Revels BLOG: How Does Your Herald Angel Sing?

Written by Nicole Galland

Nicole Galland is a New York Times bestselling novelist, an alto, a playwright, and the dramaturg of this year’s Midwinter Revels script.

The first time I ever sang harmony, I was well into my 40s. I’d auditioned for the Revels on a whim, assuming myself a soprano because the ability to harmonize is a mystical power that I had not been born with.

I got in as an alto.

It was the 2014 Victorian Revels. Our very first rehearsal began with “Hark, The Herald Angels Sing,” a melody I’ve known since infancy. Suddenly, I was expected to learn not-the-melody, and to sing not-the-melody, confidently, while other people sang the melody inches from my face.

I just couldn’t do it.

My fellow chorus member, Lakshmi Nayak, was a soprano – and also my neighbor. She was generous with her time, trying to help me get a grasp on something that was to her as intuitive as blinking. I just couldn’t stay in the alto zone. I’d start off on the right note (because she’d hummed it for me), but as soon as I heard her singing the melody, I’d careen out of my part and smack into hers. We practiced almost daily, and I never once got as far as “glory to the newborn king” without growling in frustration for screwing up. Her patience with me was a wondrous thing.

Then one day, we were singing while carpooling to rehearsal – Lakshmi driving, me staring desperately at the score… and lo, it happened. As we sang “glory to the newborn king,” I was overwhelmed by the weird sensation of being both a person but also a church bell: I was singing the words, but somehow Lakshmi and I were a carillon, our voices playing off each other, exchanging something more than sound, making something that was bigger than two mere human voices. I felt as if the top of my head was coming off – and then I ruined the brief sanctity of the moment by bursting into delighted peals of laughter. I tried to explain my experience to Lakshmi, who was very pleased for me, but also, who found it as intuitive as blinking.

It wasn’t intuitive for me. Eventually, I learned the score for the rest of the show… but when it came to “Hark, The Herald Angels,” a melody I’ve known forever, I was only ever able to stay on my part intermittently. By the time we opened, I could achieve Full Carillon Experience maybe half the time.

That was the beginning of my slow and stumbling progress toward musical intelligence. I’ve been fortunate to sing in another seven Revels shows since. The experience is always demanding but it’s always a supportive learning environment, positive and upbeat. Despite a lack of actual training, despite my fear of failure, I know that I can learn and (mostly) keep my part. And yet… learning the harmony to an already-familiar melody will be my eternal Achilles’ heel. There’s a limit to how much one can transform, I reckoned.

Fast forward to October 2025. Lakshmi and I were sitting at her kitchen table, rehearsing for this year’s Midwinter Revels. In addition to the soaringly exotic harmonies and distinctive tunes, every Revels show contains at least one familiar carol. This year, for the first time since 2014, it’s “Hark, The Herald Angels Sing.”

“Oh, nooooo,” I groaned when we came to it.

“Let’s just try it,” Lakshmi said, unfazed.

So we sang through it. Then we moved on to Så Mörk Är Natten and –

…wait, sorry, you mean I just, like, sang it?

Yep.

The harmony?

Yep.

Without a problem?

Yep.

This story isn’t about singing “Hark, the Herald Angels.” (But it is a story about how much Revels can transform you.)