Bruno de Labriolle (Ecole Gregorienne) joins Matthew Wilkinson on the Pursuit of Beauty Podcast to discuss the true history of Gregorian chant, the folk method of singing, ornamentation, relationship with Byzantium and Orthodoxy, singing with drones and instruments, and more.Bruno traces the “Gregorian chant” narrative to roughly around the year 750, when Pippin the Short seeks legitimacy and power in a shifting medieval world. The move toward a “Roman” sound is not just a devotional preference, but part of a larger realignment of kingship, empire, and ecclesiastical influence. One of the most striking moments: Pippin’s dissatisfaction with what later gets called Gallican chant, and his desire to replace it with “Roman song” as a symbol of legitimacy. Bruno explains how the Pope’s interests and Pippin’s interests converge, and why importing cantors becomes a cultural project with major musical consequences. But if chant is primarily oral, how do singers “learn something new,” especially after decades of singing by heart? Bruno describes how a singer can retain a text and broad melodic outline, yet still reshape the line through habitual gestures and local “savoir-faire,” even when everyone is trying to be faithful. This leads to the core claim: what we call Gregorian chant emerges as a cross-fertilization—a blending of an Old Roman repertoire framework with Gallican practices (including ornamentation and modal understanding). In other words, it is not simply “Rome imposing its music,” but an evolving synthesis driven by people, memory, and power. Over time, the irony deepens: Rome itself becomes a place where many different peoples sing many different musics, and eventually Old Roman chant is displaced by the more widespread “Gregorian” usage. Bruno even notes later efforts to enforce the new norm, including a tradition of suppressing older books as the center of gravity shifts. We also unpack why the Solesmes method became so dominant in modern imagination: a practical “vehicle” that lets almost anyone pick up a book and sing via simple note-values (rather than needing a specialist choirmaster). Bruno contrasts this with the semiological approach associated with figures like Dom Cardine, aimed at interpreting early neumes (not square notation) and what they imply musically. If you care about Gregorian chant performance practice, chant rhythm, neumes, and what “authenticity” can realistically mean, this conversation will reframe how you hear chant forever. Whether you sing in a schola, study medieval notation, or simply love sacred music, Bruno offers a rigorous, living way to think about tradition—rooted in history, but not trapped by modern myths.

This week on The Pursuit of Beauty I sit down with Dr. Allen Hightower, Director of Choral Studies at the University of North Texas, for an honest and deeply pastoral conversation about choirs, faith, and the people who stand in front of us every week and sing.

We talk very candidly about the real problems choir directors and church musicians face: how to work with aging voices and the infamous “old lady wobble,” why volunteers will forgive almost anything except being in a mediocre choir, and how to make hard musical decisions without wounding the people you serve. Allen opens up about the role of the conductor as a pastoral presence, not just a technician, and what it means to love your choir enough to tell them the truth and still keep their dignity intact.

From there we move into bigger questions about sacred music, text, and belief. Can you perform Bach’s passions with integrity if you do not actually believe what the text proclaims? What does it mean to teach and conduct explicitly Christian works in a secular university setting? Allen shares how he navigates these tensions at UNT, and why wrestling seriously with the words we sing is essential if the music is going to do the spiritual and human work it was written to do.

We also explore the thorny question of singing music from other religious traditions, from Holst’s Hymns from the Rig Veda to Sufi and Hindu devotional repertoire. How should Christian musicians think about programming this music, and what responsibility do we have given the embarrassment of riches in our own tradition’s choral literature?

If you are a choir director, a church musician, a choral singer, or simply someone who cares about the intersection of beauty, truth, and the people in your choir loft, this conversation is for you.

In this episode:

• How to lead volunteers who desperately want to be good, without bullying them

• What to do with aging voices and the “old lady wobble” in a church choir

• Why singers will not forgive you if they or the choir are mediocre

• The conductor as pastor, not just time beater

• Teaching and performing explicitly Christian music in a secular university

• Can you sing sacred texts with integrity if you do not believe them

• Should Christians sing music from other religious traditions

• The spiritual vocation of choral music in a disenchanted age

Allen Hightower, Matthew Wilkinson, choir, choral music, church music, sacred music, university choir, aging voices, old lady wobble, choral conducting, choral pedagogy, Bach, Rig Veda, faith and art, Christian music, UNT, Pursuit of Beauty podcast.

