Previous commentators have maligned the La Clayette manuscript as a source of Ars Antiqua motets on three grounds: that its layout is not arranged for use in performance; that its notation is unsophisticated in its use of mensural forms; and that it is heavy with errors. This article offers a palaeographical account of the music fascicle and its methods of production, arguing that its layout was tailored to match the manuscript's literary portions, and was designed first by a text scribe specialising in the vernacular, which accounts for many of the supposed problems. The article describes the notator's ‘house style’ and his means of dealing with the text scribe's frequent errors, suggesting he was largely successful in transmitting usable musical readings. All this provides an opportunity to think through the historical possibilities for literate interaction with written polyphony in the thirteenth century. It is suggested that La Clayette was understood by its users as a tool with which a single reader could teach other, perhaps non-literate people to sing polytextual pieces.

It has long been recognized that Johannes de Grocheio's De musicta is an outstanding source of information about Parisian musical practice c. 1300. However, the critical text of the treatise published by Rohloff in 1972 can be improved by returning to the manuscripts, and the pioneering English translation, by Albert Seay, can now be corrected in some important particulars. The purpose of this article is therefore to present a corrected text and a new (annotated) translation of Johannes de Grocheio's remarks about secular music, both monophonic and polyphonic, generally regarded as the most important part of his treatise.

Since the realization, at the beginning of this century, that the treatise Speculum musicae had been incorrectly attributed to Jehan des Murs by its first editor, Edmond de Coussemaker, the actual author of this voluminous work of music theory from the early fourteenth century has remained a shadowy figure. The most certain detail of the author's identity is his name, contained within an acrostic spelled out over the initials that begin each of the seven books of the treatise, rendering the given name IACOBUS. The provenances of the three surviving manuscript sources, all dating from approximately a century after the proposed date of Speculum musicae, suggest an Italian bias to the transmission of the work, but, as physical documents, the manuscripts have yet to yield any clues to the author's origins. The treatise itself is a bit more helpful. Besides offering the author's name, clues within the text have allowed for the formulation of the following hypothesis concerning the career of Jacobus: that he was probably born in the diocese of Liège, that he was a student in Paris in the late thirteenth century, and that he returned to Liège to complete the final books of his treatise, Books 6 and 7 of Speculum musicae. In what follows, I will first briefly evaluate the evidence previously marshalled to support this hypothesis, and I will then discuss new information pertinent to the biography of the author.

The texts of thirteenth-century vernacular motets have held centre stage in many recent debates about this polytextual genre: the purported unintelligibility of the words in performance has led to questions about how motets were meant to be understood, especially by third-party listeners, both medieval and modern. The irony is that the purpose of the music has gone unheard in this debate. Using a single motet as point of focus, this article suggests various ways in which the music clarifies rather than obscures the meaning of the text in performance. These range from the use of simple musical devices, such as musical repetition or changes in texture that draw attention to significant moments in the text, to the exploitation of refrain melodies, which I argue carries out an ‘intersonic’ duty that serves as an interpretive companion to the more traditional ‘intertextual’ readings of recent scholarship.

Beyond the standard and familiar theoretical instruction materials on notation and mensuration, on mode and hexachord, and on the rules of two-part counterpoint, information and insight about the techniques of musical composition in the later Middle Ages are hard to come by. From a modern vantage point, medieval music theory leaves many of the questions most interesting to us unanswered. And for our part, too, analysts of chansons and motets have yet to agree on many basic notions about how this music works, and therefore what is most necessary to talk about. It is symptomatic of this state of affairs that articles discussing analytical approaches to early music, even those addressed to specialists, do not start out in medias res but rather must begin with first principles, and that current textbooks ignore or skimp on all but the most superficial aspects of musical style. We need to establish for all genres the paradigms or fundamental givens, the constraints understood at the outset, the range of choices available to the composer.

The interpretation of chromatic content in fourteenth-century music has been widely debated. While most studies have focused on contrapuntal necessity, this study advocates an approach that begins from the perspective of melody. Using the ballades, virelais and rondeaux of Guillaume de Machaut as a central repertory, it proposes that not only are chromatic inflections in Machaut's monophonic songs derived melodically, but that many chromatic inflections in Machaut's polyphonic songs also arise from melodic rather than contrapuntal requirements. Because of their implied semitone motion – arguably crucial to tonal organization – they can have an impact on the definition of tonal structure by privileging the individual pitches they decorate, particularly but not exclusively in cadential melodic formulas or progressions.

