Symphony Inspired By Cathedral Arches

When London Medical Orchestra conductor Oliver Till spoke to composer Dominic McGonigal about the group’s forthcoming 70th anniversary, a consensus was reached that there should be a new piece to mark the occasion. Initially their thoughts were along the lines of a ceremonial fanfare, the type of which Walton, Vaughan Williams or Britten might have written in response to such an auspicious occasion. To everyone’s surprise, however, the new piece took on far loftier ambitions.

Since the age of ten, Dominic had held a fascination for cathedral architecture, and found himself captivated by a history teacher’s slide show taking his class on a grand tour of Europe. Of special interest was the slide showing Beauvais Cathedral, built in 1270 and still the tallest stone-built Choir in the world. McGonigal resolved to see it in the flesh one day, a wish that came true 50 years later. “Sitting there,” he recounts, “under these elegant arches that seem to rise up for ever towards the light, the sounds of the third movement started to form in my head, and then in my notebook.”

What he didn’t realise at the time was that these sketches were the beginning of an ambitious four-movement piece, a Cathedral Symphony written in celebration of the architecture and construction of these extraordinary buildings. Alongside Beauvais, which became the emotional centrepiece of the work, McGonigal would flank portraits of the West Door of Lincoln Cathedral, the Nave of Bayeaux Cathedral and finally, after the Choir of Beauvais, the 100-metre-high tower of Belgium’s Mechelen Cathedral.

The Cathedral Symphony is scored for full orchestra, but it is striking to note how rarely all the instruments play together, as the composer picks out the details of these extraordinary spaces. When they do play together, the forces include woodwind (with optional piccolo, cor anglais, bass clarinet and contrabassoon), brass, strings, percussion and an organ part. The musical images are pictorial, and even without the images of the buildings inspiring each movement the listener is given a vivid tour of their surroundings.

The symphony’s first movement, The West Door, takes up its opening position at the grand entrance of Lincoln Cathedral, the triple tympanum of the building taking shape in the three massive chords of the opening statement. One of the finest medieval buildings in England, the cathedral was partially destroyed by an earthquake in 1185, leaving only the Western front. It is an imposing and awe-inspiring structure, reflected in music of sharp contrast – the loud exaltations from full orchestra answered with hushed responses from strings and woodwind.

The Nave of Bayeaux Cathedral is next, a passacaglia that draws the eye from arch to arch, and the ear likewise across the orchestra. This part of the cathedral dates from the second Romanesque church, rebuilt in 1105, and is notable for its extravagant decoration. McGonigal gives us an impression of the massive spaces above, with organ-like sonorities, but retaining a sense of the spiritual enlightenment that lies within. The wind murmur softly amongst each other, as though up the other end of the building, with soft punctuation from the brass, before the music gathers in a drawn-out crescendo, its big final discords heading for The Choir.

This is the nerve centre of the Cathedral Symphony, a musical response to the highest Gothic choir in the world at Beauvais, standing 48.5 metres tall. For a while in the 16th century the newly built structure was the tallest of any building in the world, and although the building remained unfinished the choir has been admired as ‘the Parthenon Of French Gothic’. The movement starts in wonder at the serenity of the structure, its extraordinary sense of space and intimacy. The held strings capture the rarefied atmosphere, finding private moments of wonder in a building of great stature, while eloquent solos for oboe and flute trace the outlines overhead. 

Finally we hear The Tower, a musical representation of the huge construction of St. Rumbold’s Cathedral in Mechelen, Belgium. Standing 100m high, the tower inspires a tour de force of big orchestral themes, with urgent figures for percussion and wind while the strings quickly and excitedly take hold. The music moves at pace, its syncopations passing between the sections, the quick quaver motifs never letting go. The Mechelen tower has six enormous bells, a mixture of whole tones and minor seconds, and these contribute to the additional harmonic colour as the music steels itself for the exultant coda. Here the whole orchestra cry out in a final, massive peroration.

In rehearsal, the London Medical Orchestra have reacted very positively to Dominic’s composition. Conductor Oliver Till, discussing the impact of the piece, said, “Dominic's symphony is a powerful response to some awe-inspiring examples of cathedral architecture. It's really exciting to be among the first people to hear it live!” He praises the orchestra for their response. “They have adapted really quickly to suit the style of the work, embracing in particular The Nave’s inexorable crescendo, The Choir’s hazy harmonies, and The Tower’s bouncy rhythms and soaring brass melodies.”

Horn player Simon Ashdown hears “church mice scuttling” if you listen closely to The Tower, while flautist Graeme Scott praises the solos, and in particular McGonigal’s “writing for lower register flute, which is never explored”. Similarly, Mo Talukder is pleased to note that “the piccolo has not been forgotten”, noting Dominic’s “amazing attention to detail in an amazing piece!” Horn player Julie Rooke and viola player Talia Boylan enjoy the Cathedral Symphony’s technical challenges, “even practising the thorny bits!”, while fellow viola player Tom Boswell finds “the fascinating harmonies…really visualise the cathedrals, you feel like you’re inside them”.

