Master and Pupil – Music by Orlandus Lassus and Leonhard Lechner
VOICES & INSTRUMENTS
Tutor: Philip Thorby
Didsbury Baptist Church, Manchester
Reviewer: Kirsten Flores
In lovely spring sunshine, singers and instrumentalists arrived at Didsbury Baptist Church on Saturday, glad of the chance to be getting together again for a great day’s music-making. As I caught up with friends and enjoyed a cup of tea (and thanks go to Anna for her keeping us nicely caffeinated throughout the day), I became aware of a sartorial figure dashing about the room, clutching folders of music and wearing a look of harried concentration. As the minutes ticked by, it became clear that there was a fair bit of last-minute reorganising needed due to an unexpected change in numbers. Organising 18 instrumentalists and 17 singers into three choirs is not a task for the faint-hearted.
When everyone was seated in their place, each with a single sheet of music, we all turned our expectant eyes to Philip Thorby, our tutor for the day. Elegantly dressed like an Oxbridge don in tweed suit, waistcoat and brogues, Philip commanded the room with the unspoken authority of a born teacher. He quietly exuded both erudition and enthusiasm, professorial good looks crowned with a well-groomed shock of white hair. He beamed benevolently as we settled down, and his gentle shushing brought the room to silence. We were captivated.
Philip is well known as one of the country’s leading performers and teachers in the field of Renaissance and Baroque music. He is founder and Director of the Renaissance ensemble Musica Antiqua, and is a recorder and viol player of some renown. And for this workshop, he brought all of his considerable experience, knowledge and passion together in service of exploring three beautiful motets.
From the outset, it was clear that this wouldn’t be a routine workshop, if there is such a thing. His first invitation to us was that we play and sing the very last chord of the music in front of us “so we know where we’re heading to”. This deceptively simple task occupied the first 10 minutes or so, as Philip finessed the quality and duration of this chord to his satisfaction. This unexpected exercise encouraged us to listen to each other in a way that we rarely do, and it was a masterful way to set the tone for the day. It also helped us to enjoy the journey, rather than focus too much on the destination.
This first piece was by German composer Leonhard Lechner (c.1553-1606). As a boy, Lechner sang in a choir conducted by Orlando de Lassus (1532-1594), and although it is unknown whether he was personally taught by him, Lechner held Lassus in great regard, and by all accounts, the feeling was mutual. Virtually no information can be found on the internet about this motet, but Philip very kindly filled in the blanks for me after the workshop. Cantate Domino is a vespers setting of Psalm 149 likely to have been composed for a service of some importance. Monumental in scale and imposing in style, it is set for three choirs of 7, 6 and 5 parts respectively, rather than the more usual three 6-part choirs. Lechner gives each choir extended sections, with no sharing of melodic material and little dialogue among the choirs, suggesting that it was composed with considerable spatial separation of the choirs in mind. Philip also mentioned that Lechner never combines any two choirs – the writing is always for either one choir or all three choirs, another aspect at variance with other polychoral works of the time.
As we began work on this piece, Philip started to bring the music to life. With the expressive physicality of Mr Bean, he danced from one side of the room to the other, leaping around the score like a frog in a lily pond. He was always conscious of paying equal attention to all three choirs so no one was sitting idle for long. It was clear that he knew exactly what he was looking for from each choir, and every now and again he would stop to include a short history lesson to put the music in context. He displayed an encyclopaedic knowledge and intellectual understanding of both the music and the period, deftly weaving together historical anecdotes and performance suggestions (“Be more anchovy, not turbot!” was one of his more memorable exhortations – you really had to be there). His facility with language and unexpected metaphors were both delightful and thought-provoking, as was his ability to dissect and lay bare the musical structure. He brandished the “pencil of truth” with grace and clarity, and even when the musicians failed to scale the expected heights, all sins were graciously overlooked, if perhaps not entirely forgiven.
After exploding the Rubik’s cube, it was time to put it back together. This was a magical moment, so much more than just reading the notes and counting the rests (and there were a lot of rests to count). Philip had instilled in us a deep appreciation of the composer’s skill, and an awareness of the overall narrative of the piece. He also encouraged us to employ all our senses in the performance by listening carefully to each other, and as a result, the performance was much better, more cohesive and more satisfying, than one would expect after a mere few hours’ rehearsal.
