Beneath the vaults of the Sint-Bartholomeuskerk in Merksem on Sunday afternoon, 14 December, not only was Christ's birth celebrated, but also the five-hundredth anniversary of Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina (1525–1594), the prince of polyphony. The Antwerp ensemble Melpomene, specialized in Renaissance and early Baroque and for decades under the steady, expert hand of Jan Melaerts, seized this opportunity to place one of the master's most festive creations at the center – a choice that felt self-evident, both artistically and historically.
Palestrina's Missa super Hodie Christus natus est – a lavish, double-choir eight-voice parody mass, based on the homonymous motet – formed the radiant axis along which the carefully compiled program unfolded. Under the title "Noë, Noë" a musical highlight was reached in which the birth of Christ and the five-hundredth anniversary of the immortal master melted together in one glorious celebration, and in which space, music and time momentarily converged into one breath.
As in a liturgy of old, the Ordinarium of the mass flowed together with a carefully chosen Proprium into a musical breathing that carried the entire afternoon: now the restrained stillness of contemplation, then the soaring jubilation, and again and again that crystalline, polyphonic clarity that broke through the space like light.
The Melisma Consort – with organ, flauto dolce, violas da gamba, violone and the clearly articulating positive organ – subtly colored the vocal lines, historically informed and never obtrusive. In his thoughtful program notes, Jan Melaerts explicitly justified this choice: Palestrina's music was indeed supported with instruments in the great Roman basilicas – such as Santa Maria Maggiore, where this Christmas mass also historically sounded – often playing colla parte to give the polyphonic lines carrying power, amplitude and solemn splendor. For this reason, Melaerts did not opt for a strictly a cappella approach, but for a historically justified coloring that strengthened the jubilant rhetoric of the mass. Thus the instruments enhanced precisely what Palestrina's rhetoric supports: the light, the joy, the musical gold of Christmas. This vision was consistently pursued throughout the entire program, giving the whole a strong stylistic coherence.
Festive double-choir and restrained devotion
And so the afternoon opened with two six-voice Christmas motets by Heinrich Isaac (1450-1517), Puer natus est nobis and Angeli, Archangeli. Melpomene let this early polyphony sound with a choral quality that immediately unfolded broadly and meanderingly. In Angeli, Archangeli the carefully calculated bell strokes briefly pointed ahead, in sound association, to Arvo Pärt. The master of the Habsburg universe could hardly have wished for a finer homage.
Then, as a ritual unveiling, Palestrina's motet Hodie Christus natus est sounded: the foundation of the parody mass. The double-choir arrangement made the festive tension palpable, with question and answer between the choirs spatially spun out. Subsequently the Kyrie of the mass flowed forth from that same musical DNA, and the ensemble made that convincingly heard. The kinship with the motet became no theory, but audible reality.
The transition to the early Baroque was elegantly marked by the eight-voice Canzone "La Negrona" by Pietro Lappi (1575–1630). The Melisma Consort played with charming lightness, in an almost dancing response between two four-voice groups, with everything saturated with stylistic awareness. Here sounded a Renaissance that was already cautiously leaning toward the concertante gesture, without thereby denying its roots.
With the Gloria we returned to the mass setting. Melaerts took the jubilant character seriously but never pompously: clarity prevailed, the structure remained transparent. Exuberant moments alternated with moments of quietude, and the intelligibility of the text remained remarkably carefully maintained even in the richer passages.
The five-voice Canite tuba by Jacobus Gallus (1550-1591) unfolded a homogeneous men's sound, firm in contour but finely controlled. This was the only piece performed a cappella. This was followed by the nine-voice double-choir Angelus ad pastores ait by Hans Leo Haßler (1564-1612), in which the Venetian heritage of his studies with the Gabrielis was immediately audible. The multi-choir texture shone lightly and rhythmically lively; Melpomene maintained the balance consistently exemplary and musically transparent. A festive conclusion with nice variations on "Salvator mundi" and "Alleluja", playfully rendered. In this, the transition from Gallus' compact men's choir to Haßler's monumental double-choir brought to the space an exuberant vitality, a Venetian joy that was carried to the North via Haßler and would later seamlessly return in Gabrieli's seven-voice Canzon VI.
After the monumental arc of the first half, the focus shifted in the second part toward more restraint and intimacy. The Credo was not delivered as a heavy block of polyphony, but as a confession of faith that floated through the space, with the Et incarnatus as the most intense moment. The Agnus Dei, the final part of the parody mass, was approached with particular refinement after a Gregorian setting. The silence that followed in the church was eloquent and was only cautiously broken thereafter. The references to the motet Hodie Christus natus est were nowhere didactically played out; they were there because Palestrina wrote them, and because the performers understood them.
Canzon VI (seven-part) by Giovanni Gabrieli (1555-1612) was performed by the Melisma Consort with a spatial clarity that came across wonderfully in the church acoustics. The affinity with Haßler – metric flexibility, brilliant brass imitations translated into viol and flute – was almost tangible: the whole sounded luxuriously refined.
Then the programme switched to a more intimate domain: the Spanish gem Si la noche haze escura, the austere, almost ascetic five-part version of Angelus ad pastores ait by Orlandus Lassus (1532-1594), and the poetic Catalan folk song Mareta, Mareta unfolded as fragile breaths in space. The choir soloists – Lies, Emily, Geert and Robbe – brought these Spanish works with a tenderness that never became sentimental. Moreover, Melaerts allowed the choir to breathe in Lassus; simplicity was allowed to be simple again. At the same time, these intimate moments provided a beautiful contrast with the powerful, double-choir masses. The comparison between the two versions of Angelus ad pastores ait worked as a stylistic window: Haßler's version shone as an exuberant sound effect, while Lassus' five-part variant remained admirably pure and austere, entirely focused on textual essence and the inner beauty of the lines.
And then – a finale that shone: Haßler's double-choir ten-part Hodie Christus natus est. Melpomene gave it a gleam that was warm, full and rhythmically brilliant, with which not only the Christ Child but also the early Baroque was ushered in with a triumphant "Alleluia".
This was followed by more than deserved enthusiastic applause, whereupon Melpomene and the Melisma Consort offered an encore. With Werfet Panier auf im Lande by Georg Philipp Telemann (1681-1767), a work stood out that impressed with its unusual, pronounced rhythmic treatment: energetic, sharply profiled and strikingly motoristic. Choir solos, full choir and instrumental ensemble found each other here in an alert and lively interplay. At the same time, this encore placed the programme stylistically firmly in a next time layer: Telemann's music already clearly breathed the spirit of the full Baroque and thus offered a playful and telling contrast with the polyphonic refinement of Palestrina and his contemporaries.
Polyphony as timeless breath
Admittedly, sometimes the choir in the upper register noticeably had to work, and in a few forte passages one felt that a slightly larger ensemble would have been welcome. However, this remained sporadic and did not detract from the stylistic integrity or the musical conviction of the whole.
With this programme, Melpomene did not simply present a Christmas concert, but spanned a musical arc over two centuries of polyphonic splendour. The careful programmatic architecture, the historically informed instrumental colouring and above all the clear, sober direction of Jan Melaerts made this afternoon a celebration of deep conviction and restrained beauty, which was visibly savoured by a large and attentive audience.
It was a warm highlight in the Advent season – a loving, dignified tribute to Palestrina, eternal master of light. This was not a Christmas concert aimed at spectacle-seeking, but at style, balance and inner joy. In an age of Jingle Bells, Melpomene offered a reflective alternative that went back to the essentials: polyphony as timeless breath, and as a hushed prelude to Christmas.