In this wide-ranging round table, architect Andrew Gould, icon carver and storyteller Jonathan Pageau, and host Matthew Wilkinson sit down over whiskey to wrestle with the future of beauty, sacred art, and architecture. We start with pirates and sea shanties, then quickly slide into Jackson Pollock, Rothko, oil slicks, marbled end-papers, and the problem of modern art hung in the wrong place. Andrew and Jonathan both argue that modernism is what happens when a long, rich tradition becomes fragmented and hyper-specialized. They compare Rothko’s color fields and Pollock’s rhythm to bark on a tree or the shimmering colors of an oil slick on water; there is a real beauty there, but it makes sense only when it is framed by more ordered and more meaningful.Andrew argues that the only real future of art lies in applied arts; things that serve a social purpose: church buildings, icons, interior decoration, good rooms, and good furniture. Oil paintings used to be “applied” in this way; they were made to hang in beautiful houses, to honor a patron, to decorate a dining room, to stand in as an “icon” of a king or bishop. Once painting is made only for galleries and commentary, it begins to eat itself. Jonathan pushes the conversation further and claims that liturgical art is the ultimate applied art. Icons, church architecture, and sacred music do not just distract you after work; they shape your life, your sense of honor, your memory, and your relationship to God and neighbor.From there, the three of you turn to cities, localism, and the built environment. Using Charleston as a case study, Andrew explains how historic districts, design review boards, and legal language originally intended to protect “historic styles” can be slowly re-interpreted to bless modernist glass boxes. You talk about shame, honor, and love; how a developer begins to think differently once he has to live in the town whose skyline he has altered, and how truly beautiful buildings quietly pressure people to dress differently, dine differently, and behave with greater dignity. Along the way, you touch on Greek islands that restrict ownership to locals, empty second homes in historic neighborhoods, and the way a truly beautiful room can transform a dinner party of ordinary college students into something solemn, joyful, and unforgettable.The discussion widens into the metaphysics of beauty and love. Drawing on the classical “transcendentals” of truth, goodness, and beauty, and a provocative list of “satanic transcendentals” such as fashion, sentimentality, and cruelty, you explore the difference between genuine love and mere infatuation. Fashion shocks; it trades in novelty and quickly becomes dated like shag carpet or yesterday’s architectural fad. Real beauty, by contrast, remains loveable across generations, which is why Baroque, Gothic, and classical buildings can be revived again and again, while certain “cutting edge” styles age badly within a decade. The same questions are applied to Orthodox iconography, mannerism, elongated figures, realism, Caravaggio and Rubens, and the danger of making saints look like glossy fashion models rather than members of the Kingdom.You hear concrete examples: Rublev’s Trinity as a bold yet deeply rooted innovation; Gothic portals where elongated saints grow up into the architecture like living columns; Father Silouan’s icons that quietly borrow from modern color theory and postmodern composition while remaining immediately venerable for a village grandmother; Russian attempts to integrate turn-of-the-century realism and Art Nouveau into church painting; and the tragic history of smoke-darkened Byzantine churches repeatedly repainted until the original brilliance vanished beneath cheap overpainting. We talk pirates and sea shanties, Pollock and Rothko, Rubens and Caravaggio, Charleston and Greek islands, Francis Bacon and Schiele, fashion and transcendence.

n this episode of The Pursuit of Beauty, Matthew sits down with legendary Charleston vocalist and storyteller Ann Caldwell to uncover the hidden world of spirituals, Gullah culture, and the music of the enslaved. From “Wade in the Water” to “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” Ann explains how these songs often carried coded messages of escape, using biblical language, river imagery, and “chariots” to talk about the Underground Railroad, freedom, and survival when plain speech was impossible.

Ann shares her own story as a Gullah-rooted artist raised in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, and opens a window into praise houses, ring shouts, and call and response worship that shaped the spiritual life of enslaved communities. She talks about how the Gullah language developed, why rhythm and movement are inseparable from the songs, and how spirituals hold together profound faith, doubt, lament, and hope all at once.

