Exactly two months from now, on August 27, the final three days of Laus Polyphoniae 2026 begin: the annual high mass of early music in Flanders. This year's theme is Polyphonic Europe circa 1600. In three installments, I take you through the programme, here and there with a personal touch.
Laus Polyphoniae – final days
Laus Polyphoniae officially saw the light in 1994, as a logical continuation of Antwerpen93, when polyphony was first emphatically presented as a cultural "brand". And a small personal note belongs here immediately: I was there as a student as a volunteer, armed with a stack of paper tickets - it was still an era without QR codes and scanners - and so got the unique chance to see the cream of the international music world pass by up close.Some dreamed of pop stars then (and there was nothing wrong with that), but give me in that period the Gabrieli Consort, Weser-Renaissance or Concerto Italiano. Those kinds of heroes, so to speak.
Today, in 2026, Laus Polyphoniae still stands proudly upright, in full glory and with undiminished ambition, and that proves itself once again in the final festival days.
Thursday: trendsetters avant la lettre
The concert day begins as is now customary at 1 pm, with a programme that forms as it were the "soundtrack" to the story of trendsetters and followers — terms that were not used around 1600, but whose concept is remarkably recognizable. Flanders, and Antwerp in particular, developed into a flourishing music market, where music was printed, reprinted and disseminated. It was, in other words, a place where ideas spread faster than today some digital files - although the latter seems hard to believe.
In the evening Capella Mariana takes us to the illustrious court of Emperor Rudolf II in Prague, which was then, like Antwerp, a cosmopolitan hub. The names of the composers who were active there today may not ring a bell immediately - unless you also own an exceptional collection of obscure LP recordings from the 1950s and 60s with Bohemian baroque and polyphony - but that makes the discovery all the more interesting.
I'm particularly looking forward to the mass by Harant, and also to the way that music is brought into dialogue with works by Lassus and De Monte. With six singers on stage, we can expect a sound that is at once transparent and flexible, with enough tension to hold attention effortlessly.
The evening is concluded late in Sint-Joriskerk by "our" Utopia. I admit it: a little bit of chauvinism rears its head. Their interpretation of Lassus, and in particular the Lamentations, has something special. The music itself is now firmly anchored in my head, but they still manage to give it a new dimension each time.
Do they sing it the way it 'really' sounded in the sixteenth century? We will never know for sure, but somehow it feels as if this music here, sung by Flemish voices, lands just a little more naturally — if only because I find it hard to imagine how a Spaniard sings Lassus… although I catch myself suspecting that that might just be pure nonsense.
Friday: no rest, but top level
Friday August 28 has "only" two concerts, which on paper almost seems like mercy for the by now slightly tired festival-goer. In reality, these are just two absolute top moments.
At 1 pm New York Polyphony presents work by Hassler and Handl. The Missa super Dixit Maria is on the repertoire of many choirs, but I'm fairly certain that these four gentlemen give it an entirely unique interpretation, effortlessly combining southern suppleness with a more northern clarity.
And then the evening concert, where I can without shame return to an earlier title above these articles: nec plus ultra. The Vespers of Monteverdi, performed by Vox Luminis, really not much needs to be added to that. The concert is not by chance sold out, because this combination guarantees a kind of musical fireworks that is at once staggeringly refined and utterly overwhelming.
Monteverdi's Vespers remain a masterpiece in which liturgy and an almost operatic drama come together. Once written as a visiting card, but today still able to fill churches and halls effortlessly. This is precisely the kind of concert that defines a festival of this calibre.
Saturday: farewell with perspective
And then there is the inevitable last day.
A special mention is deserved each time anew by the concert of the summer school. I promise myself every year to participate in it myself someday. "Perhaps after my retirement!", I say then. But fortunately there are enough others who procrastinate less and throw themselves into it completely. What the course participants achieve in a short time remains particularly impressive, as does the way the instructors take them along in that.
For the very youngest there is the same day an activity in the Steiner School Hibernia, where music is brought to life in a playful way. The image of children who are taken along on a resonant "raft" by a constantly changing world is not only beautiful, but also hopeful: this is how the seed is sown for a next generation of listeners — and thus for future editions of Laus Polyphoniae.
In the evening the festival goes stylishly to its closing moment, with The Gesualdo Six, recently described by De Standaard as "the cathedral choir in pocket format". I readily admit it: my weakness for English choral music is great, and I prefer to hear it performed by English singers. There is much to debate about performance practice, styles and historical accuracy, but when they sing this music, something that has been happening in their tradition for centuries, then it simply feels absolutely right.
Au revoir!
A more than worthy conclusion to yet another impressive edition. It must become increasingly difficult for the organization each year to set the bar that high, let alone higher, and yet they manage to do so time and again, thanks to an intelligent combination of theme, repertoire and performers.
I'm already looking forward to 2027. But first: let us above all enjoy what is there, here and now. I hope this little series has only sharpened your appetite.
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