Orlando di Lassus’ Readings from the Prophet Job

Here is an interesting discovery via the YouTube suggestion algorithm: a polyphonic setting of the Matins lessons for the Office of the Dead, composed by Orlando di Lassus (1532-94), and published in 1565. Very little information about them is to be found on the internet, but the channel on which this video is hosted has a note that they were composed perhaps as much ten years earlier, when he was only 23. In 1556, Di Lassus began working at the court of Albrecht V, Duke of Bavaria, and would stay there for the rest of his life. A friend of mine who is very knowledgeable about the music of this period tells me that the Bavarian ducal chapel already had an anonymous complete polyphonic setting of the Matins and Lauds of the Dead from around 1550, with settings of the antiphons, faux-bourdons versions of the psalms, and responsories, but not the lessons so perhaps this work was put together in its published form to complete the Office. (In the 1580s, Di Lassus composed a second version of the same texts.) If anyone knows more about these, and specifically, about how they would have been used liturgically, perhaps you could explain more about them in the combox.  

The lessons are divided into two or three parts.

1. chapter 7, 16-21 (2 parts)

2. 10, 1-7 (3 parts)

3. 10, 8-12 (2 parts)

4. 13, 22-28 (2 parts)

5. 14, 1-6 (3 parts)

6. 14, 13-16 (2 parts)

7. 17, 1-3; 11-16 (3 parts)

8. 19, 20-27 (3 parts)

9. 10, 18-22 (2 parts)

He also did a setting of the seven Penitential Psalms, which make for especially appropriate listening in the Lenten season. Before the Tridentine reform, these were said on every ferial day of Lent in the Divine Office according to most Uses of the Roman Rite. The breviary of St Pius V reduced the obligation to all ferial Fridays, and the reform of Pope Clement VIII (1602) reduced it further to just the Fridays of Lent; the obligation was then completely cancelled by St Pius X. 

The Lenten Tract Domine, Non Secundum

Dómine, non secundum peccáta nostra, quae fécimus nos: neque secundum iniquitátes nostras retríbuas nobis. V. Dómine, ne memíneris iniquitátum nostrárum antiquárum: cito antícipent nos misericordiae tuae, quia páuperes facti sumus nimis. Hic genuflectitur V. Adjuva nos, Deus, salutáris noster: et propter gloriam nóminis tui, Dómine, líbera nos: et propitius esto peccátis nostris, propter nomen tuum.

Tract O Lord, not according to the sins which we have committed, nor according to our iniquities do Thou repay us. V. Lord, remember not our former iniquities: let thy mercies speedily come before us, for we are become exceeding poor. All kneel. V. Help us, O God, our Savior: and for the glory of Thy name, O Lord, deliver us: and be merciful to our sins for Thy name’s sake.

Beginning on Ash Wednesday, this beautiful tract is traditionally sung every Monday, Wednesday and Friday of Lent until Holy Monday, with the exception of Ember Wednesday. Several composers have put their hand to setting in polyphony, such as the great Josquin des Prez (1450/5 ca. - 1521).

Another version, by his Spanish contemporary Juan de Anchieta (1462-1523).

The next generation is represented by a Frenchman named Jacquet Colebault (), who spent most of his life as master of the chapel in the cathedral of the northern Italian city of Mantua. (He is usually called Jacquet de Mantua, or ‘de Mantoue’ in French.) His very impressive version is nearly 10 minutes long.

Another version, by Jacques Arcadelt (1507-68), who was born in Namur in the County of Flanders (now part of Belgium), but also worked much of his life in Italy, in both Florence and in the Sistine Chapel in Rome, and ended his days in the French royal chapel.

Obrecht’s Mass of St Donatianus

The Martyrology notes today as the feast of a Saint called Donatianus (‘Donatien’ or ‘Donat’ in French, ‘Donatiaan’ or ‘Donaas’ in Dutch), who served as the seventh or eighth bishop of Reims in France from roughly 360-90. Alban Butler’s original Lives of the Saints has no information to offer about him, other than a mention of the translation of his relics to Bruges in 863; in the revised modern edition, he is not included at all. He was adopted as the local patron Saint, and a large collegiate church was dedicated to him. When Bruges became the seat of a bishopric in 1562, this church was made the cathedral, but it was destroyed when the city was overrun by the French revolutionary army; in France itself, the church from which he was translated, the royal abbey of St Nicasius outside Reims, was also destroyed.

The Madonna with Ss Donatianus and George, and Canon Joris van der Paele, ca. 1435, by Jan van Eyck. (Joris is Dutch for George.) Donatianus’ instrument, in addition to his mitre and crozier, is a wheel with five candles on it; this comes from a legend that he was thrown into the Tiber while visiting Rome, but saved from drowning by the pope, who threw him a wooden carriage wheel which he was able to use as a flotation device. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons; click to see in high resolution. The painting has its own article on Wikipedia, which offers a lot of interesting detail about its history.)

The cathedral of St Donatianus in Bruges in 1641 (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The royal abbey of St Nicasius of Reims. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

In the later 15th century, there lived in Bruges a very successful and wealthy fur merchant named Donaas de Moor, who was active in civic life, and, along with his wife Adriane de Vos, a magnificently generous benefactor to the poor; he was dean of the fur traders’ guild, and by turns alderman, mayor and treasurer of the city, as well as a guardian of a pilgrim hospice, and founder of an almshouse. The couple were equally generous to their parish, the church of St James the Apostle, to which they donated the altarpiece of the high altar and the choir stalls, and maintained a chantry chapel behind the high altar, dedicated to their name Saints.

Triptych of the Deposition from the Cross, ca. 1475, by the anonymous Netherlandish painter known as the Master of the St Lucy Legend. This was commissioned for the altar of the de Moors’ chantry; on the side panels, Donaas de Moor and Adriane de Vos are shown kneeling with their respective name Saints behind them. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

The de Moor almshouses in Bruges. Image from Wikimedia Commons by Marc Ryckaert, CC BY-SA 4.0. 

However, in May of 1483, Donaas de Moor was exiled from Bruges for political reasons; he retired to a country estate, and died only four months later. In his will, he left provision for the creation of a Mass in honor of his Patron Saint, which was then commissioned from the Flemish composer Jacob Obrecht (1457-1505), and sung for the first time in the church of St James on the Saint’s feast day in 1487.

Here is a splendid recording of a concert performance of the Mass done by the Tallis Scholars in that very same church in 2018; the video also gives a decent tour of the building.

Dr Emily Thelen’s Talk on the Mass of the Seven Sorrows

As promised last week, here is the superb talk which Dr Emily Thelen gave last Monday about devotion to the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin in the Low Countries in the later 15th centuries, and an important manuscript that contains a very beautiful Mass composed for that feast. This talk was held as part of an ongoing lecture series offered by the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music; the next one in the series will be on Tuesday, November 7th, at 5:45 pm Pacific.

