A Noysy Afternoon

A Great Noyse:

Robert Fraser, tenor and bass sackbut

Marcus Hissen, tenor sackbut

William Jamieson, recorder, shawms, schaeferpfeifen

Katrina Russell, bass dulcian

with guest Andrew Clark, percussion

A garden in Oak Bay
July 24, 2021

By Deryk Barker

It may not have escaped your notice that the Olympic Games are currently being held in Tokyo. For me there are a number of sports which probably do not belong there and a few which really should be included.

At the top of my list of sports-that-should-definitely-be-included is Squirrel Fishing. (Another is Extreme Ironing, but that is a topic for another day.)

Assuming that you have not given up reading this review, a word or two of explanation might be in order.

I will readily admit that the connection between Squirrel Fishing and Early Music was not one which immediately occurred to me on taking my seat (and promptly — I had inadvisedly put it down on a slope — falling out of it) at Saturday's EMSI garden concert. And even the appearance of a lone squirrel about ten minutes into the programme still didn't do the trick.

However, at about the three-quarter mark that squirrel was joined by first one, then two, then finally three more who proceeded to chase each other around the tree under which I was sitting, making rather more noise than I, for one, expected,

But really, this sciurine counterpoint felt entirely appropriate. We were, after all, in a garden and the sounds of nature were only to be expected; and how preferable is the sound of squirrels to the sirens which from time to time enliven (probably not the word) concerts in the downtown core.

So, having reviewed the wildlife, what about the music?

Firstly, I need to admit that music of the mediaeval era is somewhat out of my comfort zone; the primary reason for any previous exposure I might have had would be attending numerous EMSI concerts over the past almost three decades — although I was familiar with at least the names of some of the composers on offer and even have at least one recording (of Praetorius) — and so this is not being written from anything even approaching expertise.

Moreover, the ensemble's name, A Great Noyse, irresistibly brought to mind the Awful Dynne, assistant to Dr. Kakophonus Asloudaspossible Discord's in Norton Juster's classic The Phantom Tollbooth, to which I was introduced by my girlfriend almost exactly half a century ago. But I digress.

Having said which, and casting irreverent thoughts aside, it is doubtless a good thing to occasionally venture into less familiar territory and what better occasion could there be than the first in-person concert I have been able to attend in lo, these many months? (Watching livestreams on the computer doesn't really do it for me, but then I spent my first few years in a house without a television set.)

I do not propose, therefore, to indulge in a piece-by-piece discussion of the programme, but shall rather point out a few of the highlights and content myself with saying up front that "enjoyable" only begins to describe the afternoon.

The afternoon opened and closed with music by Tielman (or Tylman) Susato. A great deal of detail about his life is shrouded in mystery: a quick web search reveals his birth year to have been 1500, or perhaps 1510 — quite possibly in Antwerp — and he lived until 1561, or it could have been 1570. What is known, though, is that he was an important music publisher, founding the earliest music printing company in the Low Countries and eagerly promoting other Flemish composers

His pavan La Battaile was the first music and immediately showed the differing characteristics of the instruments: the sackbuts (early trombones) warm and mellow, the shawm and bass dulcian somewhat "edgier" in tone, although far from unpleasing to the ear. The performance itself was stately yet lively, attributes which also applied to the next piece the Galliard Dolorosa (not as gloomy as the title might suggest) by Peter Philips. Philips was a Catholic which was a risky thing to be in sixteenth century England and so he spend much of his life on the continent, eventually dying in Brussels.

There was also music by Mateo Flecha — both of them, the elder ("El Viejo") being the uncle of the younger ("El Joven").

The uncle's Terisica Hermana was complex and bouncy, while the nephew's "Que Farem Del Pobre Joan" ("What shall we do about Poor John") was lively and had a distinct hint of what now sounds Spanish to the ear; I particularly enjoyed the acceleration in the former which brought with it what I presume were castanets (I could not see as, from my seat, they were hidden behind a tree), even if they had a definite hint of the coconut-shell-horse-hooves about them.

One of the more unusual items was a Swedish Shepherd's Tune, played by William Jamieson on the schaeferpfeifen (shepherd's pipes) for which he wandered off, so that the sound came from some distance. Delightful, although I could not help but wonder what his sheep might be doing while the shepherd amused himself in this fashion.

Those in mind to dance (which, from my vantage point, was actually nobody) must have particularly enjoyed the next items: the Ballets de Baccanales et des Matelotz by Michael Praetorius, presumably extracted from his monumental Terpsichore, which contains over 300 dances, although mostly they are (as Praetorius acknowledged in the introduction) arrangements of music by other hands; and Bransles de Bourgongne by Claude Gervaise.

The former was highly rhythmic and eminently danceable; the latter, led off by Jamieson's bagpipes, was distinctly more "unbuttoned" than courtly in nature. One imagine peasants rather than princes dancing to it.

I admit that the squeaking of the overhead squirrels (and, let's face it, "Overhead Squirrels" would be a great name for a rock band) was something of a distraction during Gasparo Zanetti's Il Spagnoletto, nevertheless Jamieson's "divisions" (i.e ornamentations) were extremely well done. And interestingly, Zanetti being the most recent of the composers being performed and being broadly classified as "baroque", the music ended with the only example all afternoon of a minor-to-major cadence, thus sounding, in this context, distinctly modern.

Finally the programme closed with more Susato, in the form of his lively and tuneful Ronde IV and VI.

I should also mention the several contributions from percussions Andrew Clark, better-known as a fine horn player, this was apparently his percussive debut and may point to a whole new career.

Another delightful afternoon's music from the EMSI and I look forward to my next encounter with A Great Noyse.

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