Above: the singers of Stile Antico, photographed by Marco Borggreve
Saturday February 19th, 2022 - Stile Antico, the London-based Early Music vocal ensemble, gave a wonderful program this evening at Columbia University's Miller Theater. The music - and the ensemble's hauntingly beautiful singing of it - was a balm to the spirit in these uncertain times.
In this program, entitled Toward the Dawn, Stile Antico brings us works - both sacred and secular - that sing of the hours between dusk and dawn: nocturnal music of mystery and of assurance that carries us through the watches of the night.
The twelve singers of Stile Antico stood in a semi-circle on the bare stage, all clad in black, rearranging themselves for each work. The program was devised in three sections: Evening, Nightfall, and Dawn. After the first piece of the evening - John Wilbye's Draw on sweet night - there was a lovely silence, and then people started applauding. Although the singers seemed prepared for this intrusion - they took a bow - for me it broke the atmosphere. Thereafter, each piece was applauded and bows were taken.
The opening Wilbye set the mood for everything that follows: dreamlike, and tinged alternately with hope and uncertainty. in Thomas Tallis's Te lucis ante terminum, we hear a prayer for God to watch over us throughout the night. John Ward's Come, sable night is extraordinarily beautiful, both in words and music. From William Byrd, we heard Vigilante, a dramatic work that urges true believers to remain faithful...and aware.
The Nightfall section of the program commenced with Orlande de Lassus' Toutes les nuitz, which tells of the restlessness of sleeping alone. This rang true with me as I thought back on the very few nights in the past twenty years that my beloved has not been there to have and to hold. Both in music and words, and in Stile Antico's singing of it, this song was a highlight of the program.
Next came the most familiar work of the evening: Gregorio Allegri's Miserere. I first heard this heavenly music in a movie theatre, while watching the iconic gay film, Maurice. Jonathan Hanley was the tenor soloist, and the high-spinning soprano line was beautifully woven into the sonic tapestry. An interesting program note told of the transformation of this work over the years, so that it probably is quite unlike what Allegri originally wrote. Nevertheless, its enduring enchantment is easy to understand, especially when it is as poetically sung as it was tonight.
John Sheppard's In manus tuas also calls for a soloist: bass James Arthur's tone had a poetic sonority. The words, from Psalm 31:6, are wonderfully simple: "Into your hands I commend my spirit; you will redeem me, Lord, God of truth".
The only contemporary work on the program, Nico Muhly's Gentle sleep, composed in 2015 to a text by Shakespeare, did not seem at all out-of-place. The bending harmonics in fact gave a pleasing contrast to the rest of the works on the program. Muhly's score has an intriguing and somewhat anxious feeling.
Now the dawn is heralded by Thomas Tallis's O nata lux de lumine, which hails Christ as the "Light of the World"; this is followed by Claudio Monteverdi's Ecco mormorar l'onde, a poem describing the morning breeze out of the Orient, stirring the ocean's waves and bringing the world to wakefulness.
The evening concluded with Ave Dei Patris Filia by John Taverner: a longish work of varying moods that extols the Virgin Mary. While a blend of timbres is essential in a choral ensemble like Stile Antico, I did find myself frequently listening to individual voices as the program unfolded; the altos, in particular, impressed me in the concluding Taverner.
The concert ended with a joy-filled Amen, whereupon the singers were given a hearty and very well-deserved ovation. I'd had high expectations for this program, and they were surpassed: extraordinary music-making...bravi Stile Antico!
The hall seemed full, and for the most part silence reigned during the music. Invariably, though, if there is one thoughtless person in an audience, that person is destined to sit next to me. This individual arrived as the lights were going down, with a suitcase, and all bundled up; he/she clambered over me, took forever to settle in, and then spent the evening flipping noisily thru the dreaded texts booklet. Yet another case of the triumph of indifference.
~ Oberon