In a review of Songs For Christmas by Chris Jones for the BBC, “Once in Royal David’s City” was said to have “exactly the kind of delicacy you'd expect from [Sufjan Stevens].” The comment makes sense. Surrounded by songs which are generally fairly upbeat and rich in instrumentation, “Once in Royal David’s City” is slower, more straightforward, and as a result, is one of the few songs on the album that creates a moment of peace and quiet. A moment through which we can reflect on the things we dislike about Christmas and temporarily let them go.

The original carol comes from a poem written by Cecil Frances Alexander, set to a piece of music written by Henry John Gauntlett, called “Irby”. Although the melody in Stevens’ version is recognizable, his harmony lacks the occasional chromatic flourish employed by Gauntlett. The result is a composition that doesn’t demand too much effort to listen to.

Moreover, Stevens uses several repeating patterns, with a strong emphasis on every downbeat, reminiscent of works by Steve Reich. The regularity of these patterns introduces a consistency throughout the song that gives it motion and makes it easy to follow.

The song begins by introducing the melody and the basic harmony of the main section, which revolves around an F-major chord (the tonic, for everyone who still remembers their middle school music lessons). This part repeats once before a different melody is introduced, accompanied by an extra layer of piano patterns in the upper register of the instrument. This B-section explores a separate territory, far outside the comfort of the F-major chord we’ve grown so familiar with at this point. Soon enough, this newly-added piano line resolves itself coming back to the original tonic, leaving us feeling like we have arrived home again.

This resolution marks the halfway point of the song. The first half of the song is more or less repeated in the second half, the only difference is that throughout the second half more and more layers of piano are introduced. Much like in Reich’s works, the multiplicity of patterns creates a rich complexity. With every new layer added, it becomes harder to distinguish the individual parts.

But you shouldn’t want to follow every pattern. Together, the intertwining melodies create something in which the details of every individual piano layer are lost; something in which we can get lost. It’s an almost immersive experience, one through which we can transcend the confluence of our thoughts and worries.

Aside from the composition, the immersive power of the song also derives from the quality of the actual recording. There is something particularly honest about it. Not in terms of how much it resembles the way the piano would actually have sounded in the room. On the contrary, the piano lacks a clarity; it lacks ‘air.’ The honesty of the piano’s sound also derives from the instrument being slightly out of tune. The somewhat-muffled and imperfect sound reminds us that this is not a record which is overproduced, but rather the result of a musician eager to document his creativity.

With more and more layers of this piano piling up, the song works towards its final cadence. As the song is brought to a definitive end, its final chord echoes on for just a bit longer before disappearing completely.

Slowly, the outside world comes back to us. We’re harshly confronted with the reality of things again. The transcending experience of the song was only temporary… But before the family arrives, our little cousins start screaming in our ears, our racist uncle starts talking about politics, and our aunt starts asking about our love life, let’s get one more moment of peace and quiet.