After lunch, we returned refreshed and ready for round 2. After another short bout of wrangling us all into two choirs (the phrase ‘herding cats’ springs to mind), Philip presented us with a double choir 10-part secular motet by Lassus, Quo Properas, first published in 1565 for his patron Albrecht, Duke of Bavaria. Full of effusive compliments, flowery metaphors and Classical allusions, this piece was primarily intended to flatter Albrecht, “the leader of our chorus”, to ensure his continued patronage.
Philip was on top raconteurial form in explaining the context for this motet, delving deeply into the text, and touching on how rhetorical devices were employed to emphasise meaning. Philip was not beyond employing some of those devices himself, for example, by rhythmically repeating “Ba-VAHH-riae, Ba-VAHH-riae, Ba-VAHH-riae” until the emphasis was drummed into us. And during the short dance-like motif, “Tripudiare deas” (tri-PU-di-AH-re-DAY-as), replete with cross-rhythms, Philip sashayed before us, inviting us to embody the spirit of Terry Thomas with a naughty wink and a ding dong. He perhaps missed his calling as a thespian, but the theatrical world’s loss is very much our gain.
The ensemble as a whole was more prepared for the afternoon session, and after starting again with the final note, it wasn’t long before we performed the entire piece. As well as the historical context and classical erudition, Philip also gave many welcome suggestions for vocal and instrumental techniques.
The last piece of the day was the 9-part motet for two choirs by Lassus, “Dixit Martha”, first published in 1577 and written as a dialogue between Martha, sister of Lazarus, and Jesus. This takes place in the Gospel of John just before Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead. The voice of Martha is sung by the first 4-part choir and the voice of Jesus by the second 5-part choir. Philip described this as a ‘proto-oratorio’ because of its dialogue format and how the music so closely mirrors the text. It was clear that this motet held a special place in his heart.
Philip took us carefully through many important parts of this beautiful motet, marvelling at Lassus’s genius in his use of unexpected chord progressions and key changes to bring the text to life. He was insistent that we did justice to them, scrupulously rehearsing us until we achieved the desired result.
An early example of how Lassus matches the music to the underlay is when Martha is agonising over her brother’s death. The chord unexpectedly moves to a somewhat questioning C major, whereas Jesus’ reply, in contrast, resolves robustly to G major with the words “Resurget frater tuus” (Thy brother shall rise again.) And later still, the chord underlying the word “aeternum” fails to resolve as expected, but continues to rise, signifying eternal life.
Another powerful moment comes towards the end when choir 2 (Jesus) asks three times “Credis hoc?” (Believest thou this?) resolving in a startling D major. Martha responds in kind by declaring “Quia tu es Christus” (Thou art Christ) three times which flows into a melismatic tutti section culminating in a resplendent key change to Bb major on the word “mundum”. Philip was clearly and understandably in awe of Lassus’s skill throughout this piece, commenting that the demands it makes on both performers and audience were “frightening”. Having these aspects explained so clearly and with such passion helped give us all a far greater understanding of the music. And he’s right – Lassus would have made a fascinating dinner guest.
At the end of the final play through, the last note sounding exactly on the dot of five o’clock, the respectful silence gave way to a resounding round of applause to thank our teacher for skilfully taking us on such an enjoyable and enriching journey. And it seems to me that this is Philip’s raison d’être – to be of service to this glorious repertoire by approaching it with respect and reverence, by understanding the historical context and technical structure, to perform it with full attention to its nuances and intricacies, and above all, to share it and inspire others. His intellectual rigour revealed the brilliant colour and life in the notes and words on the page, and his passion helped bring about in us a deeper appreciation for it. It is indeed a privilege to perform this music, and it is a mark of respect to spend time carefully examining, understanding and thoroughly enjoying the intricate threads of music and underlay. One of the many gifts from Saturday’s workshop was to be reminded of this.
Reviewer Kirsten Flores
First published in the June 2022 Newsletter
