I was sixteen years old when I was presented with the score for David Fanshawe's African Sanctus. It was hand-written and somewhat indecipherable, mainly because of the close choral part writing and the inclusion of several other instrumental lines the likes of which I'd never seen before. I was a teenager, afterall, and I hadn't yet delved into twentieth century modern music. The idea of cueing in prerecorded music from a tape was beyond me (and sort of beyond my teacher), but this was to be accomplished if I was to gain a place in the Texas Music Educators Association All-State Choir. I wasn't able to grasp the impact of the work until I was finally onstage with a large chorus of my peers and several ethnic percussion instruments.

The basis for the larger work from which the mp3 below is extracted was a cross-shaped pilgrimage taken by Fanshawe over the course of four years. With a stereo recorder in tow, he journeyed from the Mediterranean to Lake Victoria and from the mountains of West Sudan to the Red Sea, recording the heart music of over fifty African tribes. The resulting composition was first performed by the Saltarello Choir in July 1972 at St. John's Smith Square, London, and later broadcast on BBC Radio on United Nations Day. Performances of the African Sanctus are massive undertakings, and Fanshawe has provided extensive documentation and diagrams of the proper execution.

MP3 David Fanshawe - African Sanctus

The first movement, "African Sanctus," opens with the beating of the large bass drum. With no preparation, the chorus announces with a wall of sound the holiness of the Lord God in the traditional Latin Sanctus text, backed now by guitar and doubled by piano. After a slight pause, Fanshawe's field recording of the North Ugandan Acholi Bwala dance begins, soon joined by the rockin' beat of a trap set. The chorus joins again with essentially the same passage with which they opened the piece, but now all the forces join and work to a great frenzy. Fanshawe's aim here (and I think he's done it with a little voodoo, it's so good) is to explore the relationship of, of course, the sacred and the profane (especially poignant now, considering the conflict in Uganda), but also to rejoin musical traditions split by geography and history. The thick, precise harmonies of the West are pitted against the open and wild incantations and rhythmic modes of a Sub-Saharan people. Surprisingly, they do not act antagonistically; there is no claim by either for validity or superiority, musically speaking. Rather, both traditions (in this movement at least) serve to uphold one another in an interlocking ecstasy.

This work is often staged with dancers and choreography, and I am thrilled to see in Fanshawe's performance instructions a note to include multi-racial performers. Anything else would be pandering, I think. And there's so much going on in the music—so many rhythmic, melodic, and harmonic threads—that I can't imagine everyone of every color and creed not wanting to dance or take part somehow.

In fact, I've been threatening to throw this track into a DJ mix some night. I can't wait to see the feet and arms and heads flailing. Hosanna!