Have we reached a juncture where the medium of music is consumed in a way that was never intended by the composer? I’m fascinated by this question because it informs not only why I do what I do,but also what I hope transpires in the hearts of listeners. I believe that the vast majority of music, today, is treated as wallpaper, a kind of personal soundtrack, mostly listened to in the car or transmitted through our cell phones. That, in and of itself, is not inherently bad, even though the average recording artist receives nothing in royalties while the music industry takes the profits. To understand the “intention” of music, it’s necessary to look at the composers themselves, and the context in which they worked.
Look at the human voice, and specifically the extraordinarily beautiful feeling that sweeps over us when we hear many voices singing together – the sound of Choral Music. Choral music (vocal polyphony) started in the Church during the late medieval period. For many centuries prior to that time, unison singing (almost exclusively within monastic environments) was the norm. What took place outside the Church walls was folksong, sung by one or many voices, largely in unison. It must have seemed earth-shattering when the first choral music was heard, with singers singing different parts simultaneously (January 1, 1200, Notre Dame de Paris, music composed by Perotin). The occasion was the dedication of the new South transept of that magnificent cathedral. This small fact, almost lost to history, gives the single most important clue in understanding (or at least making an educated guess) what the composer’s (Perotin’s) intent was: namely to augment a specific liturgical experience. There would have been no applause of the performers, and likely barely a mention of who composed the music, or the extraordinary musical threshold that had just been crossed. The role of this music was to point beyond itself, not to itself.
Fast forward 350 years to the height of the Renaissance when sacred choral polyphony was in its golden age. Choirs abounded throughout Europe, but only within the Church’s walls. Multiple-part singing did exist in the secular world (madrigals), mostly about courtly love, but in a strict sense, it was not choral music. By the time Renaissance choral music was in full flower, the intent of the music had moved beyond augmentation of a liturgical experience to something infinitely more profound: the creation of a vehicle for contemplation, meditation, and transformation.
The role of music (and all art) is to manifest the Divine. And the unique way that music succeeds at this is through frequency and resonance, literally altering the cells in our bodies. Functioning at a level far deeper than words, music has the added benefit of being non-doctrinal; in other words, even within the context of a sacred liturgy, the listener is free to have their own experience without the strictures of right and wrong. The music is perceived non-cognitively and non-judgmentally – within the heart.
To listen to a Palestrina motet, a movement from a Byrd Mass, or a choral piece by Josquin is to be immediately transported into a heavenly realm of sonic bliss. And, as with the aforementioned Perotin, neither the performers nor the composers were the objects of praise; they were vehicles for this aural kiss from the Divine. Their music functioned precisely the same way religious icons functioned: as windows into the heavenly realm.
In the nineteenth century we saw the first choral societies formed, allowing (for the first time) amateur music lovers to participate in group singing (think Mendelssohn’s Elijah, for example). But it wasn’t until the 20th century that a cappella choral concerts began to take off. Likely originating with glee clubs in colleges and high schools, audiences would come to hear their friends and colleagues sing together. At this time the art of secular choral composing, usually inspired by poetry, also began to flower. Sacred choral music existed side by side its secular counterpart, often sharing a place on the concert hall program. By the last quarter of the 20th century, choral ensembles that were entirely devoted to Renaissance (sacred) choral music sprang up all over the Western world, likely as a reaction to the Church embracing trendy popular music, guitars, and bands. Vatican II saw the exodus of the great Catholic choral tradition (sung in Latin); there was suddenly an empty niche for the profound, transformative music that had stood the test of Time.
By the end of the 20th century, glorious choral music was recorded in abundance on LPs and CDs. It was meticulously presented in concerts; and the listening world of sacred choral music lovers got to hear music that had all but disappeared from its original venue – the Church liturgy. By the end of the 20th century, the Church was no longer seen as supporter of the Arts; the Arts instead became a means to support the Church (concert rentals). But something far more significant was lost in this transition: The music was seen as an end in itself (a way of making money for the artists and producers) and not as a means for accessing the Divine.
An a cappella choral concert of sacred music, with 75-90 minutes of singing and obligatory applause and expressions of appreciation for the performers (and admiration for the composers) would have been a complete anathema to the composers of this music, bordering on the vulgar. The composers of the Renaissance surely knew they were channeling Divine energy so as to enhance the possibility of spiritual insight, contemplation, healing, and transformation. While this original intention seems lost in the many books on performance practice, even the casual listener can intuit this. Further, the concept of listening to one choral piece after another was a concert idea invented in the 20th century. This practice, when trying to truly enter deeply into the music, can be jarring.
In 2006, I founded Artists’ Vocal Ensemble (AVE), www.artistsvocalensemble.org, a small group of professional singers wanting to focus on the profundity of early and modern sacred choral music. From the outset we wanted to push the envelope of normal choral programs; we did this by crafting programs which flowed like a liturgical service. But something was lacking: we needed to find a “concert” context that could actually replicate the possibility of perceiving the music somatically, not cognitively, thus entering the music at a deeper level. The composers’ original intentions were to facilitate the way that music can open the heart of the listener to a deep level of contemplation.
Within the past ten years, the New Age movement has birthed Sound Baths (originating in the Liegenkonzerten from Europe) wherein the audience lies down, listens with eyes closed, and often doesn’t applaud even at the end of the Sound Bath event. I’m only aware of these taking place with world instruments, percussion, Native American flutes, gongs, crystal bowls, and some chanting – all improvised. But this is the perfect idiom to offer choral music. Could this be the choral platform of the future?
AVE believes that the future of choral music is not in the concert hall (or church setting) with whole concerts of choral singing; rather the future is in the resurrection of the original spiritual intent of the music, aiding contemplation, meditation, and transformation. We are presenting Sound Bath concerts (starting May 15, 2025), alternating carefully chosen choral music with world music improvisations, creating a thorough flow of music to embrace and enfold the listener. Choosing choral music that is melismatic, and not overly wordy, I believe to be crucial in focusing on building a non-cognitive experience.
What is the best way to offer sacred choral music to the world? I think it’s worth asking the question whether the ever-smaller audiences at choral concerts are sustainable as the world continues to evolve. One possible answer in presenting this sublime music, our cultural heritage, to the world lies in plain sight – by considering the intent of the composer, and the true power of the music, itself. The opportunity for our distracted lives is to find solace in music’s power, not the performers’ excellence. In other words, let’s focus on where the music can take us, not the vehicle that’s doing the transporting (the performers). Doing so will take music out of the being stuck in the realm of entertainment, activating its true potential to heal a world in dire need.
© Jonathan Dimmock, May 8, 2025