In the ten minute interview preserved as
an appendix in this recording John Tavener talks to his American
interlocutor Brian Newhouse about his music. Expected phrases
duly appear; “primordial and simple … the beautiful … contemplative
beauty … a longing for God … stasis … pre-existent music.” That
defines the Ikon of Eros quite satisfactorily, a work
that originally began as one for violin and orchestra but which
grew into one for solo violin, orchestra and choir. The choir,
as the composer makes clear in a brief written note, acts as
a Greek chorus, singing at a remove; they sing the “key words”
in Greek – Metemorphothes (Transfigured), Eros (Divine Love),
Ekstasis (Ecstasy) and Alliluia. Orchestrally Tavener’s schema
is strict – brass represents God the Father, strings God the
Son and woodwind the Holy Spirit. The solo violin is Eros and
Tavener is just as specific as to his preferred layout – Trinitarian,
shaped like a pyramid with the solo violin at the pinnacle “or
at least above the orchestra.” I assume that’s how it was in
the vast Cathedral of St Paul, Saint Paul, Minnesota for which
building Tavener wrote. He had the advantage of a soloist whose
playing he admired, Jorja Fleezanis, an old colleague in Patricia
Rozario, a baritone in the shape of Tim Krol and the experienced
Paul Goodwin on the rostrum.
That’s the theory,
what of the music? Like his most recent work for solo violin
and orchestra, Lalishri, this is a big work – in fact
considerably more imposing in terms of length than its chorus-less
sister. The violin writing, representing Eros, is overwhelmingly
high lying except for those moments of ecstatic dance in which
it leads. The distant effect Tavener wanted is best exemplified
in the second movement where its refinement pays testimony to
the conductor’s control of texture, and the choir’s own high
standards. In the very resonant cathedral it must have been
difficult to control the disparate forces but one can say that
the balances are highly sympathetic to the conductor’s instructions.
How one responds to
this music depends on how one deals with Tavener’s aesthetic.
The contemplative and the beautiful are certainly here, as are
wild, shamanic dances, elements of medievalist tapestry, percussive
interjections, choral shouts, acts of repetitive, Blondin-like
daring from the high wire violin soloist, stasis and stillness.
If you like the sound of this then you have an hour’s worth awaiting
you.
Jonathan Woolf
Jorja Fleezanis
(violin) 