The conversation also wrestles with honest questions about race, ownership, and performance. Can white choirs sing spirituals with integrity. What does it mean for predominantly white ensembles to perform music that was born in the suffering of enslaved Africans. How do we honor the people who created these songs while allowing the music to live, grow, and be heard by new generations. Ann answers with the disarming mix of humor, directness, and pastoral wisdom that has made her beloved throughout Charleston.

Along the way you will hear about Mahalia Jackson, jazz arrangements of spirituals, the Society for the Preservation of Spirituals, and the way these songs continue to echo through Black church music, jazz, gospel, and American culture today. If you care about church music, spirituals, Gullah history, race, theology, or the story of the American South, this conversation will change the way you hear these songs forever.

In this long-form conversation, I sit down with Father Amde Hamilton, co-founder of The Watts Prophets, pioneering spoken word artist, and Ethiopian Orthodox priest. He tells the story of how a Creole childhood that intentionally formed poets and priests prepared him for militant poetry, the civil rights era, and what would later be recognized as some of the earliest roots of rap and hip hop. Father Amde describes his work in Watts at the beginning of the Crips and Bloods, and how gang members became his first congregation. He explains what it meant to pastor young men in crisis, to bring them into the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, and to build a parish that held together Jamaicans, African Americans, and Ethiopians in one community, even when some later broke away. It is a rare inside view of gang intervention, Black spirituality, and Orthodox Christian ministry in Los Angeles. We trace his spiritual journey from militant poetry to Rastafarianism, his first trip to Jamaica, and his encounter with the Ethiopian World Federation. From there, he meets Abba Mandefro/Archbishop Yesehaq, is rebaptized, and is entrusted with a letter authorizing him to raise money and help start one of the first Ethiopian Orthodox parishes in Los Angeles. He shares how he studied across traditions, attending Armenian and Coptic churches while traveling back and forth to Jamaica to deepen his understanding of the ancient faith. The conversation moves into music history. Father Amde tells how he met Bob Marley, how he performed the poem “Wisdom and Knowledge” in Marley’s studio, and how that same poem was later delivered at Bob Marley’s funeral. He talks about their shared role in the youth work of the church, the plans they had to record together, and how those plans were cut short by Marley’s illness and death. These stories illuminate the spiritual side of Marley’s circle that most music documentaries never really address. He also recounts the extraordinary story of Nina Simone. When Simone was being held in a psychiatric ward and facing a long-term commitment, Father Amde fought his way in as clergy, advocated for her in the hearing, and eventually brought her into his own home, where she lived with his family for over two months before returning to work. He describes how she encountered the Ethiopian Orthodox tradition, how she was baptized, and how the beauty of the service and the presence of the Holy Spirit transformed her. From there we widen out to questions of rap, language, and culture. Father Amde reflects on the real meaning of “rap” as a regional, ever-evolving Black vernacular, the role of code language in slavery, and how mainstream music distorted something that began as a way of thinking and speaking. He talks about reaching skinheads, trailer-park audiences, and church people alike, about the ongoing struggle for racial reconciliation, and about seeing the image of Christ even in killers and gang-bangers. Finally, we address the present moment. Father Amde speaks about social engineering after the Watts riots, the rise of the internet, spiritual warfare, and what he sees as a global battle between good and evil that will involve much more suffering before it is resolved. For listeners interested in Orthodox Christianity, Black poetry, hip hop history, Bob Marley, Nina Simone, or the meeting point of art, faith, and race in America, this is a rare and deeply moving testimony from a man who has lived through it all.

