It was a very good idea to make a recital programme entirely from the work of the greatest of England’s song cycle composers. This concert featured four Britten cycles of which only the Michelangelo Sonnets of 1940 are given often. The other three cycles come from 1937, 1947 and 1965, and there were four different singers and voice types – soprano, mezzo, tenor and baritone. The overused term ‘gala’ was justified.
On this Island, to poems by Auden, was written for soprano Sophie Wyss, who also premiered with Les Illuminations and Our Hunting Fathers – only one of the four cycles on the programme was written for Peter Pears. Certainly the first song lay ideally for Louise Alder’s bright penetrating soprano. The faux-Baroque of Let the florid music praise! reminded us Purcell was Britten’s god. Once told by his teacher John Ireland to stick to one note per syllable, young Britten doubtless enjoyed the mischievously melismatic writing so relished by Alder, who also showed great technical control in the slow pulse of Nocturne, and provided strong characterisation of the text, singing of the “revolting succubus” as if there was a nasty smell nearby. I wanted to hear more from her, but that was true of each of the four singers.
Christine Rice had pulled out only at the start of the day, we learned, and it was fortunate indeed that Jennifer Johnston, no less, was the very last-minute stand-in for A Charm of Lullabies. She could therefore be forgiven for muddling the text of Sephelia’s lullaby, for otherwise this rising mezzo did not disappoint. She sang as if the cycle had been composed for her gleamingly incisive sound, rather than for what Britten called the “chocolatey voice” of Nancy Evans (his first Nancy in Albert Herring.) In the easy and seductive The Highland Ballou of Robert Burns, Johnston was enchanting, drawing on some inner Celt in negotiating the dialect as well as the notes.
After these two delightful and fairly undemanding cycles – for the audience at least – in the first half, the second half raised the bar. The Seven Sonnets of Michelangelo were written for Pears and perhaps represent Britten’s finest love music (not a type especially abundant in his output). Allan Clayton gave what could be called a “post-Pears” interpretation, his direct and unfussy manner a contrast to Pears’ use of his voice to find a nuance within every phrase. Of course, Clayton has a quite different sound, ringing and virile with good dynamic range. There was some intimate mezza-voce too in Sonnet XXXI (though the two high As gleamed superbly), and caressing control of the legato in Sonnet XXX. The final song’s address to the poet’s love, Spirto ben nato was as passionate as could be wished, noble in its ardour. This was the first of a nine-event Wigmore exploration of Britten this season and Clayton features in all but two of them.