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Tetragrammaton

by Christos Hatzis | for Soprano and Digital Audio

by Christos Hatzis | for Soprano and Digital Audio

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Programme notes<br />

The composer writes:<br />

In everyday parlance, the English expression “four-letter word” has cheap<br />

and vulgar connotations, but in Greek, <strong>Tetragrammaton</strong> (Greek for “fourletter<br />

word”) is the Hellenistic term for the Hebrew name of God. The name<br />

itself, YAHWEH, has six letters, but in old Hebrew only the consonants,<br />

YHWH, were written down, hence the Greek name. The text of the piece is<br />

a compilation from the Book of Job of the Old Testament, specifically from<br />

“God’s answer to Job” (verses 38:4-18). The conclusion of the first stanza of<br />

the selected text (“when the<br />

morning stars sang together, as the wind announced upon the waters the<br />

glory of the coming of man”) is not a literal translation from the Bible, but<br />

is borrowed from Edgar Cayce, the 20th century American mystic, who has<br />

offered this poetic rendering while in trance on a number of occasions; the<br />

evocative and powerful character of this rendering made it impossible to<br />

resist its inclusion here.<br />

Before embarking on the composition of the piece and after reading<br />

the original text several times, I read Carl G. Jung’s “Answer to Job”, a<br />

remarkable work which Jung wrote towards the end of his life. Although<br />

I agree with Jung that the Book of Job is a turning point in the Hebrew<br />

concept of the Godhead and a founding stone for the subsequent advent<br />

of Christianity, I do disagree with his description of God’s answer to Job as<br />

pyrotechnics aimed mainly at impressing fear in Job and preventing him<br />

from questioning the Divine. To me the verses<br />

of the whole Book of Job and of that section in particular are<br />

sublime and of timeless beauty: they are just as inspiring and relevant<br />

today as when they were written. In setting these verses to music, I had<br />

no preconceived ideas about how the music should sound or evolve; I<br />

let the words take me wherever they wanted to go. I tried to create a<br />

“magical” context in which they could tell their own story without too much<br />

interference on my part.<br />

<strong>Tetragrammaton</strong> took me an unusually long time to compose; I worked on<br />

it on and off from May 1994 until February 1995. The years 1994 and 1995<br />

were a “testing” period for me, a midlife crisis if you like, which affected my<br />

work and my thinking<br />

about music, and <strong>Tetragrammaton</strong> along with some other works of the<br />

same period bear witness to my changing values, musical and otherwise. The<br />

common thread that permeats these works is the investigation of a situation<br />

where creativity is divorced from ego. In this process of soul searching, the<br />

Book of Job became a grand metaphor for a newly defined creativity. This<br />

book, like the parable of the Prodigal Son, is about a fundamental change<br />

in consciousness whereby an individual does not become creative through<br />

the solitary activity of “playing God”, but by the far more rewarding one of<br />

“playing (or co-creating) with God”.

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