Rautavaara: “It seemed to me that the islands floated on air, and more and more colourful domes and towers appeared between the trees. The bells began to ring, the low tolling booms and the shrill tintinnabulation: the world was full of sound and colour. Then the black-bearded monks in their robes, the high vaulted churches, and the saints, kings and angels in icons…These images dazzled my ten-year-old mind and lodged in my sub-conscious....
“The archaic, darkly decorative and somehow merrily melancholy holy texts affected me deeply. By coincidence, the date set for the performance was the Festival of the Beheading of St. John the Baptist. The proper texts for that day had unbelievable, naively harsh and mystically profound passages....
“I wanted to use the choir in as varied a way as possible. There are numerous solos, most importantly the opening basso profondo; there are also tenor, soprano and alto [and baritone] soloists appearing singly and in pairs. The choir not only sings but speaks and whispers too. It sings in clusters and glissandi (a traditional feature of the ancient Byzantine liturgy). There is also a ‘pedal bass’ group that frequently sinks to a subterranean low B flat; the liturgical recitation features microintervals, and so on.”
Rautavaara’s Vigilia is a strikingly original and unusual piece—I have never heard or sung anything else like it. The preceding comments, from Rautavaara’s descriptive notes (printed in their entirety in our October 17 blog), come closer than anything I can conjure up, to suggest the emotional, musical impact of this work on the listener. Contemporaneous works by “religious minimalists” Tavener, Gorecky, and Pärt, seek to calm, even empty, ones verbal, critical intellect; suppress stress and nervous energy; and inspire passive, peaceful contemplation. Rautavaara’s work, though utilizing many of the same stylistic materials, rather stirs, ignites, disturbs, inspires. Vigilia is really a very exciting piece—to hear, and to sing. “Minimalism,” as a general description, would never come to mind, in describing it.
The contrast between this work and the others on our program, as well-- Shchedrin’s rich, celebratory reference to the famed Russian choral style; Poulenc’s exquisite delicacy and refinement of expression; Paulus’ red meat and potatoes neo-romanticism—could not be more striking. Each composer has a distinctive, compelling voice. You owe it to yourself, to hear this music! Seriously sublime.