What makes St. Thomas’s sound like St. Thomas’s?

Manuel Piazza

As I recently marked my two-year anniversary as Assistant Director of Music at St. Thomas’s, I was reflecting on what makes the musical tradition in our parish so special. On a given Sunday at St. Thomas’s, one is likely to hear a variety of music, yet it all fits together in the context of a service, like the colourful pieces of a mosaic or stained glass window.

The backbone of our musical practice is plainsong, the most ancient and timeless music of the Church, which prioritizes the sacred text and creates an atmosphere of meditation and prayerfulness. One might also hear Renaissance polyphony from the Counter-Reformation or English Tudor composers. This music represents divine balance through its arch-like phrases, and conveys the complexity and incomprehensibility of God through its interweaving vocal lines (what a musician might call counterpoint). In the words of Rev. Rita Powell (see note below), “This is a fitting pattern to honor the Word who is multiple, who is speaking an infinite number of sounds all at once, that all can hear but not one can say.” Pope Leo XIV also recently spoke about Renaissance music, describing its polyphonic texture as “unity in diversity… [which helps] the listener to enter ever more deeply into the mystery expressed by the words.” 

At Smoky Tom’s, this ethereal sacred music is balanced by a hearty helping of compositions from the 19th to 21st centuries, which are often (but definitely not always) more human in expression—exciting, theatrical, and emotional—including the Mags and Nuncs and anthems known affectionately as “choral bangers.” And this doesn’t even address hymnody, commissioned works from contemporary composers, organ music, the improvisations that sounded the way they were meant to, and the improvisations that didn’t sound the way they were meant to (the latter category represents most of the improvisations 🙂).

So, what ties all of this contrasting music together, and what makes St. Thomas’s sound like St. Thomas’s? I would argue that a common element uniting much of the music you’ll hear during a service is modal musical language. “It’s in a mode” is one of the most often-heard phrases at St. T’s choir rehearsals, and for good reason: some of the most beautiful music ever written is modal.

What is the difference between modal and tonal music?
If you studied music theory, you may remember modes as scales with fancy Greek names, distinct from major and minor scales. For reference, a major scale is your classic do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do, as in The Sound of Music. In a piece of music based on the major scale (a piece we would describe as tonal as opposed to modal), the chord progressions are bound strictly by the rules of tonal harmony. This musical language had its heyday in the Classical period (1750-1820) with composers like Mozart, Haydn, and Beethoven. In tonal harmony, each chord within a key has a different function. The tonic chord feels like home, or resolution. It’s the one you’ll always hear at the end of a tonal piece. Another chord, called the dominant, always wants to resolve to the tonic, to the point where a chord progression with the dominant resolving to another chord is described as “deceptive” or “interrupted.” The most popular form in instrumental Classical music, the Sonata-Allegro form, is a sort of musical battle between the tonic and dominant sides of a given key and, spoiler alert, the tonic always wins.
 
Modal scales have a different flavour to them, but they’re more than just scales, and the Greek names you learned while studying for your Royal Conservatory of Music exam are completely anachronistic. In Medieval music, as well as Arabian, Hindustani, and Carnatic (South Indian) music, a mode (maqam in Arabian music and raga in Indian Classical music) is not just a collection of notes in a scale. More important is the distinctive set of melodic ideas, or motifs, that occurs within each mode. Medieval plainsong was organized into eight “church modes,” each with its own formulaic psalm tone, which can end with one of many differentia (or, simply, endings). These are the same psalm tones we use to chant the psalms at Mass and Evensong. You also hear them at the Alleluia verse (Mode VI), the Adoremus in aeternum (Mode VI) at the end of Devotions, and often in choral music, especially fauxbourdons to the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis. Beyond the psalm tones, plainsong antiphons and hymns reveal which melodic ideas are associated with each mode. In the church modes, notes called the finalis and reciting tone do have functions similar to the tonic and dominant in tonal music, but the gravitational force between these notes is significantly weaker than in tonal music. This opens the door to a wide variety of melodic ideas and (later in music history) harmonic progressions.

Although the modes are used differently in Medieval music, Renaissance music, and 20th- and 21st-century music, similar “soundworlds” and the use of plainsong as source material and inspiration connect them and their music through the ages. I invite you on a musical journey as we explore the eight church modes together on this page of the parish website. If you read music, you might want to consult the images posted there, with each mode and psalm tone written out. Otherwise, just use your ears and enjoy the sound of each mode. I hope you enjoy listening to the examples I’ve selected.

The Eight Church Modes

Manuel Piazza

 

Adapted from Jerome Kohl, “Ecclesiastical modes.” Creative Commons licence CC-by SA 3.0.

 

Modes I and II (D Modes)
Church modes I and II roughly correspond with the modern “Dorian” mode, which is a minor scale with a raised sixth. Music in this mode often sounds plaintive and contemplative. Hear this scale and how it differs from the minor scale.
           
The chant Ave maris stella, a hymn to the Virgin Mary, beautifully illustrates the qualities of this mode. The raised sixth that characterizes the “Dorian” mode is prominent. Originally, this hymn would have been sung without organ accompaniment. The accompaniment you hear in the recording linked above is representative of the French style from the late 19th and early 20th centuries, when plainsong was experiencing a resurgence thanks to the monks at Solesmes.
 
Many chants in modes I and II differ from the “Dorian” scale because they do include a lowered sixth degree in certain melodic motifs. Remember, the Medieval church modes only roughly correspond with the “Greek” modes we study in music theory. The melodic ideas associated with each mode are as important to its identity as the scale itself, and sometimes they include modifications of the scale in certain contexts. Listen to the introits Gaudeamus omnes and Suscepimus Deus, which both begin with a melodic idea quintessential to Mode I, which includes a lowered sixth. The difference in performance practices in these recordings reminds us how little we know about how plainsong actually was sung.
 
