There can be something rather arid about what we now call ‘Early Music’, with its performative purism and sense of being an archaeological enterprise as much as an artistic one. Oxford Baroque, however, seemed to sidestep this entirely without sacrificing a notch of the fierce intelligence of the programme’s lengthy choral works. The upshot was an evening that connected the audience directly with the music of a slightly different, slightly alien culture.

The music itself helped, of course.  Schütz, a predecessor of Bach’s, was working just as the earlier modal style of composition was giving way to the more traditional western harmonic structures we know today. The interplay between the two approaches gave rise to sinuous, fruitcake rich harmonies with sudden detours into dissonance that resolve just as sharply.  Whether you know the technicalities or not it’s hard not to get caught up in the dramas of tension and resolution that result. This was meditative music that comprehensively explored its tonal space rather than driving melodically forward.  This gave rise to a few rather meandering sections where it was a little difficult to maintain focus, but these were soon interrupted by a sudden bit of counterpoint or ornamentation, pulling the listener back into the heart of the piece.

But this could have fallen flat without the group’s obviously sincere reverence for the pieces.  There was no grandstanding and the entire group functioned as a tight unit. Even when the concert’s lengthy centrepiece provided a chance for each member of the eight-strong choir to demonstrate their skill in a series of beautiful duets, their performance was impassioned but restrained, allowing the complex interlocking melodic lines to come through clearly. The musical accompaniment – from bass, organ and lute – was similarly unobtrusive, operating in near-perfect balance with the singers. This sort of modest, thoughtful approach provides a welcome alternative to the attention-seeking virtuosity that can accompany music from later eras. 

The direction was also excellent, making considered use of the performance space. Careful rearrangements of the eight-strong choir between each piece were designed to cleave as closely as possible to the sound-world Schütz was trying to create.  At one point, following the score’s instructions, half of them retreated to the vestry to provide a distant seraphic choir.

Among the extraordinary mosaics of a candle-lit Keble College Chapel, the effect was unexpectedly powerful, inspiring in this avowedly secular listener at least the edge of a sense of the intense religiosity that inspired these compositions and their maker.