Not many modern composers have made it into the wider consciousness. Sir John Tavener, who died yesterday aged 69, was one of the few. What does one mean by "the wider consciousness?" Western cultural circles, certainly--the kinds of people who would go to art galleries or plays, but not necessarily many concerts, would still have heard of Tavener. And he even shined his light into the lives of those who rarely (or never) crossed the door of a classical music venue. His Song for Athene, when played at the funeral of Princess Diana in 1997, was a comfort to a nation's grief.
But the work that has come to define Tavener is The Protecting Veil. When premiered at the BBC Proms in 1989, it was an instant and monumental success; the subsequent recording stayed in the charts for months. But The Protecting Veil defined Tavener in another way, not just in its commercial success. A work for cello and string orchestra (originally performed and recorded by Steven Isserlis), it took its impetus from the Orthodox Church. In form, in structure, there is something hypnotic and certainly spiritual about it. And this feeling is central to Tavener's oeuvre, and indeed to his public image.
His profound sense of music's place in religious and spiritual consciousness, the way it seemed to somehow bond listeners together, all of this goes a long way to explaining his immense popularity. He was also very well liked by those who knew or worked with him.
On a personal note: A measure of the esteem in which he was held occurred when, as editor of Gramophone, I ran a cover story on "Today's Great Composers," in which the music and personality of Tavener was lauded in a beautiful little piece of writing by no less a figure than Prince Charles.
Tavener's first Proms outing was back in 1969, with his debut piece The Whale. Very different from the later masterpiece, The Whale is full of creative energy, the ideas crowding upon ideas. And it won Tavener one of his first great champions, The Beatles' John Lennon, who issued the work on his Apple label. It made Tavener's name.
Many composers, especially perhaps those closely associated with religious music, seem to owe Taverner a debt--even some of the finest from his own generation, from John Rutter to Gabriel Jackson. He will be missed. But the true worth of his music will perhaps not be appreciated for some time. When the polarizing mists of his immense popularity start to clear and time lends its perspective, there will be many fascinating things that are yet to be said and written about the body of music he has left us.
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