On Saturday, August 12, at 7:30pm, the critically-acclaimed vocal ensemble His Majesty’s Men (website, Facebook) will once again perform at the historic and beautiful St. John Cantius Church in downtown Chicago.
Their program, “The Flower of Beauty”, will feature two newly-commissioned works on Marian themes composed by two traditionalist Catholics: a setting of the Ave Maris Stella by HMM’s composer-in-residence Mark Nowakowski, and a setting of the Stabat Mater by Peter Kwasniewski. Both composers will be present at this concert.
Also featured will be several motets by the brilliant composer William Byrd, who died in 1623, and could be said to be the greatest English composer before Henry Purcell. Marian themes continue in “Ave Maris Stella” by the 15th-century French composer Guillaume Dufay. There will also be several audience favorites, notably “A Cloud Enveloped Them” by Chad McCoy, which made a huge impact last year. And we will once again present the 13th-century “Seacht nDolás na Maighdine Múire”, the seven sorrows of the Virgin Mary, sung in Irish Gaelige in Chris Crilly’s beautiful arrangement.
There will be a reception after the concert in the Cafe San Giovanni. The musicians and the composers Dr. Nowakowski and Dr. Kwasniewski are greatly looking forward to meeting attendees.
Dr Kwasniewski has recently posted two new recordings to his YouTube channel. The first is a motet for the Easter season. In this recording, it is sung by the Ecclesia Choir, under the direction of Timothy Woods, at a live concert at St John Cantius, June 25, 2017.
“After eight days, Jesus came, the doors being closed. Alleluia. Again His disciples were within, and He stood in the midst, alleluia, alleluia. And He said, ‘Peace to you’, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia; alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe, alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. (John 20, 26 and 29).
The second was composed in March of 2013, shortly after Pope Benedict’s abdication; this setting of Psalm 116 (the shortest in the Psalter) is dedicated to him, specifically in thanksgiving for the motu proprio Summorum Pontificum, which has borne and continues to bear such good fruits for the Catholic Church.
Composer Mark Nowakowski chose this piece to be performed with his “choir” Vos Omnes, which consists of volunteers who individually recorded their parts and submitted them to him for audio production. Kevin Ceigersmidt created the video, which is also on the YouTube channel of the Vos Omnes Virtual Choir. Visit there and have a listen to works by other contemporary Catholic composers.
Thank you to so many readers for their thoughtful and interesting comments in response to my article about the relevance of high-art music (“classical music”) in the modern age, here. I would like reply to some of the points they made here, by way of continuing the discussion.
My assertion, if you remember, is that whatever form it takes, there will be no high-art music that can contribute to the evangelization of the culture, until the culture of faith and the wider contemporary culture are re-connected. And that won’t happen, I believe, until contemporary sacred music that participates in the tradition is the norm (along with the established canon from the past). My argument was that it will be modern sacred music that will drive and inspire most powerfully the creation of a culture-changing, modern high-art music, and not, or not only, the classical music of the past. I do agree, however, with those who suggested that a good education can form in people an appreciation of such music. However, I feel that education can never be the main factor in effecting such a change. The demand for such music is created, I believe, primarily by the quality of the music created. The value of such an education, therefore, is predominantly in the formation of those who will patronize and those who will compose beautiful new music. Once composed, the music will create its own market.
Having said that, I am absolutely not arguing that we shouldn’t try all approaches. The more avenues of creativity that we explore, the greater chance we have of success. (I make the same arguments in relation to art, incidentally.) The first task, I would say, is to form the artists and patrons, which I feel is a more realistic goal, and to encourage them to work together to make the art that will create its own market through the power of its beauty.
Some made the interesting suggestion that film music might be modern high-art music. There may be a point here. The power and goodness of the music, it seems to me, will be dependent upon the nobility of end towards which the film which it accompanies is directed. If that end is in harmony with the noblest end of man, then the composer that works well will create beautiful music. That being the case, such music will be most powerfully effective when heard in the context for which it was intended, which is in conjunction with the film for which it was composed. This, then is as much an argument for the production of better movies as it is for the production of better music. To take an example these two powerfully combined: I have always loved Vaughan Williams’ Fantasia on a Theme by Thomas Tallis. This piece was chosen to accompany a scene in the 2005 film Master and Commander in which an 18th-century British frigate rounds Cape Horn in terrifyingly stormy seas. On the wide screen, this was one of the most dramatic pieces of cinema I have ever seen. for several minutes we saw towering waves and spray from the perspective of a small wooden boat.