When London Medical Orchestra conductor Oliver Till spoke to composer Dominic McGonigal about the group’s forthcoming 70th anniversary, a consensus was reached that there should be a new piece to mark the occasion. Initially their thoughts were along the lines of a ceremonial fanfare, the type of which Walton, Vaughan Williams or Britten might have written in response to such an auspicious occasion. To everyone’s surprise, however, the new piece took on far loftier ambitions.

Since the age of ten, Dominic had held a fascination for cathedral architecture, and found himself captivated by a history teacher’s slide show taking his class on a grand tour of Europe. Of special interest was the slide showing Beauvais Cathedral, built in 1270 and still the tallest stone-built Choir in the world. McGonigal resolved to see it in the flesh one day, a wish that came true 50 years later. “Sitting there,” he recounts, “under these elegant arches that seem to rise up for ever towards the light, the sounds of the third movement started to form in my head, and then in my notebook.”

What he didn’t realise at the time was that these sketches were the beginning of an ambitious four-movement piece, a Cathedral Symphony written in celebration of the architecture and construction of these extraordinary buildings. Alongside Beauvais, which became the emotional centrepiece of the work, McGonigal would flank portraits of the West Door of Lincoln Cathedral, the Nave of Bayeaux Cathedral and finally, after the Choir of Beauvais, the 100-metre-high tower of Belgium’s Mechelen Cathedral.

The Cathedral Symphony is scored for full orchestra, but it is striking to note how rarely all the instruments play together, as the composer picks out the details of these extraordinary spaces. When they do play together, the forces include woodwind (with optional piccolo, cor anglais, bass clarinet and contrabassoon), brass, strings, percussion and an organ part. The musical images are pictorial, and even without the images of the buildings inspiring each movement the listener is given a vivid tour of their surroundings.

The symphony’s first movement, The West Door, takes up its opening position at the grand entrance of Lincoln Cathedral, the triple tympanum of the building taking shape in the three massive chords of the opening statement. One of the finest medieval buildings in England, the cathedral was partially destroyed by an earthquake in 1185, leaving only the Western front. It is an imposing and awe-inspiring structure, reflected in music of sharp contrast – the loud exaltations from full orchestra answered with hushed responses from strings and woodwind.

The Nave of Bayeaux Cathedral is next, a passacaglia that draws the eye from arch to arch, and the ear likewise across the orchestra. This part of the cathedral dates from the second Romanesque church, rebuilt in 1105, and is notable for its extravagant decoration. McGonigal gives us an impression of the massive spaces above, with organ-like sonorities, but retaining a sense of the spiritual enlightenment that lies within. The wind murmur softly amongst each other, as though up the other end of the building, with soft punctuation from the brass, before the music gathers in a drawn-out crescendo, its big final discords heading for The Choir.

This is the nerve centre of the Cathedral Symphony, a musical response to the highest Gothic choir in the world at Beauvais, standing 48.5 metres tall. For a while in the 16th century the newly built structure was the tallest of any building in the world, and although the building remained unfinished the choir has been admired as ‘the Parthenon Of French Gothic’. The movement starts in wonder at the serenity of the structure, its extraordinary sense of space and intimacy. The held strings capture the rarefied atmosphere, finding private moments of wonder in a building of great stature, while eloquent solos for oboe and flute trace the outlines overhead. 

Finally we hear The Tower, a musical representation of the huge construction of St. Rumbold’s Cathedral in Mechelen, Belgium. Standing 100m high, the tower inspires a tour de force of big orchestral themes, with urgent figures for percussion and wind while the strings quickly and excitedly take hold. The music moves at pace, its syncopations passing between the sections, the quick quaver motifs never letting go. The Mechelen tower has six enormous bells, a mixture of whole tones and minor seconds, and these contribute to the additional harmonic colour as the music steels itself for the exultant coda. Here the whole orchestra cry out in a final, massive peroration.

In rehearsal, the London Medical Orchestra have reacted very positively to Dominic’s composition. Conductor Oliver Till, discussing the impact of the piece, said, “Dominic's symphony is a powerful response to some awe-inspiring examples of cathedral architecture. It's really exciting to be among the first people to hear it live!” He praises the orchestra for their response. “They have adapted really quickly to suit the style of the work, embracing in particular The Nave’s inexorable crescendo, The Choir’s hazy harmonies, and The Tower’s bouncy rhythms and soaring brass melodies.”

Horn player Simon Ashdown hears “church mice scuttling” if you listen closely to The Tower, while flautist Graeme Scott praises the solos, and in particular McGonigal’s “writing for lower register flute, which is never explored”. Similarly, Mo Talukder is pleased to note that “the piccolo has not been forgotten”, noting Dominic’s “amazing attention to detail in an amazing piece!” Horn player Julie Rooke and viola player Talia Boylan enjoy the Cathedral Symphony’s technical challenges, “even practising the thorny bits!”, while fellow viola player Tom Boswell finds “the fascinating harmonies…really visualise the cathedrals, you feel like you’re inside them”.

With just a couple of weeks to go, Oliver Till is eager for the premiere. “I'm so glad Dominic has written this piece for us; it resonates especially because he is someone who knows the orchestra well, having played with us for years. I'm keen to do justice to the work, and I hope we can give it a memorable maiden voyage!”

Ben Hogwood