Forming a centrepiece for the Brighton Festival, Joby Talbot’s Path of Miracles was given a memorable outing by the renowned ensemble Tenebrae at Hove’s late Victorian church of All Saints. Commissioned for the group in 2005, the work was premiered at the Church of St Bartholomew the Great in London. While All Saints Church may not boast those 12th-century origins, its Gothic revival style brought its own centuries-old associations and made a fitting choice for a work inspired by the great medieval pilgrimages to the reputed burial place of St James the Apostle.
Path of Miracles is a musical chronicle of the ancient 500-mile journey or “Camino Frances” extending from the foot of the northern Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostela, though the textual themes within its four movements extend well beyond the merely geographical. While the movement headings represent the titles of the main Pilgrim staging posts, the multilingual text is peppered with medieval quotations from the Codex Calixtinus (relating the 22 miracles associated with St James), interleaved with passages from the Roman liturgy and lines of poetry by the work’s librettist Robert Dickinson. Talbot brings to life this evocative odyssey by drawing on vocal traditions from medieval France, Renaissance Italy and, unlikely as it may seem, Taiwan. Across its 80-minute traversal he references King Herod’s beheading of St James and his subsequent boat journey from Jerusalem to Spain. Later we encounter the pilgrims’ physical hardships en route to Santiago, the relief found in León and the euphoria of journeys end.
Talbot writes with an engaging directness, artfully fusing past and present, a synthesis, if you like, of Jonathan Dove and Arvo Pärt which through its recurring techniques, including choral recitation, drones, ostinato and plainchant, fashions a highly individual score that feels simultaneously primordial and startlingly modern. Nothing is sugar-coated in this work, as Talbot is unafraid to create striking dissonance as well as luminescence via rich sonorities that work their own timeless magic.
As per the score’s directions, Tenebrae musical director Nigel Short periodically placed singers in different areas of the church, a gratifying decision from a theatrical standpoint (also underlining the notion of journeying), yet in such a large building it had variable results. For those near the front, the men’s opening glissandi was suitably arresting, and pulled off with remarkable ease. But its fff response, “Herr, Santiago” from upper voices situated at the back, sounded too distant with words lost, its impact blunted. One or two other instances of spatial separation were also only partially effective, not helped by the building’s dry acoustic.
Overall however, this vocal tour de force came off admirably, its multi-layered textures and variable sonorities were all gloriously absorbing. Its repetitions never outstayed their welcome and were wonderfully consoling in León and brought a kind of catharsis to the final section, Santiago. Here, Tenebrae were at their most compelling, those tolling D major chords underpinning the prayer to St James shaped a sublime, paradise-gained moment. And it was a moment of awestruck silence from those around me that suggested they had reached the end of their personal journey whether meditative, musical or spiritual. All Saints church may not have been the perfect space for this Path of Miracles, but Tenebrae were nothing less than miraculous.
