Classical Music Nina Large
July, 2003
Stephen Layton/Choir of the Temple Church/Holst Singers

Night Shift
Nina Large looks at the logistics of staging John Tavener’s All Night Vigil and outlines its significance for the Temple Church

You cannot help but feel you have stepped into some kind of oasis when you first enter the buildings of the Inner and Middle Temple. Tucked away from the incessant pace of Fleet Street some of the city’s finest lawyers work in a private haven of 18th century splendour, a maze of cobbled alleyways leading from one magnificent building to another around the Inns of Court. Amongst the enclave lies the 800 year old Temple Church, one of London’s most beautiful and all the more so for its secrecy. But this June word will be out when the building becomes host to one of the most ambitious choral projects ever staged: an all night vigil lasting from dusk until dawn, composed by the most prolific choral composer since the Renaissance, Sir John Tavener.

The first I ever heard of this monumental idea was eighteen months ago when Stephen Layton, Organist and Director of Music at the Temple, casually mentioned that a new work was being written for the Temple Church, and by dint of that for us (the Holst Singers, who have been directed by Layton in the Church for several years), and the men and boys of the Temple Church Choir. Moreover, it was to be the longest choral work ever written, sung by 120 people throughout the night as one continuous candle-lit, vigil complete with Tibetan horns, bells and incense imported from a Greek monastery on Mount Athos. The reaction was one of awed bemusement. But it didn’t take long before Tavener ring tones could be heard on some of the choristers mobile phones (a sure sign of allegiance) and Layton held everyone’s attention by peppering otherwise un-related rehearsals with red-hot pianistic snippets of the great work to come.

Music of this length and proportion requires some serious organisation. Layton duly commissioned a complex Microsoft Access database into which he has entered every detail of the work, the number of bars in each section, corresponding number of parts, time, position in the church etc. It has been a serious labour of love and taken over xxx hours to produce, but each singer now has a personal schedule “so that they can all move from a to b and still go to the loo.” Resting and eating times are also timetabled in to the relief of the participants and call times are given to the minute. In February this year everyone involved was introduced to the fearsome database first hand when we gathered for a workshop with Layton and Tavener himself, which certainly gave us a real sense of what lay ahead. “One objective of this day was to get the singers to really believe it was worth doing and get their enthusiasm. It also gave both myself and John Tavener the chance to work on it first hand,”Layton says. For my part as a member of the choir, official photographer for the event and author of this piece, a multi-layered understanding began to slowly form. Finally it was possible to get a glimpse of how things might work out, not least the commitment required, which is to be rewarded by moments of exquisite beauty and the excitement of full vocal forces resounding through the stone walls.

The work is very much conceived for the space of the Temple and its unique acoustics, and the workshop allowed some effective discoveries. Layton has taken Tavener’s original positions as starting points to spread the sound right around the building – voices ringing around in the 13th Century Round Church, where the effigy’s of the Knights lie, blend with those from the Triforium high up above, small choirs dotted about the Chancel, chanting as singers move down the aisle and so on. Such free rein is testament to the tremendous trust between the two men. “In a way it is a closer collaboration than I have had in the past,” admits Tavener. “Stephen is very musical and has a remarkable grasp of the work.” Piles of letters dating back to February 2002, show how thoughts and ideas have developed between them including discussion over which passages might best become one of the twelve or so Anthems to be extracted from the Veil for separate publication (something implicit in the commission.)

Unusually for Tavener the texts cover many religious perspectives, starting with the most recent revelation of God in the world of Islam and ending with the most ancient, Hinduism, while Christianity, in particular Christ’s rising, provides the main thrust.

The work has eight cycles, which grow ever more layered and complex as they progress through the night. The eighth includes the Upanishad Hymn, Tavener’s answer to Parry’s Jerusalem – a massive, chorale-like outburst with Hindu chanting, Timpani, brass and the full gamut of singers. From start to finish basic musical cells are not so much developed as expanded in a manner not dissimilar to Indian Ragas, and the composer points out the severe mathematical construction which underpins it all since with a work this size he insists, “it can’t just be an outpouring.”

The Veil is subtitled A journey to the centre: Just as the darkness outside will turn to the first light of dawn, so Tavener hopes the listener’s journey will take them towards God, and the “realisation of self” in the final cycle – represented symbolically by soprano Patricia Rozario (a Mary Magdalen type figure) physically unveiling herself. “I consider the very end to be going beyond being to the infinite,” says Tavener. “The audience don’t have to experience that change cerebrally but inside themselves somehow. That’s why I feel quite strongly that they keep in touch with the sounds that are happening through the night.”

