As far as it is known, Ockeghem was the first to compose a contrapuntal requiem, and he broke technical ground in the process. Flemish by birth, he was first noticed as a bass of exceptional vocal ability in Antwerp’s Notre Dame church. This led to work for the Duke of Burgundy in Brussels and later for several successive kings of France, a stint in Spain, and finally back to Flanders. All the while, he left a mark on Renaissance music that extended all over Europe, especially with his 14 Masses, motets, chansons, and others. He became at least as large an influence on the Renaissance as Beethoven was on the Romantic period, and set up many of the principles that would peak with Palestrina a century later.

Upon his death, virtually all the major poets and composers of the day wrote memorials to his life, or as they were called, Déplorations. When the Italian humanist Francesco Florio visited Tours in the 1470s he described Ockeghem’s personality with raving admiration: “The treasurer of the church of St. Martin and master of the royal chapel, who excels in virtue of his voice and art. You cannot but love this man, his handsome statue, so much does he shine in wisdom, so much does he shine in his manner and his words, and also his gracefulness.” (Florio went on and on like that to make it seem as if the composer possessed all of the world’s virtues and none of the vices.)

Frenchman Pierre de la Rue, also a singing composer, first worked in Siena, and later in Brussels, where he studied with Ockeghem. He expanded on Ockeghem’s style by experimenting with contrasting registers, plays on words, letters within the words, as well as something like musical acrostics. But, technical matters aside, he never quite reached the expressive power of his master, or if he did, I’ve not come across it.

Jolly observed nearly all of the liturgical niceties of the period, although it would have been a chorus of men and boys back then, not men and women. The evening began with a solemn church bell for about 30 seconds, followed by the chorus quietly singing the Gregorian “Dies Irae” backstage. Then came the entrance of the chorus for the performance of la Rue’s Requiem. And, the first half of the evening ended with funeral motet Delicata juventutis (“Youthful transgressions”).

Following intermission, there was Antoine Busnois’ antiphon, Anthony usque limina (“Anthony, to the furthest bounds”), followed by Ockeghem's Requiem, and to round off, Busnois’ memorial tribute to Ockeghem, In Hydraulis (“At Water [Organ]”). Throughout the program, each segment was preceded by a brief few notes of hand bells to assure the vocalists of the pitch placement.

Performances were excellent and admirable all evening, and created a feeling of calm and well being, interrupted by salvos of applause. I did notice, however, that fatigue began to set in during the last 15 minutes of this two-hour concert. Little slips of intonation started to turn up, which was especially noticeable when textures thinned down to one or two musical lines. Those little flaws, however, where never disruptive to any great degree, and indeed, only curmudgeons would have noticed.

It all added up to a uncommonly dignified recognition of Halloween, and All Saints and All Souls days, beyond the reach of any commercial vulgarity, which is what most of today’s observances of Halloween and Christmas have sunk to.

(Heuwell Tircuit is a composer, performer, and writer who was chief writer for Gramophone Japan and for 21 years a music reviewer for the San Francisco Chronicle. He wrote previously for Chicago's American and the Asahi Evening News.)

©2006 Heuwell Tircuit, all rights reserved