Now, every time I listen to this piece I imagine also stormy seas. I would say that this combination of picture and music speaks evocatively of the awesome power of a great God and Creator - our Lord, Master and Commander! It is interesting that this composition is an early 20th-century English adaptation of a melody composed originally as sacred music by the English Elizabethan composer of polyphony, Thomas Tallis. This illustrates the chain of causality that I have referred to above. The original melody is in Mode III:
And here is the full Fantasia based upon this melody written a piece of orchestral music (actually for string quartet and orchestra) by Vaughan Williams.
The composition of music to accompany vision is a discipline, one imagines, that can in some cases channel the skills of the composer to greater heights than he otherwise might achieve. I prefer, for example, Ennio Morricone’s film music, even sacred music composed for a film such as The Mission, to his performance Mass composed in 2014.
To draw parallels with art again, when I was working as a sub-editor on the Culture section of The Sunday Times in the UK some years ago, I spoke to the art correspondent who regularly featured exhibitions of works of illustrators. One I remember was of the original drawings of Winnie the Pooh by E.H. Shepard. I spoke to the journalist about it and asked if illustration was now considered high art. He said, no, but so much art nowadays is so directionless and meaningless, that he liked to throw in illustration because he noticed the conformity to an external purpose seemed to produce, in many cases, better work and skill from the artists. He told me that he rarely stated this openly because it was not a popular opinion.
This, I think, is worth remembering. There is no such thing as music for music’s sake, just as there is no such thing, despite what we are told, as art for art’s sake. The very fact that a composer or artist decides to create something means that it must have some purpose in his mind. Beautiful music and art are so because they fulfill a noble purpose. Bad art fails to do so or fulfills a less than noble purpose. To aim to create illustrations that contribute to stories that charm children and stimulate their imaginations in a beautiful way is a noble aim!
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/.
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.
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.
Today we interview a Polish-American composer, author, and professor of music Mark Nowakowski, whose articles NLM readers may recall seeing especially at OnePeterFive.
Tell us about your musical background: when and how you began singing or playing instruments, your most influential teacher…
I grew up in Chicago and began my musical journey in the Catholic school band system there, which was about the only decent musical thing happening in the diocese at the time. Years later I entered Illinois State University and in a round-about and somewhat amusing fashion became a music major. The initial formation I received was very good in many ways, but it was, as most programs at the time, almost entirely dominated by academic modernism. As my reversion to Catholicism began to take place I concurrently began to perceive more clearly the link between the spiritual and aesthetic, and how modernism was a dead-end in both respects. At this time I also began questioning whether or not my musical work might be a professional vocation.
The first major answer to my discernment prayers came when I discovered the music of Henryk Górecki. I still remember listening to his Third Symphony at a record store and trying not to weep at this astounding music. It captured the national character of war and tragedy in Polish history but also moved upwards towards the universal, while sweeping past modernism like a bad dream. (Meeting Górecki personally at his home many years later was a similar spiritual homecoming of which I will have to write one day.) Digging deeper I discovered that Górecki was part of an entire movement, and I subsequently discovered the music of Tavener, Pärt, Kancheli, and others. Tracing backwards from their influences into the sacred, classical, and folk music that helped form their unique voices, I received quite the revision in my understanding of the authentic endpoint of music history.
O Beauty Uncreated – O Pieknosci Niestworzona (2012)
How was your interest in sacred music stirred up?
As I moved through my studies I never had a sacred music teacher (they hardly exist, even now), but still managed to find strong teachers who were tolerant – and sometimes even loosely supportive of – my emerging views and goals as a composer. While attending various institutions to get those all-important academic credentials, I spent as much, if not more, time learning from the aesthetic patrimony of Holy Mother Church. Nadia Boulanger and her astounding legacy also inspired me deeply, though I never met her.
In many ways, in our time, you’re tracing your lineage back to either Boulanger or Arnold Schoenberg. At a particularly crucial time when I was negatively questioning my vocation as a composer I was convinced by a colleague to attend a conference of former Boulanger students. Expecting yet another droll academic affair I found myself instead shocked by what I encountered, because in the middle of the hyper-modernist University of Colorado, sitting in the midst of politically “progressive” Boulder, hundreds of people were suddenly talking about God and the spiritual power and purpose of music. I realized then that I was not alone, and I realized that Boulanger – a daily communicant and a sort of unmarried secular “nun” of compositional pedagogy – had evangelized her students through her work in music.
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?