A Very Beautiful Polyphonic Mass for the Seven Sorrows

This past Monday, I attended a supremely interesting online talk by Dr Emily Thelen, hosted by the Catholic Institute of Sacred Music as part of a recurring lecture series. Her subject was the devotion to the Seven Sorrows of the Virgin, and particularly, its emergence in the later 15th century in the Low Countries, and how it was promoted by some of the secular rulers of the area through art and music. I cannot pretend to do justice to the lecture by summarizing it; fortunately, it will soon be posted on YouTube so we can share it here. However, I can do justice to the work which was her principal subject, a manuscript by one Pierre Alamire, by posting these videos of the magnificent Mass of the Seven Sorrows which it contains, recorded by the Belgium-based Early Music ensemble Capilla Flamenca.

Alamire is a nom-de-plume, the pitch signature A and the musical notes La-Mi-Re. He was born in Nuremberg, Bavaria, ca. 1470, with the last name Imhoff or Imhove, which became van den Hove when he moved to the Dutch-speaking parts of the Low Countries in his youth. He was very talented not only as a composer, but also as a creator of beautifully illuminated musical manuscripts, which were highly sought after. As a result of his renown in this field, he traveled a good deal, which led to him serving for a time as a spy for King Henry VIII of England and Thomas Cardinal Wolsey.

The manuscript which Dr Thelen describes in her talk contains inter alia this Mass by the French composer Pierre de La Rue (1452 ca. - 1520), made at the behest of Philip I, Duke of Burgundy (1482-1506; born 1478), who was a great promotor of the devotion to the Sorrowful Mother in a period of great social and political turmoil within his domains.

The name “Capilla Flamenca”, by the way, is Spanish for “the Flemish chapel.” This refers to the fact that the Spanish Habsburg court under the Emperor Charles V and his successor was so generous in its patronage of music that it maintained two full-time choirs, a native choir, the “capilla española”, and another of musicians brought down from its possessions in the Low Countries. 

Kyrie

Gloria

Credo

Sanctus

Agnus Dei

Taking Music Seriously — Inside and Outside of Church

Our Western art-music is the loftiest of God’s gifts to us in the natural order, the greatest artistic treasure the world has ever known, and, in its specifically liturgical manifestations, a vital, indispensable bearer of the theology, spirituality, meaning, and identity of the Catholic religion. We cannot live well without it; we will not pray well without it either.

Music is the language of the soul, its most intimate and exalted expression. Music goes deeply into the soul, into its passions and emotions; it affects us at the intersection of spirit and flesh, it gets “under the skin,” it goes into the very sense-appetites and shapes them by motion, by repetition. Just as habits of virtue or vice are formed in the sense-appetites by repeated action, so too are certain habits formed in the same appetites by repeated sensual stimulation. What we listen to does not remain “outside” of us but enters into us and changes our way of feeling, reacting, perceiving. We cannot help being affected morally by long-term exposure to any kind of music.

The sound that is language comes from our unique mode of being in this world—as being in the world, due to our physicality, but not of it, due to our being rational creatures made in the image of God. The sound that is music, for its part, is the finest flowering of language. No wonder it is the province of worship, loss and lamentation, exultation and joy! For it is a wonder past all other wonders that proceed from the heart of man. Christians, inasmuch as we are “priests, prophets, and kings” by our baptism into Christ the High Priest, Word of God, and King of Kings, deserve and require a diet of the most artistically beautiful, most emotionally satisfying, most intellectually stimulating, and most spiritually beneficial music. In short: we need, for our human and Christian perfection, music that is both good and great. Surrounding it, sustaining it, we need prayer-saturated silence.

Such is the fundamental thesis of my new book Good Music, Sacred Music, and Silence: Three Gifts of God for Liturgy and for Life, which has just been released by TAN Books of Gastonia, North Carolina. Born of decades of experience, study, and reflection as a singer, choir director, composer, and teacher, and seasoned by countless conversations with college students in particular, this work urges readers to take the art of music as seriously as it ought to be taken.
 

The first part, “Music Fit for Kings: The Role of Good Music in the Christian’s Life,” deals with the corrosive cultural and psychological effects of a lot of modern popular music, contrasted with the numerous benefits of a lifelong apprenticeship to the great music of the Western tradition (including the many excellent composers working today). Here, I draw upon thinkers such as Plato, Aristotle, Aquinas, Pieper, and Ratzinger, and offer concrete strategies for acquiring or deepening a love of beautiful music.

The second part, “Music Fit for the King of Kings: The Role of Sacred Music in the Church’s Life,” provides a thorough philosophical and theological account of what is right about Gregorian chant, polyphony, and pipe organ, and what is wrong with, say, folksy guitar-and-piano or peppy Praise & Worship genres at Mass. I do not hesitate to name names and to pursue my argument to the nitty-gritty level.

In the last and (appropriately) shortest part, I speak of the ways in which silence is both the origin and the fulfillment of music. The book ends with a thorough defense of the more-than-thousand-year-old custom of the silent Canon in the Mass, the fittingness of which Cardinal Ratzinger praised, more recently joined by Cardinal Sarah.

Here’s the Table of Contents:
 

Good Music, Sacred Music, and Silence was written for the benefit of pastors, seminarians, church musicians, homeschooling families, classical curriculum advocates, and everyone who is already in love with music or is seeking to develop a better knowledge of it. To musicians particularly, I would add: in my meandering journey from

• a childhood liberal parish and contemporary youth group (all the while listening to prog rock, heavy rock, rap, and other, dare I call them, genres), to
• a charismatic prayer group (when my listening incorporated some “Christian pop” artists), to
• a Latin Novus Ordo with a chant schola (by which time I had switched over entirely to “classical” music), to
• immersion in the Byzantine liturgy in Austria, to
• a mixed old-and-new-Mass chaplaincy in Wyoming, to
• life in parishes run by the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest and the Priestly Fraternity of Saint Peter,

it is highly likely that I have been, for some portion of my life, in a situation similar to that in which any Catholic musician, music director, or music lover may ever find himself; so I believe my book will carry the force of conviction born of experience, and will be able to say something relevant and beneficial to readers from a wide range of backgrounds.

Nowadays I am singing in a fine men’s schola every Sunday and most holy days, and look forward — if anything, ever more as time goes on — to the joy of singing these incomparably wonderful ancient plainchant melodies, so perfectly suited for the rites to which they give musical utterance and shape. Their beauty elevates my mind to God; their tranquility comforts my heart. This is a joy in the beautiful that we should eagerly share with everyone, until they too can know it and benefit from it.

Nothing could be better than the flourishing, everywhere, and to the fullest extent, of great secular music and of the finest sacred music in the liturgy. That is why I have written my latest book, and I hope you’ll check it out.

