The dark days before Christmas took on a special character on Saturday evening, 20 December in Studio 4 of Flagey, subtly decorated with stars for the occasion. The Christmas concert The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus combined humour and stillness, and effortlessly alternated playful moments with more contemplative passages. Under the direction of Eric Whitacre (°1970) – composer and conductor who gave choral music an outspoken contemporary voice over the past decades – the Vlaams Radiokoor, Brussels Philharmonic and the Flanders Boys Choir, together with a series of soloists, performed a programme that linked classical tradition with a contemporary approach to the Christmas theme. The warm yet transparent acoustics of Studio 4 particularly enhanced the subtle dynamics and tonal nuances of the choir.
Stillness and contemporary choral sound
The concert opened with Lux Aurumque by Eric Whitacre, a work that has meanwhile found a permanent place in contemporary Christmas repertoire and ranks among my favourites. In a sober musical language, Whitacre celebrates the soft, golden light surrounding the birth of Christ. The transparent harmonies and carefully constructed arcs of tension were given full space in this performance, allowing the work to unfold slowly and with concentration. The sound remained light and balanced, immediately setting the tone for a pre-programme that aimed for stillness rather than exuberance, where detail and tone colour took precedence over direct expressivity.
This was followed by Es ist ein Ros entsprungen by Michael Praetorius (1571-1621) in the well-known arrangement by Jan Sandström (°1954), one of Whitacre's personal favourites, as he himself explained. The centuries-old chorale was laid down in long, sustained lines, while beneath it a softly moving harmonic undercurrent emerged. In a clear and well-balanced performance, the individual voice lines remained clearly audible, allowing Sandström's layered writing to come fully into its own. The familiar melody sounded pure and unaffected, reinforcing the contemplative character that the concert had by now assumed.
With Brightest and Best by Shawn Kirchner (°1970), the tonal landscape shifted noticeably. The composer transformed the text about the Star of Bethlehem into a rhythmically lively and melodically accessible choral setting, in which an open, almost folk-like joy resonates. The performance was clear and energetic, with a natural momentum and precise coordination between the voices. The work brought a distinctly hopeful and bright accent to the programme and provided a welcome contrast after the more restrained works that preceded it, without descending into frivolous festivity.
From Whitacre came next Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, set to the famous text by Robert Frost (1874-1963), which here experienced its European premiere. Only after twenty-five years could the work finally be performed with the original text, after the copyright had expired. Whitacre recounted how he had long been forced to make do with an alternative text, written by a fellow poet with similar wording and rhythm. In Frost's hushed winter scene, the composer ultimately found a text that seamlessly matches his contemplative musical language. The performance was restrained and transparent, with much attention to detail and phrasing, allowing the poetic melancholy of the work to unfold slowly, wherein silence became as meaningful as sound.
The whole formed an atypical pre-programme for a Christmas concert. Rather than aiming for recognition and festive grandeur, the emphasis was on tone colour, texture and contemporary reflection. In this way, it offered a clear insight into how current choral composers approach the Christmas theme: not so much as a narrative, but as an atmosphere, meditation and – sometimes explicitly – as a sign of hope. At the same time, it served as a preparatory framework for the true heart of the evening: Whitacre's own two theatrical Christmas narratives, The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus and The Gift of the Magi, in which humour, drama and musical colour came together convincingly.
Humour and disruption
In The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus, poet Ogden Nash (1902-1971) sketches a humorous Christmas scene in which the traditional image of the holiday season is playfully inverted and unexpected events follow one another in rapid succession. Nash is best known for his "light verse", short, witty and playful poems often with an absurdist twist. In our region, this genre became known through, among others, Annie M.G. Schmidt.
The poem tells the comic and mildly moralizing story of Jabez Dawes, a mischievous boy from Baltimore who mockingly shouts that "there is no Santa Claus". His disbelief spreads among the other children, who consequently cry on Christmas Eve and even hesitate to hang their stockings for fear of his sneering. Eventually he hears the real sound of the sleigh and sees Santa Claus himself appear at the hearth. There he is told that, much as Santa does exist, there is no place for Jabez. Through a magical twist, he is transformed into a sort of Jack-in-the-box-like toy, while the other children can continue their Christmas tradition undisturbed. The poem is lighthearted, absurd and rhythmic, and playfully explores belief, disbelief and the consequences thereof.
