and anybody else’s.
It’s infectious. He can even make me love the pedantic hymnody of said Baptist church. And everyone should be so lucky as to hear him sing, with my aunt and cousin, their patently complex three-part harmony of “Happy Birthday.”
One of the first things he and my aunt did, when they moved to Ville de Québec, was join the community choir, Les Loriots de Cap Rouge. It’s an institution of venerable age, and not just any old body can get into it.
When the director they sang under finally retired, Uncle Tim was surprised to find himself nominated as the replacement. Despite having pinch-hit a couple of times, when the director was in absentia, he assumed that his outsider status was a necessary obstacle to leading the historic choir.
Not so. Not only do they love his quirky québécois, they’re also exceedingly grateful for his help in pronunciation of English, which seems to be the language they prefer to sing in.
Much like those latter-day Baptist hymns, this kind of music in itself isn’t my personal bag. In fact, all week, I’ve been giggling about the choral arrangement of Sting’s “Every Step You Take” that my aunt has been playing, in an effort to memorize her part.
Preferences are, however, entirely beside the point, when you watch Les Loriots sing.
Their joy, their camaraderie their concentrated intensity–it’s as winning as watching a child bathe a cat.
And none more so than mon oncle Tim, whose face is like a Fourth of July fireworks show.
Seriously–it’s the most adorable thing. (Le chose plus adorable, if you prefer.)