Angel of Peace spans centuries and speaks of timeless human emotions
Attending The Sixteen’s Angel of Peace was undeniably nit just a concert, but an experience. Sitting in the echoing stillness of the sacred space of St Martins in the Fields, with Harry Christophers gently leading his ensemble through centuries of music, I found myself not just listening but absorbing something deeper, something that felt timely, timeless, and quietly transformative.
Christophers’ signature warmth, both in musical phrasing and presence, continues to elevate The Sixteen far beyond technical excellence. Every voice is perfectly placed to add humanity in the sound in a way that’s unique and that can resonate with anyone willing to join the experience. From the opening note, you feel guided, not performed to. Christophers doesn’t merely conduct. For me, he curates a shared moment between past and present.
The programme of the concert is an exquisite interweaving of Hildegard of Bingen, Taverner, Arvo Pärt, Anna Clyne, and Will Todd, a masterclass in subtle juxtaposition. “Angel of Peace” as a title could risk feeling lofty or vague in today’s complex world, but here, it was grounding. More than ever we need to be thinking of embracing peace and encourage meditations on endurance, resilience, and spiritual clarity.
The most striking example of this came early in the programme: the seamless coupling of Hildegard’s Ave, generosa with Arvo Pärt’s Tribute to Caesar. Christophers held back applause between them, a decision that carried both dramatic and philosophical weight. Hildegard’s music, in its upward-lifting purity, feels like sound that aspires, like music that prays rather than speaks. By contrast, Pärt’s music, though equally sparse, emerges from a place weighed down by centuries of accumulated human complexity. One piece lifts its eyes to the heavens while the other feels like a gaze into the ache of history. The lack of applause created a kind of spiritual continuum, drawing a thread across the 1000-year gap.
Mid-programme, the focus subtly shifted inward with the two contemporary commissions: Will Todd’s I shall be an angel of peace and Anna Clyne’s Orbits. Here, the communal tone of liturgy gave way to something more introspective. These were no longer hymns of adoration but acts of personal orientation, songs about finding your own balance within chaos. Clyne’s Orbits, especially, echoed this.
Each half closed with Taverner, a reminder of choral grandeur at its most commanding. His Gaude plurimum and O spledor gloriae are pieces that demand space, both physically and emotionally. And The Sixteen filled every inch of it with breath, colour, and astonishing control. I felt like these two pieces were almost sound offerings.
What I also love in Christophers’ concerts is his natural flair for the spontaneous gesture. Toward the end of one of Pärt’s quieter pieces, an ambulance siren wailed loudly through a nearby London street. Rather than break the moment, Christophers held the silence and only cued applause once the sound faded. A simple decision, but somehow it stitched the outside world into the sanctuary. Peace, after all, isn’t isolation from chaos. It’s making space within it.
Angel of Peace is a mirror held up to centuries of yearning, reminding us how much is carried by music, and how much we still need it. Whether you come for the history, the harmony, or simply to pause and listen, a Sixteen concert is something quietly essential that veryone should witness it at least once.