We work as a group and, although there is a choral aspect to our work, I prefer not to describe the ensemble as a choir because the word has connotations usually applied to large bodies of singers. We take our inspiration from the type of ensemble and style of performance usual in the Renaissance chapels that were active at the major courts and religious institutions in Italy during the Renaissance period, such as St Mark’s in Venice, San Petronio in Bologna and the Court of the Duke of Este in Ferrara. From a technical point of view, like any vocal group we strive for precision when it comes to fusion and singing in tune, but we always respect the individual voice. Each voice retains its own personality, even though the vocal production has to be contained and focused on a common purpose, in keeping with the demands of the repertory. We try to break away from the tradition prevalent in northern European countries and in English choirs, for instance, which have a characteristically balanced but somewhat rigid and cold sound. Our sound is perhaps less pure, with a rougher, one might almost say more virile quality, from the vocal point of view. Our starting-point is the words and meaning of what we are singing.

Which brings us back to the eternal dilemma of the pre-eminence of text over word or vice versa.

There are many aspects to this argument. Basically, it all depends on the type of music. Obviously, one can’t take the approach applied to the madrigal and simply transfer it to sacred music. There are some sacred repertories, for instance, Compère’s cycle of motets Oficium de Cruce, that we recorded on the album De Passione, in which the music fits the text like a glove. The cycle consists of a series of tableaux reflecting the arrest, scourging, death and Resurrection of Christ. The various moments are “painted” in madrigal-like fashion, and that is how we approached our version of the work. In the case of the masses and motets, except for a few passages which were clearly written with a certain type of musical attitude in mind - “Crucifixus”, “Resurrexit” and the triumphant finale to the “Gloria” - we can’t allow ourselves to be guided by the words alone. The motet In illo tempore by Gombert, for example, is built on a circular structure with an intricate polyphony in which pauses are avoided; in such a closely woven texture there is no way that the singers can be guided by the words. It is an entirely different case with the devotional music that we perform in our programme on Isabella of Castile, with texts based on the Book of Hours I mentioned earlier.

I have never been interested in building up a collection of major works, but rather in reflecting a particular historical moment.

Your interest in such a little-known text is rather surprising.

In the Book of Hours there is a very close link between text and polyphony, and that is something that until now has been insufficiently investigated. This material has attracted the interest of art historians, but liturgical scholars have never turned their attention to it. Because it didn’t include plainchant, it wasn’t the province of Gregorian specialists and it has not been the object of any in-depth research on the part of musicologists. It includes some wonderful music composed by Anchieta, Peñalosa and Josquin Desprez. These are intensely devout para-liturgical texts in which words and music are closely aligned. The liturgy of the Office of Hours reflects a very intimate, almost private devotional mood. Even so, there are some very vivid and colourful moments, reflected above all in the accompanying images as well as the function of the music. Like the visual images, on the sound level the music also serves to enhance the act of devotion and contemplation. Since these texts do not depend on a cantus firmus and are not bound by a semantic-musical structure, they gave a freer rein to the composers’ imagination. That is why we base our interpretation on the words.

A deep understanding of this type of music must require knowledge and experience in many different disciplines.

The main thing is the sum of all our knowledge and skills, which enables us to probe deep beneath the surface. Personally, I would describe myself as eclectic: I’m not purely and simply a singer or an organist or a musicologist. When you are researching the material you need to have a broad and varied view, taking in the multiple influences as well as the cultural and artistic context of the work being studied. This music has to be approached from the vantage point of a vast panoramic view, with a command of the technical and stylistic aspects as well as a knowledge of art history.