:Schoolboys in white robes
Libera mania in London?
A chilly wind is blowing when I hear Big Ben strike four. A busker ensures me his cello can handle the cold, if he tunes it regularly. Unfortunately his playing is drowned out by the hubbub of traffic and tourists.
By contrast, a sacred silence hangs in Westminster Abbey, when a few dozen visitors shuffle inside for Choral Evensong. Walking over the graves of composers such as Henry Purcell I too reach the quire, with its characteristic red lamps, deep blue carpeting and gothic ornamentation. No metropolitan hectic here, but breathing space. The introit, after Psalm 37, immediately gives me goosebumps, and that will hardly change in the following hour or so. The boys of the choir school and the professional lay vicars, under the direction of James O'Donnell, seamlessly weave together devotion and musical splendour, painting lines like those in stained-glass windows.
The big city is not completely gone, however. The Collects are accompanied by what appears to be a helicopter drone, and during the silent pauses of Pärt's Beatitudes, sung a cappella, sirens are screeching. Today is Saint Patrick's Day, the national holiday of Ireland which is celebrated exuberantly throughout the world with parades and fireworks. Here, the festivities are expressed in the closing hymn, I bind unto myself today, one of the best loved hymns in the Anglican church. Not really the same thing.
White robes
The busy outside world may seem far away in the quire, the Anglican churches do have their doors open. Also musically. Since their eponymous debut album in 1999, London boy choir Libera has bridged the gap between Anglican choir tradition and new age and pop music. Taking the Latin word for 'free' as their name, musical director Robert Prizeman emphasises the freedom not to bind themselves to genres and pigeonholing. The Libera boys sing in the church service on Sundays, but bring that tradition to a new level. In their trademark white robes they mingle century-old prayers with electronic sounds, and switch from contemporary arrangements of classical compositions to covers of artists like Enya and Brian Wilson. Starting point is always the soprano and alto voices of the seven- to sixteen-year-old choir members. The formula is succesful. Particularly in Asia and the United States Libera can count on high chart positions and sold out shows. Often in churches and without making a profit – the choir is officially a charity. Not what you would expect when you see the Beatle-mania-like scenes in especially Japan and the Philippines, when the boys are touring there.
Exam period
Little Libera-mania is found though, when the boys give a performance at the Playhouse in Epsom, an unimpressive suburb of London. But all the seats are filled. The level of the show, a dress rehearsal for their first ever tour in Canada, is remarkably high, although one of the main soloists unexpectedly has a smaller part and is dealing with a cold. The joy is no less. The group, with twelve-year-old Ralph Skan leading, is in excellent form, and the musical accompaniment of piano, keyboard, strings, percussion, clarinet and recorder give the tested repertoire a new shine. A video screen with atmospheric images, a choreography that uses the entire stage, and a carefully crafted lighting design complete the Libera experience. In between songs, some of the 23 boys present – the concert is right in the middle of an exam period, so some of them are at home to study – explain a bit more about who they are and what they do. For instance Barney Lindsell, one of the newest members, explains that some songs are based on Gregorian chant, such as Lament, with Latin words from the Lamentations of Jeremiah. During this song they put on their hoods and fold their hands in their sleeves like 'real' monks.
Boyband image
Despite the obvious religious background of Libera, it is difficult to view them in the same category as the other choirs I visit in London. Like a friend e-mailed me recently: 'They don't seem to be a church choir as I thought at first (or are they?)'.
This confusion is exemplary of the free character of Libera, and of the different ways to experience the music.
When liturgical music is brought outside the church, automatically the esthetic aspects of it attract more attention. Many fans for instance are smitten by the lovely harmonies of Sanctus, an adaptation of Pachelbel's Canon in D, and pay less attention to the words (the 'Sanctus' of a Mass). This does not mean that this attention is completely absent: there are also fans for whom listening to Libera is a form of prayer – but without church and liturgy. On Youtube for instance someone writes: 'whenever i hear them sing, i feel like God is here with me.. like he is just beside me'. Liturgical music is bound to space and time, Libera is not. That freedom gives room for music which serves the beauty of the voices, and nothing more.
After more than a decade this still creates a unique situation: on the one hand the religious expression, on the other hand the boyband image. A mix of two worlds: free from churchly frameworks, but also, because the choir is a charity, from the commercialism of showbusiness.
Echo
Those who wish to experience both the world of the church and the outside world at the same time, can find a good place in St. Paul's Cathedral. In its seats, you imagine yourself in a city square, because of the enormous distance to the altar, with the pulpit on the right and the choir on the left. Today, the feast day of St. Joseph, they sing the Mass for five voices by William Byrd, with two tenor parts – and a wonderful echo. The choir sound is broader and more flowing than in Westminster Abbey, which is well suited to Byrd's polyphony, without harming the clear pronunciation.
During the Gospel reading, from an elevated pulpit in the centre of the church, a huge shaft of sunlight falls in above the entrance. The rising incense smoke gives extra depth to the bright rays. A while later, when I queue for communion, I gaze up to a heaven laid with gold, while on my left I hear the Agnus Dei. I love simplicity, but this grandeur is truly fitting.
Back outside I realise that this immense place of worship for an important part determines the face of London. It's the church that sets the tone in this lively environment, not the other way round. Libera's international rise to fame may very well have the same effect. Without losing their religious roots they connect to modern styles, making a new audience enthusiastic about the tradition of English boy choirs. Maybe some of them, just like me, will one day find their way to one of the many quires in the country of fish and chips and double-decker buses.
