Reviewing several pieces of music over the space of a few days often throws up some interesting juxtapositions, but I don't think I have ever found myself reviewing the same singer before twice in two nights, in entirely contrasting repertoire. Having only just made it back to Suffolk after a long and rain-spattered Sunday night at Garsington for Mozart's Idomeneo, I found myself once more sitting before Toby Spence on Monday: this time at Snape Maltings, singing the third of a series of Aldeburgh Festival evenings devoted to Britten and Tippett.
Spence had sounded like he had found Idomeneo's title role quite a stretch the previous evening, but he showed no signs of fatigue this following evening; indeed, he immediately came across as more relaxed, more comfortable and absolutely more at home in this English repertoire. Although his words could have been crisper, all the songs came across with a pleasing sense of flow, Spence's light lyric tenor happily expanding to the rafters at Snape, when the previous night he hadn't always quite filled his lines at Garsington. Occasionally holding the piano with one hand, or clenching fists at his sides, Spence seemed to hold a tension in his body which was belied by his lovely legato and honeyed low notes. While the very top notes could sound occasionally thin, his performance generally had an air of confident smoothness. Piano accompaniment by Julian Milford was well-sustained and stylish.
Opening with Britten's On This Island series, Spence was at his best for the beautiful Nocturne, his excellent projection and control creating a sound both langourous and fresh. By then, Spence was allowing himself to open up into a more freely expressive style which paid dividends after a slightly tense start. While navigating Britten's melodies skilfully, Spence isn't quite telling the story of each song or presenting them in a fully imagined world yet, but he gives the impression that this could come – and be interesting – in time.
Tippett's Piano Sonata no. 4, played by Steven Osborne with a gentle power unafraid of stern emphasis where needed, but keeping smooth tone, was full of dancing notes after a warm, inviting opening. However, Tippett's rambling Boyhood's End, with its lengthy episodic structure and complicated prose, didn't come off well, as words were often lost and Spence's lack of placing the song in its own reality began to tell. With some wonderful lyricism in certain passages from Spence, I concluded that part of that song was indeed lovely; but other passages simply sounded difficult to sing, and even more difficult to enjoy.