The names I mentioned before form my bedrock and constitute the “original” influences I continually return to. Górecki, for his unapologetic musical honesty and folk spiritually. Pärt, for his unabashed Christian mysticism. Tavener, for his powerful yet simple tuneful simplicity. Other composers who continued this new stream of authentic music have exercised a similarly profound later influence: MacMillan, Lukaszewski, many others, and here in the States our mutual friend, Dr. Frank LaRocca. I lead with the modern composers in my answer, because they show us that it is possible to look forward still in what we do in an authentic way. Of course one must look backwards before moving forward, and many names emerge as our great teachers. For me, individuals such as Dufay, Byrd, Lassus, Mozart, Schumann, Mahler, and Holst come to mind (at least in terms of those who wrote a substantive body of clearly sacred music).
tu autem Domine (2018)
If you were given an unlimited budget for musicians for a solemn pontifical Mass, what works would you put on the program?
What a fantastic question! Obviously as a composer, I’d want to compose most of it myself. For a solemn pontifical Mass, I think that I would try to resist the desire to go “all in” with everything and the kitchen sink. Instead I would advocate for a very tightly rehearsed ensemble of about 16 singers, along with organ and strings (perhaps oboe and horn to round things out, not unlike some of the great Mozart masses). This is because I think that this is a time for the Church to look inwards. Our most vital evangelization, it seems to me, must be amongst our own members, and consist of a pointed spiritual and liturgical house-cleaning and re-ordering. Therefore I think that art capable of encouraging such inner focus is so potent and necessary in our times. I’d want such sacred music – whether it be liturgical or non-liturgical – to aid in such contemplation, and my choice of instrumentation would have to reflect that. If I were to curate a mix of music, I might explore clear intersections between medieval compositions and modern works.
What are your thoughts about the place of Latin in vernacular liturgy and the place of the vernacular in Latin liturgy?
I am a native English speaker and also fluent in Polish, so I have a bilingual experience which I think allows me to sometimes more deeply discern the strengths, weaknesses, and personalities of various linguistic expressions. My family also has a personal experience of the ravages of Communism – including the insidious changing of the meaning of language to reflect that evil ideology – and therefore I’m also sensitive to the ways in which language has once again been attacked for ideological and propagandistic reasons.
Latin is a language I keep returning to in my writing not only because it is still the Church’s language, but also because it is a singularly beautiful language. It is inherently sing-able and seems to have the necessary structure and gravitas to bear the full weight of both liturgical solemnity and spiritual contemplation. Let’s be honest: “Lamb of God, you take away the sins of the world” is just not as beautiful or sing-able as “Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi…” – and we have an entire failed post-conciliar repertoire to prove it. And now that composers are in an age where English settings are still the Church standard, they mostly want to compose in Latin! That should speak for itself.
How about the objection that it’s a “dead language” that no one can relate to?
I adore the fact that Latin is a so-called “dead language.” It’s our dead language, however – meaning, the Church’s. And it is static in a way which allows for meanings to remain constant, and for the language to not take on new negative cultural associations.
I can give a potentially controversial example of what I mean here. For instance, to this day I wince a bit inside when I hear the name “Jesus Christ” in English. Obviously for nothing to do with Him, but rather because, as a native English speaker from the USA, the cultural baggage associated with the Holy Name – everything from terrible curses, to the Lord’s name taken in vain taken every three seconds in movies, to televangelists yelling about “Jayzus Kuh-riiiist!,” to saccharine invocations of protestantized “personal relationships with Jesus” have attached itself to that name for me. As a result, during my reversion to the faith, I found that I had to speak Jesus’s name in Latin, or Aramaic, or even my other language – Polish – to be able to pray more freely and peacefully and not wrestle with negative cultural baggage.
Linguistic distance and purity allowed me to approach our Lord anew. While I think Christ has rehabilitated this somewhat in me, it left me wondering: if the Sacred Name could take on such negative cultural baggage, what of more common language? We have no shared negative cultural or propagandistic memories of Latin (or Biblical Greek for that matter), and therefore the language automatically becomes a purer vehicle for both composition and prayer.
As to the liturgy itself, I now know as a full Latin Mass convert that the general Latin (and Greek) of the TLM is entirely learnable even to somebody who does not technically speak Latin; even children can learn it. This is as much Latin as we practically need, while the benefits to the beauty and unburdened cultural aspect of the language is a very powerful vehicle in our spiritually turbulent times. The surface is beautiful, and for those who elect to go deeper, the spiritual and aesthetic payoff is unending.
Usquequo, Domine? (2019)
Many have been pointing out the strong generational dynamics in the Catholic Church: older people seem to want the popular or secular styles of art, while at least some younger people are intrigued by traditional forms that have an archaic feel to them. Have you encountered such dynamics in your own life and work?
