The 12 Songs of Christmas: 7. Ring Out, Solstice Bells - Jethro Tull

I'm making a list and checking it twice, of the Christmas songs that move me this year.

“Ring Out, Solstice Bells”

Now is the solstice of the year
Winter is the glad song that you hear
Seven maids move in seven time
Have the lads up ready in a line

Ring out these bells
Ring out, ring solstice bells
Ring solstice bells

Join together 'neath the mistletoe,
By the holy oak whereon it grows
Seven druids dance in seven time
Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming

Ring out these bells
Ring out, ring solstice bells
Ring solstice bells

Ring out, ring out the solstice bells
Ring out, ring out the solstice bells

Praise be to the distant sister sun,
Joyful as the silver planets run
Seven maids move in seven time
Sing the song the bells call, loudly chiming

Ring out these bells
Ring out, ring solstice bells
Ring solstice bells
Ring on, ring out
Ring on, ring out
Ring on, ring out
Ring on, ring out

Since ancient times human beings have been gathering together around this time of year, to eat, drink and celebrate. 

More than 5,000 years ago, our Neolithic ancestors constructed Newgrange, a passage tomb, whose inner chamber is illuminated once a year and flooded with sunlight on the morning of the winter solstice. 

For as long as people have been people, there has been a significance attached to the morning around the 21st or 22nd of December. 

The Romans celebrated Sol Invictus, the pre-Christians of Scandinavia celebrated Yule. There is plenty of evidence to suggest that the early Christians appropriated many elements of these ancient festivals to mark Christmas. 

But why?

The winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, or the longest night, if you prefer, is the date on which the North Pole is at its maximum tilt away from the sun, in the northern hemisphere. 

Bleak midwinter. 

Knowing this date was so vital because the survival of ancient civilisations from one year to the next was utterly dependent on marking the passage of the seasons. 

The months we know today as January to April were regarded as the “famine months”. Starvation was prevalent; no sun, no crops, no crops, no food, no food… death. 

The tracking of the sun across the sky was vital for all kinds of reasons; to sow crops, checking remaining food stocks and mating the surviving animals. Seeing it rise from its lowest point in the sky signified rebirth and replenishment; we are on the way back round. 

In Northern Europe, we don’t know starvation today. The crops stop growing here so we import them from places where they do. We refrigerate or freeze or can or powder or dry or do whatever it takes to make our food last. We don’t even think about it. 

There were elements so fundamental to the survival of the human race and we take it all for granted in our times. 

From tonight, the days will get, at first, imperceptibly longer, then brighter, warmer and before you know it, it’s spring. This is a marking post for us shedding the misery of deepest winter, and it comes from a primal urge embedded in every one of us. It’s worth celebrating. 

Christmas songs usually celebrate Christmas. But Ring Out, Solstice Bells celebrates the winter solstice. 

Jethro Tull, prog-rock powerhouses, incorporated everything from mysticism to English folk traditions into their peculiar and distinctive music. Led by singer and flautist Ian Anderson, Jethro Tull are exactly the sort of band you’d expect to produce a Christmas song about the solstice. 

I’m sure you’ll know it when you hear it; it’s the kind of song you’ll find on all the big Christmas compilations but more in the disc 2, track 17 position rather than disc 1, track 1. 

On the way back to Castlebar one Christmas in the hire car, it came on the speakers. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard the song but the first time I’d listened to it. I turned to my wife and said, fucking hell, what a tune. 

It’s jolly, joyous, giddy. It’s perfect. 

It was a firm Christmas favourite from that point on and I was going to spread the good news. 

There’s a lot of socialising to be done over the Christmas period. Christmas is about being with family, yes, but it’s also about drinking pints with the lads. 

Some of the sessions you can get ahead of, control, plan. Some of them can get out of hand and they can run away from you. Then there’s some days, when you’re not even drinking, where you’ll have at least four pints. You might even get a sly one on Christmas Day with your father if you play your cards right. 

It’s hard going, especially with kids. Just because you stay out half the night drinking doesn’t mean they won’t be up at 7 the next day. And if you’ve left your partner in for the night with the in-laws, well, he or she is unlikely to afford you the merciful lie-in you need to face the day. 

Like I said, hard going but needed, much needed. I’m not a texter or a phoner. I like to be with people. It’s nourishing, it’s good for the soul, even for just an hour or two, to be with people you love and tell them what you think of them. 

Most of my friends live away from where we grew up. The only time in the year you can guarantee 90 percent of people will be around is Christmas and even then you’ll miss a few. You have to say yes; it could be a year solid before you will see anyone again. 

We’re talking about the very people who know you deeply, the ones who will cut right through your bullshit, the ones who will give you great guidance when you’re not even expecting it. 

And you’ll get a chat; a meaningful chat, a funny chat, like the solstice morning at Newgrange, which can light up a room. 

You’ll categorise Christmas songs. You’ll tell people, like I did that Christmas, that Ring Out, Solstice Bells has got to be up there. Someone will start singing the bit that builds, you’ll sustain it, and over the course of a few moments you’ll solidify a memory. 

And now, everytime you think of the song you’ll be reminded of pints with the lads. Not just those pints specifically but the memories of pints past, you’ll soundtrack those memories with your favourite solstice song. 

There are a thousand Christmas songs and I don’t think there’s even one about going out on the piss. Ring Out, Solstice Bells might be the closest we’ve got. 

This is a primitive drinking festival and celebrating it is etched in your very DNA. 

Around 175 generations have gone before us since Newgrange was built; they passed down every piece of genetic material they had in them so we could be here today. We know nothing of their hardship, how they shivered and starved through winter after winter. It’s humbling. 

So think of those ancient people, your ancestors who survived this and every winter for thousands of years, the next time you’re at Supermacs at 1.30am at Christmas, slavering over a tray of curry chips and cheese and a chicken breast sandwich, after a feed of Guinness, and ring out those bells.