Good Music, Sacred Music, and Silence: Three Gifts of God for Liturgy and for Life (hardcover, 344 pp., $29.95, ISBN 978-1505122282) is available from the publisher, from Amazon, and from the author if you would like a signed copy.

*   *   *

Mary Harrell of TAN Books conducted a 26-minute interview with me about the book, for those who might be interested:
 

Defining “Pastoral”, Secular Music at Mass, and Sundry

The fourth season of Square Notes: The Sacred Music Podcast has been published, and the upcoming weeks promise many excellent interviews. Check out the three episodes so far from this season, and look for several episodes per week over the upcoming weeks. The podcast is available on YouTube, Spotify, Podcasts, Stitcher, Amazon, and other platforms.

Ash Wednesday 2022

Dómine, non secundum peccáta nostra, quae fécimus nos: neque secundum iniquitátes nostras retríbuas nobis. V. Dómine, ne memíneris iniquitátum nostrárum antiquárum: cito antícipent nos misericórdiae tuae, quia páuperes facti sumus nimis. Hic genuflectitur V. Adjuva nos, Deus, salutáris noster: et propter gloriam nóminis tui, Dómine, líbera nos: et propitius esto peccátis nostris, propter nomen tuum.

Tract O Lord, not according to the sins which we have committed, nor according to our iniquities do Thou repay us. V. Lord, remember not our former iniquities: let thy mercies speedily come before us, for we are become exceeding poor. All kneel. V. Help us, O God, our Savior: and for the glory of Thy name, O Lord, deliver us: and be merciful to our sins for Thy name’s sake.

This beautiful tract is sung every Monday, Wednesday and Friday of Lent until Holy Monday, with the exception of Ember Wednesday. Here is a polyphonic version by the Spanish composer Juan de Anchieta (1462-1523.)

Durandus on the Offertory Super Flumina Babylonis

Upon the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and wept, when we remembered thee, o Zion. (The Offertory chant of the 20th Sunday after Pentecost.)

The bodily captivity (of which the Offertory speaks) signifies our spiritual captivity; the return from captivity is the forgiveness of sins. ... Therefore, lest we return to a similar captivity, and be shut out of the wedding feast (in last week’s Gospel, Matthew 22, 1-14), Paul warns us in the Epistle, “See to it that ye walk with care, not as the unwise, but as the wise.” The Introit Omnia quae fecisti is the voice of Daniel remembering that past captivity, and ascribing it to the judgment of God; likewise, in the Offertory, we weep over that captivity, but in the Gradual Oculi omnium, we give thanks (for deliverance from it). - William Durandus, Rationale Divinorum Officiorum 6.137 in fine.

This text has also been used by some of finest composers of liturgical polyphony, including Palestrina,

Orlando de Lassus (an historical recording from 1961),

and Victoria, who was having a particularly good day when he wrote this.

Music for the Exaltation of the Cross

O Crux, splendidior cunctis astris, mundo celebris, hominibus multum amabilis, sanctior universis: quae sola fuisti digna portare talentum mundi: dulce lignum, dulces clavos, dulcia ferens pondera: salva praesentem catervam in tuis hodie laudibus congregatam. (Antiphon of the Magnificat at First Vespers of the Exaltation of the Cross.)

“O Cross, more splendid than all the stars, renowned in the world, much beloved of all men, holier than all things, who only were worthy to bear the Price of the world: o sweet wood, that bearest the sweet nails, the sweet burdens; save the present company, gathered this day in praise of thee.”

This is not, of course, the Gregorian version of this text for use as an antiphon, but a polyphonic motet made from it by the Netherlandish composer Adrian Willaert, (ca. 1490-1562), and sung by the ensemble Henry’s Eight. (They are named for King Henry VIII, the founder of Trinity College, Cambridge, where they originally formed in 1992.)

The Exaltation of the Cross also provides an opportunity to sing once again at Vespers the famous Passiontide hymn Vexilla Regis, one of the masterpieces of the 6th century writer St Venantius Fortunatus. Here the ensemble AdOriente (which is correct Italian, not Latin) alternates the classic Gregorian melody with an unnamed polyphonic setting.

The alternation of Gregorian and polyphony was a popular way of setting hymns especially in the Counter-Reformation, and some of the best examples are those of Spanish composer Tomás Luis de Victória. This version is particularly interesting for two reasons; the melody of the Gregorian parts is quite different from the Roman one, and the text of the hymn is that used before it was revised by Pope Urban VIII, (given here with Spanish translation.)

In the Byzantine Rite, the Exaltation of the Cross is one of the few days on which the Trisagion, “Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal, have mercy on us!” is replaced by a different text, “We adore Thy Cross, o Lord, and we glorify Thy holy Resurrection.” (The Trisagion is sung between the kontakia, the variable hymn of the Sunday or Saint’s feast, and the Prokimen which introduces the Epistle.) The latter text is also sung the 3rd Sunday of Lent, the Sunday of the Veneration of the Cross, as seen here in the Orthodox cathedral of Kropyvnytskyi in central Ukraine.

Many texts from the Byzantine Rite have also been recast as motets; this setting of “We adore Thy Cross” is sung by the choir of the Trinity Lavra of St Sergius, one the most important monasteries in Russia.

Two Franco-Flemish Polyphonic Masses

Here are a couple of more wins for YouTube’s suggestions algorithm, two very nice Masses of the late Franco-Flemish school of Renaissance polyphony. The first is by Philippe Rogier, who was born ca. 1561 at Arras in the Spanish Netherlands (now in France); the kings of Spain recruited so many musicians and singers from that area that they maintained a full choir of them, known as the Flemish chapel (“capilla flamenca”), in addition to the native choir, the “capilla española.” Rogier became the assistant director of the Flemish chapel in 1584, and director of all the music at the court of Philip II of Spain two years later. He was ordained a priest at an uncertain date, but died in Madrid in 1596 at the age of only 35. He was a prolific composer, with well over two hundred compositions, the majority of them sacred works, listed in the 1649 catalog of the library of King John IV of Portugal where they were kept. This library was destroyed by the terrible Lisbon earthquake of 1755, and the corpus of Rogier’s surviving works counts fewer than 60 pieces, over half of which are motets. Here is one of his seven surviving Masses, the Mass Domine, Dominus noster for three choirs.

Rogier’s contemporary and fellow Netherlander, Géry de Ghersem, was born at Tournai ca. 1574, and as a boy, sang in the capilla flamenca under his direction. In 1604, he returned north, and found a position in Brussels as the director of music for the court of Albert VII, archduke of Austria and sovereign of the Spanish Netherlands; he was also ordained a priest, and worked in several different positions until his death in 1630. He apparently did most of his composing while he was in Spain, and almost all of his corpus, which was very large (perhaps even larger than that of his friend and teacher Rogier), was also destroyed in the library of John IV. In his will, Rogier had asked Ghersem to publish a group of six of his Masses and dedicate them to the King of Spain; Ghersem did this, while adding one of his own to the collection, the only work of his that survives complete, based on a motet by Francesco Guerrero, Ave Virgo Sanctissima.

