Kjartan Sveinsson: Der Klang der Offenbarung des Göttlichen
Sono Luminus

A modicum of background detail is needed for a fuller appreciation of Kjartan Sveinsson's Der Klang der Offenbarung des Göttlichen (translated from German to “The Explosive Sonics of Divinity”). A so-called “opera in four acts,” the thirty-five-minute work pairs music by the founding member of Icelandic group Sigur Rós (he was with the group from 1997to 2012) to painted theatrical sets by artist Ragnar Kjartansson in their third collaboration. Unlike conventional operas, Der Klang der Offenbarung des Göttlichen features no on-stage personnel; instead, concertgoers are presented with Kjartansson's landscapes while the singers and musicians perform from the orchestral pit. There's no dramatic action to speak of, and the paintings are likewise static, though enhancements in lighting and colour are applied during the performance. Some semblance of a storyline is in play, with Halldór Laxness's novel World Light (1937) a source of inspiration, though familiarity with its narrative (which has to do with the tragic failure of aspiring poet Olaf Karason) aren't critical to experiencing Sveinsson and Kjartansson's creation.

It isn't, by the way, the first time this recording of Der Klang der Offenbarung des Göttlichen has appeared. Though it's now seeing release for the first time as a CD, it was issued in 2016 on vinyl (as two ten-inch discs), which, truth be told, seems the more fitting format in allowing Kjartansson's images to be displayed at a larger, album sleeve-like scale. Performing the work are Filmorchester Babelsberg and Filmchor Berlin conducted by Davíð Þór Jónsson, with soprano Cosima Henseler, alto Ulrike Jahn, tenor Johannes Klügling, and cellist Werner Klemm as soloists.

There's a kind of Wagnerian grandeur about the piece, even if its length is modest by opera standards. The four paintings exude an epic quality too, though they lack the primordial weight of Anselm Kiefer's imagery. Altering a straightforward reception of the material is an inner-sleeve paragraph that characterizes the sets as being “rooted in German romantic cliches” and “creating a non-narrative of pure-hearted banality.” Seeing the work cast as a post-modern exercise in ironic kitsch diminishes the transfixing impact the music and imagery can potentially have when experienced on unadulterated terms.

Nevertheless, the music Sveinsson composed for the piece is inarguably beautiful, and the sense of longing conveyed is moving too; it's also possible to hear traces of Sigur Rós's melodic DNA in its four parts. What lessens the work's impact is how strongly it evokes the work of other composers, with Gorecki, Pärt, and Tavener ones that come to mind most. Whether by accident or design, Der Klang der Offenbarung des Göttlichen naturally invites comparison to their material when it shares many of their qualities. It's next to impossible, for example, to hear the sombre, vocals-free “Teil I” without thinking of the opening movement of Gorecki's Symphony No. 3 (aka Symphony of Sorrowful Songs), given the degree to which Sveinsson's shares with its counterpart expressive yearning and a slow-building power. In contrast to the ascent-apex-descent arc of Gorecki's piece, however, “Teil I” reaches its resolution after an eight-minute climb. Similarities notwithstanding, Sveinsson's strings-heavy opener is undeniably affecting.

The intensity level is brought down from the first part when hushed choral singing inaugurates “Teil II,” after which vocal soloists, their delicate outpourings amplified by choir and strings, uphold the music's fragile, funereal tone. The glimmerings of hope that infuse the second part carry over into “Teil III” in simple, folk-like melodies that eventually give way to grandiose emoting by the choir and orchestra. The closing “Teil IV” reinstates the beauty of the opening part with a touching setting strongly reminiscent of John Tavener. A softly radiant intro featuring wordless soprano and droning cello segues into an equally stirring episode of strings and choir, Sveinsson choosing to end the piece with affirmation and hope rather than cynicism and despair.

November 2020