The play between ancient chant and structured jazz-style improvisation creates a sort of spiritual time warp where past and present happily co-exist on the basis of shared musical goals. For no matter how one views so-called crossover (such a silly term), or the relative unwisdom of sticking to rigid musical boundaries, the evidence remains conclusive: ''Officium'' successfully transcends any limitations imposed by time and style. If you have any doubts, then play either the opening or closing tracks, both of which find Jan Garbarek (a master of apposite extemporization) easing around Christobal de Morales's polyphonic ''Pace mihi domine'' (from the Officium defunctorum) as if it were his own creation. The effect is enchanting and when, eight tracks later (or earlier, according to whether you're in 'forward' or 'reverse' mode), the same piece is presented sans Garbarek's saxophone, we somehow miss the commentary.
Morales's recurrent theme thus marks the beginning, middle and end of ''Officium''. The rest of the disc varies the formula and alters the tone (Garbarek plays both tenor and soprano saxophone), with selections that include Perotinus and Dufay as well as anonymous Gregorian, English, Czech and Hungarian chant. The anonymous Primo tempore prompts a primeval call from the instrument's lower registers, whereas the Sanctus admits (at around 1'46'' and beyond) a mild but questioning spot of dissonance. Garbarek provides an exotic tonal subtext for Regnantem sempiterna, while his presence is rather more discreet in Procendentem sponsum. Virgo flagellatur is parted halfway through by an outspoken cadenza and if you want to sample Garbarek's voice at its most forceful, then try Dufay's Ave maris stella.
It is perhaps significant that ECM print the Latin texts without any translations, for although the Hilliards (and David James in particular) effect acutely responsive vocal interpretations, the emphasis throughout is musical rather than liturgical. Any 'meaning', such as we might misguidedly attempt to speak of, is in the spatial and harmonic relationships that Garbarek, the Hilliards and their forebears create for us. If the probable success of this album prompts certain jazz fans and early music specialists to commiserate over their invaded territories, or cynics to align Garbarek and the Hilliards with Gorecki and the Monks, then take heart: we're still listening to Respighi's ancient masters, Stravinsky's 'Pergolesi', Tchaikovsky's Mozart and Loussier's Bach, not to mention Ellington's Tchaikovsky—none of which is in the current pop charts. Stylistic cross-pollination makes for a healthy creative environment, and this CD is one of its happiest recent symptoms. So take my advice—pick up your personal stereo, visit a favourite solitary spot and leave your pre-conceptions at home. Recordings, documentation and presentation are exemplary.'