Many beautiful pieces of Renaissance music are in modes I and II, such as William Byrd’s Ave verum corpus (transposed Mode II, with several extra notes, or accidentals, added). At the risk of oversimplification, I’d say this represents a snapshot in the very gradual shift from the eight church modes to the development of tonal music centuries later. Since there are more voices singing in polyphonic textures, the choice to raise or lower a given note of the scale becomes increasingly determined by the harmony resulting from multiple voices singing together during the Renaissance.

During the Reformation, many of Martin Luther’s hymns were adaptations of plainsong hymns. The Christmas hymn Veni redemptor gentium (“Come, Redeemer of the Nations”) and Easter sequence Victimae paschali laudes (“Christians, Praise the Paschal Victim”) became Nun komm der Heiden Heiland and Christ lag in Todesbanden, respectively. These hymns were used in compositions by many Lutheran composers, such as Johann Sebastian Bach, who composed the settings in these two recordings.

The Dorian soundworld made its return in the 20th century through the works of composers such as the following, with relevant examples included:

Modes III and IV (E Mode)
Modes III and IV sort of correspond to the “Phrygian” mode, which is a minor scale with a lowered second. This scale is also very popular in jazz and flamenco music. Hear the Phrygian mode scale here.
 
In Medieval music and plainsong, modes III and IV are quite enigmatic. Each has a reciting tone, which is usually five notes above the finalis. The reciting tone is the one we dwell on the most when we sing psalm tones in church. In modes III and IV, the finalis is E, so the reciting tone would normally be B, which is a fifth above. But the note B was considered unstable, so the reciting tones for modes III and IV are C and A, respectively. The practical result is that many chants in modes III and IV sound as if they are in an entirely different mode, or even in a major key, until the very end. One example is this Kyrie, which sounds nothing like the Phrygian mode until the last few notes of the chant.
 
One of my favourite chants is Pange lingua gloriosi, which is more clearly in Mode III. Here are some examples of this mode in later compositions:

 
Modes V and VI (F Modes)
These are the modes we encounter the most at St. Thomas’s on a Sunday. The De Angelis Kyrie, Gloria, and Credo; the Gospel Acclamation verse; and the Adoremus in aeternum (“Let us adore Christ our Lord”). All of these chants evoke comfort, solace, and piety. Modes V and VI vaguely correspond with the modern “Lydian” mode, which is a major scale with a raised fourth note (#4). The modern Lydian scale is used prominently in film music and is probably most recognizable in the theme for “The Simpsons.” The note sung on the first syllable of “Simpsons” at the beginning of the theme is the magic raised note, which gives this mode its dreamy and slightly zany quality.
 
You might be thinking, “Hold on, this is a very different soundworld from all those mode V and VI chants we sing at church,” and you’re absolutely right. Medieval music in modes V and VI only used that raised fourth in a few specific contexts, not all the time. One example is the psalm tone for Mode V, which we use for Psalm 81 at St. Thomas’s. Focus on the melody in this recording, not the harmony in the organ accompaniment (which de-emphasizes the mode).
 
Listen to Christus factus est for a demonstration of how the fourth note of the scale was raised only occasionally in chants of this mode. There are moments of Lydian flavour, but it is not nearly as prevalent as in modern music in the Lydian mode. In other chants, such as Regina caeli and the Missa de Angelis, the raised fourth doesn’t exist at all. By the Renaissance, the fourth was almost always lowered, unless it needed to be raised because of a cadence, as in the Sanctus of Palestrina’s Missa Brevis.
 
Late-19th- and early-20th-century composers approached these two modes in a variety of ways. Some, like Duruflé in the Introit and Kyrie of his Requiem, opted for a harmonic soundworld that complements the chants, using the raised fourth sparingly. Others, much like the composer of “The Simpsons” theme, embraced the raised fourth note of the scale. Anton Bruckner was a proponent of the Cecilian movement, which called for reform in church music through a new edition of the Gradual and the composition of new music in the church modes, as they were understood at the time. Bruckner’s response to this was Os justi, a ravishing motet composed solely in the Lydian mode, with every fourth degree of the scale raised.

Here are some other fantastic Lydian moments in the Anglican repertoire that are heard at St. Thomas’s:

 
Mode VII and VIII (G Modes)
These modes correspond to the Mixolydian mode, which is a major scale with a lowered seventh. In Medieval music, Mode VIII is especially recognizable through its psalm tone (sung here to the text of the Magnificat) and the Veni Creator chant.
 
This psalm tone, especially its intonation, has been incorporated into many compositions in the sacred repertoire, including:

Here are two choral works (by 20th- and 21st-century composers) and an organ piece (20th century) that feature the lowered seventh scale degree associated with the Mixolydian mode:


Plainsong and its modes are a unifying thread that connect many pieces of sacred music through the ages. The way composers worked within these modes differed in Medieval music, Renaissance music, and 20th-century music, but the spirit of each mode stood the test of time. I hope you enjoyed listening to these pieces and that next time you’re at church listening to music or singing chant, you might think, “It’s in a mode,” and maybe you’ll even know which one!

  The Psalm Tones


There are many possible endings (or differentia) to each psalm tone; only one of each is presented here for the sake of brevity. The Roman numeral refers to the mode, while the Arabic numeral refers to the ending as numbered by Healey Willan. The ending of the psalm tone need not finish with the finalis of the mode, because in their original contexts, the psalms were always followed by an antiphon in the same mode, which would conclude with the finalis. When we sing these psalm tones without antiphons, we are removing them from their historical and musical contexts. In the Canadian Psalter, edited by Willan, they are transposed to various keys to make them easier to sing.

images from the Canadian Psalter, edited by Healey Willan (published 1963).