Concerts have become a growing fixture in Glyndebourne’s Autumn season, particularly since their tour funding was cut. So, while other parts of the country have lost out on access to their opera productions (so much for “levelling up”), local audiences have been experiencing more performances of familiar choral classics. This year, one of Glyndebourne’s concert offerings is a little more unexpected: Tippett’s A Child of our Time, coupled with Beethoven’s Fourth Symphony.
First, that coupling. Now, clearly, A Child of our Time, a pacifist’s oratorio response to the horrors of war, and particularly the violent events of Kristallnacht, is a hard work to pair. Something light and frothy in contrast? While certainly lighter that the heroics of its neighbouring symphonies, Beethoven’s Fourth is not exactly frothy, but it is relatively benign in mood. Here, conductor Adam Hickox took no prisoners with his tempi, and we were taken on a bombastic ride, with the timpani (quite near the front at stage left) often dominating, especially in the opening movement. While there was some impressively deft work from the strings in the outer movements, the woodwinds struggled to rise above the strings in the Adagio, the band’s relatively flat positioning on stage meaning they were acoustically blocked for those in the stalls. So although the delivery was slick, one did feel a little browbeaten by the time the interval came.
For the Tippett, the chorus filed on at the back, thankfully raised. This was not a staged performance as such, but simple lighting effects and a few striking image projections added a welcome extra dimension without being overly distracting. The soloists appeared one by one on stage in darkness, with solemn lighting used to highlight their contributions. Bass-baritone, Michael Mofidian, fresh from singing Selim in Glyndebourne’s Il turco in Italia, was terrifyingly intense in the Narrator role, and Beth Taylor’s fulsome mezzo-soprano was equally powerful. Soprano Nardus Williams excelled as the distressed and tormented mother, while tenor Kieran Carrel, as the young man at the epicentre of the action, had a light yet anguished innocence to his clear tone.
Oratorios being more often the territory of non-professional choruses, it was interesting to hear an opera chorus in action here. On the plus side, there was certainly an extra degree of power, and their dramatic delivery was equally strong, making The Terror chorus (“Burn down their houses, Beat in their heads…”) especially disturbing. Just occasionally, the operatic sopranos’ vibrato obscured Tippett’s starkly angular fugal writing, such as in the Chorus of the Self-righteous, where a purer tone would have been preferable. However, the Five Spirituals, Tippett’s take on Bach's chorales in the Passions, were delivered with full-bodied tone and moving passion, with the solo input from the front of the stage balanced well. Hickox gave the Glyndebourne Sinfonia and combined vocal forces clear direction throughout and managed the challenge of balance, particularly for players more used to being in the pit.
Tippett’s text is in places straightforward and brutal, particularly in Part 2, where most of the action takes place, but in Part 3 it moves into more contemplative territory, and Tippett’s Jungian-influenced discussion focusses on redemption and healing. The four soloists join with the chorus in the General Ensemble, followed by the final spiritual, Deep River. Always a highly charged moment, here, the journey from the pianissimo opening, through to the fortissimo outburst at “Oh chillun”!’), and back to pianissimo at the end had the full dynamic range it often lacks, and the soloists and chorus combined brought this memorable and powerful performance to a deeply moving conclusion.
