Laus Polyphoniae – final days

Laus Polyphoniae officially came into being in 1994, as a logical continuation of Antwerp93, when polyphony was first deliberately thrust forward as a cultural "brand." And that comes with a small personal note: back then I was there as a student volunteer, armed with a stack of paper tickets – it was still an era without QR codes and scanners – and so I got the unique chance to see the cream of the international music world pass by up close.

Some dreamed of pop stars back then (and there was nothing wrong with that), but I would have taken Gabrieli Consort, Weser-Renaissance or Concerto Italiano. Those kinds of heroes, so to speak.

Today, in 2026, Laus Polyphoniae still stands proudly upright, in full glory and with undiminished ambition, which proves itself once again in the final festival days.

Thursday: trendsetters before the term

The concert day begins as has become customary at 1 p.m., with a program that essentially forms the "soundtrack" to the story of trendsetters and followers – terms not yet used around 1600, but whose concept is quite recognizable. Flanders, and Antwerp in particular, developed into a flourishing music market, where music was printed, reprinted, and distributed. It was, in other words, a place where ideas spread faster than some digital files do today – though that last part seems hard to believe.

In the evening, Capella Mariana takes us to the illustrious court of Emperor Rudolf II in Prague, which at that time, like Antwerp, was a cosmopolitan hub. The names of the composers who were active there might not ring a bell today – unless you happen to own an exceptional collection of obscure LP recordings from the 1950s and 1960s of Bohemian Baroque and polyphony – but that makes the discovery all the more interesting.

I'm particularly looking forward to Harant's Mass, and also to the way that music is brought into dialogue with works by Lassus and De Monte. With six singers on stage, we can expect a sound that is both transparent and flexible, with enough tension to hold attention effortlessly.

The evening closes late in the Sint-Joris Church with "us," Utopia. I'll admit it: a touch of hometown pride sneaks in. Their interpretation of Lassus, and in particular the Lamentationshas something special about it. The music itself is now firmly lodged in my head, yet they keep managing to add a new dimension to it.

Whether they sing it the way it 'really' sounded in the sixteenth century? We'll never know for sure, but somehow it feels as though this music here, sung by Flemish voices, lands just that bit more naturally — if only because I can't quite imagine a Spaniard singing Lassus… though I catch myself thinking that might be complete nonsense anyway.

Friday: no rest, but top-tier performances

Friday, August 28th features 'only' two concerts, which on paper almost seems merciful for the by-now slightly weary festival-goer. In reality, it's simply two absolute highlights.

At 1 p.m., {{NOTRANSLATE_1}} brings works by Hassler and Handl. The {{NOTRANSLATE_2}} appears on the repertoire of many a choir, but I'm fairly confident these four gentlemen will give it their own entirely distinctive interpretation, effortlessly combining southern suppleness with a more northern clarity. And then the evening concert, where I can unapologetically revisit an earlier title from these articles: {{NOTRANSLATE_3}} {{NOTRANSLATE_4}} by Monteverdi, performed by {{NOTRANSLATE_5}}, really there's little more to be said. The concert is sold out for good reason, as this combination guarantees a kind of musical fireworks that is simultaneously astonishingly refined and utterly overwhelming. remain a masterpiece in which liturgy and an almost operatic drama converge. Once written as a calling card, yet still today capable of filling churches and concert halls with ease. This is precisely the kind of concert that defines a festival of this caliber. Saturday: farewell with perspective And then there's the inevitable final day.

The summer school concert always deserves a special mention. Every year I resolve to participate in it myself someday. 'Perhaps after I retire!' I say. But fortunately there are plenty of others who procrastinate less and throw themselves into it wholeheartedly. What the students manage to achieve in such a short time remains remarkably impressive, as does the way their mentors guide them through it. For the very youngest, there's an activity the same day at Steinerschool Hibernia, where music is brought to life in a playful way. The image of children being carried along on a resonant 'raft' through a constantly changing world is not only beautiful, but also hopeful: thus the seeds are sown for a next generation of listeners — and therefore for future editions of Laus Polyphoniae.. The In the evening, the festival heads toward its grand finale in style, with {{NOTRANSLATE_6}}, {{NOTRANSLATE_7}}, recently described as 'the cathedral choir in pocket format'. I'll gladly admit it: my weakness for English choral music is considerable, and ideally I'd hear it performed by English singers. There's much to debate about performance practice, styles, and historical authenticity, but when they sing this music, something their tradition has been doing for centuries, it simply feels absolutely right. by Monteverdi, performed by Vox Luminis there's actually little that needs to be added. The concert sold out for a reason—this combination delivers a kind of musical fireworks that is simultaneously breathtakingly refined and utterly overwhelming.

Monteverdi's In the evening, the festival heads toward its grand finale in style, with {{NOTRANSLATE_6}}, {{NOTRANSLATE_7}}, recently described as 'the cathedral choir in pocket format'. I'll gladly admit it: my weakness for English choral music is considerable, and ideally I'd hear it performed by English singers. There's much to debate about performance practice, styles, and historical authenticity, but when they sing this music, something their tradition has been doing for centuries, it simply feels absolutely right. remain a masterpiece where liturgy and an almost operatic drama converge. Originally written as a calling card, yet still capable today of filling churches and concert halls with ease. This is precisely the kind of concert that defines a festival of this caliber.

Saturday: farewell with perspective

And then there's the inevitable final day.

Special mention must be made, year after year, of the summer school concert. I tell myself every year that I'll participate in it someday. "Maybe after I retire!", I say. But thankfully there are plenty of others who procrastinate less and throw themselves into it wholeheartedly. What the students manage to achieve in such a short time remains remarkably impressive, as does the way their instructors bring them along on that journey.

For the youngest attendees, there's an activity the same day at Steinerschool Hibernia, where music is brought to life in a playful way. The image of children being carried along on a sonorous "raft" through a constantly changing world is not only beautiful, but also hopeful: this plants the seed for a next generation of listeners—and thus for future editions of Laus Polyphoniae.

In the evening, the festival concludes in style with The Gesualdo Six, by The Standard recently described as "the cathedral choir in pocket format". I'll admit it freely: my weakness for English choral music is considerable, and I much prefer to hear it performed by English singers. There's much to debate about performance practice, styles, and historical authenticity, but when they sing this music—something their tradition has done for centuries—it simply feels utterly right.

Goodbye!

A more than worthy conclusion to yet another impressive edition. It must become increasingly difficult for the organizers each year to set the bar just as high, let alone higher, and yet they manage to do so time and again, thanks to an intelligent combination of themes, repertoire, and performers.

I'm already looking forward to 2027. But first: let's make sure we savor what we have, here and now. I hope this little series has only whetted your appetite.