In cathedrals and places where they sing

St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, UK

Guest Comment by Matthew Larkin
Saturday, May 18, 2024

I have huge respect for Matthew Larkin. Our paths crossed briefly many years ago while he was director of music at St. John the Divine Church in Victoria BC. He is not only a brilliant musician who possesses a keen intellect which combines well with an informed Christian faith. He knows well the peaks and troughs of music and of life. He loves the music of J S Bach, Cesar Franck . . . and baseball. (In winter he roots for the Toronto Maple Leafs.) In response to a recent article in the UK Daily Mail he raises questions and concerns about the future of church music in a Canadian context. His text on Facebook is here; it is also well worth your time to read the comments.

For myself, I have lived both sides of the organ bench over the years. As Dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral in Kamloops BC–a small structure hewn of wood rather than an iconic architecture of stone–I know some of the pressures–financial and otherwise–just to keep things going. I also understand the need to remain relevant to the culture that surrounds our buildings and congregations with which we must engage and share. With many I was puzzled to learn of Canterbury Cathedral’s recent Silent Disco event. One of the justifications given was the cost of maintaining the cathedral which receives very little state support as a UNESCO world heritage site. I am so impressed with innovations such as the girls’ choral program at Ely Cathedral directed by Canadian-born Sarah MacDonald of Selwyn College, Cambridge. Coincidentally she was organ scholar under Matthew in Victoria back in the day.

Finally, western Christians are living through a reformation as significant as that of Luther, Calvin, and Cranmer. Such transition extends well beyond music alone, though music is a significant indicator of the challenge before us as we seek to move beyond colonial attitudes and practices, as we live through crises of escalating social violence, and change our ways in response to the climate crisis. Tradition speaks to each these yes–though it seems to speak to smaller numbers of spiritual seekers, day after day. Thank you Matthew for the following thoughts:

I don’t live in the UK (though I was born there, hung out at the Royal College of Music (good choice, KJG) for a bit, and have been part of some fun music-making in various quires and naves over the years). I even managed to swing a job offer at a cathedral in West Yorkshire  in 2016, and was so surprised by this that I initially accepted it. A dose of sober second thought, coupled with that late summer’s choir camp convinced me that staying where I was might be the better course. I didn’t make many friends that way, and as history would have it, I felt the push toward stepping down from my local Director of Music post just a few months on (I relive the decisions of that year daily, and do wonder what might have been).

All of that is preamble to say that I grew up in what was then the Canadian Anglican version of the English cathedral tradition, with four rehearsals, and four sung services each week. We sang much of the musical masterwork of the genre, and I soon started trying out the hymns & accompaniments on the piano at home, the harmonium which resided for a time in the garage, the small organ at a nearby parish church which allowed me practice time, and eventually, the cathedral itself (where I was a chorister).

Realizing I suppose that I had some aptitude for this sort of thing, the cathedral appointed me organ scholar, and then assistant organist. When I graduated from high school, I moved away to become organ scholar to an Anglican college, and later headed to the UK for some advanced study in performance repertoire. I looked after the music (and occasionally emptied the bins) at a two-point parish in west London, before heading back to Canada and – after a few fits, starts, and stumbles – began my career. I was a parish organist over fourteen years in Victoria and Ottawa, and over the next nearly sixteen years, was a cathedral organist in Toronto and Ottawa. I’ve bounced around a bit since.

Along the way, I’ve lived and breathed the liturgical music tradition, within that particular expression known as “cathedral” music. Seven years ago, I founded a churchy-minded chamber choir, mostly made up of present and former collegiate and cathedral-type musicians. We sing sacred and secular music, oratorio, liturgical and concert works, but I think every singer when asked what their favourite musical thing to do is, would answer “choral evensong.” And the same is true for me, a thousand times over.

What is described in the attached article (which I hope escapes the censors) as happening at Winchester Cathedral already happened at one of the cathedrals I referenced above (I wasn’t the DoM, but I followed the story closely). In Canada, whether due to untoward circumstance, bad luck, poor planning, or in some broader context, what we formerly prided ourselves in as our version of the cathedral music tradition has ended in many places that formerly upheld and nurtured it. And sometimes, this has been by design.

Hear me when I say that I know things change, and a lot of change is inevitable (and valuable). But a lot of other change is more of the former type than the latter. To dilute cathedral music in the name of anti-elitism (or whatever) is to degrade and misunderstand what it was intended for in the first place.

There’s a reason we sing music that’s (in some cases) hundreds of years old. It’s because the beauty and evocation of that music is so fresh, it’s as though it was written today. That’s the treasure of this culture, and when you’re within it, you’re transported to another place entirely. A good place too, in case that needs mentioning. Not everything in life can be measured in monetary value, or some sort of performative sociological metric. Save that stuff for the secular world. The sacred is true, and unto itself an ending. We need music to express that which cannot be expressed another way. Liturgical music is a gift, and one not to be squandered.

Lastly (and I hope it won’t be seen as too indulgent of me to say), my musical heritage has literally kept me alive. That is no exaggeration. I know that has not been everyone’s experience, and I am deeply respectful of the fact that we experience things differently in life. But it has been true for me. I’m likely not alone in that.

St. James Cathedral, Toronto, Ontario