Yes and no. I’m not sure that young people think of these things as archaic as opposed to “authentically new,” “deeper,” “more fulfilling.” As a musician, I don’t experience Palestrina or Bach or Mozart as archaic, nor do I listen to Górecki and think “that was the mid-70’s in a nutshell.” No. The music, being what it is, has been composed in a way as to have a value which exceeds the constraints of style in any given time. Our traditional Mass is an even more powerful version of this phenomenon. In my experience, those who turn this into a generational battle simply don’t understand what they are really arguing about. It’s about getting to a more authentic spiritual reality, one that transcends time, culture, and place. I believe you made a similar argument, Peter, during the last Catholic Art Guild conference.
Aesthetic sickness is also a very real and dangerous consequence of our popular culture at this time, and it can block a person from experiencing the ineffable in the liturgy and liturgical art; coupled with unconfessed sin, a person can feel even revulsion towards a traditional liturgy. These are serious manifestations which generally speak more to the issues needing to be addressed by those who feel such revulsion than to anything in the Mass of the ages. A person in this state has no business making aesthetic decisions about the Mass.
You obviously have experience with the traditional movement. What are some strengths and weaknesses you see in it — particularly from a musical point of view?
I am enthused to see the growing realization of the central importance of Beauty and the authentic fine and sacred arts in our movement. As a corollary to this, I see a lot of devoted Catholics now recognizing the corrosive influence of popular media of various forms, and shutting it off. This is a great beginning, but it is only a beginning, because a clean swept house will only invite more severe demons than the first, as Christ teaches us.
Catholics – especially those of us seeking to be so-called “glad trads” – need to be more proactive in terms of aesthetic formation as part of raising spiritually healthy children. For instance, if you don’t want your children to fall prey to the messaging of popular music, the best way to inoculate them against such things is to not just turn off the filth, but to form them musically. Deal Hudson supposedly makes a similar argument on a macro-cultural level (while including great music as a component of this) in a book he just released a few days ago titled: How to Keep from Losing Your Mind: Educating Yourself Classically to Resist Cultural Indoctrination. He could have easily called it “how to keep from losing your soul.”
Now we must admit that most Catholics – especially those with larger families – don’t have the time or financial resources to make sure their kids get music lessons and sing and play in quality groups; or they are involved in volunteer-based programs that don’t really give good formation. And yet given our nature to congregate in communities and parishes, there are potential solutions. There can be children’s choirs taught via the Ward Method, or group lessons in string instruments within the excellent Suzuki method. I’d go as far as to say that any parish school or homeschooling group worthy of the name should have access to at least one such program.
Nowakowski’s setting of the “Ave Maria” (audio only)
Nowakowski’s setting of “O Sacrum Convivium”(audio only)
What about kids with serious talent — is there a college or university they can go to that will support a Catholic vision of music?
In the realms of higher education, there is unfortunately no authentically Catholic institution offering an undergraduate or graduate formation in music composition in the Catholic tradition. The end result is that those called to be Catholic composers end up having to supplement their secular educations with guesswork and self-study.
While many great Catholic Universities can now put out students who can pontificate philosophically on the nature of Beauty, they have no sustained or practical experience of it. They don’t know the tradition – the “aesthetic magisterium” and the great secular works which grew out of its fertile cultural soil – and that’s a major handicap if you have the pretension of wanting to rebuild Christian culture.
One place that I think offers a wonderful model is The Lyceum in Cleveland. This Catholic 6th-12th grade institution, last I checked, makes every student sing in their choir. And if you’re not familiar with this group, go and listen: it’s shocking how good they are, considering that this is a compulsory activity! Clearly there is more going on here than just “every student has to be in choir.” There is real Catholic aesthetic formation happening here. And from what I hear from my own friends who have been around this program, generally the kids embrace being an active part of this tradition. The Chesterton Academy system has a similarly rigorous musical formation.
“Before I formed you…” (2018)
Tell us something about your sacred music.
For me, if a work contains a sacred text, it is sacred music, even if the piece is not intended for the liturgy. I’m working on several motets that could have liturgical application.
I’m also doing my third commission for a wonderful group run by a recent Catholic convert (straight into traditionalism, I might add), the violinst Fiona Hughes. This group – Three Notch’d Road – is a historical performance practice group, and we joke that I’m the only living composer to have written for them. This new project is called “Quo Vadis,” and it is a setting of the early Christian legend where St. Peter is fleeing persecution in Rome. The tradition is that he encountered a vision of Christ on the way out, to which he asked “Quo Vadis, Domine?”, where Christ replies: “I am going to Rome to be crucified in your place.” Wherein of course Peter gets the message, turns around, and returns to face his martyrdom. The text is taken from the famous Sienkiewicz novel of the same name, and has been translated into Latin appropriate for that time period by an FSSP priest friend of mine (who has asked not to be credited, as opposed to only his order being named). It is being composed for three singers (soprano, countertenor, and bass) and Baroque ensemble. The premieres are in various areas in Virginia between March 6th and 8th, 2020, and I’d love to speak there to anyone who heard about this collaboration from this interview.