Mystical rhetoric aside Tavener is not immune to some of the practicalities of such an event. Greek vigils allow a measure of moving about and Tavener is keen for his London audience to follow suit – “If I can lead that sort of thing, I will. They can’t just be sitting there or they’ll get thrombosis!” he says. Some of the pews will be removed and, perhaps surprisingly, Tavener even suggests sleeping bags for maximum comfort. Of the two all night performances the world premiere on 28th June will also be relayed out to giant screens in the Temple Gardens where it is hoped that 2,000 will gather to experience the event al fresco. A food village will be set up to satisfy the midnight munchies, as will lines of Portaloos and a team of St John’s Ambulance will be on hand in case of any problems. To the relief of those at the Temple a separate production crew has been brought in to sort out the logistics of all of this including rigging up 33 microphones for a BBC Radio 3 broadcast of the concert version on 1st July, and managing all manner of lighting effects and staging – “In a sense you could say it is a kind of religious music theatre,” Layton remarks.

The sheer length of the Veil is likely to be it’s hardest selling point but Layton is adamant that with the right approach it will be a great experience. “You don’t go to an all night vigil as a music critic,” warns Layton.“You go as somebody who wants to be in tune with the spirit and with yourself. That means you should judge such a thing as the Veil as a spiritual event and not a piece of concert music – I think once you make that distinction with a lot of Tavener’s music it really comes into its own.”

Such an event and the possibility of internationally released CD’s will undoubtedly raise the profile of the Temple Church something which its organisers aim to take full advantage of. Although music has had a colourful history at the Temple and the choir have been featured on BBC TV (for the sound track to Gormenghast) and Radio it has been decades since it really enjoyed really widespread recognition as it did in 1927 when the forward thinking Temple Organist Sir George Thalben-Ball captured the attention of HMV who recorded Mendelssohn’s ‘O for the wings of a dove’ with Ernest Lough as treble soloist. It became one of the first great hits, and is still in the play list now having sold over 5 million copies. “Without harking back endlessly,” says the Reverend Robin Griffith-Jones, Master of the Temple, “it is viable to say that we are looking for the Ernest Lough moment for the new century.” By courting public attention and interest both Layton and Griffith-Jones hope that an endowment might eventually be set up to ensure that music at the Temple, specifically the choir, continues to thrive. It is currently funded by the incredible generosity of the Inns themselves, who on top of looking after their Church, keep Layton, a sub-organist, an assistant and a singer teacher as well paying for the twelve Temple men, and 2/3 of the school fees required to attend the City of London School for the 18 young choristers. Ideally the endowment would ensure 100% scholarships for years to come, thereby allowing any talented boy to enjoy such an education without being held back by financial disadvantage.

As a child Layton was himself never destined for a public school education and it was this system of scholarship that sent him first to The Pilgrims’ School a chorister for Winchester Cathedral Choir and then onto Eton. He is passionate about preserving the choral tradition and sees these choirs at the very heart of British music making: “We are providing something for young children here which is extremely precious. An important function for these choirs is to sing the great music that has been written by composers in this country, Purcell, Byrd, Thompkins and indeed Tavener. If those choirs with their young boys don’t continue to perform it where will the men come from who are going to sing the music in years to come? We are famous in this country for being bright and quick and it’s because of this musical stuff at an early age.” He gives the analogy between a Holbein painting and piece of music by Byrd, both from the same period: The Holbein is put in the National Gallery and preserved for the nation forever, but the Byrd needs more than just an air conditioned room – it needs people to perform it. “So we’ve got to look after the performance of this art otherwise we could find that in 50 years time, if such choirs were on the wane, we wouldn’t be able to sing it. It would die and that would be a tragedy.”

While Layton is much in demand across Europe as a choral conductor he acknowledges that the Temple is still central to his work. “It’s not as glamorous as conduction the John Passion at ENO but I owe it to the institutions that gave me the chance to at least spend some time of my life doing this kind of work,” he says. “And I believe that without doing it we are compromising the future of British music – it’s as dramatic as that.” The twelve anthems taken from the Veil will be a huge contribution to the British choral repertoire and will in fact turn the Temple into the major commissioner of church choral music in the last 100 years. It is in contestable proof that now, at any rate, the choral tradition is very much alive and kicking.

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