During my student days as a composer, the thought of writing sacred choral music for professional choral ensembles became an abiding desire of mine. Many years of toil later, regular performances with professional groups are finally taking place. Being the composer-in-residence for Richard Childress’s ensemble — His Majesty’s Men — provides me with the annual opportunity to hear a male vocal quintet sing and record one of my works to the highest level. For instance, here is the aforementioned ensemble singing my short O Sacrum Convivium:
That the ensemble also sings most of its concerts at Chicago’s beautiful St. John Cantius Church - my aesthetic and spiritual home where I was married and baptized most of my children - is an added bonus. And yet one of the great ironies in my current career is that I have somehow developed a parallel home for my sacred choral work in San Francisco. Yes: it is in the heart of unhinged America where I have found another sacred music family which also happens to support my work so beautifully. Archbishop Cordileone, the Benedict XVI Institute, director Maggie Gallagher and composer-in-residence Frank La Rocca — who is probably the Dean of American Choral Composers at this point in time — have over the past few years promoted my work and invited me into a number of fascinating projects. To say that I have benefited immensely is an understatement. (This is great advice for younger aspiring composers: be patient and humble, expect nothing, steel your craft regardless, and make good friends. If you are willing to do this for 20 years, you may get some performances. If you aren’t, perhaps a career in real estate development is for you.)
Three years ago, before the world changed under the grind of Covid and the bizarre social struggles which resulted, the aforementioned figures came up with the idea of creating a Lenten Lessons & Carols style of service, where high quality sacred choral music would be matched across the ages, with poignant spiritual reflections lead by the Archbishop. Commissions were made to Jeffrey Quick, Daniel Knaggs, and yours truly, and Frank contributed his lovely Miserere. Then the hammer dropped globally, everything was canceled, and the event was postponed for two straight years.
It’s ironic that for my original text, I was allowed the ancient Ad te levavi prayer, or “Unto thee I life up my soul.” The words in this case fulfilled a musical need that had been brewing within me, and the result is a work both sweet and pleading, an attempt from me to do what I think Frank La Rocca does so well in his music: to simultaneously place the listener in the position of the desperate individual penitent, and the universal prayer of the faithful at every moment. (If you’re not pleading, you’re not leading.) Analogically, I think it is like the concept of the perfect recorded classical sound, which allows you to experience the clarity of an immediately situated performer and the full color and reverberant quality of a good performance space simultaneously: when the recorded is one which matches this experience aesthetically and spiritually, all the better! (This is incidentally why I think that the combination of Arvo Part’s music and ECM New Music producer Manfred Eicher’s signature “there and everywhere” sound are so absolutely potent). That’s the standard, at least, and others will tell me if I got even remotely close.
The piece begins in a virtual murmur, or perhaps more of a deeper emanation: it is the individual putting their head in their hands, taking a deep breath, and — lacking words — beginning their ascent with a sigh or primal groan. From there, the work moves in waves, reaching a first climax and then a second more dominant climax (pictured in the score excerpt above), only to die away into the initial murmur with a sense of resolution, but also continuation. It’s a familiar form and formula for me, but as it works in terms of expressing my own inner life in music so well, I have no problem returning to this personal standard again and again.
Upon arriving at the Mission Dolores Basilica in San Francisco for rehearsal, we discovered that the choir had been diverted multiple times and were largely without suitcases. Yet they resolutely kept their 10am rehearsal time, showing up tired, ragged, and yet enthusiastic and immaculately prepared by their conductor, Dr. Alfred Calabrese.
At one point during the rehearsal, my wife whispered into my ear that “I think your style is changing.” I turned and whispered back: “no it’s not. These guys just actually learned the piece well.” For those who do not toil as composers, it is impossible to appreciate the significant uncertainty and regular disappointment all but the most significant names in our industry go through when it comes to the preparation of their work; in short, composers will spend months working on a piece, only to encounter musicians who simply do not learn the piece well. While professional groups can quickly bang together a Beeethoven or Bach or even a modern Arvo Part, they simply lack the stylistic context to put together a new piece in short order. At least three rehearsals are generally required, and that is if the performers arrive in a high state of preparation and understanding. Not so long ago, I personally had a very personal work performed with average applomb, and even was told afterwords that “the singers struggled, because some of the alto and bass parts were too low.” No, they weren’t, and Dr. Calabrese’s magnificent “Band of Voices” handled them aplomb.
It will always be a mystery to me why a group would dedicate time, spend commissioning funds, and put their names on a program and not seek stunning excellence in their performance (and that includes regular gigging musicians): is the music not vitally important to them any longer? Is good enough ever good enough? So often the distance between “good enough” and “pretty darned excellent” is just one more intense rehearsal. Yes, money and time are a factor, but again: this is music for God, not real estate development. Do your job. And Dr. Calabrese’s ensemble certainly did theirs, bringing a deep dedication to the music along with comprehensive understanding and preparation to the basilica. Well, you thankfully don’t take my word for it: listen for yourself! (My piece is at the 49:00 mark, if it doesn’t load automatically. But I really hope you listen to all of the new works, because each one brought a special meditation to the day…)
The EWTN microphone placement was optimized for broadcast and not choirs, so you lose a sense of the luminous balance, clarity of line, and fail to appreciate how beautifully the space sounded. Luckily a professional recording was also made, and we’ll be looking into producing it in the coming weeks.
Before and after the concert, we had the opportunity to explore the city significantly and also see natural wonders in the near geographic area. Seeing sunset on the Pacific ocean fulfilled a dream of mine, while the giant trees of the Muir Forest -seen in a light misty rain— enveloped us in an immense cathedral, albeit a green one which swayed gently in the ocean wind. The social atmosphere of the Bay area is a bit of different experience: we may not have experienced the abusive left-wing protestors who attempted to disrupt Musica Sacra over the summer with their blazing inanities, but it was still striking at how frightened, anxious, and barren an atmosphere the denizens of St. Francis’s city present; if these are supposedly the most enlightened people in America, I’m not sold on their project. I even had the stereotypical experience of stepping in a large pile of human feces in the middle of the sidewalk; a friend joked that I should have been glad it was not surrounded by used drug needles. And yet the architecture and history of San Francisco are fascinating. Its deeply Catholic heritage remains a hopeful beacon, especially when one encounters the small pockets of grace and sanity now coalescing in the city. The future will be well, even if we don’t live to see it ourselves. And for a few hours in the midst of the fury, beauty of the most important kind sounded. That is all some of us can do to push back against the darkness.