The medieval choir, the Lumina Vocal Ensemble was joined by the medieval instrumental group, Lyrebird for a performance of plainsong and polyphony works with dates ranging from the 12th to 14th centuries, in A Medieval Marketplace.
The event took place in a very well attended venue that I have never visited before.
The Burnside Ballroom boasts a very charming little stage as the focus of a moderate and well-appointed performance space. The booths running along each side are deep and comfortable and perfectly suited to the structure's main function as a ballroom, and above the booths run balconies, accessible from the main floor space. The performers for this afternoon's show made excellent use of all of it.
The performance began as street vendors tried to sell their wares, calling and singing the relative merits of their produce while strolling amongst the seated audience. This movement and closeness to the public was not isolated to the company's opening gambit but was indicative of the style of presentation that this truly acoustic performance was going to offer.
The cast was arranged into three main groups, though a degree of crossing roles was evident.
There were the musicians, playing bowed psaltery, Celtic harp, bass viol, rebec, recorders of various pitches and percussion. The playing was not virtuosic, but there were very few screaming recorder solos in the 12th century.
The singers appeared as monks and nuns when they weren't street vendors. I'm pretty sure it was a nun in civvies that handed me a walnut at one stage, but who am I to report her to the Mother Superior.
The repertoire borrowed heavily from the Montserrat Codex, and the 14th century Spanish pieces were handled very ably by vocalists and musicians alike. There was one piece from the 13th century Montpellier Codex and a smattering of other works, both European and English (Brexit reference), that sat easily within the body of the repertoire.
I found the performance and its presentation engaging and entertaining, and well-adapted to the venue. Monks processed along balconies, their voices circling the congregation below, and the nuns wove among us, allowing individual voices to be heard at close quarters, one after another.
The plaintive, fragile rebec shyly rising as the voices subsided, the harmonising recorders blending together against the thin wisps of the psaltery and harp, with the bass viol underling each word slowly and ponderously.
Amplification would have ruined it.
It was super.
Reviewed by Ray Smith, Saturday 3rd March 2018.