Whitacre's musical translation captures this spirit entirely. The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus is a playful and absurd Christmas story, full of humor, rhythmic turns and surprising articulations. The Flanders Boys Choir joined the Vlaams Radiokoor and Brussels Philharmonic to bring the poem to life. The ensemble was challenged to light, lively sound formation, with precise timing and dynamic contrasts, while the audience was drawn into a magical and joyful universe. At special moments, the children in the story wept at the realization that Santa Claus did not exist; this was portrayed in a moving way by the boys' choir, making both wonder and emotion audible. In this way, the piece combined absurdity, playfulness and warmth, and illustrated the theatrical and expressive power of Whitacre's approach to Christmas stories, which firmly focuses on communication and narrative clarity.
Love and self-sacrifice
The Gift of the Magi then unfolded as an intimate and layered musical drama. The work is based on the famous short story by O. Henry (1862-1910), in which a young couple, Jim and Della, celebrate Christmas by giving each other small gifts. To show their love, Della sells her long hair to buy a chain for Jim's watch, while Jim sells his watch to buy a comb for Della's hair. The story shows in a disarming way that true love is often accompanied by self-sacrifice and that the gesture is more important than the material gift.
Whitacre translated this essence into a semi-scenic mini-opera, in which lyrical serenity and subtle drama went hand in hand. Harmonies flowed slowly, timbres were ethereal, and dynamics followed the emotional arc of the characters. The Vlaams Radiokoor fulfilled a narrative role, similar to the narrative function in classical tragedy: it provided commentary, accompanied the action and reinforced the emotional impact.
The soloist trio of Laurence Servaes, Aline Goffin and Lucas Cortoos gave convincing form to the characters. Their crystal-clear voices, precise English pronunciation and deeply felt phrasing made the intimate moments audible, while small semi-scenic gestures visually and musically supported the couple's sacrifice and love. Several choir soloists took on additional acting roles, giving the story extra dimension.
One of the scenes that particularly stood out was the one at the hairdresser. Here Whitacre introduced clear jazzy elements and a cynical look at the commercial aspect of Christmas: "Christmas is good for business" echoed with a mischievous undertone. At the same time, one felt throughout the piece nods to the musical tradition of Stephen Sondheim (1930-2021) and Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990), with subtle rhythmic and harmonic references that added theatrical tension and playfulness. The phrase "Maybe next year" even immediately recalled the closing line of "Send in the clowns" from Sondheim's A Little Night Music.
The course of the work was carefully conceived: quiet, lyrical passages built suspense and emotional depth, after which the intimate drama reached a convincing climax. Whitacre's combination of rich harmonies, transparent voice leading and a sensitive balance between choir and soloists ensured that O. Henry's central message – selfless love and human warmth – was not only clearly audible, but also deeply felt. The result was a performance in which music, story and subtle theatrical winks completely merged. The audience was drawn into a rich, expressive and at the same time playful universe, in which the atmosphere of Christmas took shape in a less obvious, but all the more compelling way.
Christmas as shared imagination
This concert convincingly demonstrated how contemporary choral music can approach Christmas as a rich and multilayered experience, far removed from mere tradition or nostalgia. In the carefully calibrated alternation between tranquility and exuberance, between mysterious sound fields and playful, theatrical scenes, a contemporary Christmas universe unfolded in which humor, wonder, lyricism and human warmth could coexist. Works such as Lux Aurumque, The Boy Who Laughed at Santa Claus and The Gift of the Magi made clear how expressive and layered this repertoire can be, and how much it distinguishes itself from the familiar classics, which often approach Christmas in a more one-dimensional way.
Crucial to this persuasiveness was the intense musical bond between Eric Whitacre and his ensembles. His conducting combined technical precision with pronounced emotional commitment, allowing choir and orchestra to function as one organic whole. The mutual trust was audible in the natural dynamics, the transparent sound balance and the self-evident interplay between solistic moments and collective power. Under his baton, the music sounded fresh and alive, as if it unfolded anew in the moment each time, even though his pronounced narrative style leaves little room for stylistic ambiguity.
This liveliness also carried through in the relationship with the audience. The concert was not a distant listening experience, but a shared event in which wonder, smile and emotion went hand in hand. The jointly sung encore Stille Nacht, in different languages, crowned that togetherness and gave the evening an extra dimension of warmth and humanity.
What ultimately lingered was not only the impression of a Christmas story told in sound, but also the realization that contemporary choral music possesses a surprisingly broad emotional and imaginative power. Within a distinctly American vision of Christmas – as a moment of stillness, reflection and escape from the daily rat race – Whitacre succeeded with this program in creating a feast of sound and meaning that touched both ear and heart, and that is rarely experienced in our regions in such a way.