Shards - Byrd Song

A Closer Listen

If old songs are given new life, will they find new audiences?  And if so, will they reach mass appeal (Walter Murphy’s “A Fifth of Beethoven) or at least critical acclaim (Max Richter’s Vivaldi Recomposed)?  How modern can a new take be while still honoring the vision of the original composer?  Shards (led by Kieren Brunt) wades into the discussion with Byrd Song, a stunningly modern take on the work of Renaissance composer William Byrd.

While Byrd is considered one of the most influential composers of his time, in the 17th century he had to “compose illegally and perform in secret.”  This was the fate of a Catholic in an overwhelmingly Protestant England, the rub being the intense holiness of Byrd’s compositions.  Brunt, who had grown up singing his tunes in college chapel choir, restores some of the initial sense of mystery and furtive spirituality.  Byrd Song is a mysterious listen, abraded around the edges like fragments of sheet music rescued from a fire.  Lines rise and fall, loop and repeat, while organ is translated into synth and autotune firmly places the notes where they should rest.  When the music recedes late in “Facta set deserta,” one can even imagine a beat, although none is there; the tempo is steady, ghostly echoes seeping through concrete walls.

The miked piano of “Kyrie” is another modern adornment, although some listeners won’t catch it as such; the instrument was invented after Byrd’s death.  More obvious is the sparkling synth of “Sanctus;” when melded with autotune vocals, the piece sounds like a hit in the making, dancing just beyond the periphery of the contemporary Christian market.  Byrd of course could not have imagined a radio station, a record or a club, which makes the enduring power of his music all the more remarkable.  The “high church” harmonics of “Sacerdotes” have stood the test of time while billions of other tunes have not.  The subtitle (Lost Cadence) suggests the opposite: a rediscovery.  Best of all is the closer, “Amen, amen, amen …”, which collapses time in the manner of the finest holy music.  Breath, silence and repetition feature strongly; the lowest notes are truly low, while the highest circulate in the cathedral spires.  Close the eyes and one imagines neither the ancient cathedral nor the modern megachurch, but angels descending and ascending, barriers between earth and heaven dissolved, the composer’s song echoing into the eternal.  (Richard Allen)