The Veil of the Temple

EIF25

Usher Hall 2/8/25

Sofi Jeannin (conductor), Edinburgh Festival Chorus, Monteverdi Choir, National Youth Choir of Scotland, NYCOS Chamber Choir, Sophia Burgos (soprano solo), Vocal soloists from Monteverdi Choir: Theano Papadaki (soprano); Hugo Hymas (tenor); Tristan Hambleton, Rob Macdonald, Florian Störtz, Richard Wiegold, (basses); Calum Robertson (Indian harmonium), Hovhannes Margaryan (duduk), Richard Hellenthal (Tibetan temple horn), members of Royal Scottish National Orchestra (percussion, timpani & brass).

There is something of the nature of pilgrimage in the act of attending a music festival.  The pilgrim is focussed on the destination, but it is through the experience of the journey that the self-knowledge is attained and the connections with fellow-pilgrims are forged.  The theme of this year’s Edinburgh International Festival is ‘The Truth We Seek’ and, however apt the metaphors of pilgrimage and the quest for enlightenment may prove, they were directly relevant to the opening concert in the Usher Hall on Saturday 2nd August, beginning at 2:30 pm and concluding no sooner than 8 hours later.  The one work was John Tavener’s 2002 ‘The Veil of the Temple’, a series of 8 choral cycles charting a journey from darkness into light, from despair into hope, and from guilt into absolution and atonement.  No fewer than 250 singers took part, including the Edinburgh Festival Chorus, the Monteverdi Choir, the National Youth Choir of Scotland and its Chamber Choir, as well as a soprano soloist Sophia Burgos, whose invocations marked the start of all but the last cycle.  Other solos and small-group contributions were delivered by members of the Monteverdi Choir, notably Theano Papadaki (soprano); Hugo Hymas (tenor); Florian Störtz, Tristan Hambleton, Rob Macdonald and Richard Wiegold, (basses), with Florian delivering quotations of the words of Jesus from St John’s gospel.  Sophia’s incantations in Middle-Eastern style were sung in dialogue with Hovhannes Margaryan on an oboe-like Armenian instrument, the duduk.  For the first 7 cycles, this was followed by a few blasts on a Tibetan temple horn, held like an alpenhorn by Richard Hellenthal, but sounding like a carnyx, with simultaneous taps on the gong, louder in each cyclic iteration.  Percussion, including the gong, some bells and later tubular bells was played by members of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra.  In the final cycle, they were joined by their RSNO brass and timpani colleagues.  The programme showed an Indian harmonium played by Calum Robertson, though I am fairly certain that this was replaced entirely by the excellent Usher Hall organ.  All was held together by conductor, Sofi Jeannin.

Although 5 languages (English, Aramaic, Church Slavonic, Greek and Sanskrit) were represented in the text (translated in the English surtitles) and quotations of Sufi, Islamic, Jewish and Buddhist texts were made, I could not entertain any denial of the primacy accorded by Tavener to Christianity and, in particular, the Greek, Russian and Serbian Orthodoxy.  In the interests of transparency, I had better declare that I am not any kind of ‘believer’.  As a scientist, rationalist and sceptic, my cosmology hails from observation and continuously challenged hypotheses that boast logical falsifiability, not scripture and revelation.  On the other hand, I would not be without any of the art inspired by religious tradition.  From that viewpoint, I committed to bringing a pilgrim’s stamina and forbearance to experiencing the 8 hours.  Notwithstanding the cyclic repetitive nature of the work, I did not regret my decision.

It became clear quite soon that certain elements were iterative, both repeated within a cycle and returning with an added layer of detail and complexity as the cycles unfolded, with multiple versions.  For example, the Kyrie of the liturgy appeared in different versions, languages and musical styles, including medieval hocketing, Renaissance polyphony, Baroque counterpoint and Romantic choral harmony (even a rapidly repeated mantra for basses emulating Mongolian throat-singing).  The Lord’s Prayer similarly appeared in English, Slavic, Aramaic and Greek with matching melodic characters.  Various devotions to the Virgin Maty recurred in various disguises too, some with weird metaphors (Christ as a lump of coal in a womb – what’s that all about?).  A tenor solo depicting a guilt-stricken soul outside the gates of Paradise was another recurring sonic meme.  There were lots of extensions to the original Beatitudes, not all of which could be scored above nul points (extolling abstainers from masturbation and clypes, for instance – really?).  On the other hand, the Temple as a metaphor for Mary herself was rather more compelling artistically.  But hey, Jolly Pilgrim, all part of the journey.

The final cycle was titled ‘The Veil is Drawn Back’.  The Latin for ‘drawing back a veil’ is revelatio, from which we get our word ‘revelation’.  The equivalent Greek word, meaning ‘lifting a veil’, is apokalypsos, from which we get our word ‘apocalypse’ (note: it was never supposed to have connotations of disaster – The Apocalypse just meant The Book of Revelation).  At first, the question ‘who will defend the Temple’ receives the dispirited response ‘no-one, the Temple has been destroyed’, but at length the determination to rebuild emerges.  Dynamic volume, harmonic complexity, illumination in the auditorium and the tonality have all risen gradually as the cycles unfolded.  They now burst forth in optimism, unity and joy.  The piece concludes in unison with the Sanskrit mantra “Shakti, shakti, shakti” (“Peace, peace, peace”) – coincidentally Tavener’s last words before his death in 2013.  The RSNO brass and percussion, the Usher Hall organ and all 250 singers seemed to radiate joy.

One might ask “could Tavener not have delivered his message in less time?” and, of course, the answer would have to be “yes”, though it would be remiss not to add “but the delivery and reception of a message are not what Tavener, the performers and the audience are doing”.  Rather, composer, musicians and audience go on a pilgrimage together.  Every individual will have experienced it differently.  Parterre was given over to bean bags.  I was in a seat in the  front row of the Grand Circle.  I had wondered whether my various fake titanium joints would baulk at the constraint but in fact had no such issues.  There were three 10-minute breaks in the performance and, in fact, audience members could come and go as they pleased from the 3rd cycle onwards.  I elected to stay for the full experience.  All singers had illuminated music folders as for much of the time they were performing in the gloaming, with occasional spotlights on soloists.  My (strongly disapproving) views on darkened auditoriums are well known (without even considering the hazards of singers negotiating steep steps in the dark), so I’ll not repeat them here.  Soloists and sections of the various choirs moved about, with additional podiums front of stage and mid-parterre (with number of candles indicating the cycle) and even the Grand and Upper Circles being used.  The overall direction of these visual elements was managed by Director Thomas Guthrie.  Not all the audience remained to the very end, but most did and the applause was fulsome and ecstatic.

This was the second ever performance of the work.  Whatever the demands on the stamina of the audience, those on the performers were phenomenal and their response was nothing short of heroic.  The quality of the choral and solo singing was uniformly excellent.  Tribute must also be paid to the respective choral directors for the quality of rehearsal work needed to bring such a huge piece to performance.  And finally, to conductor, Sofi Jeannin, for holding it all together.  Quite extraordinary.  Although I would be in no hurry to repeat the experience, I am very glad that I agreed to cover the event.