Liturgical music is a tougher nut to crack in our field: there are no more than a handful of full-time composers worldwide making a living at it. Traditional Churches usually lack the resources to commission and adequately perform new liturgical works, while more “mainstream” Catholic parishes simply have no interest in such things. I hope for a positive change to this dismal situation, and it may be a part of the task of artists and patrons of our generation to rebuild these bridges between Church and artist, so that future generations can more easily get about the vital work of evangelizing the culture through art.
You have written a lot of instrumental music. How does this fit into your identity as a Catholic composer?
I think many traditional Catholics think that “sacred music” must have a vocal element, but this has not been my experience at all. For instance, if we look at two of the composers I mentioned previously, they have each written works without vocalists that are profoundly transcendent expressions of Christian mystical contemplation. Arvo Pärt’s famous Fratres doesn’t have a word in it, but you’d be hard pressed not to call it sacred music. Or Górecki’s Third String Quartet: it is a profound spiritual elegy by my estimation. So the realm of instrumental music, perhaps because of its greater abstraction and ability to explore more complex tonal and timbral relationships, can be particularly suited to the activity of religious contemplation.
With their names upon their arms... (2018)
Interestingly enough, you are listed as a professor of music technology. How does that fit into your work in composition?
I’ve been surprised at how natural a fit this is. Music technology is in such a place now that a student with access to a modicum of the available tools can compose, produce, and release music of any style. I can sit down right now and begin composing: when I touch the keys on my keyboard I can hear not only piano tones, but a great German organ, string players from the BBC Orchestra, or the great choral singers of our time; my choral software will even accurately sing the words that I program in to it! Imagine sketching a violin concerto, and the player executing your ideas is none other than Joshua Bell! Or did you ever wonder how Mr. Bell might sound with a women’s chorus and a chamber string group all together in the midst of Notre Dame? It’s not hard to find out. It’s also very easy to send performers high quality mock-ups of works to aid them in the learning and rehearsal process. Furthermore, being able to edit, mix, produce, and master my own traditional recordings also allows me to more easily and cheaply release material.
I’m working on my second album of sacred and instrumental works at the moment, and it is entirely edited and produced by me. I think that such tech knowledge should be required of composers in their primary education. It’s also a great opportunity for Catholic education: smaller institutions without great performance resources can also now have a composition program where students can hear their counterpoint exercises sung by professional singers or their orchestration realized by top quality musicians. It’s an incredible opportunity, and something we need to embrace and become very good at if we hope to re-evangelize the culture musically. To be against music technology or the new capabilities of virtual instruments makes as much sense as being against the internet in this time. Could you imagine where the Church – and the movement for Tradition – would be today without the powerful communication tools at our disposal? Music should be no different.
What are some of your future plans as a composer?
As mentioned, I’m working on that setting of the Quo Vadis legend for the Virginia based Three Notch’d Road. I’m also in the early stages of a sacred choral commission from the Benedict XVI Institute for Sacred Music and Divine Worship. For the future, I have a fully sketched Symphony of Sacred Songs for orchestra, choir, organ and vocal soloists that I hope to get recorded and performed. I’m also looking for an excuse to write my third string quartet.
How can people get in touch with you?
They should visit my website, where they can also find other music recordings.
No one needs to be told that the Catholic Church on earth is experiencing a paradoxical simultaneous crucifixion and resurrection that would be impossible for anything other than a mystical body. Bad governance, bad theology, bad preaching, bad liturgy all continue apace and statistically dominate. On the other hand, we see the slow and steady spread of the traditional Latin liturgy on all continents, especially in the Anglosphere; we see the new youth movement, viz., traditionalism, establishing itself in many places; we see genuinely beautiful churches being built, magnificent renovations, new vestments, new sacred paintings and icons, new pipe organs, new children’s choirs, and a host of other signs of a vibrant renewal at the “grass roots” level. It does not dominate the news cycle, and it is certainly not tilting the scale in a worldly sense, but it is nonetheless real, and possesses the kind of dynamism that intensifies under opposition.
In recent years I have noticed, in my travels and correspondence, in reading articles online, in listening to recordings, that there is a notable uptick in the number of Catholic composers of “classical” music, especially sacred music. For a long time it seemed as if Kevin Allen was the only one people talked about, and his music is, indeed, a splendid treasure and a great gift to choirs. Frank La Rocca has also gained notoriety, especially with his ambitious Mass of the Americas (reviewed, e.g., here at NLM, in Dappled Things, and at OnePeterFive).
