In this blog, the cellist Guy Johnston reflects on the experience of performing John Tavener’s The Protecting Veil in the cathedral where the composer used to worship.
After performances at the Hatfield House Music Festival and Cambridge Music Festival over the coming weeks, Britten Sinfonia and I will be bringing John Tavener’s The Protecting Veil to St Sofia’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral in London, where the composer used to worship. Over two live concerts on 28th and 29th October, we will film and record the piece.
St Sophia’s Greek Orthodox Cathedral is a hidden gem in Bayswater, London. When I lived locally, I used to pop into the church for inspiration working on Tavener’s music. The front of the building is quite modest, only hinting at what is to come as you walk inside. It is a majestic setting full of ornate mosaics, iconostasis and elaborate decorations. The dome ceiling is a particular highlight and the acoustic will be ideal for this spiritual work. Being in situ, in a place that Tavener held so dear, will be particularly special both for the audiences and us musicians. It will provide a 3rd dimension to the performance and eventual recording, imbuing it with a particular atmosphere, a reverence for the composer’s intention.
By sheer coincidence, on the 28th October, the Greek Orthodox Church celebrates the Feast of the Protection of the Mother of God, which happens to be the inspiration behind this extraordinary work, originally written for Steven Isserlis, my mentor.
John Tavener said,
“The Feast of the Protecting Veil of the Mother of God was instituted in the Orthodox Church to commemorate her appearance in the Church at Vlacherni (Constantinople) in the early tenth century, possibly 902.
At this time of grave danger for the Greeks from Saracen invasion, Andrew, The holy fool, together with his disciple Epiphanios, during an All-Night-Vigil, saw the Mother of God; she was standing high up above them in the air, surrounded by a host of saints. She was praying earnestly and spreading out her Veil (stole) as a protective shelter over the Christians. Heartened by this vision, the Greeks withstood the Saracen assault and drove away the Saracen army.
The Feast of the Protecting Veil is kept by the Orthodox Church in celebration of this event. In my piece entitled The Protecting Veil for cello and strings, I have tried to capture some of the almost cosmic power of the Mother of God. The cello represents The Mother of God and never stops singing throughout. One can think of the strings as a gigantic extension of her unending song.”
It is like no other work I know, taking you on a spiritual journey of the Mother of God. Perhaps it is a story as much for our times as it was for times past. A devotional work full of hope and protection, it lasts for around 43 minutes with the cello singing throughout. It starts with a rising figure in the highest register of the cello, marked Transcendent, with awesome majesty, and cycles through the eight Byzantine tones (scale of F Major) returning to where it began.
Tavener explained the narrative arc of the work,
“Various Feasts were in my mind as I composed; for instance the second is related to her birth, the third section to the Annunciation, the fourth to the Incarnation, the fifth (which is totally unaccompanied) to her lament at the foot of the cross, the sixth to the Resurrection, the seventh to her Dormition, and the first and last sections to her cosmic beauty and power over a shattered world. The PROTECTING VEIL ends with a musical evocation of the tears of the Mother of God.”
I have had a number of experiences with this transcendental work, not least
performing it live on BBC Radio 3 in Kings College Chapel in a memorial concert for John. The choir had a long association with Tavener, and I remember singing his choral work, the Lamb, commissioned by the choir when I was a chorister. During this particular memorial performance, I recall Tavener’s son, who was only around 4 years old, wriggling around on the floor right in front of me and the microphone during the performance. The stone floor was heated, and in the still moments it was as if Orlando was falling asleep! Thankfully, I knew who he was and perhaps felt the presence of Tavener himself through his son.
I vividly remember his presence which struck me even then as a young nine or 10-year-old. John was extremely tall with long hair, dressed in a white suit and had a sort of mystical aura around him. Then, some years later, I had a chance to meet and chat to him after the performance of his solo cello and orchestral piece Popule Meus, where afterwards there was a busy reception and John was seated quietly alone. We had a chat, during which he confessed he was finally coming round to Beethoven!
In preparation for the recording, I have gone to Tavener’s home in Dorset to spend time with his widow, Maryanna, and to look at the original score for inspiration. Maryanna kindly offered to let me play in their private Greek Orthodox Chapel. I also met up with Steven Isserlis recently to go through the piece with him. His insights have been invaluable, not least passing on a few ideas that John had shared with Steven during 1989 ahead of the Premiere.
Performing pieces in the places where they were premiered or whether a presence of the composer lingers brings its own sense of occasion. Hearing Dowland Songs at Hatfield House where perhaps the future Queen Elizabeth I might have listened to some of these same works, carries a special feel, not least to understand the acoustic of solo voice and lute together in such an intimate setting. Earlier this year, I brought my Stradivarius cello back to Cremona. Who knows where this cello was first heard in Cremona, but returning it to its home certainly brought a special dimension to our concerts there. Previously, when I had a Tecchler cello, we brought it back to Rome and found the maker’s original workshop on Via dei luetari, now a garage.
Returning to John’s treasured church, I can’t help feel transported by his inspired vision for the piece. What better place to be experiencing it?