Commissioned by Francis Grier for Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, and performed in that building by the Cathedral Choir with members of the Orthodox clergy celebrating, this Vigil service stands very much alone, a striking and original landmark in the history of inter-cultural relationships between East and West, in this instance between Anglicanism and Orthodoxy, whether Russian or Greek. Far from being an isolated work, however, by a composer whose output, in other circumstances, might have been mainly secular, it comes in the train of a whole series of sacred compositions, many of them of a reflective or mystical character, stretching back to the very beginning of Tavener's career with his prize-winning Old Testament cantata, Cain and Abel.
The composer was setting himself a daunting task when he accepted the challenge of writing music for a complex and ancient rite to which he was a comparative newcomer. The chief problem he had to face was probably a cultural one. He had to decide which of the various Orthodox musical traditions he was to follow and, having made his choice, to marry this unfamiliar material with the musical culture and language he had inherited from his London background, his former post as a Presbyterian church organist, and from whatever he knew of Western Christianity crystallized in the Anglican tradition. Tavener's style has rightly been described as highly eclectic and it was natural for him to seek a solution to the problem in multiple borrowings from both East and West. The listener may detect, one after another, many characteristics of various traditions of Eastern Christianity: specific recurring diminished or augmented intervals, particular turns of phrase, unusual modality the discreet use of the ison, occasionally Soiange Corbin's ''rythme unaire'', the sound of bells, and—from Russian Orthodoxy this time—some richly chordal passages- but also from his Western background—some stretches of monophony faintly reminiscent of Gregorian chant, some modal harmony a la Vaughan Williams, some hints of early Western harmony suggesting faburden, and even a setting of the Nunc dimittis that could have come straight from a broadcast Evensong from an Anglican Cathedral.
Whether composer, choir and clergy have managed to weld all this heterogeneous material into a cohesive whole is left for the listener to decide. The chanting of Celebrant and Deacon serves to throw a bridge across from past to present. Their very English-sounding voices have absorbed something of the style and inflexions of their oriental counterparts. The Reader is a trifle hurried and breathless in his first reading (''Holy God...'') but gains in style and confidence further on. The language used is mainly English, with stretches of Greek and with certain responses in English, Greek or Church Slavonic, taking each in turn. The quality of the Choir is Anglican, oblivious of the numinous blending and dovetailing one normally associates with Orthodox choirs. For this reason, they are best on their own, in the great climaxes of the choral writing. This is a live recording of an actual service, so no attempt is made to eliminate the clatter, coughing and clearing of throats as everyone rises to their feet.
I was unfortunate to have had a poorly pressed record when I first listened and found it hard to make any assessment, the cassette was much better, apart from some distortion (acknowledged by the record company) on Side 2.
Present and future English Orthodox congregations will have to decide whether this extraordinary work can possibly take its place in the accepted repertoire, it may prove too difficult for any but the most experienced choirs. But the record is there and the music stands as a landmark. It will be interesting to see what lies ahead. Nothing so momentous has as yet appeared in any truly Western tradition.'