Passion Sunday 2021

The Vespers hymn for Passiontide Vexilla Regis, in alternating Gregorian chant, according to a different melody than the classic Roman one, and polyphony by Tomás Luis de Victoria.

Polyphonic Masses Sung by The Davey Consort in England

After seeing our recent post about the patronal feasts of the Schola Sainte-Cecile in Paris, reader John Murphy wrote in to let us know about another church and choir that are now posting their Masses on a regular basis on YouTube. The church is St Birinus in Dorchester-on-Thames, England, about 50 miles west of London, a beautifully preserved neo-Gothic gem, one of the first Catholic churches to be built in England after the restoration of the hierarchy. It is home to a choir called The Davey Consort, which was founded by composer and conductor Ryan Wigglesworth, and soprano Sophie Bevan in 2017, and named for John Davey, who commissioned the building of the church in 1849. (More information about the Consort and its goals is given below.) This Saturday, the church will celebate the Mass of its Patron, St Birinus; as you can see in videos, all the texts of the Mass are shown on the screen as they are said to help people follow along.

It is always inspiring to hear the great repertoire of Catholic sacred music used in the liturgy for which it was composed, and we congratulate the clergy and the choir at St Birinus for their efforts. Here are a couple of examples of their recent Masses: the First Sunday of Advent, featuring the Missa Ad Te Levavi by Philippe de Monte, Ad te levavi by Palestrina of the Offertory, the William Byrd’s Vigilate as the Communion motet.

On the feast of All Saints, the choir sang Palestrina’s Missa Eripe me, and two motets by Byrd, Iustorum animae at the Offertory, and O quam gloriosum at the Communion.

On the last Sunday of the year, which was also the feast of St Cecilia, Patron Saint of Musicians, the choir sang the Missa Petra sancta and De Profundis by Palestrina, O beata Dei Genitrix by an anonymous Portuguese composer, (Pedro de Cristo?) and a motet for St Cecilia, Cantantibus organis by Cipriano de Rore.

Mr Murphy, who is the chair of The Davey Consort CIO, writes to say, “A large part of the Davey Consort’s musical endeavour has revolved around transcribing from manuscripts works by neglected composers of the 16th and 17th century. Another aspect is to restore organ music composed for use in the Mass to its proper setting. Much of this oeuvre is long neglected and hasn’t reached a large concert audience, simply because the pieces were designed to be played during the Last Gospel.

We have commissioned an organ from Master Builder Bernard Aubertin, which we hope to have installed next year. For a very small church like St Birinus, this has been an immensely bold undertaking. The object is set a standard of excellence to inspire others at a parochial level; to provide ideas upon with others may draw; and ultimately a tool for education of clergy and laity. We seek to ensure that chant, polyphony and organ music, all realized together harmoniously, are once again enshrined in the Mass which provided their original inspiration. Once the organ is installed we can turn towards creating funding for musical scholarships. What greater honour can there be in restoring Sacred Music performed at the highest level, to its proper setting in the Holy Mass? The future of the Church rests of this mission - to recall the world to Divine Service of the true worship of God in the Sacrifice of the Mass.” Feliciter!

Progressive Solemnity: Traditional Interpretations and Methods

Solemn Mass: the ancient norm and exemplar of the Roman Rite

In the world of the reformed liturgy, one encounters a concept of “progressive solemnity” that has little to do with the Latin liturgical tradition. Basically, the idea is this: start with a spoken Mass as your baseline, and then add things on to it ad libitum: for an ordinary day, sing the “presidential” parts; on a feast, add the propers; on a very special day, bring on the incense and chant the Introit, etc.

In practice, at least in my experience, it ends up being a random series of steps: on weekdays we sing the Alleluia but nothing else; on feasts, we sing the Gloria and the Alleluia; on Sundays we do the four-hymn sandwich and the celebrant sings his parts. Since there is much confusion about what rubrics, if any, govern these sorts of decisions, just about any mix-n-match combination can happen. [1]

With the traditional Roman rite, this confusion is simply not possible: a Mass is either a Low Mass or a Missa cantata or a Missa solemnis, etc., and each has strict requirements about what is to be sung (or not sung). As a result, followers of the traditional rite tend to use the forms of Mass as a way of distinguishing calendrical solemnity: ferias or low-ranking feasts will be Low Masses; high-ranking feasts are Missae Cantatae; Sundays and Holy Days are Solemn High Masses; and, on the most special occasions, a bishop may be invited in for a Pontifical High Mass.

While this is understandable for practical reasons (bishops are not commonly available to pontificate, and even a deacon and subdeacon can be hard to come by), we should recognize that it is not the primary way in which the liturgical tradition of the Church distinguishes degrees of solemnity. In a church sufficiently well equipped with ministers, such as a monastic community or a cathedral with canons, the liturgy will be sung every day; it could be solemn every day. The normative — in the sense of fundamental and exemplary — form of liturgy will always be the chanted rite in the presence of the bishop or abbot, or the nearest thing to it, the Missa solemnis.

On one of my visits to the Benedictine monastery of Norcia, I remember how beautiful it was to attend several solemn Masses in a week. It showed me that this can indeed be a norm rather than an exception. Moreover, since they were so skilled in the liturgy and the chant, and there was no homily, solemn Mass took less than an hour. Each day nevertheless had a distinctive feel to it because of the intelligent use of a plethora of other marks for distinguishing levels of feasts that Catholic tradition has developed over the centuries. In other words, taking the solemn form as normative does not mean placing everything at the same level of solemnity. The solemnity is distinguished rather by the accidents, the manner or mode in which the elements of the liturgy are configured.

Gradations in Gregorian Chant

While every liturgy should ideally be chanted, there are notable distinctions within the repertoire of chant itself. Fr. Dominique Delalande, O.P., observes:

It is too obvious to be denied that a celebration sung in the Gregorian manner is more solemn than a celebration which is merely recited; but this statement is especially true in the modern perspective of a celebration which is habitually recited. The ancients had provided melodies for the most modest celebrations of the liturgical year, and these melodies were no less carefully worked out than those of the great feasts. For them the chant was, before all else, a means of giving to liturgical prayer a fullness of religious and contemplative value, whatever might be the solemnity of the day. Such should also be our sole preoccupation in singing. As long as people look upon the Gregorian chant solely as a means of solemnising the celebration, there will be the danger of making it deviate from its true path, which is more interior. [2]

Put differently, Fr. Delalande is saying that the chant is integral to the expression of the liturgy, not a mere ornament tacked on, like a bow on a Christmas present, and that we do well to utilize the different spheres of chant rather than merely toggling back and forth between recited and sung.

