The Renaissance Choir in Southsea

 The Renaissance Choir, Church of the Holy Spirit, Southsea, July 11

There is no higher accolade I can give than my Concert of the Year award and having chosen the Renaissance Choir with much of the same programme last year I thought there was little left for me to say this year. On the other hand, the occasion was their 50th anniversary and Peter Gambie's penultimate as conductor and so it ought not to go unremarked.

The choir wasn't exclusively Renaissance for long and in recent years have ventured into the avant-garde with great success considering what an intrepid undertaking that is. Thus Jackson Hill's bewitching A-ki no ko-e followed hard upon the cool, smooth lines of the Graduale from Victoria's Officium Defunctorum. Having thought I wasn't going to write about it, I took no notes, didn't spend all my time searching for 'les mots justes' and was an unusually passive witness almost at a loose end, it felt like.

But everything was of interest, not least the anniversary commission, Ian Schofield's Songs of Hope, setting words by Maggie Sawkins, an ideal illustration of Peter's words in the very useful book provided, The Renaissance Choir: 50 years, about how they,

sing with passion when necessary, with delicacy when appropriate. 

Split between the two halves of the concert, its stand-out passage was Our song is where it starts- fuller and richer as if that was where it had been building towards.

Byrd's Ne Irascaris is a glorious lament and Byrd something of a choir speciality. One is readily wrapped in its textures, and theirs, before I wonder whether one should just luxuriate in those or ponder such academic questions as whether the pattern of notes at 'Jerusalem' is the same as that in, and lifted by Francois Couperin for, the troisieme of his Trois Lecons de Tenebres. And then, if it is, whether it constitutes theft or homage. Three questions prompted by one word in a text. Some might say academics think too much at the expense of enjoyment.

But nothing really compares with or prepares one for the sublime Allegri Miserere, with soloist Jenni Halliday. It can't be helped that it can only have its initial thrill on its first hearing but hearing it a second time was a major reason for attendance being essential. Music at its best aspires to this condition of something beyond knowledge and very few things achieve it so compellingly.

The second half regathered itself through more Victoria, some kindly Eric Whitaker and the second half of Songs of Hope before the contemporary Miserere of James MacMillan, bringing the penitence forward into a new austerity of great depth. The standing ovation flickered and was kindled here and there before spreading to become all inclusive, almost certainly with elements of appreciation for the 34 years of Peter Gambie's direction in it.

I'm not one for the herd instinct but am glad to join a good cause. I'm much happier expressing support for the Renaissance Choir than joining those dressed in obbligato football shirts. Nobody else along Albert Road was wearing a Josquin des Prez t-shirt but I contend that he wrote better songs than those Eng-er-lund anthems. I don't mean to be all haughty about it and I expect the incoming musical director has plenty of ideas of her own but I don't see much Josquin listed in the choir's history and a Renaissance Choir that doesn't sing his music would be like the story of 1960's pop music without The Beatles.

Either way, she inherits a choir in tremendous form pulling in sizeable appreciative audiences. It's quite a prize to have won in what must have been a competitive process to see who sets its future direction.