Since the end of World War II, there has been a renewed interest in the music of the renaissance era. Gradually, this music that was once considered ancient or irrelevant has risen back into the mainstream Art Music world. The problem was, musicians in the 1950’s played the renaissance music the same way they played modern music. Some musicians questioned the wisdom of this, and began researching the instruments and practices of the earlier musical eras. The result was like finding an old tarnished work of art, and polishing and restoring it to its magnificent luster. The modern, bright brass sound was traded for the older, mellow, rich sound of older instruments. Over-vibrating strings and voices were replaced by a softer, straight-tone style. Slow, ponderous tempos were replaced with agile dances. It wasn’t enough to simply play the notes from the old scores – much more research and effort was needed to make the music come back to life. This approach to playing old music became known as performance practice, and was firmly rooted in the Art Music world by the 1980’s. Nowadays, it is expected that any performance of older music follow at least some, if not all, of the principles of performance practice.

The 1950’s approach to old music is similar to walking through a historical city – you admire the buildings, read a few historical placards, maybe buy a souvenir. The performance practice approach would be a historical city where there are people, in costume, doing the things that were done centuries ago – like stepping back in time. It’s more than an amusement, it is an experience!

On of my first exposures to performance practice early music was through the work of Paul McCreesh, performing the music of Giovanni Gabrieli, also featured in this previous post.

The Magnificat, or Song of Mary, has been set by countless composers. This is  partly because this canticle is used in the daily office – fixed prayers said or sung throughout the day. It is also because the text is so potent and stirring – the song of a humble girl whom God had chosen for things beyond her imagination.

One of my favorites has to be Giovanni Gabrieli‘s Magnificat a 33. That is, for 33 musicians – 33 individual independent parts. These musicians were grouped into “choirs” and placed around St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice, where Gabrieli was principal organist and composer. The effect was the various phrases of the text would come to you from different locations, with different musical colors. Sadly, a stereo recording loses this grand effect; to hear it in that massive cathedral must have been magnificent!