As I write this, fresh in from Mass at a parish church not very far from Mont Saint-Michel, I am recovering from chasing notes around my brain during the singing of hymns. I know very few French hymns, but in England I can usually guess where the harmonic journey is taking me; so I join in singing tunes I’ve not met before with reasonable confidence that I will remain on the same page, in the same key, ending at the expected cadence.
This does not apply in France. There is some French contrarian musical spirit, particularly strong in modern French hymn writing, that lures you up a melodic path to the top of a cliff. It then invites you to jump, promising a safe landing, and as you go over the top, it changes direction and ends up somewhere completely unpredicted and, frankly, not very nice.