Ordinary. For example, the Mass Ordinary given in the Liber Usualis for ferias is short and simple, while the Ordinaries suggested for Solemn Feasts (Mass II, Kyrie fons bonitatis, or Mass III, Kyrie Deus sempiterne) are melodically elaborate and grand in scope. Five Ordinaries (III–VIII), of varying complexity and length, are suggested for Doubles. Simpler feasts of the Blessed Virgin Mary, e.g., the Holy Name on September 12, might use Ordinary X, while loftier feasts such as the Immaculate Conception or the Assumption could use the great Mass IX, Cum jubilo.

Creed. Similarly, the Liber makes available six settings of the Creed (and still others are in circulation), which vary considerably in their ornateness or “tonality.” Once again, the choice of a Creed melody can reflect something of the nature of the feast or occasion.

Preface. The missal offers three tones for the Prefaces: simple, solemn, and more solemn (solemnior). For a ferial Mass, a Requiem, or a lesser feast, the simple tone should be used; for a higher-ranking feast, such as that of an apostle or doctor, the solemn tone could be used; for the highest feasts, such as Christmas, Easter, Ascension, Pentecost, Corpus Christi, the Sacred Heart, the Immaculate Conception, or the Assumption, the more solemn tone would be highly appropriate. (In some versions of the anecdote, Mozart is said to have claimed that he would gladly exchange all his music for the fame of having composed the Preface tone. If he said this, he would doubtless have been thinking of the more solemn tone, which is indeed of rare beauty.)

Propers. The Proper chants should be sung in full in any case, but for a special occasion with incense and more ceremonial, a verse from the Offertoriale Triplex might be used, and at Communion time, verses and a doxology to go with the antiphon.

Beyond the chant, there are other obvious and subtle ways to elevate or lower the solemnity of a particular day on the calendar, so that ferias do not seem the equal of feasts of saints, and feasts of saints the equal of feasts of Our Lady, and these, in turn, those of Our Lord. It is true that many of the following presuppose a well-stocked sacristy the contents of which have been assembled over a period of time by people with good taste who understand that there is a symbolic value in having more than one kind of any given item.

In the Realm of Sight 

Since, as Aristotle says, the sense of sight is the one that gives us the most information about things, it is not surprising that the largest number of modes for signaling solemnity pertain to the visual domain.

(Photo courtesy of Liturgical Arts Journal)

1. Copes, chasubles, dalmatics, tunicles. It is obvious that plainer vestments should be used for ferias, more decorative ones for feasts, and over-the-top ones for solemnities. There are churches that have special sets used only at Christmas and/or Easter, or for a patronal feastday, etc.

2. Other vestments. For a feria, the alb can be plain; for a feast, it can be patterned; for a solemnity, with lacework. When worn with a Roman chasuble, the design of the alb becomes an important aesthetic element in itself. Similarly, the surplices of acolytes can be plain white or with worked bordered; the cassocks can be black throughout the year but red for Christmastide and Paschaltide.

3. Chalice, paten, and other vessels. It is obvious that these can be of simple or ornate design; in gold or silver or a combination thereof; with or without stones; taller or more squat, Romanesque, Gothic, or Baroque; engraved or plain; etc. This is one detail that is particularly noticed by the faithful, because of the custom of gazing upon the chalice as it is elevated and praying: “My Lord and my God!”

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Pentecost 2020

Loquebantur variis linguis Apostoli, alleluia, magnalia Dei, alleluia. V. Repleti sunt omnes Spiritu Sancto, et coeperunt loqui. Magnalia Dei. Gloria Patri. Alleluia. ~ R. The Apostles spoke in various tongues, alleluia, the wondrous works of God, alleluia. V. They were all filled with the Holy Spirit, and begant to speak of the wondrous works of God. Glory be. Alleluja. (The responsory at First Vespers of Pentecost in the Use of Sarum.)

The Descent of the Holy Spirit, 1618-20, by St Anthony van Dyck (1599-1641); public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

As in almost every medieval Use of the Roman Rite, that of Sarum regularly sang one of the responsories of Matins between the chapter and hymn at First Vespers. Because of its prominence in the English liturgy, it was set by Thomas Tallis in polyphony; here is a really magnificent recording of his version by The Sixteen, conducted by Harry Christophers.

Palestrina also put his hand to it, with equally marvelous results; this version follows the Roman Breviary, where it is sung at Matins of Pentecost Tuesday; after “the wonderful works of God” are added the words “prout Spiritus Sanctus dabat eloqui illis, alleluja. – just as the Holy Spirit gave them to speak forth.” (This recording is also by The Sixteen.)

A New Arrangement of a Renaissance Regina Caeli

Our thanks to composer Mark Emerson Donnelly, who is also the director of music at Holy Family, the FSSP parish in Vancouver, British Columbia, for sending us this information about his arrangement of a polyphonic version of the Regina Caeli, originally by the Italian composer Francesco Soriano (1549-1621).

“Our choir, Chorus Faustinae, already had two polyphonic versions of Regina Caeli in our repertoire, one by Lodovico da Viadana (c.1560-1627) and one by Gregor Aichinger (c.1565-1628). However, I was always intrigued by the setting of their contemporary, Francesco Soriano. The problem I had with it is that it seems quite truncated, more like a fragment rather than a complete piece. Also, it was a shame the rather catchy opening seven measures are not repeated.

So I decided to make the words “Regina caeli, laetare, Alleluia” a refrain (similar to what Aichinger does in his setting), and add some measures to the whole to fill it out. I hope you like the result.

If you’re keeping score (pun intended), I composed measures 8-9 (repeated in meas. 23-24, 41-42 & in augmentation 58-61) and measures 48-51.

Score: Regina Caeli (Soriano, arr-MED)

The score is margin-optimized for reading on a tablet or phone. It can still be printed in Adobe Reader, using the “actual size” setting. NOTE: We are still tinkering with our newly installed mics and sound board at Holy Family. Please excuse the hiccups! God bless, and happy singing!”

Interviews with Catholic Composers — (5) Nicholas Wilton

Today I resume the series of interviews with Catholic composers, albeit this time in a different format. NLM is grateful to Louie Verrecchio for giving permission to republish a recent interview he did with British composer Nicholas Wilton. I am especially delighted to present this composer’s work, as he and I share a compact disc of choral music: “Divine Inspirations,” sung by Cantiones Sacrae of Scotland, featuring 13 pieces by Wilton and 13 by me. It can be purchased here.

