Women's voices raised

It would be enough to give St Paul (he of the letter admonishing the citizens of Corinth to "let your women keep silent in the…

It would be enough to give St Paul (he of the letter admonishing the citizens of Corinth to "let your women keep silent in the churches") palpitations. Women's voices, not only raised in church, but teamed with those of monks in a CD that offers a very different take on traditional plainchantm writes Arminta Wallace

Things have changed a good deal since St Paul's day, of course. But it's a fair bet that there will still be one or two folks who will be shocked by the prospect of Sinead O'Connor - more often heard delivering Nothing Compares to U on the sound system in your local supermarket, and well known for her outspoken views on the Catholic Church - singing the Marian hymn Regina Caeli on a new CD called Biscantorat. "The recording aims to make the point about the role of women in the church in a very forceful way," says Nóirín Ní Riain, whose voice is also heard on the CD and who was a moving force behind the venture.

Forceful as in provocative? O'Connor, ironically, is keeping schtum on the matter, in line with her declared intention to avoid publicity, and is named on the CD cover as "Marie-Bernadette O'Connor". Why? Cynics will say it has more to do with evasian than avoidance, but Ní Riain insists the anonymity is perfectly in keeping with the spirit of the project. "The recording captures a moment of prayer," she says. "Names and labels are irrelevant, distracting. It doesn't matter who we are. It's just a group of people coming together, standing together, breathing together, singing together."

The word Biscantorat is coined from the old Latin proverb qui cantat bis orat (whoever sings, prays twice), and the CD features a mix of song, chant and spoken word, tracing the course of the liturgical year from Advent through Pentecost. The poet John O'Donoghue recites three of his sonnets and the Glenstal monk Mark Patrick Hederman offers what Ní Riain describes as "an invitation for the listener to meditate with us".

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In fact, she says, Biscantorat is intended to be a sort of aural prayer book. Those who took part hope the recording will offer a bridge for people who feel disillusioned by the institutional and hierarchical structure of the church and who seek a return to prayer and reflection in their own personal space.

"The project grew organically out of work I was doing for my doctoral thesis in theology, which was a discussion of sound and the potency of song. John O' Donoghue and Mark Patrick Hederman were my mentors - I showed them every word I wrote."

As part of her research she also spoke to various experts on the human auditory system, and concluded that hearing is the most sophisticated of our senses: "It's as if God wants us to be all ears."

Listening to the CD, one is immediately struck by the distinctiveness of O'Connor's voice - its raw, almost primeval sound forming a startling contrast with the effortless smoothness of the voices of the Glenstal monks, who have, of course, been singing plainchant together on a daily basis for many years. Ní Riain has also sung with the monks many times, both on record and in concert.

"I grew up near Glenstal Abbey and used to sneak into the church as a child, to listen to the singing," she says. "I took it all for granted then. But in recent years I've come to appreciate that Glenstal has been in the forefront of offering people new ways to approach spirituality. It's a very inclusive place with an extraordinary atmosphere."

Though it takes a different musical approach to previous plainchant recordings from Glenstal, she says, Biscantorat is situated in that tradition of spiritual inclusiveness. "It's about the reconciliation of opposites. Male, female; monastic, secular; old, new."

The album opens with the well-known Coventry Carol: "Lullih, Lullah, thou little tiny child. . . " Gentle voices, smooth harmonies - but the words, as Ní Riain points out, express the grief of the mothers whose children Herod murdered in the Biblical incident known as the Slaughter of the Innocents.

The Seven Rejoices of Mary, a traditional Irish carol collected in Waterford at the turn of the 20th century, is a robust, jolly affair - Mary as maiden dancing at the crossroads, perhaps. Two contrasting versions of the Pater Noster are offered: the traditional plainchant setting cleverly blended into William Byrd's luscious 16th century polyphony.

There is also an ecstatic Alleluia by one of the few women ever to have made it as a professional composer - Hildegard of Bingen.

"I met the liberation theologian Matthew Fox in California about 17 years ago," says Ní Riain, "and he told me I should sing the music of Hildegard. I said: 'Who?' He said: 'Hildegard. Twelfth-century Benedictine Abbess'. I went back to Glenstal and said: 'Lads, you never told me about this woman or her music.' And one of the older monks, who has now passed on, said: 'Oh, that's eroticism of the chant'."

And is it? "Absolutely. It's orgasmic. There are fantastically high notes and amazing low ones. It's music for your chakras - and once you've sung it, you never forget it." As for the word "Alleluia", she says, "even thinking the word - the shape of it - is uplifting".

Ní Riain believes that plainchant is more than just uplifting. It is healing, she says. The fact that it is old - some of the chants on this CD date back to the eigth century - means it is rooted in a great deal of human experience. Its simplicity speaks to everyone - even those who find themselves disillusioned with the current state of the Christian churches. While she is very interested in world religions and a broader perspective on matters spiritual, she says we shouldn't just throw out our Judaeo-Christian heritage as if 3,000 years of cultural history never happened. "And why would you want to, anyway? All those wonderful ideas. The Trinity, for instance."

Ah, yes, the Trinity. That male-dominated trio of sticking-points for those who have difficulty with mainstream Christian doctrine? But, says Ní Riain, it depends how you look at it; and women are well placed to look at things differently.

"You have God the Father. Not a father at all, but the force that began things - the energy that brought us all into being. And the Incarnation. That's you and me, the human side of it which we can understand. Then there's the Spirit, which allows everything to happen to us. New things. Good things. That's what this album is about - allowing the sound of the Spirit to sing through."

Even St Paul, surely, couldn't disapprove?

Biscantorat is on Hummingbird