I find myself writing this on the feast of Saint Cecilia, November 22, just as I prepare to sign off the issue. A Roman martyr from the third century AD, she is of course celebrated today as the patron saint of musicians, an inspirer of verse by the likes of Dryden, Pope and Auden, and of musical tributes, setting such verse, by Purcell, Handel and Britten. The subject of sumptuous paintings from the Renaissance to the pre-Raphaelites, she is generally playing either a string instrument or the organ. Our own Awards logo is based on our striking sculpture of her, today to be found in the former church that houses our offices, in a neo-Gothic niche near where the now lost Willis organ must once have been.

And it’s not just music’s patron being celebrated today. Saint Cecilia’s feast is also, coincidentally or auspiciously, the birthday of a breadth of musical figures who dominate diverse areas of the repertoire embraced by that useful but sometimes awkward classification ‘classical’. Just a handful of the most major: Flemish master of the Mass Jacob Obrecht; the composer of guitar’s most beloved concerto Joaquín Rodrigo; the towering 20th-century figure Benjamin Britten; and the polymath pianist and composer (and author, artist …) Stephen Hough. Let’s also open the tent a little further to welcome in the hugely influential folk-song collector, Cecil Sharp. Any date will, of course, offer many musical birthdays, but that doesn’t dent the pleasure of setting aside time to celebrate those marked today. And, indeed, to commemorate too. For Britten’s Hymn to St Cecilia – setting Auden – I turned to the recording by the much-missed Stephen Cleobury, a great champion of choral music, who died on this day just one year ago.

I earlier alluded to the awkwardness of a term which (particularly to outsiders) does little to convey the sheer expanse of music we cover, and two things in this issue particularly, and pleasingly, push at the parameters. Firstly, our cover story. If operetta has rarely been granted such prominence in our pages, I hope Richard Bratby’s superb survey of this fascinating genre makes merry amends. And secondly, our annual Critics’ Choice, in which our reviewers name their favourite album of the past year. Among the picks, we find solo Bach on cello, harp, harpsichord, organ and guitar (a reflection, perhaps, of a year in which so many have sought such music’s inward focus?). There are double inclusions for both Hough’s poetic Brahms, and the colouristic beauty of Vikingur Ólafsson’s Debussy and Rameau. Indeed, from Ockeghem to Ešenvalds, via new discoveries and canonical classics, the list is an eloquent expression of all that our artform offers.

And finally, another nice coincidence is that this year, St Cecilia’s Day fell on ‘Stir-up Sunday’, a day associated with making Christmas puddings, but in fact named after the opening words of the church’s Collect for the day. For few things possess the extraordinary emotive power of music in its ability to ‘stir up’ people to see the world in a clearer and more profound light. It’s proved a source of solace and hope for many millions this past difficult year – and helped us through. Whatever form your Christmas takes, all of us at Gramophone send you our very best wishes. 

This article appears in the December 2020 issue of Gramophone, on sale now.