
Eternity's Sunrise
a review by hilary robinson ofrelease format Eternity's Sunrise by John Tavener (CD Album)
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John Tavener caught the public imagination a few years ago with the ecstatic sweep of his cello concerto The Protecting Veil, sent riding into the charts on the crest of a wave of big-selling, listener-friendly contemporary classical music (cue grumbling, some of it justified, in certain quarters). Tavener the man, clothed in the flowing-robed garb of the Orthodox religion to which he converted in the seventies, inevitably became prime mugshot fodder for the increasingly lookist nineties classical music industry and in 1997, the unprecedented worldwide exposure his music received when it was performed at the funeral of the Princess of Wales made him virtually a household name. Eternity's Sunrise, for which Tavener teams up with the acclaimed Choir and Orchestra of the Academy of Ancient Music, might round up a few more converts, not least as elements of his style which his critics find objectionable (repetitive textures and a preponderance of simple, consonant harmonies - the "musical equivalent of wallowing in a warm bath", according to those who prefer cold showers) are transfigured by the deployment of period instruments, a move which oddly enough plonks them in a more palatable context somewhere parallel to the mainstream of Western sacred music. The mellow warmth of gut-strings and baroque woodwinds gives a gentler effect than the brilliant glare of The Protecting Veil, an effect which is emphasised by the intimate scale of these works, sympathetic performances by the ensemble and soloists (Patricia Rozario in particular is a favourite artist of Tavener), and their highly personal subject matter - most notably, the composer's contemplation of his father's death - which seems to preclude challenging music, even to the most sceptical listener. Eternity's Sunrise (1997), dedicated to the memory of Diana and a setting of Blake, is the only work written specifically with the forces of AAM in mind (the rest were skilfully arranged with the assistance of its director, Paul Goodwin). Rozario's soprano voice, the baroque ensemble, and handbells represent earth, heaven and the intercession of the angels somewhere in between respectively. The soprano solo line leads us through a spacious, open-textured structure first with a slow, high-register melody, followed by a long, drawn-out alleluia while momentum is maintained with handbell chimes, then concluding with a single ornate phrase, shadowed and embellished by flute trills over an orchestral drone. This occurs four times over a span of eleven minutes, each reiteration increasing in volume and intensity, the instrumentation thickening in a cumulative crescendo to the end. Clearly-defined textures continue in Song of the Angel (1995), a short setting of an alleluia "To be sung and played with a restrained ecstasy". Here, a repeating melody for solo soprano and solo violin duet (Rozario and Andrew Manze) briefly soars, above sustained accompaniment, to a high plateau before disappearing into a cloud of orchestral trills. In Petra: A Ritual Dream (1996), a now familiar pattern of straightforward repetitious elements alternates a choir of six voices with the ripe baritone of soloist George Mosely. The solo violin adds a contrasting edge to the warm choral textures. Sappho: Lyrical Fragments (1981) presents some earlier, slightly thornier Tavener (closer to the Tavener of sixties cult acclaim) in the most dramatic and dissonant piece on the disc, which recalls moments of Penderecki's St. Luke Passion. Scored for two soprano voices and ensemble, the sense of ritual is as strong here as elsewhere despite it being the only secular work of the five, and the composer even at this point favours the static, repetitive textures and slow harmonic turnover which have become hallmarks of his recent style. Funeral Canticle (1996), for baritone solo and a chorus of twelve, is perhaps the most "Byzantine" work, and at 25 minutes it is plagued by an overall lack of variety, though not at the expense of some achingly beautiful moments. This is functional music in the best sense - music Tavener composed during the final year of his father's life to be performed at his funeral - and it should be appreciated within this context although it can easily be enjoyed out of it. Which surely goes for most of Tavener's music and is a key to his success.
Posted by hilary robinson at 00:00, 26 Aug 1999