The Ave Maria remains the most widely repeated prayer in Christian devotional life, and music has played a critical role in its formation and propagation. This article reviews the essential contribution of music in the dissemination of texts based on the original verses from the gospel of Luke, with new evidence concerning the tradition of affixing a petition to the core devotion. While the Ave Maria remained unfixed in form and function until the sixteenth century, this article presents three significant examples from the corpus of Ars Antiqua polyphony in which versions of the text that include both the biblical verses and a supplicatory conclusion are not only used, but are also emphasised through polyphonic techniques.

Some basic stylistic features of ten prose offices for English saints are considered. The oldest is that for St Cuthbert (probably c. 930). Others are for Dunstan of Canterbury, Edmund of East Anglia, Ethelwold of Winchester, Kyneburga, Kyneswytha and Tybba of Peterborough, Mildred of Thanet, Oswald of Northumbria, Oswald of Worcester, Swithun of Winchester, and Wulfstan of Worcester. All were probably composed earlier than the office for Thomas of Canterbury (soon after 1170), which with its rhymed, accentual verse text marks a new type of office. Important musical features of these offices include the deployment of chants in modal order, tonality that relies on a framework of finalis and fifth (also the upper octave and lower fourth), cadences approached from the note below, the use of responsory verse tones, and formulaic melodies.

Machaut's first twenty motets appear, identically ordered, in a group of manuscripts copied under the composer's supervision. This order highlights connections between individual motets. Proportional relationships between six motets, and an allusion to the mid-point of Le Roman de la rose in the tenth motet, suggest that Machaut intended the motet group to be self-contained and sub-divided into two groups of ten.

Genetical factors cannot be excluded from the forces which determine vocal colour. There is no reason to suppose, therefore, that English singing should resemble that of any other nation in all respects. The facility for falsetto singing (by adult male, boys' and women's voices), the paucity of ‘true’ tenor voices and the ‘duller’ tone production all may be cited as characteristic of English singing, and might have a genetical basis. Vocal quality would also be affected by the time at which boys' voices changed, and if Latin were superseded by the somewhat duller English language.

This Old Testament ‘annunciation’ prophesies the birth of Samson, one of the popular heroes of medieval story and art. There is a plenitude of evidence on this point, but his popularity could be deduced quite simply from the song which is the subject of this article. Samson dux fortissime is well known; it is often referred to, and it has been recorded at least twice in recent years. However, there is no adequate published edition of it, no comparative study of its sources and notations, and no analysis of the way in which the imposing rhetoric of its poetry is combined with an intricately patterned melody.1 This complex monophonic song offers a chance to examine melody and rhythm, rhetoric and rhyme, working together on a large scale in a harmonious and impressive whole.2

Aside from Don Randel's study of the responsory verse tones, there have been few comparative analyses of Old Hispanic chant melodies. Such comparison requires new methods because of the paucity of surviving manuscripts, the limited sharing of repertoire between them and the nature of the notation. This article examines variants in specific opening and cadential contexts, across the Old Hispanic corpus. In these contexts, cantors chose from a system of interchangeable melodic shapes, which vary by manuscript. Some manuscripts cluster in their choices of these shapes, in ways that confirm Randel's findings, with four melodic dialects in evidence (‘Leon’, ‘Rioja’, ‘Toledo A’ and ‘Toledo B’). Other manuscripts, however, do not fit securely into any of these four dialects, instead showing a certain degree of permeability between the dialects. Although the types of variants we have identified, including differences in notation and melody, may appear ‘insignificant’ in comparisons of individual chants, they emerge as significant markers of melodic dialects in comparisons of large data sets.

Again and again, one discovers two patterns of movement yielding innovations in the history of European music: regional styles that were previously distinct from one another merge together in synthesis, as do stylistic tendencies that were previously tied to different genres. Both patterns may be invoked in an attempt to historicize the use of accidentals in a handful of important motets by Guillaume Du Fay, including Nuper rosarum flores and the troped Ave regina celorum. Historians have hardly been unaware of the importance of the influence of English music on Du Fay, nor have they been unaware of Du Fay's interest in transferring stylistic features from one genre to another. But it is useful to bring these two perspectives together, especially given the advance of recent scholarship. Our analysis may proceed from the basis of two well-known statements from the period. The first, from a treatise (c. 1400) attributed to the composer Philipoctus de Caserta, states that:

Between the eighth and the thirteenth centuries the southern part of the Iberian Peninsula was dominated by its Arab and Berber conquerors and their direct political heirs. In this large and rich territory, called Andalus, an original mixture of Eastern and Western cultural elements gradually emerged. The southward expansion of the northern Christian kingdoms, beginning in the eleventh century, eventually displaced, circumscribed and debilitated Andalusian culture, which finally found in northwestern Africa its only stable refuge. Although the literary and artistic achievements of Andalus have long attracted attention, the place of music in medieval Andalusian culture has not lately been subject to close scrutiny. The present study, based largely on the analysis of Andalusian survivals in contemporary North African musical traditions, will attempt to identify what could have been the most typical musical forms of Andalusian song and evaluate their possible influence on the thirteenth-century Cantigas de Santa Maria and French secular song.

