Polyphony in Belfast
Peter Phillips
Thelonged-for regeneration of Belfast may not yet have come to fullest fruition — and it may not be hitting the headlines like other initiatives in Kosovo. Kabul and Basra — but the signs are there for everyone to see. The Europa Hotel (aka 'the most bombed hotel in Europe') has lost its erstwhile external defensive aspect, while the locks on its guest-room doors no longer need to be engaged in quintuplicate. The Crown pub opposite, now a National Trust property thanks in part to the efforts of the late John Betjeman, reminds one more strongly than ever of riding in a fully restored 19th-century railway carriage, with all the brass fittings in place and functioning. The new Waterfront Hall only needs some seats in its foyer to represent the epitome of contemporary concert-going. In fact, the main noise on the street is that the new international airport is about to launch its first direct flights to places other than mainland Britain. Prague for £19 seems to be the one everyone likes to mention to make a lifestyle statement. And we discovered that David Trimble is not only looking relaxed at parties these days, but is also an ardent opera-lover.
In support of this brighter mood the BBC descended on Belfast this last week in impressive force. The whole command structure of Radio Three as we know it seemed to have settled into the Europa, bringing with them players, singers, conductors and announcers from London, as well as featuring local ensembles like the Ulster Orchestra and home-grown soloists, among whom one should list Sean Rafferty. They also brought with them about 35 million orange flags, which declared their purpose from every open-air vantage-point, at their most intense in the pedestrian streets filled with piped music.
I was there to conduct the BBC Singers in a programme of Renaissance polyphony, which had been chosen, without a hint of irony, to highlight the Catholic situation in the reign of Mary Tudor. It was while trying to find the few well-chosen words required of me in two live interviews (one with Sean, the other with Catherine Bott) that I appreciated just how tricky the quagmire of religious strife can be when confronted with its modern real-life version. All those received verities that one trots out about the state of play in a remote time can come vengefully home to roost in a place like Belfast. How about: 'Mary Tudor's reign was the last time this country I was officially Catholic"? This country? Which country? Are we one country or aren't we when it comes to Catholics? Or: 'In 1554 Cardinal Pole absolved the nation from Protestant "heresy" '? The word 'heresy' may be in inverted commas in the prose version, but it is very hard to convey that in speech, so I felt I was making a rather unfortunate political statement. Even trying to explain that Byrd moaned a lot in his music because he profoundly rejected the contemporary status quo in favour of the Protestants seemed to acquire wings of relevance to some of those folk outside who will soon be walking the streets of Prague.
The heartening aspect of the visit for me was the evident appreciation of the BBC Singers for the chosen repertoire. As is well known, they sing all sorts of music, which it is their job to accomplish as well as may be in all circumstances. They do this by working very hard indeed and by shrugging their shoulders when they encounter a piece which happens not to take their fancy. I have heard it said that there must be early-music specialists within their ranks who are prepared to 'sing straight' when asked, and whose interest in polyphony inevitably marks them out as marginal characters in a group which essentially is rooted elsewhere. I saw nothing of this. Almost every piece I conducted in Belfast involved them all, and from the expressions on their faces when singing I worked out that this was no strife to them.
Watching them, I wondered how this supremely democratic music (in which every part is equally important and equally contributive) could have come from the autocratic age which was the 16th century. Even at the time it was reckoned to be impossibly elitist and needed reforming. But then religious organisations, unlike the Singers, have never been instinctively democratic. They like to tell people what to do, which is why I have to mind my words in interviews in places like Northern Ireland. But, when it comes to choosing music for the modern situation, nothing beats polyphony. It was ideal fare for a city finding its feet.
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