Sailing to Byzantium on waves of plainsong

Saying that Gregorian chant, as sung by the inimitable Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos, sold a few records 10 years ago is like saying the Beatles wrote some decent songs in the 1960s. Something about the still, melancholy tones of chant melded with the Clinton era’s need for soothing, new-age sounds, and what at first might have seemed like staid niche music took the world by storm.

Now, however, the dust has settled on Chantmania, and it’s clear that the Benedictine Monks didn’t exactly sing chant authentically, but instead applied to it a Romantic approach from late 19th century France. On Saturday at the Getty Center, the voices of Capella Romana reimagined chant in a more authentic, Mediterranean style, and the result was a little more rousing than new-age meditation Muzak.

Led by musicologist Alexander Lingas, the program was titled “Music of Byzantium: The Fall of Constantinople.” Its focus: the distinction between the single-melody Byzantine and harmonically complex Western music that flanked the city before and after its 1453 demise. Constantinople, after all, was a music and cultural hotbed the likes of modern-day New York. In Saturday’s music, for instance, it was easy to identify the ingredients of Italian polyphony, Greek folk, Hebrew religious services and Arab pop.

In the anonymous Hierarchical Entrance Rite for a Byzantine Divine Liturgy (1450), a combination of solemn texts and hymns honoring Christ as a protector from Arab attacks, a six-man ensemble displayed an impressive mix of unexpectedly rising modal melodies above rich pedal tones or sustained harmonic groundings. The highlight was a baritone who let loose a pain-soaked, freewheeling solo made of wiggly Arabic melismas and moans. Emblematic of many of the program’s works -- including those by John Plousiadenos (c. 1420-1500), a Byzantine convert to the West’s raison d’etre -- the effect was a far cry from “Chant” CDs given at Christmas a decade ago.

In contrast, three motets by the Franco-Flemish Guillaume Dufay (c. 1400-1474) explored complex Italian polyphony, including five-part counterpoint sung in both Old French and Latin at once. These works felt less static and solemn, led by high, round countertenor (and later, female!) voices and made more entertaining by canonic imitation and syncopations.

Overall the exhibition could have been less scholarly and more polished. At times Lingas’ hand-swaying, particularly during his own, casual high-note solos, came off as self-indulgent, and unison tones within the female voices weren’t always pitch-perfect. On the other hand, wartime Middle Agers weren’t exactly as picky as modern-day music critics.