Anglici iubilant

As our dear Shakespeare reminds us, "the man that hath no music in himself, nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils." Hoping indeed to be moved by music and thus to avoid such a destiny - which would surely interfere with my doctorate - I have been enjoying York's rich musical culture since I arrived here in September. This has included singing in the Schola at St Wilfrid's church and in the University Choir, as well as attending some captivating performances.  

Last Wednesday night is an example of such a performance. I attended a concert of The 24, a chamber choir directed by Robert Hollingworth (the Emeritus director being Prof William Brooks) and formed of one score and four talented university students. For those accompanied pieces, Benjamin Morris was on the organ. The mellifluous treat took place in the Sir Jack Lyons Concert Hall, as pictured below.

The concert's name refers to a quotation from a pre-Reformation treastice on national singing styles: “Galli cantant, Italiae capriant, Germani ululant, Anglici jubilant”, which can be roughly translated as “The French sing, the Italians quaver (bleat like goats?), the Germans howl, and the English rejoice”. And rejoicing did this music inspire! With pieces from the fifteenth to the twentieth century, the repertoire brought together glorious polyphonic works from sixteenth-century England with more modern settings of really rather ancient texts. Tallis's Gaude gloriosa, a 17-minute antiphon to the Virgin Mary, and Taverner's Gloria from the Missa Corona spinea, recreated in its long vocal lines and intricate rhythms the Gothic churches and cathedrals in which they were written to be performed. Vaughan Williams's A Vision of Aeroplanes is a text from Ezekiel's vision in the Old Testament and its frantic accompaniment and frankly mad harmony was fantastically offset amid the other works. A particular highlight was contemporary composer Sean Rourke's setting of a text written by the Venerable Bede on his death bed, which was utterly magnificent in its delicacy.