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.
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