That’s the name of an early music vocal group in Washington.
You can read the meaning of the name on their website. There’s a Tallis motet called “Suscipe quæso Domine,” and from that you get…
I also like the start of their group bio, the part that says their founder “had the typical American dream of wanting to sing Thomas Tallis’ Lamentations of the Prophet Jeremiah.”
And they sing well.
But of course what charms me here is how they make classical music part of regular culture, by naming themselves (I hardly have to say it) the way a band might. They’re not alone. Think of Ethel, the terrific new music string quartet. I’m sure people posting comments will bring us other examples.
Which means that the old hierarchies have fallen, and that, more and more, classical music can breathe, not the air of other planets (to quote the famous line from Stefan George with which Schoenberg entered atonality in his second string quartet), or the air of the past, but the air of normal life.
That can only make it more vivid, more authentic, and more deeply true as art.
“I’m sure people posting comments will bring us other examples.” Is there a prize? 🙂
Anyway, adopting a “band name” seems to be almost de rigeur among certain contemporary classical ensembles. Just looking at my own music collection we have (in alphabetical order) Alarm Will Sound, Bang on a Can (the group), Billband, Brooklyn Rider, Build, Eighth Blackbird, itsnotyouitsme (more of a post-rock group IMO, but they’re on an “indie classical” label), Mother Mallard’s Portable Masterpiece Company, Relâche, and Victoire (formerly Victrola).
Worth noting in this connect is that many of these groups explicitly market themselves to a (forgive me) “hipster” audience composed of aficionados of indie music and (to a lesser extent) modern jazz. (This seems to be especially true of groups on the New Amsterdam label.) So it’s only natural that they would adopt names similar to those of non-classical groups that audience would be familiar with. (The jazz influence may account for names like NOW Ensemble, which also echo those of earlier modern classical groups like the Steve Reich Ensemble, etc.)
I also find it interesting that Suspicious Cheese Lords is an early music group like Anonymous Four, another classical group with a band name. I’ve always suspected that the early music audience had a significant overlap with the contemporary classical audience (see for example the Kronos Quartet’s “Early Music” album). It would be worth checking out whether early music groups were more likely to adopt band names than groups specializing in the standard 18th and 19th century classical repertoire. In any case it might make marketing sense for them to do so.
Early music is definitely a source for some fun ensemble names. (Occasionally some pretty pretentious and esoteric names, but mostly fun.) There’s Apollo’s Fire, a baroque orchestra in Cleveland, for example. And in Sydney/Canberra there’s an ensemble called Salut! (or Hi!), a name which came about by combining the beginnings of the names of the three founding musicians.
But one of my favourites is a baroque opera company in Sydney called Pinchgut. That came from the nickname of a tiny island in Sydney Harbour where, story goes, recalcitrant convicts were marooned – presumably with little food – as a punishment. It’s nifty because it makes a powerful local identification for Sydneysiders, while also pointing to the opera-on-a-shoestring frugality of its origins. (It’s becoming increasingly successful as an organisation but still prides itself on resourcefulness.)