‘Unsilent Night’ Far From an Unholy Night

What do 21st-century Christmas carols sound like?

Maybe something like “Unsilent Night,” experimental composer Phil Kline’s annual holiday concert procession. Kline’s avant-garde electronic Christmas music is played on boomboxes held by a group of friends and volunteers--the “carolers”--as they walk 13 blocks through Greenwich Village. And as the sometimes dreamy, sometimes clanging music blends with the sounds of the city, the result is otherworldly and oddly beautiful.

“The background of New York at Christmastime is kind of like a theater set. When I was composing the piece, I realized it was meant to be performed on this set,” says Kline, who has been doing “Unsilent Night” performances since 1992.

Each year, his boombox orchestra and its walk-along audience get bigger. “Unsilent Night” has become, unofficially, one of the city’s most beloved holiday traditions.

Saturday night, a crew of 100 boombox carriers gathered in Washington Square Park. Many volunteers brought their own boomboxes; those who didn’t could borrow one from Kline, who cheerfully distributes them along with prerecorded cassettes containing sections of the piece.

The gathering resembles a holiday cocktail party, except that everyone is bundled in coats and hats and scarves. There are young people and senior citizens, couples, singles and a sprinkling of families. A small boy holds a Fisher-Price cassette player. One man has decorated his boombox with multicolored battery-powered Christmas lights.

At 7:10, Kline climbs the fountain steps to conduct his orchestra. “One, two, three--play!” What sounds like the ringing of hundreds of tiny celestial bells fills the park. The procession follows Kline around the fountain and then east. The participants walk slowly, as if they are in a wedding procession, and as the placement of the 100 boomboxes shifts so does the music’s intensity.

“We are performers, but we’re also in the audience,” says John Neilson, a part-time musician. “You get a different perspective if you’re in the middle or off on the fringes. Walking around, we can have the best seats in the audience because we’re right in the middle of it.”

This being New York, of course, there are hecklers. “Who are you people?” someone keeps shouting. “And why are there so many of you?”

As the procession approaches Broadway, people in cars stare slack-jawed, and the boomboxers smile and wave. “The coolest thing about this,” says Mark Hewku, 28, “is the look of confusion on people’s faces.”

First-timer George Kimmel, 42, a Manhattan credit analyst, takes it upon himself to hold up traffic at each intersection; the group is too big to cross in one light sequence. As the procession traverses 2nd Avenue, he brandishes his boombox like a weapon while two cabs and one livery car try to nose him out of the way. “No one’s gonna hit me,” Kimmel says happily. “Merry Christmas!”

A man named Axel, visiting from Berlin, closes his eyes and listens to the passing procession. “Happiness, huh?” he says.

That is what’s so extraordinary about “Unsilent Night.” People in New York often seem rushed, they seem unfriendly, and in the months since Sept. 11, many seem more stressed than ever. On Saturday, everyone in “Unsilent Night” seems happy, smiling and giggling like giddy co-conspirators.

“For a lot of people, Christmas is the scariest and most depressing time of the year. If you’re not happy and you see other people pretending to be happy, that can be hard. And you can feel that pretty strongly in New York,” Kline says.

“Without any cynicism at all, this piece is a Christmas present. Maybe good things just happen. You don’t ask and they’re just there.”