The idea grew in me of doing interviews with other serious Catholic composers whose work, though not (yet) as well known as that of Allen or La Rocca, deserves more attention and more performances. I decided to start with four composers — two Americans, Nicholas Lemme and Mark Nowakowski; a Canadian, Tate Pumfrey; and an Australian, Ronan Reilly. Each has been asked the same set of questions, but their answers really bear out the differences in their personalities, training, experiences, and aspirations, while testifying to their unanimous Catholic commitment. I will also insert, between questions, links to audio or video examples of their work.
We will start today with Nicholas Lemme (website).
Interview with Composer Nicholas Lemme
Tell us about your musical background: when and how you began singing or playing instruments, your most influential teacher...
I’m a late bloomer in this regard. I didn’t have any formal training until I was eighteen years old. As a kid I tinkered around on an old upright piano at our house. In my teenage years I began to write poetry and that eventually blossomed into writing songs on the guitar. Aside from various musicals, such as The Fiddler on the Roof, my earliest influences were from songwriters like The Beatles, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, and Radiohead. My only exposure to Western classical music before college was a bit of Mozart we’d sung in our high school choir, and a CD of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos (which I still love to listen to) that we had at our house. “Sacred music” in my early years was the “One Bread, One Body” Breaking Bread classic variety at our local diocesan church.
My journey to the Western classical tradition, hence sacred music, actually started when I’d fallen away from any serious practice of the faith. My first year of college I’d discovered Debussy’s Nuages from his Trois Nocturnes for orchestra. I’d never heard music like that before and was very moved by it.
My college years and thereafter were filled with exploring new music. My professors and the musicians I played with from then on were very integral to my musical discoveries and education. My voice teachers taught me a true love of art song, and our concert choir sang many of the classics from each period’s composers: Palestrina, J.S. Bach, Mozart, Brahms, Poulenc, Britten, etc… My tastes have changed quite a bit since then, but I must say that without those experimental years of learning about other types of music from Perotin to Steve Reich and even music outside the Classical tradition like Miles Davis, Ravi Shankar, and Balinese Gamelan, my tastes would somehow be deficient today.
After college in Wyoming I moved to Minneapolis, MN. There, I continued to write songs, but it was at that time that I started to put music to paper more often. I started playing mandolin and writing for and performing with an instrumental group of cello, clarinet, banjo, and mandolin. I composed for theater, film, and dance. I also sang with professional choirs during this time, most notably The Dale Warland Singers, as well as The Singers. I learned more about choral music in those professional settings than my previous college years combined. Dale Warland and the musicians in those ensembles taught me a great deal about the choral arts. Another advantage of singing in those choirs was the amount of new music we’d premier. I learned a lot by being a part of the process of making new music. New music has no precedent, so it takes a patient, generously thoughtful, and artful group of musicians to make it work for the first time.
Magnificat Fauxbourdon | 2018 | 3 voices | 3’
How was your interest in composing sacred music enkindled?
Those choirs sang plenty of sacred texts (e.g. Allegri’s Miserere) and in some very sacred spaces, but never for a liturgy. It wasn’t until I discovered the Latin Mass and the CMAA that I found that Palestrina could still be sung for a Mass, just as I had read in my history books! Unfortunately, the music being sung at some of the Latin Masses I was attending at that time was very substandard. I remember asking a choir member once if he’d like to start a small schola to sing the Gregorian chant Introits for the coming weeks. His response, “I don’t like that kind of music.”
Eventually, I found myself singing good repertoire (Gregorian chant and the classical sacred polyphony that was birthed from it) for the Latin Mass with competent musicians. It was here that I realized that I could write music for the liturgy. It was here that I realized I could contribute.
It took some time to start writing sacred music. In fact, I wrote very little for about six years. Since much of my background was in writing songs and instrumental music in a more secular realm, I had to drink deeply from the well of Gregorian chant and Renaissance polyphony before I could conceive of composing it. The total immersion into chant seemed to give me a fresh approach to melody, and especially rhythm, in a drastically different way. I began to respect the unison melodic line with its linear harmony with fresh regard.
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?
If we’re considering sacred music to be the music that is “set apart” for a specific liturgical function, I would have to say that the anonymous composers of the chant melodies are the most impressive to me. I’m also in awe of the composers that followed them like Josquin, Dufay, Dunstable, Byrd, Palestrina, etc… They used so little and created so profoundly!