Interviewer’s Introduction. Over the course of several days in December, I had the opportunity to interview a rather unique man by the name of Nicholas Wilton; a composer of sacred liturgical music, whose CD recordings I had recently obtained. As most of our readers are well aware, words alone cannot do justice to the beauty of good sacred music; it has to be heard, or better said, it must be experienced. Such is the case with Mr. Wilton’s work. It is truly magnificent. Upon hearing it, I recalled having read a statement made by Cardinal Ratzinger in his book, Spirit of the Liturgy (Ignatius Press, 2000), which I read several times in the years shortly after its publication. He said something to the effect that the generations following the promulgation of the Novus Ordo are the first in the history of the Church not to create their own sacred music. His point, which speaks to the emptiness of the protestantized rite, is well taken. It is, however, incorrect, and Nicholas Wilton is living proof. This is one of the reasons that I was genuinely excited about the prospects of interviewing Mr. Wilton for The Catholic Inquisitor and being able to invite readers to enjoy and support his work; after all we share the same purpose – the glory of God and the salvation of souls.

LV: Tell us a little about your personal history.

NW: I was born in 1959 in Hampstead, London. My mother was German and Catholic, and my father was English and not Catholic, although he converted to the Catholic Faith later on. My earliest musical memory was of my mother singing Mozart songs to me. Mozart’s music influenced me as a young child and I regard his influence on my music as a happy one as I regard Mozart to be the divine Child of Music.

LV: “The divine Child of Music.” I’ve never heard that expression. Can you explain it?

NW: The term is my own. I believe that Mozart was chosen by God Himself at the time to write music of exceptional grace and beauty. His gift or talent was from God, so the term “divine” is appropriate. No, I am not claiming that Mozart is God! Hence, “divine” rather than “Divine.” Of course, God also helped Mozart with the music he wrote. In other words, Mozart was, as J.R.R Tolkien termed it, a divinely inspired sub-creator. His melodies are very often child-like in their simplicity, so I term him the divine Child of Music who had also the very beautiful name, Amadeus.

LV: Tell us something of your early exposure to sacred music and how it affected you.

NW: My earliest exposure to sacred music was at the local Redemptorist church where a fair bit of plainsong was sung. I rather liked it and it seemed to be a very important part the Latin Mass as it then was - with bells and incense adding to the sense of the sacred. However, in the 1960s a lot of the Latin music simply vanished and was replaced by what one can only describe as pop music. “The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind” which we were made to sing struck me as odd because I had been taught that the Church had the answer already.

LV: What impact did the liturgical devastation of the 1960s have on your Catholic faith?

NW: Though I was just learning how to write piano music at the time and not yet composing sacred music, I stopped attending Mass in the 1970s when guitars and flutes were introduced to accompany what I recognized, even at that young age, as extremely banal music.

LV: Was it around this time that you began to write sacred choral music?

NW: No. I carried on learning the piano and trying to write well for the instrument. It was only later when I was studying for a music degree at London University that I was exposed to traditional Latin sacred choral music. I discovered Thomas Tallis at the age of eighteen and was fascinated by his forty-part motet Spem in Alium. Even though I was still writing mainly for the piano, I listened to it often at night in the dark to try to learn from it. It was around this time that I was told about the London Oratory. By then, years had passed since I had last been to Mass, but I decided to pay the Oratory a visit. I was impressed by the choir which regularly sang traditional music from the sixteenth century such as Byrd, Palestrina and Victoria, as well as many others. I started attending regularly and rather had the idea to write for the choir, having just completed a course in “chorestration”- or composing for choir - at the Guildhall School of Music.

LV: Just to be clear, the London Oratory, at least at that time, was celebrating the Novus Ordo in Latin. Is that Correct?

NW: Yes, that’s correct.

LV: Did you eventually write any pieces for the London Oratory?

NW: Yes. I composed a setting of In manus tuas, Domine in 1989 and showed it to the Director of Music, who liked the piece and agreed to perform it. The first performance was a success. This rather encouraged me to write more pieces for the choir including three Benediction pieces which were duly sung at Benediction as well as a setting of Cor meum for the feast of St Philip Neri.

LV: You say that the “performance was a success.” Would it be fair to say that words like “performance” and “success,” when used in reference to sacred liturgical music, necessarily refer to a work that gives glory to God and elevates to the soul to Him; a different meaning than when applied to secular or profane music?

NW: Yes. What I meant was that the piece was sung very beautifully and the choirmaster of the time, the late John Hoban, who gave the first performance at the London Oratory, congratulated me on the piece afterwards and said it was “very fine.” Secular music can also be performed or played well. Secular or profane music can also be well performed and assisted by God if one is His sub-creator. After all, He said “Without me you can do nothing.”

LV: Following your initial success in gaining performances of your early motets, did you find a publisher?

NW: No. I found that publishers were not interested in printing traditional Latin settings, so I decided that I would publish the music myself.

LV: Was this difficult to do?

NW: No. I managed to track down a music engraver who engraved music in the traditional way at that time. Then it was just a matter of having the music printed by a good music printer and, of course, paying for the production.

LV: What led you to begin composing for the traditional Mass?

NW: I discovered that a very old priest, Monsignor Gilbey, said a low Mass at the London Oratory on most mornings. The first time I attended this Mass, I felt that I had come home. I attended each day that I could for about three years, and made quite a few traditionally-minded friends. Shortly after this I started to conduct a small schola for the pre-1955 Mass at Corpus Christi, Maiden Lane, in London. There was a fair bit of plainsong that we had to sing, but I wanted to introduce more polyphony, so I composed some pieces for particular feasts; for example, Beata viscera Mariae for the feast of the Divine Maternity. As not all of the singers were very good, I quickly decided to write music that would be easy to learn quickly and could be sung well by an average Catholic choir. Often, there were no true tenors available, so I began writing tenor lines which would be possible for a baritone to sing. This ended up being a good idea as it allows my sacred choral music to be sung widely and not just by professional choirs.

Felix Namque (at 4'39")

LV: Having “come home,” as you say, did you continue to attend the Novus Ordo in Latin at the London Oratory?

NW: I did, but only for a bit. It wasn’t long before I decided to walk away from the new Mass and to attend the traditional Mass exclusively from then on.

LV: So, you continued to compose for the pre-1955 Mass at Corpus Christi in London?

NW: For a time, but at a certain point, the traditional Mass at Maiden Lane was suppressed, so I no longer had an opportunity to conduct a choir and write new pieces for it, but I continued accepting commissions and composing more motets.

LV: On your CD Sacred Choral Music, sung by Magnificat, there is a setting of Panis angelicus for high voice and organ which sounds rather operatic. Can you tell us how this piece came to be written?

NW: Across the road from me lived an opera singer, Julian Gavin. I was used to hear him singing vocal exercises and decided to do something a little different and wrote my Panis angelicus to suit his voice and wide range. The piece, about the Blessed Sacrament, is dedicated to the Martyrs of Devon and Cornwall of 1549. These martyrs rebelled against the Protestant service which was forced upon them at the time, but unfortunately they didn’t have good leadership and so very many Catholics were martyred including a priest who was hanged from a church steeple in his Mass vestments.