Gratitude: I must express a sense real gratitude for David Bentley Hart coming onto the podcast. His books have indeed changed my life. The Atheist Delusions settled so many historical and theological questions that would constantly nag at my faith, and the Experience of God: Being, Consciousness, Bliss, that truly saved my faith. After reading that book, Atheism seemed so philosophically inept that it became patently absurd to doubt the existence of God as such. The Doors of the Sea was an incredible meditation upon the question of suffering, or theodicy, and his book on Christian history is both thorough and enticing. His essays have often challenged me, and I truly believe that “The Beauty of the Infinite” is one of the most important theological texts written for today. More so than almost any other, it tackles the questions raised by the postmodern philosophers, and excoriates them while nonetheless taking their arguments on their own terms. He demonstrates a complete mastery over the works of Nietzsche, Derrida, Deluxe, Guitarri, Levinas, etc. while being firmly grounded in an Orthodox patristic worldview, heavily influenced by Gregory of Nyssa and Maximus the Confessor. In this episode of The Pursuit of Beauty, theologian and philosopher David Bentley Hart joins Matthew Wilkinson to ask one of the oldest and most dangerous questions in the human story: what is beauty — and what happens when we lose it? What follows is not a polite academic exchange but a wide-ranging meditation on love, truth, art, and the presence of God in a disenchanted world.Hart begins by tracing the ancient idea that beauty, truth, and goodness are not separate virtues but one radiant reality — different ways of touching the same mystery. He explains that every genuine encounter with beauty is also an encounter with love and with being itself, and that the more deeply one pursues any of these transcendentals, the more they converge. Beauty, he argues, is not decoration on the surface of reality but the way reality discloses its own perfection.From there, the conversation turns to the modern world’s forgetfulness of beauty. Hart reflects on how contemporary art and culture often mistake novelty for vision, or transgression for depth. Drawing on examples from music and painting, he describes what happens when art loses its center in love — when creativity becomes an exercise in irony rather than an act of reverence. The result, he says, is not freedom but exhaustion: a civilization that can no longer recognize its own soul.Yet Hart is no pessimist. He insists that beauty still breaks through the ruins, that every authentic work of art — from Bach to Messiaen, from an icon to a poem — is an act of love made visible. Even when beauty wounds or overwhelms us, it does so because it reveals something truer than comfort: the longing for what we were made to behold. To experience beauty is to be called beyond oneself, toward the source of all being.At the heart of the interview lies Hart’s startling claim that “God is the beautiful, God is love — these all refer to the same simple reality.” In that single sentence, metaphysics becomes devotion. Beauty is not merely a sign of the divine; it is the divine made perceptible. Love and art, when they are genuine, participate in that same reality, bearing witness to the truth that creation itself is an act of aesthetic generosity.Matthew and Hart also explore the paradox of beauty and suffering — how the cross, the moment of supreme ugliness, becomes the revelation of perfect beauty. They ask whether our capacity to see the beautiful in what is broken might be the surest test of spiritual vision. Beauty, Hart suggests, does not flee from darkness; it transfigures it.The conversation closes with a vision both humbling and hopeful: a call to recover the contemplative gaze, to look at the world again as something loved into being.

“If I were the devil, I’d start by destroying beauty.”Composer Dr. John Wykoff joins Matthew Wilkinson on The Pursuit of Beauty Podcast for a rare, soul-stirring conversation about what beauty really is, why it matters, and how its loss is reshaping our civilization. In this wide-ranging dialogue, the two explore the deep relationship between aesthetics, ethics, and faith—and how recovering a sense of beauty could be the key to restoring both art and culture.Beauty, truth, and goodness have been intertwined for centuries, but in the modern world they’ve been pulled apart. Wykoff argues that when we relativize beauty, we eventually relativize morality itself. He explains why the decline of aesthetic judgment leads to moral confusion, how postmodernism flattened the hierarchy of values, and why artists and believers alike must learn again to “love what they create” rather than innovate for innovation’s sake. This is not an abstract discussion—it’s a diagnosis of our cultural sickness and a roadmap toward renewal.Drawing on the legacy of Alice Parker, Arvo Pärt, and Wendell Berry, Wykoff reveals how genuine art begins in love and humility. “Don’t arrange it if you don’t love it,” he says. “Start with love.” From his reflections on choral arranging and sacred song to his critique of technology’s impact on music, Wykoff calls artists to return to the human, the communal, and the incarnational. Beauty, he suggests, isn’t luxury—it’s spiritual warfare.Together, Wilkinson and Wykoff trace the collapse of beauty in modern art, the spiritual implications of digital sound, and the metaphysical truth hidden inside musical form. They discuss postmodernism, hierarchy, counterpoint, theology, philosophy of art, and the moral imagination—all through the lens of a Christian composer who writes fugues “before breakfast” to discipline his soul. What emerges is a vision of beauty as participation in divine order, where every note and brushstroke becomes an act of love.If you’ve ever felt that something sacred has gone missing from culture, this conversation will name what you’ve sensed. It’s a meditation on how art can heal the soul and how beauty leads us back to God.

