Tippett wrote Boyhood's 
                End for Peter Pears and Benjamin Britten 
                who recorded it in 1953. It is a meditation 
                on a work of prose, capturing the nuances 
                of speech and transforming them into 
                inventive song. I sometimes wonder, 
                however, if it was not some kind of 
                subtle cruel joke, for the song is fiendishly 
                difficult to play and sing. Pears's 
                rendition is so excruciating painful 
                that it has to be heard to be believed. 
                (It was reissued by EMI in 2003). Britten 
                copes manfully, but Pears' technique 
                is stretched past the limit. In 1994 
                the cycle was recorded by Martyn Hill, 
                who avoided the more histrionic excesses, 
                making a reasonable if unexceptional 
                reading. Padmore's voice is easily more 
                elegant than Hill's or Pears's for that 
                matter, so this ought to be the recording 
                of choice. However, Padmore, seems to 
                have taken Pears as a model. As a result 
                he falls into the same traps. All the 
                "English tenor" mispronunciations 
                are here "morneeeng" for "morning" 
                and "flah" for "flower". 
                Fortunately Padmore has the technical 
                nous to avoid being strangled as Pears 
                was on the elaborations of the word 
                "dance" at the end of the 
                first song. His artistry makes the cycle. 
                There are some utterly beautiful moments 
                such as the long, sensuous curving lines 
                like "to lie on my back on the 
                rust brown grass in January". 
                And the way Padmore emphasises the lovely 
                scoring of the line "aglitter 
                with illusory water" gave me 
                goosebumps. The purity of Padmore's 
                voice constantly reminded me of Ian 
                Bostridge, minus Bostridge's trademark 
                sense of wonder. This, I feel is Padmore's 
                weakness. With his background in baroque 
                he has flawless vocal technique, but 
                his ability to go beyond and plumb intensities 
                of inner meaning is undeveloped. The 
                text, by William Henry Hudson describes 
                the wonders of nature with a sense of 
                surreal contemplation. This is true 
                Bostridge territory, for no one capture 
                a sense of awestruck intensity as Bostridge 
                can. Both Bostridge and Padmore have 
                in their repertoire Henze's Arabian 
                Songs, but there's no question that 
                Bostridge brings out far greater resonances. 
                Boyhood's End is a remarkable 
                piece of music with hidden levels for 
                a singer to bring out. I have heard 
                a quite different, but convincing version 
                by James Gilchrist. However, there is 
                no competition on recording for Padmore's 
                version, which really is very good. 
                It is such a beautiful cycle that it 
                will become an essential in any collection 
                of modern song. 
              
 
              
Far less of a virtuoso 
                challenge are the Finzi songs. These 
                continue the theme of transient happiness, 
                last fleeting moments of youth and innocence. 
                Again, Padmore sings exquisitely, better 
                than any earlier recording. However, 
                again, he produces a glistening, shimmering 
                surface. Again, however this is natural 
                Bostridge territory. I have heard Bostridge 
                sing these with the same transparency, 
                but he was able to access deeper, darker 
                ironies with his more thoughtful interpretation. 
                Unfortunately the same applies with 
                the Britten works that follow. Bostridge 
                is a particularly sensitive and eloquent 
                Britten interpreter and has performed 
                these songs on many occasions. Padmore 
                again sounds uncannily like Bostridge 
                manqué. He even manages to maul 
                the German language in the Sechs Hölderlin 
                Lieder, as Bostridge did early in his 
                career, but without the sense of original 
                quirkiness to redeem it. 
              
 
              
Hyperion will do very 
                well with this CD, because it contains 
                gems of repertoire too rarely heard. 
                And indeed, it is lambently performed, 
                if lacking in character. EMI lost out 
                on a marketing coup by not recording 
                Bostridge first. 
              
Anne Ozorio