Valentin Silvestrov
Sacred Works
Kiev Chamber Choir
Mykola Hobdych conductor
Recorded 2006 and 2007, Cathedral Of The Dormition, Pechersk Lavra, Kiev
Engineer: Andrij Mokrytskij
ECM’s New Series has quietly garnered a reputation for unearthing relatively unknown or otherwise marginalized composers from the depths of sonic ignorance and helping to spread their musical gifts to a wider audience. Case in point: Valentin Silvestrov. While already highly regarded in the former Soviet Union, Silvestrov has seen a revival of sorts through his substantial representation on the label. This selection of choral music showcases a recent turn in the Ukrainian’s compositional path, written as it was at the urgent behest of choral conductor Mykola Hobdych. Easily worthy of a place alongside Rachmaninov’s All-Night Vigil, these pieces abound with moments of aching profundity.
The album opens like a vocal flower, shedding a petal with every new voice that enters. A bass intones, navigating the complex shape circumscribed by the reverberant space, as the choir responds to the soloist’s articulations. The latter sings in a subdued manner, stripping the basso profundo aesthetic down to its core, much in the restrained spirit of Silvestrov’s Silent Songs. The choir shifts into ephemeral lifts, leaving our entire landscape changed: the season, the time of day, the climate—all of it seems to fall away for just a few moments before we sink back down into the density of our own being. Buoyant women’s voices spiral like galaxies; an ambrosial tenor solo gives way to broader ruminations, flowing like knotwork before being wrapped in the gauze of redemption; an alto rises above the hush of the choir, carrying with it the existential kindling that sparks its emotive nature.
Silvestrov’s music exists in a state of perpetual ascent, and perhaps nowhere more so than here. The choir acts as one organism, lending the frequent solos a recitational air. These are not unlike Christ’s words in red in a modern Bible: somehow distinct from their textual periphery while also constitutive of it. After listening to this album it’s difficult to recall the gaps between pieces, flowing as they do into an extended statement. By the same token each seems its own gilded icon suspended in total darkness, safe among the clutter of our mundane fears. Although I hesitate to pick and choose, “Christmas Song,” “Bless O Lord,” “The Creed,” and the two deconstructions of the Bach/Gounod Ave Maria (especially the first, with its haunting whispers) all stand out to me as particularly moving examples of Silvestrov’s craft. The Kiev Chamber Choir sings with passionate restraint and unbridled intuition, their dynamics fluid and beautifully controlled. At moments they practically break at the seams, inhaling and exhaling the space of their recording venue, where every nuance of breath is magnified and the precision of one’s singing is amplified in its union with others.
Those who have required some effort to warm up to Silvestrov’s “metamusical” style may adjust more easily to these melodically rich miniatures. That being said, there is still so much alluded to here that never finds fruition. Rather than being a distraction, however, this technique adds immeasurable depth. The music is decidedly nocturnal, streaked as if with time-lapsed stars, and isn’t so much sacred music as it is music of the sacred, a mise-en-abyme of divine reflection. I daresay this album is destined to become a classic in the ECM catalog.
Incidentally, those who like what they hear may also want to check out the obscure but equally enchanting Twenty-Seven Choruses by Bartók, of which a new recording was just released last year.