video at end courtesy of Missouri State University Chorale https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t0_fk_s7eCs

Performed by the Missouri State University Men's Chorus at Juanita K. Hammons Hall for the Performing Arts in Springfield, MO on March 6, 2018.Missouri State University Men's Chorus - Cameron F. LaBarr, conductor“Gone Home”arr. John WykoffSoloist: Giovanni Hernandez, baritonePiano: Parker PayneVideo Production by Blake Richter Productions www.blakerichterproductions.comAudio Production by Darcy Stephens

In this in-depth conversation, Father Pimen Simon of the Old Rite Church of the Nativity of Christ in Erie, Pennsylvania, joins Matthew Wilkinson to discuss the history, theology, and music of the Old Believers within the Russian Orthodox tradition. He explains how the Old Rite preserved ancient liturgical forms, theology, and chant after Patriarch Nikon’s 17th-century reforms divided the Russian Church. (Pursuit of Beauty Podcast Episode 28)Fr. Pimen describes the rise of the priested and priestless Old Believers, their centuries of persecution, and the later process of reconciliation with the Russian Orthodox Church Outside Russia (ROCOR). He recounts how his own community—once priestless—voted to reunite with ROCOR after the anathemas against the Old Rite were lifted in the 1970s at the urging of Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, opening the way for a new generation of Old Ritualist parishes in America, Oregon, Alaska, and beyond.The discussion explores the difference between ritual and dogma, the meaning of liturgical continuity, and how Old Believers maintained their faith through exile and hardship. Fr. Pimen explains the structure of priestless worship, the role of the nastavnik, and how communities survived without the Eucharist for generations while preserving the fullness of prayer and devotion.A major focus is the Znamenny Chant, the ancient melodic system that the Old Rite preserved when the rest of the Russian Church turned toward Western polyphony. Fr. Pimen traces its origins to early Byzantine influence, showing how Old Believers kept this music alive in its pure, unharmonized form. He demonstrates how they have adapted the chant into English while remaining faithful to its medieval notation, stressing that chant should elevate the text rather than overwhelm it with musical display.The conversation also touches on wider themes—the balance between tradition and adaptation, the problem of “watered-down Orthodoxy,” the renewal of fasting and liturgical life, and the spiritual meaning of beauty and simplicity in worship.For musicians, historians, and anyone drawn to sacred art and living tradition, this episode offers an extraordinary window into one of Christianity’s most ancient surviving liturgical lineages.

What happened to beauty in architecture? In this episode of The Pursuit of Beauty, host Matthew Wilkinson sits down with Michael Diamant, founder of The Architectural Uprising and creator of the Facebook group New Traditional Architecture, to explore how we lost our connection to form, harmony, and meaning in the modern world. From the sterile glass towers of contemporary cities to the rediscovery of timeless design, Diamant reveals why the future of architecture depends on reviving classical principles.

Diamant describes how The Architectural Uprising began as a movement across Scandinavia and Europe, uniting thousands who reject modernism’s soulless aesthetic in favor of beauty, truth, and goodness. He discusses the paradox of rebellion in a tradition-minded cause—how “uprising” means reclaiming the human spirit from ideology and bringing back craftsmanship, proportion, and the pursuit of the transcendent in the built environment.

The conversation dives into the philosophical foundations of classical architecture: why beauty is objective, why proportion and symbolism matter, and how the classical tradition is not a single style but a living framework that evolves with culture. Diamant contrasts the humility of the classical architect—who serves the street, the city, and the community—with the ego-driven modernist who builds for novelty’s sake, creating monuments to self rather than to truth.

Together they examine Frank Lloyd Wright, Art Nouveau, and Art Deco, exploring which modern movements successfully carried forward the classical spirit and which succumbed to utilitarianism. Diamant argues that early modernism once promised beauty and progress but was quickly replaced by what he calls “narcissistic modernism,” obsessed with innovation and ideology instead of human flourishing.

As the discussion turns toward urban design, Diamant explains why skyscrapers alienate people from one another, how courtyard urbanism creates livable cities, and why Europe’s most beloved neighborhoods work so well. He contrasts the community-focused city planning of the 19th century with today’s sterile mega-projects and defends the idea that small, cohesive cities of around half a million people represent the optimal scale for human life.