LV: Tell us a little about how your sacred choral CD came about.

NW: In the late 1990s at the Oratory I made a friend who offered to pay for a CD to be made of fourteen of my pieces. I rang up the director of the acclaimed English choir, Magnificat, who agreed to perform and record the pieces. My first thought was that it might help sheet music sales, but it turned out so well that I decided to release it in its own right by my publishing and record company, Philangelus. The recording was very well received and continues to sell well.

LV: If readers wish to buy a copy of your CD how can they best do this?

NW: There is an Australian company - Four Marks Music, which supports traditional, Catholic composers. The sell both my Sacred Choral Music CD as well as Music for Piano. Downloads of both CDs are also available for purchase for folks who prefer them. Their email address is fourmarksmusic@outlook.com and the web site is https://www.fourmarksmusic.com/.

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Interviews with Catholic Composers — (4) Ronan Reilly

Today we interview a composer from Australia, Ronan Reilly, whom NLM readers may recall is also the President of the Latin Mass Society of Australia. It was in that administrative capacity that I first got to know him, on my trip Down Under in April 2019. But then I quickly discovered what a gifted musician and composer he is, and have looked forward ever since to sharing his work.

Reilly, on the left, with friends who recorded his music

Tell us about your musical background: when and how you began singing or playing instruments, your most influential teacher, how your interest in composing sacred music was enkindled.

I started out my musical journey as a 10-year-old chorister at St Mary’s Cathedral, Sydney in 2002. Over the course of 8 years I was exposed to the beautiful treasury of Sacred Music, everything from Gregorian chant through to contemporary compositions in the vein of classical polyphony. Each Chorister was expected to learn an instrument to complement their singing tuition – I chose the cello. Throughout my time in the Cathedral Choir I developed an interest for the ‘mechanics of polyphony’ and had a fascination for the art of renaissance composition.

“Behold A Simple Tender Babe”

Is there a sacred music composer whose work you find most captivating, either as a source of delight, or as direct inspirations and models for your own work?

I have always had a particular love for the English School of Polyphony and most especially for William Byrd. I find Byrd has a depth of expression in his compositions that is hard to match due to his experience of persecution and repression – he is unapologetically Catholic and his music attests to this (cf. Et Unum Sanctam Catholicam Mass for Five Voices). Byrd also has a profound ability to express melancholy (cf. Civitas Sancti Tui) – he intimately understood and lived through the Elizabethan Catholic persecution and did not shy away from comparing it to the desolation and devastation of the Israelites of old. I think it is safe to say that what Byrd experienced and what we are living through have many parallels – a change in liturgical praxis, a change in the language of prayer, a change in the attitude of secular authorities towards Catholics, etc.

“Regina Caeli”

If you were given an unlimited budget for musicians for a solemn pontifical Mass, what works would you put on the program?

If I were allowed to specify the feast day, I would certainly opt for November 2nd, the feast of All Souls. There is a vast treasury of compositions for the Mass and Office of the Dead, especially from the Spanish School. It is a uniquely Catholic reality to pray for the repose of the souls of loved ones who are, God willing, being cleansed of their sins, transgressions and negligence’s in Purgatory. It is a dream of mine to sing Victoria’s Requiem for 6 voices; a feat of musical and theological genius. Ideally the Mass would be preceded by Matins for the Dead, using the Morales Invitatory.

“For With God”

The language of sacred music, as of Catholic worship in general, remains a controversial subject. What are your thoughts about the place of Latin in vernacular liturgy and the place of the vernacular in Latin liturgy?

I am a firm believer in the sacral and expressive beauty of Latin, a vehicle for tradition and stability. Latin instantly brings to mind the antiquity of the Church and the universal character of the Bride of Christ, somewhat like the expanse and glory of the Roman Empire which She inherited. The language of prayer ought to elevate the soul and transcend national boundaries – a foretaste of Heaven. There can be no doubt that the patrimony of Catholic thought and prayer is directly bound to Latin. The melodies of both Gregorian chant and polyphony are married to the Latin texts which they clothe and bring to life: one cannot sacrifice the use of Latin without sacrificing the history, inheritance and tradition of the Church.

What are some strengths and weaknesses you see in the “traditionalist” movement, particularly from a musical point of view?

Having attended the Usus Antiquior exclusively for almost 10 years, I can attest, from a musical perspective, that it is a safe haven from the ‘sacro-pop’ wars, a place wherein the integrity of Catholic music can flourish and thus nourish everyone. First and foremost, the Mass in use is that for which the majority of great sacred music was written: it fits hand in glove.

That is not to say that all traditional communities have a standard or expectation of sacred music that befits the liturgy – this is certainly not the case. In a purely theoretical framework, a traditional community has everything at its disposal to build and sustain a great sacred music tradition. And so this should be taken as a duty, not an option.

What are you doing now in the realm of sacred music?

I currently teach music at a small traditional Catholic School in Brisbane, Australia. We have a budding sacred music program with an abundance of talent and enthusiasm; our High School Polyphonic Choir will perform Allegri’s Miserere at the end of the year and our Liturgical Schola will sing the Byrd Mass for Three Voices at the final School Mass. It is a wonderful gift and opportunity to be able to impart the indispensable beauty of sacred music to young minds and to see them fall in love with the many facets and fascinations of sacred music and all that it entails.

As the Publicity Officer for the Australian Sacred Music Association (www.sacredmusic.org), I frequently travel around Australia conducting workshops in Sacred Music, mainly in schools and parishes that are keen to learn about their musical heritage.

Interviews with Catholic Composers — (3) Tate Pumfrey

Today we interview a Canadian composer, Tate Pumfrey, who specializes in English hymns in the grand old style, with newly-written hymn texts of strong diction, rhyme, and meter. (As we learn in the interview, the texts are contributed by an Australian, Christian Catsanos, also pictured below.)

Tate Pumfrey, composer (left); Christian Catsanos, hymnodist (right)

Tell us about your musical background.

I’ve had a wandering road to get to where I am today. I played several instruments in my youth, but few of them really stuck with me. That said, I have been a singer for a long time and still sing quite regularly in a choral capacity. I started playing the pipe organ sporadically in high school before I began serious organ lessons in my first year of university (albeit outside of school) with Gilles Maurice Leclerc, of Ottawa, Ontario. Gilles is still a good friend, and he had a large impact on me. Not only is he an excellent organist and improvisor, he’s also a talented composer. He has been so kind as to look at my pieces and offer feedback, and I still send him my music.

How was your interest in composing sacred music enkindled? 

