Monteverdi's Marian Love Letter

Over at my old stomping grounds, the incomparable Robert Reilly just reminded me of something that has confounded me for years:

I love Monteverdi's Vespers.

"Why confounding," you ask? Because despite my relatively large musical sweet spot, I have always struggled to enjoy (or even to appreciate) Renaissance music. When confronted by a friend a few years back, I verbosely explained that "the melodic ideas expressed by most composers of that era are a trifle too dissonant for my Baroque-trained ears."

I'm not really sure what that means, come to think of it. If I understand myself correctly, I'm admitting that I like more obvious (aka easier) melodies -- which is probably why I enjoy more pop music than I am willing to admit in public.

But does this seem "easy" to you?

As I listen at this, I find myself thinking "There's no way I really like this. It's too odd. It flies in the face of everything I know about myself. But ...I love it!"

I hate it when my tastes refuse to comply with my opinions. I would have thought I was perfectly clear with myself on this matter. On the other hand, I think Reilly just might be able to bail me out:

Between the psalms, Monteverdi inserted five “sacred concertos,” a sequence of motets for a gradually increasing number of solo voices, with continuo accompaniment—the last one, an exuberant Sonata Sopra ‘Sancta Maria ora pro nobis’, with an extensive instrumental introduction, followed by the full chorus.

In addition to the helpful blueprint, Reilly uses a word that resonated instantly with me: "exuberant." He's using it in reference to a particular part of the Vespers, of course, but there's an overall truth to it, as well.

It's hard not to love a work that is so clearly excited about Our Lady.

Monteverdi was renowned in his time for his highly expressive vocal style.  What about for our time?  Does it still convey?  The answer from the Walt Disney Concert Hall is that, when sung as splendidly as it was by the LA Master Chorale—yes, the Vespers are for our time or any other.  There is something timeless about music like this, which is the whole idea. It is also clear from this great composition that Monteverdi was every bit as much in love with Mary, as is Morton Lauridsen.  It is quite a coincidence that the loves of these two composers have been so effectively communicated by the same performers.  Or perhaps, as unexpected as it might be—could this be something about the City of Angels?

Attribution(s):"Claudio Monteverdi (c.1630)" by Bernardo Strozzi via Tiroler Landesmuseum and licensed under Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons.