Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned.
The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness: Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
-- Isaiah 40:1-3
by Ken
Last night ( For Christmas Eve, we hark unto the openings of Berlioz's Childhood of Christ and Handel's Messiah") I took a stab at explaining how it came that, given this year's unusual three-day Christmas "arc," I had the idea of resurrecting a three-day musical post from Christmas 2011, and how it wasn't actually possible, as I'd first hoped, to simply paste the old posts into new blogfiles, but that that provided an opportunity to do various sorts of updating and expanding for the 2016 version.
One of the problems, with which I had to bore you but have to, just a little, is an infuriating technical incompatibility between our posts of bygone times and current ones, and in fact for the intended second and third parts of the sequence the problem has proved insurmountable -- tonight's continuation of last night's post had to be entirely typed from scratch, and I don't think tomorrow's planned resurrection of my composite performance of the whole of Part I of Messiah is going to be impossible for tomorrow's "third day" of Christmas ("Christmas observed").
As promised last night, when we listened to the opening tenor solos of Handel's Messiah and Berlioz's L'Enfance du Christ, including hearing both sung by the fondly remembered Swedish tenor Nicolai Gedda, we're returning to the Messiah vocal opening (following the orchestral Overture, that is). Tonight, as I laid out the agenda in 2011, "I'm going to be resurrecting my account of how I first came to hear a tenor singing it singing directly and personally to me." And in addition:
As it happens, there's another musical excerpt, by coincidence or otherwise also written for tenor, which under the right circumstances can give me this same sensation of its composer reaching out -- through the agency of this singer -- and offering hopefulness. So I thought we would start out once again by hearing the two excerpts sung by the same tenor.
From the choral finale of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony:
Happily, happily, as his suns fly
across the heavens' splendid expanse,
run, brothers, your course,
joyfully, like a hero toward victory.
Sunday Classics snapshots: Signposts on the steep path of Otello's downfall
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[Click to enlarge.]
Now and forever farewell, blessed memories!
Farewell, sublime enchantments of her thought!
Farewell, shining battalions; farewell, victories,
flying arrows and flying steeds!
Farewell, triumphant and sacred banner,
and reveille ringing shrilly in the morning!
The clamor and song of battle, farewell!
The glory of Otello is here at an end!
Francesco Tamagno (t), Otello; piano. Victor, recorded February 2003 (digital transfer by Tim Ecker) -- for some notes on this recording, see below
by Ken
We've been ruminating about and eavesdropping on Verdi and Boito's Otello and his monstrous fall, and last week I posed the question of how the Moor of Venice sinks from the ecstatic raptures of the Act I Love Duet to the moment in Act III when he browbeats the innocent Desdemona lying in the dust by his hand ("More Vickers -- 'Otello fu,' how he gets from here to there").
I would like to answer that more fully, but for now we're just going to signal a pair of signposts along the way, as the poisons his lieutenant "honest Jago" dumps in his mind take hold, in the form of the lie that Desdemona is having an affair with the Moor's former lieutenant, Cassio. Then next week I hope to flesh these moments out.
Otello: Act II, Otello "Tu, indietro" . . . "Ora e per sempre addio"
OTELLO: You! Stand back! Flee!
You have bound me to the cross! Alas!
More horrible than any horrible injury
is the injury of suspicion!
In the secret hours of her lust
(and they were stolen from me!) was by breast agitated
by no omen? I was bold, happy.
I knew nothing yet; I didn't feel
on the divine body that I adored
and on her lying lips
the burning kisses of Cassio! And now, and now . . .
Now and forever farewell, blessed memories!
Farewell, sublime enchantments of her thought!
Farewell, shining battalions; farewell, victories,
flying arrows and flying steeds!
Farewell, triumphant and sacred banner,
and reveille ringing shrilly in the morning!
The clamor and song of battle, farewell!
The glory of Otello is here at an end!
[from "In the secret hours of her lust"] Enrico Caruso (t), Otello; Victor Orchestra. Victor, recorded in New York City, Dec. 28, 1910
Mario del Monaco (t), Otello; Orchestra of the Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, Georg Solti, cond. Live performance, June 30, 1962
Jon Vickers (t), Otello; Vienna Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. Live performance from the Salzburg Festival, July 30, 1971
Plácido Domingo (t), Otello; Orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala, Carlos Kleiber, cond. Live performance, Dec. 7, 1976
Luciano Pavarotti (t), Otello; Chicago Symphony Orchestra, Sir Georg Solti, cond. Decca, recorded live in concert, April 1991
The great heroic tenor Francesco Tamagno was 36 when he created the role of Otello at La Scala in February 1887, but 52 and semi-retired when he recorded three excerpts, in February 2003: Otello's entrance, "Esultate"; the scene at the end of the opera following his murder of Desdemona, "Niun mi tema"; and the performance we heard above of the Act II outburst "Ora e per sempre addio." At least four takes have been circulated, and they're noticeably different, perhaps nor surprising when we hear his sort of improvisatory, embellished approach -- and all much slower than the composer's metronome marking, which we see above.
But notice that Enrico Caruso too sings "Ora e per sempre addio" a lot more lyrically than the virtual battle cry we're accustomed to. Would they actually have sung it this way (a good deal slower than Verdi's metronome marking, as we see above) in the theater? Who knows?
Sunday Classics snapshots: More Vickers -- "I am afraid, I am afraid that I will never again be granted this divine moment" (Boito and Verdi's Otello)
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A chunk near the end of the Otello Act I duet lip-synched by Jon Vickers (Otello) and Mirella Freni (Desdemona), from the Unitel film, with Herbert von Karajan conducting the Berlin Philharmonic, including our excerpt (at 1:21)
[The sky is now quite clear. Some stars are visible and, on the rim of the horizon, the blue reflection of the rising moon.] OTELLO: Such is my soul's joy that I am afraid,
I am afraid that I will never again be granted
this divine moment
in the unknown future of my destiny. DESDEMONA: Dispel such anguish.
Our love will not change from year to year. OTELLO: Upon this prayer,
let the ranks of angels respond: Amen. DESDEMONA: Amen, let them respond.
Jon Vickers (t), Otello; Leonie Rysanek (s), Desdemona; Rome Opera Chorus and Orchestra, Tullio Serafin, cond. RCA, recorded July-Aug. 1960
Jon Vickers (t), Otello; Mirella Freni (s), Desdemona; Vienna Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan. Live performance from the Salzburg Festival, July 30, 1971
by Ken
We've talked about this before, and for me the giveaway here is Otello's repeated "temo" ("I am afraid"). I suppose someone without his potentially disabling fear might express himself similarly at a moment of such perfect happiness -- and this is surely the greatest love scene, with or without music, ever imagined by the mind of artistic man, only somewhat undercut by our knowledge that by the end of the opera the man will murder the woman.
But again, listen to that repeated "temo," and tell me you're not hearing a man who, at the pinnacle of his success, both career-wise and personal, believes at every moment that in the next moment it could all be taken away from him. If for some reason you really, really hated Otello, and wanted to destroy him, and you knew this about him, this might be the angle you would work.
AT THE RISK OF BELABORING THE OBVIOUS --
Jon Vickers's great roles were always some sort of outlier, outsider, or other kind of social doesn't-fit-in. And there happen to be a group of such roles that were written for -- and some others that can be advantageously allotted to -- a voice of this immense scale.
I don't think we need to say any more before listening to the whole of the Otello Act I Love Duet, backing up to the riot that brings Otello back out to face the Cypriot mob, a riot orchestrated by Jago to bring down his rival, Cassio.
VERDI: Otello, Act I, Cypriots, "All'armi! All'armi!" . . . Otello, "Abbasso le spade!" . . . Otello-Desdemona duet, "Già nella notte densa"
It's the night of the triumphant but terror-inspiring return to Cyprus of its governor from his whupping of the Saracens, which was almost climaxed by the demise of his own in a violent storm within sight of home port. Now, amid the island festivities, Jago has been furiously setting in motion plots against his rival, Cassio -- a first step in his ultimate plot, against Otello himself. Jago has nudged events so that a drunk Cassio winds up starting a riot that brings Otello storming out of his castle followed by torchbearers like so.
CYPRIOTS: To arms! To arms! Help! Help! OTELLO: Down with your swords.
[The combatants stop fighting.]
Hold there! What's happening?
Am I among the Saracens?
Or have you become rabble Turks,
who fight each other like dogs?
Honest Jago, by the love and loyalty
that you have for me. Speak. JAGO: I don’t know . . .
We all were just celebrating, as friends.
Then, as if a malicious star fell upon us,
a quarrel broke out.
Weapons were drawn -- chaos ensued.
I would rather cut these legs off,
for having brought me to witness this. OTELLO: Cassio -- how could you forget yourself like this? CASSIO:. Pardon, my Lord. I don't know . . . OTELLO: Montano? MONTANO [supported by a soldier]: I'm wounded, and cannot speak. OTELLO: Wounded! By Heaven, my blood rages.
Yet my better angels restrain me.
[DESDEMONA enters. OTELLO quickly goes to her.]
What -- my sweet Desdemona.
She too was awoken by this outrage.
Cassio, you are no longer my captain!
[CASSIO lets his sword fall. It is picked up by JAGO.] JAGO [handing CASSIO's sword to a soldier and speaking aside]: Oh, my triumph!) OTELLO: Iago, go around the frightened town
with this squadron and restore the peace.
[JAGO leaves.]
Someone help Montano.
[MONTANO is helped into the castle.]
Everyone return to your homes.
[With an imperious gesture] I will remain here until the streets are deserted,
and calm reigns once more.
[The people leave. OTELLO makes a sign to the torchbearers who accompanied him to return to the castle. OTELLO and DESDEMONA are left alone.] OTELLO: The vast night sky extinguishes all strife,
And my trembling heart is calmed by its embrace.
Yet, from such immense hatred
comes our immense love. DESDEMONA: My superb warrior.
Many torments, and such sadness,
And much hope have brought you
to this blessed embrace.
How sweet when we whispered together:
Remember now with me.
When you revealed your life of exile,
and told me of your battles, and sorrow.
And I would listen from my very soul
with fear, and ecstasy in my heart. OTELLO: I painted a canvas of armies,
of weapons poised to attack,
The assault -- of terrible victory –
cutting to the rampart -- killing the foe. DESDEMONA: Then you would guide me
to the shining deserts of your homeland,
At last sharing your suffering –
in chains, as a slave. OTELLO: Your tears ennobled my story.
Your beautiful visage, and your sighs
Descended upon my darkness
a blessed glory -- a paradise -- and the stars. DESDEMONA: And I saw in your brow
a genius of eternal beauty. OTELLO: And you loved me for my misfortunes;
And I loved you that you pitied them. DESDEMONA: And I loved you for your misfortunes:
And you loved me that I pitied them. OTELLO: Truly you loved me.
Let death come! And may the supreme moment take me
in the ecstasy of this embrace.
[The sky is now quite clear. Some stars are visible and, on the rim of the horizon, the blue reflection of the rising moon. ]
Such is my soul's joy that I am afraid,
I am afraid that I will never again be granted
this divine moment
in the unknown future of my destiny. DESDEMONA: Dispel such anguish.
Our love will not change from year to year. OTELLO: Upon this prayer,
let the ranks of angels respond: Amen. DESDEMONA: Amen, let them respond. OTELLO [supporting himself against the parapet]:
Ah. Such joy overcomes me
so vehemently, I cannot bear it.
A kiss. DESDEMONA: Otello. OTELLO: Yet another kiss.
The stars of the Pleiades descend toward the sea. DESDEMONA: It is late. OTELLO: Come. Venus shall guide us. DESDEMONA: Otello!
[They go slowly toward the castle, clasped in each other's arms.]
Jon Vickers (t), Otello; Tito Gobbi (b), Jago; Florindo Andreolli (t), Cassio; Franco Calabrese (bs), Montano; Leonie Rysanek (s), Desdemona; Rome Opera Chorus and Orchestra, Tullio Serafin, cond. RCA, recorded July-Aug. 1960
Jon Vickers (t), Otello; Peter Glossop (b), Jago; Ryland Davies (t), Cassio; Siegfried Rudolf Friese (bs), Montano; (s), Mirella Freni (s), Desdemona; Vienna State Opera Chorus, Vienna Philharmonic, Herbert von Karajan, cond. Live performance from the Salzburg Festival, July 30, 1971
Sunday Classics snapshots: Jon Vickers in consolatory, even happy mode
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"Froh, froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen"
Gladly, like the heavenly bodies
which he set on their courses,
through the splendor of the firmament;
thus, brothers, you should run your race,
like a hero going to conquest.
Jon Vickers, tenor; London Symphony Chorus and Orchestra, Pierre Monteux, cond. Westminster-MCA-DG, recorded June 1962
Jon Vickers, tenor; Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, Cleveland Orchestra, Lorin Maazel, cond. CBS/Sony, recorded Oct. 13-15, 1978
-- from the finale of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony
by Ken
Last week I put together, from audio clips we'd already heard over the years, a quick tribute to the late Jon Vickers, and still feel guilty about not including at least English texts for the selections, on the shabby ground that digging them out would have involved too much time and effort. (Well, oo-hoo!) Nobody complained, which is even more discouraging. One of these days I will go back and fix that post.
I led that post off with the above excerpt from the epochal finale of the Beethoven Ninth Symphony, precisely to hear Vickers in a "froh" frame of musical mind, since his greatest musical assumptions, despite moments of triumph, were on the desolate side. Again, we have two versions, one early-ish, the other much later. I thought you might like to hear the complete performances of the finale from which the excerpts are drawn (which we have in fact heard before, so you'll find them at the end.)
Sunday Classics snapshots: Jon Vickers (1926-2015)
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Jon Vickers and Sena Jurinac as Florestan and Leonore
(Covent Garden, 1961)
From the finale of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony: "Froh, froh, wie seine Sonnen fliegen"
Gladly, like the heavenly bodies
which he set on their courses,
through the splendor of the firmament;
thus, brothers, you should run your race,
like a hero going to conquest.
Jon Vickers, tenor; London Symphony Chorus and Orchestra, Pierre Monteux, cond. Westminster-MCA-DG, recorded June 1962
Jon Vickers, tenor; Cleveland Orchestra Chorus, Cleveland Orchestra, Lorin Maazel, cond. CBS/Sony, recorded Oct. 13-15, 1978
by Ken
Jon Vickers died last week at 88. Over the years at Sunday Classics we've heard a lot of Vickers, for reasons I hope will be obvious from the the handful of selections I've selected for today's "Snapshots" post. I'm thinking we ought to do some sort of proper retrospective of just the stuff we've heard, but meanwhile, I think these snippets will speak for themselves.
[Sorry, no texts this week. I thought I could round them up relatively easy from the original posts, but Yahoo, which used to make it not-too-difficult to find DWT posts, now seems to all but ignore "downwithtyranny" in searches, and I just didn't have the time or will to search out all these posts or redo the texts. I'm not even crazy about the Beethoven Ninth translation fragment I hurriedly popped in above.]
Tenor James Johnston's "Comfort ye" recording was an
inspiration to me, but we're still not going to hear it.
"I see the church as a field hospital after battle. It is useless to ask a seriously injured person if he has high cholesterol and about the level of his blood sugars. You have to heal the wounds. Then we can talk about everything else. Heal the wounds."
"Cry unto her that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned"
Recitative
Comfort ye, comfort ye, my people, saith your God. Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned. The voice of him that crieth in the wilderness: Prepare ye the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Aria
Every valley shall be exalted, and every mountain and hill made low, the crooked straight, and the rough places plain.
Nicolai Gedda, tenor; Philharmonia Orchestra, Otto Klemperer, cond. EMI, recorded 1965
Jon Vickers, tenor; Toronto Symphony Orchestra, Sir Ernest MacMillan, cond. RCA, recorded c1953
Jon Vickers, tenor; Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Sir Thomas Beecham, cond. RCA, recorded 1959
[in German] Fritz Wunderlich, tenor; Stuttgart Radio Symphony Orchestra, Heinz Mendes, cond. Live performance, Mar. 20, 1959
"Thou who art good and kind, rescue me from everlasting fire"
I groan as one who is accused;
guilt reddens my cheek;
Thy supplicant, Thy supplicant spare, O God.
Thou who absolved Mary,
and harkened to the thief,
and who hast given me hope,
and who hast given me hope.
My prayers are worthless,
but Thou who art good and kind,
rescue me from everlasting fire.
With Thy sheep give me a place,
and from the goats keep me separate,
placing me at Thy right hand.
Nicolai Gedda, tenor; Philharmonia Orchestra, Carlo Maria Giulini, cond. EMI, recorded 1963-64
Jon Vickers, tenor; New Philharmonia Orchestra, Sir John Barbirolli, cond. EMI, recorded April 1970
Fritz Wunderlich, tenor; South German Radio Symphony Orchestra, Helmut Müller-Kray, cond. Live performance, Nov. 2, 1960
Fresh from the challenge, in the first of these "snapshot" posts, "Rosina I and Rosina II," of finding a singer, namely Victoria de los Angeles, to put in the lead-off slot singing both Rossini's young Rosina (in The Barber of Seville) and Mozart's only slightly older but sadly way more mature Rosina (aka Countess Almaviva in The Marriage of Figaro), I was pleased to come up with our three tenors singing the similarly improbable combo of the opening vocal number of Handel's Messiah and the heart-rending "Ingemisco" from the "Dies Irae" of Verdi's Requiem. We've actually heard all of the above performances of "Comfort ye" and "Ev'ry valley" (and once again I couldn't resist including both Vickers recordings); I just needed to add the Gedda and Vickers "Ingemisco" performances.
Sunday Classics: Colin Davis's surprising triumph in Mahler's "Song of the Earth"
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The firmament is eternally blue, and the earth
will long stand fast and blossom in spring.
But thou, O man, how long then livest thou?
Not a hundred years canst thou delight
in all the rotten trash of this earth!
-- from "Das Trinklied vom Jammer der Erde" ("The Drinking Song of Earth's Sorrow"), the opening movement of Mahler's Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth); English translation by Deryck Cooke
Jon Vickers, tenor; London Symphony Orchestra, Sir Colin Davis, cond. Philips, recorded March 1981
by Ken
In Friday night's preview I argued that Jon Vickers's massive but "slow-speaking" tenor was heard to limited advantage in "On Youth," the finely detailed second of the three tenor songs of Mahler's song-symphony The Song of the Earth. I certainly wouldn't say the same of at least this fraught chunk of the opening song. This seems to me very much the kind of sound -- that of a full-fledged heroic tenor -- that Mahler must have had in mind.
We're going to hear the full song momentarily, but first I think we need to repeat an experiment we've done before in approaching Mahler's Song of the Earth(1908-09), his six-movement setting of Hans Bethge's then-recently-published German renderings of classical Chinese poems, which was the first work he conceived after learning that he had untreatable heart disease. We're going to listen again to his final, confidently heaven-storming musical utterance before the fateful diagnosis. (It's the conclusion of Goethe's Faust.)
MAHLER: Symphony No. 8 in E-flat (1906):
conclusion, "Alles Vergängliche ist nur ein Gleichnis"
All things transitory are but parable;
here insufficiency becomes fulfillment,
here the indescribable is accomplished;
the ever-womanly draws us heavenward.
[much repeated]
-- English translation by Peggie Cochrane
Soloists, choruses, Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, Sir Colin Davis, cond. BMG, recorded live, July 7-8, 1996
Soloists, choruses, London Symphony Orchestra, Jascha Horenstein, cond. BBC Legends, live performance from the Royal Albert Hall, March 20, 1959
Sunday Classics preview: Colin Davis's surprising triumph in Mahler
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Tenor René Kollo sings "On Youth" from Mahler's Song of the Earth, with the Israel Philharmonic conducted by Leonard Bernstein, in May 1972.
MAHLER: Das Lied von der Erde (The Song of the Earth):
iii. "Von der Jugend" ("On Youth")
[English translation by Deryck Cooke]
In the middle of the little pool
stands a pavilion of green
and of white porcelain.
Like the back of a tiger
arches the bridge of jade
over to the pavilion.
In the little house friends are sitting,
beautifully dressed, drinking, chatting;
several are writing verses.
Their silken sleeves slip
backwards, their silken caps
perch gaily on the back of their necks.
On the little pool's still
surface everything appears
fantastically in a mirror image.
Everything is standing on its head
in the pavilion of green
and of white porcelain;
Like a half-moon stands the bridge,
upside-down its arch. Friends,
beautifully dressed, are drinking, chatting.
by Ken
In this series devoted to Colin Davis, my general proposition has been that most really good CD performances seem to result from our boy "just doing it" -- hearing basic qualities in music and executing them decisively. This doesn't leave a lot of room for imagination or "creative re-creation," or what in general I would think of as really enlightened or illuminating interpretation.
And then there was his recording of Mahler's Das Lied von Der Erde (The Song of the Earth), the song-symphony composed based on Hans Bethge's German translations of Chinese poems composed between the Eighth and Ninth Symphonies. Crucially, it was conceived and composed following the diagnosis of the composer's untreatable heart disease. It would be hard to think of a work that depends more on deep understanding, of empathetic projection of its tiniest musical cells. Not, in other words, material in which we would expect to hear CD at his most persuasive.
And certainly CD's other Mahler recordings -- of the First, Fourth, and Eighth Symphonies, that I know -- are the generally drab affairs one might expect. But the recording of Das Lied . . . .
TONIGHT WE FOCUS ON THE LITTLEST OF THE SONGS,
THE TENOR'S SECOND, "VON DER JUGEND" ("ON YOUTH")
Sunday Classics: A sneak peek into the sound world of Benjamin Britten
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At the heart of Britten's haunting opera Peter Grimes are the four Sea Interludes, orchestrally evoking life in a poor Suffolk-coast fishing village. The first, "Dawn," which joins the Prologue and Act I, is played here by the Boston Symphony in Leonard Bernstein's "Final Concert."
by Ken
Way back when (in August 2007, actually), writing briefly about some music of Igor Stravinsky, I caused a flutter of sorts when I described him as "one of the last three great composers":
I really want to talk about Stravinsky one of these days, and I plan to get to it really soon. Awhile back I startled Howie by saying that we've already had the last three great composers we're ever going to have--Stravinsky (1882-1971), Dmitri Shostakovich (1906-1975), and Benjamin Britten (1913-1976), all now long since safely dead and buried. This seems so obvious to me now that I forget how stark it may sound to others. But these are the last composers who seem to me, through the sheer force of their imagination, to have transcended the exhaustion of the musical language they inherited, or could scrounge up or invent.
The proposition still seems to me so simple and uncontroversial that I wonder at the fuss. What bothers me is my failure to deliver on the implied promise there. Since then we have bumped up against Shostakovich but not said much of what I hoped to say about these three composers. And I'm afraid today we aren't going to do a lot more than bump up against Britten. Still, we have to start somewhere.
One problem is that I still haven't figured out how to get control of musical samples. My position is that there's no point in my blithering on if you can't hear the music, which is the important part. As a matter of fact, I've had a Britten piece on the drawing board for two years now, which was to kick off with the first of the Sea Interludes, "Dawn," from the composer's most-performed opera, Peter Grimes, ideally picking up from the Ellen-Grimes duet at the end of the Prologue and continuing into the awakening-village opening of Act I, and then what is for me the emotional core of Britten's War Requiem.
The War Requiem, written for the dedication of the rebuilt Coventry Cathedral (destroyed by German bombs in 1940) in 1962, interspersed poems by the antiwar poet Wilfred Owen (1893-1918), who died in military action a week before the signing of the armistice that ended World War I (his parents are said to have received notification the day the armistice was announced), with the traditional Latin Requiem text. The excerpt I was aiming for was Britten's setting, as part of the Offertorium of the Requiem, of Owen's "Parable of the Old Man and the Young," a retelling of the story of Abram and Isaac, by the tenor and baritone soloists, that veers off track at the end, culminating in one of the more harrowing images I know -- "the old man" Abram slaying not just his son Isaac but "half the seed of Europe, one by one."
THE PARABLE OF THE OLD MAN AND THE YOUNG
So Abram rose, and clave the wood, and went, And took the fire with him, and a knife. And as they sojourned, both of them together, Isaac the first-born spake, and said, My Father, Behold the preparations, fire and iron, But where the lamb for this burnt-offering? Then Abram bound the youth with belts and straps, And builded parapets the trenches there, And stretched forth the knife to slay his son. When lo! an angel called him out of heaven, Saying, Lay not thy hand upon the lad, Neither do anything to him. Behold, A ram, caught in a thicket by its horns; Offer the Ram of Pride instead of him. But the old man would not so, but slew his son, And half the seed of Europe, one by one.
-- Wilfred Owen
Back in 2007 the Britten pickings on YouTube were mighty slender, and I scratched at how to produce my own audio clips, at least, in the process tantalizing Howie with the War Requiem excerpt, for which I couldn't actually find a recording that satisfies me. I'm still not wildly happy with the Bernstein "Final Concert" performance of the "Dawn" Peter Grimes interlude, which seems to me to seriously underplay the whole piece -- and underplaying is something Lenny was rarely accused of. (He had made a better recording of the Grimes interludes with the New York Philharmonic.
Still, the performance is good enough to allow the listener access to the interplay of unexpected tone colors, harmonies, and rhythms with which Britten conjures this musical image of dawn in a fishing village on his beloved Suffolk coast. Like all the Sea Interludes, this is music that's meant to play straight into the imagination, and I've found that even after long acquaintance it becomes more haunting with each hearing.
Strangely, the War Requiem has become one of Britten's more played compositions, and there is now a fair amount of it on YouTube, but I haven't turned up the Offertorium at all, let alone in an acceptable performance. I say it's "strange" that the Requiem is now played so widely, because it has always struck me as one of Britten's less accessible works, except at the most obvious level -- the interplay of the Owen poems and the liturgical text, and their symbolic connection to the occasion for which the piece was written.
(Note to Howie: We'll come back to the War Requiem. I promise. Eventually.)
I have made one happy discovery on YouTube: a lovely performance of Britten's 1942-43 Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings, Op. 31, a setting for this unusual group of performers (inspired by the availability of Britten's life partner, the tenor Peter Pears, and the brilliant young horn player Dennis Brain) of six quite diverse poems, with a Prologue and Epilogue. It's broken into three clips; this middle one encompasses the second, third, and fourth songs, the "Nocturne" (Tennyson's "The Splendor Falls on Castle Walls" from The Princess), "Elegy" (Blake's "The Sick Rose," aka "O Rose, thou art sick," and "Dirge" (the anonymous 15th-century "Lyke-Wake Dirge"):
The "Nocturne," "Elegy," and "Dirge," the second through fourth songs from Britten's Serenade, are performed by tenor John Mark Ainsley, horn soloist Danilo Stagni, and the strings of La Scala's Orchestra filarmonica conducted by Jeffrey Tate. (Part 1 of the Serenade is here; part 3, here.)
Nocturne
The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugles; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow forever and forever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
-- Alfred Lord Tennyson
Elegy [at 1:23]
O Rose, thou art sick! The invisible worm That flies in the night, In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed Of crimson joy: And his dark secret love Does thy life destroy.
-- William Blake
Dirge [no clear separation point from the orchestral postlude following "Elegy," but the "Dirge" vocal begins at 6:02]
This ae nighte, this ae nighte, REFRAIN:—- Every nighte and alle, Fire and fleet and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule.
When thou from hence away art past, -— Every nighte and alle, To Whinny-muir thou com'st at last; And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon, -— Every nighte and alle, Sit thee down and put them on; And Christe receive thy saule.
If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane -— Every nighte and alle, The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane; And Christe receive thy saule.
From Whinny-muir when thou may'st pass, -- Every nighte and alle, To Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last; And Christe receive thy saule.
From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass, —- Every nighte and alle, To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last; And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gavest meat or drink, -— Every nighte and alle, The fire sall never make thee shrink; And Christe receive thy saule.
If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane, —- Every nighte and alle, The fire will burn thee to the bare bane; And Christe receive thy saule.
This ae nighte, this ae nighte, -— Every nighte and alle, Fire and fleet and candle-lighte, And Christe receive thy saule.
-- anonymous
I'm not going to say much of anything about the music. Again, I would simply encourage: (a) alertness to the musical setting as well as the texts, and (b) receptivity to both. I think initially you'll find some moments that grab you immediately, and then with repetition other points will begin to act on you, and gradually all will deepen.
Obviously Jon Mark Ainsley is a very different sort of tenor from Peter Pears, and it's kind of a jolt to me, in the "Dirge" (the song I was actually shooting for here) not to hear the truly dirge-appropriate wailing sound Pears produces his upper range. But it's really only when we hear inspired performers quite different from Britten and his circle that we begin to appreciate the true stature of this music. Jeffrey Tate is the good kind of English sensibilty for Britten (I'll come back to this question of nationality briefly), and is well suited to helping the Italian musicians hear this music.
The most obvious case is that of Peter Grimes itself. When Jon Vickers, a singer who could hardly have been more different in voice and personality from Pears, undertook the title role at the Met in 1967, with the collaboration of director Tyrone Guthrie and conductor Colin Davis, a whole previously unheard dimension of the piece opened up. An instructive lesson in the dangerous provincialization of Britten can be learned from what happend when Vickers and Davis took the show back to England. By the time of the Covent Garden video and audio recordings, most of the dimensionality of the Met performances had been flattened to two dimensions, most noticeably in Davis's blandly conventional conducting (it feels like there's an extra hour or two of mediocre music stuffed into the opera), but unfortunately also in Vickers' more mannered, manicured performance.
There was always tension in the relationship between Britten and his countrymen. The composer was unquestionably "English" and "British" to the core, but not in the accepted conventional ways, and they knew it and resented it, especially in the loftier social circles. Was it because he was gay? Yes. Was it because he was a pacifist (he sought and received conscientious objector status during World War II, declaring himself unable to kill or to participate in killing)? Yes. But I think those were symptoms of Britten's "otherness." The more powerfully Britten's musical supremacy emerged, the more you can see the British musical establishment trying to prop up lesser alternatives who might be passed off as Britian's really and truly greatest composer.
Why, it was almost as if Britten was, gasp, pointing a finger of accusation, perhaps rejection, or even ridicule, at all the institutions Britons held sacred! Um, yeah, kinda, d'ya think? Nah, couldn't be.
QUICK HITS
Four Sea Interludes from "Peter Grimes"
If you can't find Britten's own recording of the Sea Interludes from Peter Grimes, try Andrew Davis's,coupled with the composer's ever-popular Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra.
Leonard Bernstein's NY Phil Sea Interludes are available in, of all things, SACD-only format,interestingly coupled with the LB-NYP Holst Planets.
Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings
Peter Pears, Dennis Brain, and the composer recorded the Serenade as early as 1944, with the Boyd Neel Orchestra, and that version has turned up on a Pearl CD, "Benjamin Britten performs Benjamin Britten,"as well as in a valuable four-CD collection of historic Britten recordings -- some conducted by the composer, most not -- in Membran International's Quadromania series. (I paid some ridiculous price like $8 for it at Berkshire Record Outlet, but they don't seem to have it anymore. CD Universe lists it -- at $15.59 for the four-disc set -- but reports it "backordered since 7/28/2009.")
For most listeners, the recording of choice is the gorgeous the gorgeous stereo versionwith Barry Tuckwell filling the gap left by Brain's death in 1957 at the preposterous age of 36. It's coupled with Pears-Britten stereo recordings of the Rimbaud song cycle Les Illuminations (originally written for soprano) and the sequel to the Serenade, the 1958 Nocturne for tenor, assorted instruements, and strings.
War Requiem
There's certainly room for an alternative to the composer's own recording,with the originally scheduled soloists, Galina Vishnevsakaya, Peter Pears, and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. But as the recordings continue to pile up, I can't say I've found one that's especially persuasive, or that offers worthy alternatives to Britten's idiosyncratic trio of soloists.
coupled with the composer's ever-popular Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra.
interestingly coupled with the LB-NYP Holst Planets.
as well as in a valuable four-CD collection of historic Britten recordings -- some conducted by the composer, most not -- in Membran International's Quadromania series. (I paid some ridiculous price like $8 for it at Berkshire Record Outlet, but they don't seem to have it anymore. CD Universe 
with Barry Tuckwell filling the gap left by Brain's death in 1957 at the preposterous age of 36. It's coupled with Pears-Britten stereo recordings of the Rimbaud song cycle Les Illuminations (originally written for soprano) and the sequel to the Serenade, the 1958 
with the originally scheduled soloists, Galina Vishnevsakaya, Peter Pears, and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. But as the recordings continue to pile up, I can't say I've found one that's especially persuasive, or that offers worthy alternatives to Britten's idiosyncratic trio of soloists.