I started to become interested in writing sacred music around the same time I became interested in the Traditional Latin Mass, although I’m not sure if there’s a direct correlation. One day in October 2017, I spontaneously wrote a little hymn, both text and music, but was largely dissatisfied with my poetry. When a second hymn seemed to fall out of my head in February 2018, I wanted to see if I could find someone to write texts for my music. I sent out a call for a text writer in a Facebook group for church musicians, and a young organist from Australia, named Christian Catsanos, got in touch with me. Before I’d even sent him the music for this second hymn, I told him that the lines were 8.7.8.7. He sent me a text that was appropriately penitential for the mood of the music, and all seven verses fit like a glove! It has been an awesome and fruitful experience working with Christian. He writes beautiful texts, and my hymns would not be possible without his wonderful words.

Is there a sacred music composer — or are there several composers — whose work you find most captivating, either as a source of delight (however different in style from your own compositions), or as direct inspirations and models for your own work?

I have a few composers who I greatly admire in the area of sacred music, but Anton Bruckner is certainly near the top. I find his ability to write in a complex harmonic language while still respecting the traditions that came before him to be fascinating. The Kyrie from his Mass No. 2 in E Minor always gives me chills. While Bruckner is not necessarily a direct influence, his motets do inspire me to write my own pieces in that vein someday. Another composer I enjoy is Ralph Vaughan Williams. While he wasn’t Catholic, I very much like his style of hymnody. His harmonizations are superb, and I love his use of modes and his melodic writing. Other favourites include William Byrd, Thomas Tallis, Manuel Cardoso, Flor Peeters, Jean Langlais, and Louis Vierne, as well as the Anglo-Canadian composer Healey Willan.

If you were given an unlimited budget for musicians for a solemn pontifical Mass, what works would you put on the program? 

Of all the settings I could pick, and while it lacks an orchestral accompaniment, I would have to choose Peeters’ Missa Festiva. Scored for organ and SATBarB choir, this wonderfully modal work is one of my absolute favourite Mass settings. It lacks the operatic tendencies that one might find in Bruckner, and is overall a serious and beautiful work. I love how Peeters comes up with fascinating backdoors into other modes and chromatic avenues that are unexpected, all of which adds to the mystery and grandeur that one would hope to find in a proper Mass setting.  Honourable mentions include Bruckner’s Mass No. 2 in E minor, Cardoso’s Missa Miserere mihi Domine, any of Byrd’s three Mass settings, Vierne’s Messe Solennelle, Langlais’ Messe Salve Regina, as well as the contemporary setting by Yves Castagnet, also titled Messe Salve Regina.

Many have been pointing to generational dynamics in the Catholic Church. Have you encountered such dynamics in your own life and work?

Over the years, my taste in church music has shifted, and I now prefer Gregorian chant and traditional hymnody over the so-called “folk hymns” that I grew up with. As for a generational dynamic, I’ve found that many of my young Catholic friends are also drawn to that which is old and timeless, even if they are not able to attend the Extraordinary Form on a regular basis. This is in stark contrast to the older generations of parishioners, who in my experience seem to prefer the “folk hymns” to what they might call the “moldy oldies.”

I sang in my first year of university with the Adoramus Choir at St. Patrick’s Basilica in Ottawa, Ontario. We did chanted Mass parts, sang a motet most Sundays, and used strong, traditionally-styled hymns. While the liturgy was in the Ordinary Form, the time I spent there had a big impact on me, as I became acquainted with both Latin and Gregorian chant. When some university-age friends at Western University in London, Ontario during my second year asked me if I wanted to “try out” the Traditional Latin Mass, I said yes. I have been going most Sundays since then. I love singing chant, and everything that goes along with traditional Catholicism.

As far as traditionally stylings of my own music, I find the seemingly old-fashioned form of four-part hymnody very attractive. This is not to say that everyone my age find traditional sacred music as attractive. Some young Catholics I know are quite attached to the so-called “praise and worship music” (which is largely Protestant in origin); I find that style unappealing. It is musically difficult to distinguish it from popular songs on the radio, and the constant use of “I” statement, such as, “here I am to worship,” shows a tendency toward self-absorption, not worship of the Lord Almighty. This kind of music is a complete barrier to my prayer. Hence, I write traditional, four-part hymns that “sound like church,” even to someone who has rarely attended. By its very definition, sacred music ought to be set-apart, and this is exactly what I aim to do with my newly composed hymns.

What are some strengths and weaknesses you see in the “traditionalist” movement, particularly from a musical point of view?

I find the “traditionalist” movement to be strong in its support of good, reverent sacred music, especially chant, the music that is supposed to have pride of place in the liturgy. I love chant and the reverence it brings to Mass, and I feel we’ve lost a great treasury of beauty with the lessened use of chant. I must also say that I’ve been blest to have some of my hymns sung at the local Traditional Latin Mass, which has further encouraged me to continue composing. My main concern is that there is at times a sense of negativity about the future, but other than that, my time with the “traditional” movement and the Tridentine Mass has been a time of great spiritual growth and has also given me a refuge from the intensity of the outside world.

What are some of your future plans as a composer?

As I am now in my fourth year of an undergraduate degree in music, I hope to pursue a master’s and perhaps even a PhD in composition. I love to compose, both sacred music, as well as more secular, instrumental pieces, and I hope to go as far as I can with my music, as long as God wills it. Even if I do not go as far as a PhD, I will continue to write hymns and other sacred works.

Triptych for Viola and Piano

Postlude for Organ

The three hymns featured here may be purchased in a collection of 24 hymns for the Church year (link at Amazon):

Biography of the Composer
Tate Pumfrey (b. 1998) of Thamesville, Ontario, Canada is a music student at Western University, where he studies composition. Growing up in household with a musical mother, he played many instruments over the years and has more recently taken up the pipe organ. Composition has long been a part of Tate’s life, as he would “invent” tunes and pieces for friends as a kid. He began composing formally in high school, where composition lessons with Mr. Jim Brown helped him get his music off the ground. Now in his fourth year of an undergraduate degree, he hopes to continue his studies with a Master’s of Composition. For Tate, faith and music are deeply connected, and as such, it was a natural progression for him to write church music as well as secular classical music. His website is tatepumfreymusic.com and can be reached at tatepumfreymusic@gmail.com.

Biography of the Hymnodist
Christian Walter John Catsanos is an organist and hymnodist. He was born in Sydney, Australia in 1993 and began his work as a hymnodist in 2004. His work has been largely influenced by the mentorship of Dr. Richard Connolly and Mrs. Donrita Reefman. Having had an interest in sacred music and having been a singer in his school’s chapel choir, Christian held an organist post at the school from 2006 until 2011. Since then, he has held several parochial organist positions starting in 2007. Christian holds a Bachelor of Music in organ performance from the Australian Institute of Music, awarded in 2017. He can be reached at christianwaltercatsanos@gmail.com.