John Tavener – The Protecting Veil [Reissue]

One of the defining features of Record Store Day is the flurry of creative liberation that centres around one 24-hour period. This year, there will be manic feats of artistic endeavour from Jack White (who will attempt to produce the fastest record release ever) accompanied by special releases from Damon Albarn and David Lynch. Nestled amongst this portfolio, and adding to its esoteric appeal, is the first ever vinyl release of the late Sir John Tavener’s The Protecting Veil .

The composer’s recent passing prompted a surge of tributes from all corners of the industry, which is hardly unsurprising given Tavener’s remarkable ability to dissolve musical boundaries. His early work The Whale (1968) was released with the backing of The Beatles, on their Apple label. This partnership allegedly came about after his younger brother did a bit of construction work on Ringo Starr’s house, whilst clearly doing some serious networking on behalf of his sibling. Tavener was also, apparently, touched when told that a group of young folk even listened to his music at a rave.

This may seem to be a bizarrely diverse fan-base, considering the overtly spiritual content of his work. But, on closer inspection, it does make far more sense than would first appear. Firstly, Tavener’s music is a confluence of many diverse influences and it would be painfully reductive to box him up as ‘classical’ in the austere, strictly Western, canonical sense. Secondly, the ecstatic religious mysticism of The Protecting Veil and other works shares an emotional intersection with Trance, Euphoric House and even the tripped-out musings of 1960s Beatles tracks.

The Protecting Veil was intended to be an ‘icon in sound’, with each of its eight fragments based around the feasts of the Virgin in the Orthodox Church. In order to narrate these eight sacred scenes, Tavener borrows from the Indian Ragas, quotes his own earlier works (in “Resurrection” and “Dormition”) and stretches the cello to the extremes of its range. He exploits the emotive, vocal quality of the instrument, nestling in its lower range during “The Lament of the Mother God at the Cross”, whilst exposing the fragile beauty of its uppermost reaches in the title piece. The euphoric, ringing bell motif from the strings, which recurs throughout the work, contains all the marvel of spiritual ecstasy. In “Annunciation”, this is aptly complimented by the persuasive and – it might even be ventured – seductive melody on the cello, which again utilises the instrument’s timbre to mimic this angelic monologue.

Back to Record Store Day and that aforementioned creative liberation, which is so perfectly reflected in this work. The Protecting Veil is a masterpiece which manages to overflow with emotion whilst simultaneously acting as a masterclass in understatement. It escapes definition. And it probably also escapes description (or at least this particular one). So, you really should try and give it a listen.