Interpreting sacred music composers more loosely, I would have to say J.S. Bach is a composer I hold in the highest regard. I also admire a lot of 20th-century composers. I’ve always found Benjamin Britten’s compositions for choir and voice so masterful and unique. There are so many fresh compositional voices out there today; it seems I discover a composer to esteem every month.
A living composer that never ceases to move me, however, is Arvo Pärt. His music captures the mystery that is lacking from so many artistic pursuits of artists today. His music seems to purge the pain of life by allowing the listener to experience it so that true joy can be felt in its aftermath. It causes weeping to flow deep from within, only to leave a smile on the tear-stained cheeks of the listener. If I could write but one piece in life that does this for someone, I would consider my compositional work successful.
A Solis Ortus Cárdine | 2017 | SATB a cappella | 3’
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?
While I’m thankful for the many great English translations we have for the texts of our liturgy, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the great beauty, reverence, and mystery that comes when sacred music is set to Latin.
Again, if we are to take the word “sacred” literally, we are then referring to a musical language that is set apart for a certain liturgical action, and whose first purpose is for the “glorification of God and the sanctification and edification of his people.” I’ve come to realize that the use of Latin enhances in a special way the aura of mystery in liturgical music. It is like a veil, and veils cover sacred things. As listeners we ask, “What is behind that veil?”
This mystery is most apparently lacking when the Gregorian melodies are set to the vernacular English. Something in their artistry, piety, and mystery is lost. I have heard the melodies set to Spanish with a less jarring affect, however. But, to this point, think of the absurdity of a music conservatory that would have their students singing Franz Schubert Lieder in English. Preposterous! Why should one treat the ars celebrandi of the Church with any less respect?
Additionally, I would say that Latin is a language that is no longer used colloquially, and therefore it has an “otherness” to it. It is intrinsically sacred to those in the Latin Church. When we hear it, we know we are in a sacred space. Latin is sometimes criticized for not allowing a full and “active participation,” but we must remember that the Church has taught in these past two centuries that participation must first be interior, and then exterior, and sacramental (see Pius X, Pius XII, JP II). Without interiority, the rest is just a show. Because Latin creates a sense of the sacred by being mysterious, it lends itself to recollection and piety, which are vital to a proper interior participation.
Of course, I do think that English sacred music can possess many of these positive qualities such as beauty and mystery — e.g. Tallis’ “If Ye Love Me,” Howell’s Requiem, but for me it seems a more difficult language to use for sacred music, and it seems to be a slippery slope into making music that smacks of the banal.
“Da Virtutibus” for organ and men’s voices (audio only)
Can you say more specifically what you see as the qualities of Latin that make it apt for sacred music?
This is difficult to explain briefly, but I’ve noticed several characteristics that are inherent in the Latin text that make Gregorian chant so suitable for prayer. Its flowing legato unison lines are easily executed with the five pure vowels of Latin, contrasted with the complex vowel pronunciation of English. The accent in Latin is something that is light and lifted, and it is one of a lengthening of time. This comes out in the Gregorian melodies; the heights of these melodies are never sung with the greatest emphasis in volume, but are rather lightened and lengthened. The English accent is more Germanic in nature and therefore does not call for this type of setting. One last point is that all of these Gregorian melodies end on the tonic note of the mode in a state of repose. This rise and fall (repose) is observed in the spondees (Dé-us) and dactyls (Dóminus), the smallest rhythms in Latin, that make up the greater phraseological lines. Thus, the words, when they are well set, are to rise like incense to God and return to the recollected heart of the singer. Perhaps these reasons are not convincing to everyone, but they have been revelations to me in how I set text to music.
I would say that Latin’s unifying power is also observed in the pre-Gregorian centuries of the Church when many styles of chant existed. Contrast this with the entrance of the vernacular into the liturgy and one can see the effects and the importance of the language of musical worship.
Auróra Solis Núntia | 2016 | TB or SA a cappella | 3’
In recent years many have been pointing out the strong generational dynamics in the Catholic Church: older people seem to want the popular or secular styles of art, while at least some younger people are intrigued by traditional forms that have an archaic feel to them. Have you encountered such dynamics in your own life and work?
In my short life I’ve witnessed that people are attracted to what is authentic and done well. Even when I was playing rock music or composing in more secular styles, I noticed that if the music was “artful” or done to the highest standard it was respected and enjoyed. Most connoisseurs of rock simply laugh at the genre of Christian rock for this reason. They see it as a cheap imitation of the real thing.
