On John Tavener’s ‘God is with us’

Another year, another Christmas blog post! In fact, due to a busy festive period last year I didn’t write one for the first time in twelve years – the outrage on the streets and social media was palpable! Anyhow, this year is much quieter (despite my workplace trying its best to implode…) so I find myself with a little time to put forward some festive musings. And this year is quite interesting for me as these are the first words I’m writing on my next (planned) book project, an hors d'oeuvre if you like for the main course that should arrive in three to four years (not the quickest service in this food-based metaphor). The first dipping of my authorly toe in the biographical water before throwing myself in wholeheartedly in the new year. A try-before-you-buy…you get the picture. Anyhow, I’ve been immersed in the life and music of John Tavener for the past few months, so I thought it only fitting to discuss one of his numerous seasonal pieces and chose God is with us.

For those of you who aren’t aware of Tavener, he was born in London in 1944 and had great success in the late 1960s and early 70s as a composer of powerful, colourful dramatic works, often taking religious themes as their basis. His most infamous piece of the period was the 1966 ‘dramatic cantata’ The Whale, loosely based on the story of Jonah and the aforementioned ‘marine mammal of the order Cetacea’ which features orchestra, chorus, spoken word, megaphones, plainsong, jazz, football rattles and stamping in its smorgasbord of 1960s musical effects. Tavener was synonymous with Swinging London and the associated art movements and his music reached the ears of none other than The Beatles, who were convinced to release The Whale on their own Apple Records label in 1970. Further works cemented his place as the bright young thing of British eclectic modernism before various personal crises turned Tavener to the Orthodox Church in the mid-1970s and a stylistic shift to music of a much more minimal religiosity and the sound-world by which many have encountered his work. He died in 2013 as one of the world’s most performed contemporary composers with his reputation largely hanging on his meditative cello concerto The Protecting Veil and a string of short, transcendental choral pieces such as The Lamb and Song for Athene. He still remains a regularly performed composer and ten years after his death his legacy seems as assured as ever.

At best, Tavener’s works are mystical, spiritual and ephemeral, capturing a sublime moment of serenity amidst the stillness and silence. To achieve this, he has to make extremely well-judged musical decisions: how and when to change material, where to build to his climaxes and when to release the tension for ultimate satisfaction and conceptual success. He does this expertly in Song for Athene where the tension is built, slowly, for three quarters of the work before a majestic, thunderous climax releases a joyous outpouring on the words ‘Come, enjoy rewards and crowns I have prepared for you.’ In many ways, God is with us is very similar, if more extreme – simple material, repeated like a mantra before an earth-shattering climax brings the work to an ecstatic end (more on that shortly). He doesn’t always get it right, some pieces are episodic and overly repetitive, some are just too long with any ritualism replaced by a lack of development and fatigue. But when he gets it right, he really does get it right and it can be a moment when the heavens and the cosmos are somehow aligned for the briefest moment of perfection.

God is with us was written in 1987 for long-time Tavener champion Martin Neary and the Choir of Winchester Cathedral, Neary has arguably done more for the composer’s choral music than any other, first realising the potential of Tavener’s music in a liturgical setting in the early 1970s and commissioning many pieces in the years that followed. Tavener refers to the piece as a ‘Christmas proclamation’ and the text is adapted from the Orthodox service of Great Compline, which is sung on Christmas Eve. Like Song for Athene, there is very little musical material in God is with us, arguably only two motifs that are repeated in various guises but to devastating effect. Beginning with just the bass voices over a characteristic drone note (known as an Ison in Orthodox chant) the piece moves to repeat the words ‘Hear ye people, even to the uttermost ends of the earth’ three times with increasing intensity. From this emerges a long tenor solo, full of idiomatic jumps and trills proclaiming a ‘child is born’, this gradually being accompanied by flurries of notes from the rest of choir all taking place above multiple Ison. ‘Hear ye people’ returns for three more repetitions before the piece thins to just the bass voices again suggesting a neat palindromic form and the stillness from where the work began. But Tavener is more than aware of the dramatic potential of this pivotal moment in the church year, and from this tranquillity erupts a declamatory and shuddering climax, asserted by the full choir on the text ‘Christ is born’. Again, three times, but now with glorious interjections from the organ, maximum volume, harmonically distant and full of gestural significance – it is a moment of pure theatre, and one that in the wrong hands could have totally ruined the shape and mood of the piece, but here is a wonderful, joyous celebration of Christ’s birth. A bit like Arvo Pärt’s The Beatitudes or James MacMillan’s A New Song, the reserving of the organ (or full organ) for the ending of the piece is a simple, but hugely powerful effect and it is no wonder God is with us has become such an atmospheric addition to carol services across the country.

So, there you go, have a listen to this performance if you can, to get a good impression of the piece and then have a wonderful festive season.

PAC