Josquin changed musical history – why don’t we hear more of him?

Stepping into the Sistine Chapel, the choir loft is probably the last thing you’d notice. ‘Loft’ is, frankly, a stretch for what amounts to a small alcove with a wooden bench, carved out of the chapel’s wall. But if you made your way up there and ran your hand over the stone you’d feel something unexpected.

Etched into the wall in haphazard graffiti are hundreds of names. In most cases the carvings are all that remain of centuries of singers from the papal choir. But one is different: ‘JOSQUINJ’. Chances are it’s the only surviving signature of Josquin des Prez — a composer whose name and legacy are carved just as deeply into the history of music itself.

This August marks the 500th anniversary of Josquin’s death. We celebrate it because the year of his birth (like so much about the composer) remains frustratingly uncertain. His name (which appears in endless variations), nationality, even his music comes tinged with doubt, thanks to unscrupulous publishers passing off imitations as the real thing. One wag famously observed that Josquin had composed more since his death than he ever had in life.

What we do know is that Josquin changed the course of musical history. Not for nothing has he been compared to Virgil, Copernicus. He inherited the angular choral style of the late Middle Ages and softened its sharp gothic points, stripped away the jagged buttresses of its outer voices, and revealed music of new evenness and classical order — music in which spiritual perfection was not just imitated but enacted. As no less a figure than Martin Luther observed: ‘Other composers must follow what the notes dictate. [Josquin] is the master of the notes, which must do as he wishes.’

So why don’t we hear more of his music today? The answer’s a long one, but boils down to two reasons.