Most early modern composers, no matter how well known to their contemporaries, plunged into obscurity after death. Only one found lasting fame: Giovanni Pierluigi Palestrina. His posthumous reputation was soon raised to legendary status with stories that portrayed him as the saviour of church music, at least of the Catholic kind.

His sublime polyphonic art was admired by Johann Sebastian Bach, Felix Mendelssohn and Richard Wagner; it also informed strict rules of ‘old style’ counterpoint that became the bane of life for generations of music students expected to put them into practice. While scholars have set his achievements in the wider context of rediscovered works by other 16th-century composers, he remains one of the towering figures of Western sacred music, emblem of the Roman Catholic response to the Protestant Reformation.

The Sixteen and Harry Christophers are set to celebrate the quincentenary of Palestrina’s birth this season and next with three concerts at St James’s Church, Spanish Place. Their programmes, part of Wigmore Hall’s occasional outreach to one of the finest buildings in its Marylebone backyard, offer the chance to discover the breadth of expressive nuance cultivated by a composer best known for his work’s serene simplicity. Christophers and his ace choristers have done much to reveal the surprising breadth of Palestrina’s art, not least with nine volumes of an ongoing schedule of recordings. They launch their Spanish Place series on 14 May with a programme entitled In 'Praise of Women', comprising works in honour of the Virgin Mary and two other female saints venerated in Rome during Palestrina’s time as choirmaster of the Cappella Giulia at St Peter’s.

I discovered so many of his scores where I’d written ‘Excellent’ and ‘Do again!’ on the cover

'In Praise of Women' includes movements from two Marian masses, the Missa Regina coeli, based on the Gregorian antiphon for Easter, and the Missa Assumpta est Maria, based on Palestrina’s eponymous motet. ‘Assumpta est Maria is often performed,’ notes Christophers, ‘but I would hazard a guess that you wouldn’t find Regina coeli in the music library of any cathedral in the country.’ It would be a minor miracle if any owned the conductor’s choice of two large-scale motets for six voices, one in praise of Saint Barbara, a Christian convert beheaded by her father, the other recalling Susanna’s resolute virtue and the corruption of the elders who bore false witness against her. ‘Those big pieces, Beata Barbara and Susanna ab improbis, amaze me,’ he says. ‘Palestrina tells these powerful stories with such incredible music.’

The Sixteen’s second visit to Spanish Place, scheduled for 18 June, revolves around the Last Supper and the eucharistic symbolism of the breaking of bread. They open with the motet Ego sum panis vivus (‘I am the bread of life’), a setting of Jesus’ words to his disciples from St John’s Gospel, and continue with the Kyrie and Gloria from the Missa fratres ego enim, a work for double choir described by Christophers as a genuine surprise. ‘I don’t think any of us had come across it before,’ he recalls. ‘It’s absolutely fantastic! When I was picking the programmes for St James’s, I went through the repertoire for each of our Palestrina recordings and discovered so many scores where I’d written ‘Excellent’ and ‘Do again!’ on the cover. Missa fratres has a big tick beside it, too!’ The series concludes in October with a programme constructed around the composer’s Missa L’homme armé.

The idea of celebrating Palestrina’s quincentenary at Spanish Place grew from a conversation between Christophers and Wigmore Hall’s Director, John Gilhooly. ‘John was looking to do more concerts in St James’s, which is ideal for this sacred repertoire,’ the conductor recalls. ‘We’re delighted to celebrate Palestrina’s anniversary there. I’ve built each programme around six of his settings of the Song of Songs. They’re exceptional pieces, first published in 1584. Although most are for soprano, alto, two tenors and bass, the way he uses the voices in each creates extraordinary variety. And Palestrina lets his hair down a bit in response to the sensual language of these Old Testament love poems. Placing them alongside mass movements, motets, a few of his hymns for four voices and other liturgical pieces shows the immense diversity of his sacred music.’

Palestrina’s output includes over 100 masses, 250 motets, 40 Latin hymns, and a host of Offertories, Lamentations, Litanies, Magnificats and madrigals, both spiritual and secular. Yet he’s known today for only a handful of compositions, the Mass for Pope Marcellus foremost among them. Over the past half-century, his star has been overshadowed by the rediscovery of early Tudor polyphony and the prominent continental composers, many from northern France and the Netherlands, who preceded him.

His music is remarkable in its beauty and its craft. It’s fascinating that people know so little of it

‘But even before people became interested in the Eton Choirbook and music by Josquin, Dufay and so on, you’d only ever hear a smattering of Palestrina in Britain,’ Christophers notes. He adds that several members of The Sixteen, who also sing at Westminster Abbey, Westminster Cathedral and other great centres of Christian worship, rarely encounter Palestrina on their service sheets. ‘We recorded two or three discs where nobody had come across a single piece before. And yet his music is remarkable in its beauty and its craft. It’s fascinating that people know so little of it.’

Palestrina’s subtle expressive writing, often used to underline the emotion of a particular word or passage of scriptural text, are among the difficulties he poses for performers. The challenge involves bringing his music to life without overegging it. ‘I found he was difficult because I always want to put an interpretation on a piece of music, but couldn’t see how to do that with Palestrina,’ Christophers observes. ‘That changed when we began recording his music. In the end, you have to trust in him. He’s the master craftsman, the “Prince of Music”, who never puts a foot wrong.’

Header image: The Sixteen © John Millar