Last week, Canadian artist Jane Siberry (who now calls herself Issa) sent the following message out to her friends (and now I pass it on to you, because I feel it's that important). It's some of the finest Christmas music you'll hear. The album is called "Child" and it is part of a larger three-concert series called "New York Trilogy." The link that Jane provided will take you to the New York Trilogy, so just look for "Sheebang: Child" once you're there; that'll get you the complete holiday concert album.

Download it with Jane's compliments and good wishes.

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Please send my Christmas music wherever you think it might be enjoyed. Accept as a gift from me. Thank you.


Mary's Lullaby
Wildwood Carol
Twelve Days of Christmas
Are You Burning, Little Candle?
New Year's Baby
Shir Amami ...

peace. all.

- - - liner notes excerpts - - -

CHILD Music for the Christmas Season
Live recording from the Bottom Line, NYC in 1996 with 12 musicians

Snowing, honking, dark-at-rush-hour. Jump into a cab with an armful of clothes, papers, potatoes, and head to Soho. Head jammed with lyrics, arrangements. Wondering if a set list exists that will string these widely different songs together to make a joyful sound. Soon as the door slams, the world slows down. Hum of the engine, dim awareness of someone else. Small South American man. Somehow us talking about music, Christmas, family. He polite, asking questions, sincere. Him? Drives, apartment, dinner, TV, bed, gets up. Do things with friends? No. And then how alone, solitary, kitchen clock ticking, quiet. Sink back watching Christmas blur. But... can't you join a church, a group? ...And he saying, Lady this Lady that. Finally that he prayed to God every night that he not be so lonely for the rest of his life. Long silence.

I invited him to the show, outlining carefully what "guest list" means, that I'd have someone waiting at the door for him, they would know his name, spell it carefully, he would be seated with friends that would be expecting him. He would be so welcome. Please please come...

He never came. The close contact with truth articulate. In the form of this gentle taxi-driver. Our humanness. He took my frown, my figuring, figuring and put them into a white box. White, the colour of truth. Allowed me to travel with the Caravan through the dark and troubled land from the first song onwards. He didn't want anything from me. He was putting out onto the air our question, somewhere in our hearts.

The grace of that man is part of this recording.
Jane Siberry, New York City 1996

(if you want to read more, download the Artwork in the store)

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