August 25, 2005
Tallis motet a soundtrack to storm fears
What's the best music to listen to as a storm rolls in? Does it have to complement the sound of the wind, the sea, the hammering of the rain?
Or should it be something that takes your mind off Nature's racket?
The other weekend I picked up, purely on impulse, a copy at the library of the 40-part motet Spem in alium, written in 1571 by the English composer Thomas Tallis (1505-1585). It's one of this Tudor master's most important works, written for eight five-part choirs, and probably for performance at a now-demolished country house owned by Henry Fitzalan, the 12th Earl of Arundel (according to the notes with this recording, a 1990 Argo all-Tallis disc featuring the King's College Choir under the direction of Stephen Cleobury).
This is a beautiful and massive 9 minutes of music, clearly written with a big space in mind, and utterly evocative of a grandiose form of worship, one that glories in towering interior architecture and the pageantry of ceremony, and the sheer sound of dozens of voices raised in praise. It's hard to hear this music without thinking about who's performing it, and how it looks to see all those choristers arrayed in quintets around the room.
As I've been listening the last day or two while at the same time worrying about Tropical Storm Katrina (not yet a hurricane, but which probably soon will be), the Tallis has become something of a soundtrack to my worry-wartedness. I hear in those thumps of chordal motion the steady approach of something huge and powerful rolling in from over the sea; I hear in its otherworldliness a sense of inevitability that keeps me silent in the face of something I can't control.
It sounds, in other words, like an advance guard of avenging angels, an uninterruptable sound that can't be halted as it grows steadily louder and closer. Maybe this is the fault of seeing too many movies in which a last, shocking act of violence is followed by the balm of a choir singing something ancient — the filmmakers know we need something classic and serene to focus at least part of our minds on the things that are good about human nature.
Or maybe it's just the sheer weight of its sound that keeps me thinking of large, overwhelming things. No matter the reason, I've already associated this lovely piece forever with a storm, and with hurricane season.
Not fair to Tallis, of course. Probably what I need to do is find something to listen to that doesn't sound so elemental.
And it could be that I'm responding to the last lines of the motet and hoping for the best:
Domine Deus,
Creator coeli et terrae
Respice humilitatem nostram.
(Lord God,
Creator of heaven and earth,
Be mindful of our lowliness.)
A sentiment for times of fear, and desperate hope as what we fear bears down on us.
Even if this storm doesn't turn out to be so bad — be safe, everyone.