With sacred music, I think the younger generations are looking for something authentic, something that really speaks of the mystery of God, His “otherness.” Our culture seems to be hyper-sensualized and its music, art, and movies represent this. I’m not saying that sensual music does not have its place, but I am saying that I think the younger generations are intuitively recognizing that the older styles have an immanent mystery and speak to something deeper, both intellectually, and even more importantly, spiritually. They are saying, “Mom, can we have something else for dinner besides candy bars and Fruit Loops?”
If you have experience with the “traditionalist” movement, what are some strengths and weaknesses you see in it, particularly from a musical point of view?
I suppose all movements have their strengths and weaknesses, but one strength I see the traditional movement having is that it provides a platform of continuity for the Church and her composers to use to grow organically from what has been slowly developing throughout the previous millennia by preserving the liturgical tradition. Just as chant was born from the Jewish temple and then birthed Renaissance polyphony and the rest of the Western musical tradition, so does it now continue to influence composers to breathe fresh air into the Western tradition. To me, the more ancient forms of Western music, and the the newer forms that are like it, seem to find a happy home in the traditional Latin Mass. I’ve also noticed that the traditional liturgy and its accompanying art forms, such as Gregorian chant, have a great influence on modern composers who are seeking to express the mystery of God.
If there were a weakness to point out, it would be that of the “low Mass” culture. This is the culture that seems to prefer that the public liturgy be a private and meditative devotion. I understand our need for silence in this noisy world, but I do think that this attitude permeates into the greater celebrations of the Church, causing great harm to the beauty that is integral to the celebration of the Mass. In many places it seems that music has become just another volunteer side job at the parish, like mowing the lawn or buying and setting out donuts after Mass. (By the by, I’m very grateful for the hospitality crews after Mass.) As a result, few places seek out real artists to run their music programs. I realize that many factors are at play with budgets, and that most places are just trying to do the best with what they have, and I don’t mean to downplay those efforts, but until we start to devote our resources to the arts we cannot expect any type of change in the way of beauty in our liturgies or in our culture. By this, I do not mean orchestral masses with choirs of 50. A well-trained schola singing Gregorian chant all by itself adds a noble beauty to the liturgy.
Non Veni Vocáre Justos | 2016 | SATB a cappella | 2’ 15’’
What are you doing now in the field of sacred music?
Sacred music has been my full-time job for the last eight years, working as the music director and professor at Our Lady of Guadalupe Seminary in Denton, NE, and directing a parish choir in Lincoln. I’m very grateful for this work and have learned a great deal from it. Many of my compositions recently have been written with my students or choirs in mind. I’ve been very blessed to have talented and dedicated individuals to collaborate with in these settings.
What are some of your future plans as a composer?
My goal as a composer is to keep writing and learning each day. I have so much to learn from the greats in our tradition and from those who are composing in our midst today! I’m currently working on a few sacred choral commissions up through March and then I’ll see what comes next. This past spring I wrote some instrumental miniatures for cello and violin, which was a great challenge for me, but a lot of fun. It would be fun to take on a one-act opera, if there are any librettists reading this...
On December 8, St Mary’s Cathedral in San Francisco will celebrate something new and historic, the Mass of the Americas, a unique tribute to Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception, the patroness of the United States, and Our Lady of Guadalupe, the patroness of both Mexico and all the Americas. The Mass of the Americas was written by Frank La Rocca, the Benedict XVI Institute’s composer-in-residence, (FrankLaRocca.com); it is the first new Mass commissioned for the Cathedral since the installation Mass in 1971. Written for a 16-voice mixed chorus, accompanied by organ, string quartet, bells and marimba, in Spanish, Latin, English and Nahuatl (the Aztec language which Our Lady spoke to St Juan Diego), this polyphonic work in the Catholic tradition also incorporates traditional Mexican hymns to Mary, especially La Guadalupana. The Mass of the Americas was originally conceived by Archbishop Cordileone as the musical equivalent of mission architecture, something rooted in the tradition AND incorporating local elements to create something new. Sponsored by The Benedict XVI Institute for Sacred Music and Divine Worship, whose mission is to open the door of Beauty to bring people closer to God, the Mass of the Americas will be televised and livestreamed by EWTN. The liturgy will begin at 2 p.m. (PT); St Mary’s Cathedral 1111 Gough Street.
The Mass was partly inspired by the fact that this year the feast of the Immaculate Conception falls on the Saturday before the feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, which is the day the Archdiocesan Guadalupan celebrations take place, offering a unifying moment for the Anglo and Latino Church. “The Mass of the Americas thus embodies the way Mary, our Mother, unites all of us as God's children,” says Archbishop Salvatore Cordileone.
A local television channel program on recently interviewed composer Frank La Rocca about his work.
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