Matthew brings up the concept of the “Civium,” as proposed by Jordan Hall, to ask whether the internet era makes traditional cities obsolete. Diamant agrees that technology allows decentralization but insists that smaller, well-designed cities—built around beauty, family, and walkable neighborhoods—are the key to a sane civilization. Real progress, he says, means scaling down, not building higher.

The two also explore the moral and spiritual dimensions of architecture. Diamant suggests that beauty is an act of love—a way of manifesting transcendence in stone. Together they discuss why societies that lose beauty also lose social cohesion, why middle-class families are essential to civic life, and how classical design naturally nurtures order, belonging, and gratitude.

In the final moments, the conversation turns personal and cultural: why Charleston, SC represents one of the last living examples of urban beauty in America, and how taxation, zoning, and civic will could either revive or destroy that legacy. The result is a profound meditation on architecture, civilization, and what it means to build for eternity—a call to rediscover beauty as resistance in an age of concrete conformity.

In this episode of The Pursuit of Beauty Podcast, host Matthew Wilkinson sits down with thinker and entrepreneur Jordan Hall for a wide-ranging conversation about beauty, truth, goodness, and the challenges of modern civilization. Hall, co-founder of mp3.com and a key figure in the early internet streaming revolution, brings his unique background in technology, philosophy, and faith to a dialogue that touches everything from Christian theology to the future of urban planning. Together they explore how the transcendentals—beauty, goodness, and truth—intersect with our personal lives, our politics, and the spiritual destiny of culture.

Early in the conversation, Wilkinson frames beauty not simply as an aesthetic category but as a divine name, drawing on the writings of Dionysius and Aquinas. Hall responds by questioning how truth-based discourse can limit our apprehension of the beautiful, and whether we must learn to “presence beauty” rather than merely analyze it. This sparks a deep reflection on how different art forms can all reveal aspects of the same transcendent essence, even while each medium brings forward different facets of reality.

The dialogue turns to the difficult question of what makes something beautiful versus ugly. From abstract modern art to glass-and-concrete high-rises, Wilkinson and Hall wrestle with the criteria by which one can render judgment. Hall suggests that beauty itself is a faculty capable of defending its judgments without needing to be laundered through truth or goodness. This leads to an illuminating exploration of how propaganda often disguises itself by borrowing from truth and beauty.

Politics and propaganda naturally enter the discussion, as both men consider how mass media and later the internet shape our understanding of truth and values. Hall provides a penetrating analysis of how twentieth-century propaganda techniques optimized for television are breaking down in the digital age, creating both dangers and opportunities. They compare Soviet and Western approaches to truth distortion, asking what happens when societies abandon shared standards of reality.

From there, the conversation broadens into urbanism, architecture, and the fate of cities. Wilkinson references conversations with architects like Michael Diamant, while Hall argues provocatively that the urban itself is a category in decline. They discuss whether it is possible to have a truly beautiful city or whether the urban form is inherently tied to scarcity, opulence, and spiritual distortion. This thread leads naturally into reflections on cathedrals, new urbanism, and the tension between monumental architecture and the simplicity of monastic cells.

Hall situates these questions within a larger framework: the transition from the third industrial revolution (the digital/communication age) to the fourth industrial revolution (decentralization, bespoke production, AI, and new community forms). He argues that society is moving from scarcity to abundance, though currently abundance is often distorted into mere opulence. The key challenge is learning how to inhabit abundance spiritually, not just materially.

Abundance, in their view, will not look like endless skyscrapers or gilded palaces, but like the everyday beauty of love, family, and community—a grandmother rocking her grandchild, or the intimacy of shared worship. Wilkinson and Hall emphasize that the future of civilization may rest in our ability to unify beauty, goodness, and truth in the spirit of love, creating societies marked not by opulence but by genuine harmony.

The theological dimension remains central throughout. From Eucharistic gratitude to the New Jerusalem, from Schmemann to David Bentley Hart, the discussion roots cultural renewal in the Christian vision of creation as fundamentally beautiful and good. For Hall, the New Jerusalem is not merely a future city but the living body of Christ, distributed wherever believers gather in the spirit of God.