The famous manuscript Harley 978 in the British Library is best known for containing Sumer is icumen in. Several of the problems of this fascinating book were disposed of in a masterly article by Schofield; but, with the notable exception of Kingsford, few of those who for one reason or another have used the manuscript have given their readers an adequate picture of the source on which they were drawing. It is a species of miscellany, but compiled on systematic lines. It is written in several hands, but the most obvious explanation for this is that the compiler was in a position to tell others to copy things out for him. The size and ruling of the pages is uniform, apart from the ruling of those on which the Conflict of Body and Soul (Noctis sub silentio, item 75 in the Harleian catalogue, item 78 in Kingsford's table) has been added. Format and type of interests alike suggest that the compilation is the work of a single mind, though the compiler's own handwriting may well be one of the cursives rather than any of the book hands.

Writing in 1882, Edmond Vander Straeten was the first to argue that the name ‘Juschino’ among the singers of Galeazzo Maria Sforza's household chapel referred to the composer Josquin des Prez. Assuming a birthdate in the early 1450s, Vander Straeten found it easy to understand why the young Josquin was at the bottom of the salary scale in 1475, the date of the documents. Soon afterwards, Eugenio Motta provided new evidence to support that identification and stretch Josquin's Milanese career to 1479. Since then the years in Milan have had a fixed and central place in all studies of Josquin's life.

It is widely believed that musical creativity suffered under the control of many sixteenth-century Protestant church leaders, especially in the Reformed (as opposed to Lutheran) branch of Protestantism. Such views are generalisations, and it is more accurate to say that music in Geneva and other Reformed strongholds developed in a very different way from the music of the Lutheran Church. The very specific beliefs about the role of music in the liturgy of Jean Calvin, Genevan church leader, led to the creation and publication of the Book of Psalms in French, in metre, and set to music. The Genevan or Huguenot Psalter, completed in 1562, formed the basis for Reformed worship in Europe and throughout the world, and its impact is still felt today. Despite the importance of the Psalter, relatively little is known about the precise liturgical musical practices in Geneva at the time of the Reformation, and little research has been carried out into the aspirations of either reformers or church musicians in relation to the Psalter. This article explores the significance of Calvin's interest in the Psalms as theological material, observing how this interest manifested itself, and outlines Calvin's views on music and the ways in which his plans for psalm-singing were implemented in Geneva from the 1540s onwards. After giving a brief explanation of the process through which the psalm melodies were taught and learnt, it also asks whether Calvin's vision for congregational singing would, or could, have been fully realised, and to what extent the quality of music-making was important to him. This article suggests that in the Genevan psalm-singing of the sixteenth century, matters of spiritual significance were most important.

The first Book of Common Prayer, published in 1549, contains no music. This is not to say that many of the liturgical texts it contains were not intended to be sung or intoned, as they had been for centuries before the Reformation. That singing as well as speaking was permissible is made clear by the rubrics,1 but notation was not supplied, an omission that can only have perplexed English priests and choirs at a time of radical and inadequately prescribed liturgical reform. As E. H. Fellowes commented in 1941, ‘very little attention has been drawn to the problems that must have confronted precentors, organists, choirmasters and composers, when the Latin liturgy was replaced by the Book of Common Prayer issued in the vernacular tongue’.2 To that list he might have added celebrants; and however great these problems may have appeared at choral foundations which maintained close contact with the principal reformers, they must have seemed almost insuperable to the priests at remote parish churches throughout the country.

Le Voir Dit is one of the most fascinating of the works left by the celebrated poet-composer Guillaume de Machaut (d. 1377), and at the same time, as John Stevens has said, ‘one of the most curious documents of the [fourteenth] century’. Through 9000 lines of narrative, sixty-two lyrics in all the main forms (nine of them set to music), and forty-six letters which include comments on the character of the songs and on the business of producing poetry, music and manuscripts, we seem to take a guided tour of Machaut's emotional and professional life over three years of his old age. For more than a century it has proved a rich source of revealing quotations, sustaining many varied arguments. The story it tells of Machaut's literary and emotional affair with a young girl, Peronne, has been read at times as autobiography, at times as fiction; and the incidental comments on composition, performance and copying have been interpreted in studies ranging far beyond Le Voir Dit as evidence of fourteenth-century professional practice. None the less, the constituent parts of the text as they survive in manuscripts from Machaut's circle are disordered, the poem lacks an adequate published edition, and even its music – in size, at least, the most manageable of its components – has yet to be considered as a whole.