Lukas Foss' Griffelkin 
                  (pronounced 'Grifflekin') rides on the back of the success of 
                  Menotti's television opera, Amahl and the Night Visitors 
                  (1951). It is in fact an NBC commission. Griffelkin is a 
                  little devil (literally) who has a chance to visit the earthly 
                  plane on his tenth birthday, there to learn of beauty, death 
                  and love. Foss first heard the story from his mother and initially 
                  attempted to set it when he was eleven years old.
                If 
                  there are references, as Steven Ledbetter's excellent booklet 
                  notes point out, to the Stravinsky of The Rake's Progress, 
                  and indeed to Copland, this is very much Foss's show. Foss characterises 
                  his players individually. Locations of course get the same treatment, 
                  with spookier, darker sonorities for Hell, brighter for Earth. 
                  But actually the most magical part of this set is Foss's ear. 
                  His use of his orchestra, which sounds quite limited in size, 
                  is remarkable.
                Humour 
                  is there right from the beginning when the Grandmother takes 
                  the devilish equivalent of a Morning Assembly, calling the imps 
                  to 'scowl when I call your name'. She is sung by the fine contralto 
                  Marion Day - little-of-wobble and excellent-of-pitch in the 
                  disjunct intervallic leaps. 
                It 
                  is not all just sweet. If it were the opera would stand no chance 
                  of longevity at all. It is all, if you'll pardon the 
                  pun, devilishly clever. There is a light compositional touch 
                  that runs through the whole opera, expertly realised by the 
                  Boston Modern Orchestra Project under the baton of Gil Rose. 
                  Try the light, piano-dominated dance in Act 1 (also titled 'Prologue'), 
                  CD1 Track 4.
                The 
                  Stravinsky of The Soldier's Tale is very evident in Act 
                  2. Griffelkin has been sent to the World for the day. He is 
                  in a town square (any town, any country) and meets the talking 
                  Statue (Elizabeth Keusch), the chattering letterbox (the clean-voiced 
                  Yeghische Manucharyan) and the two lions (who sing in unison).
                The 
                  ill Mother is Janna Baty, who sounds sad, aware of her own mortality, 
                  yet who negotiates the tricky part with complete confidence. 
                  But it is Griffelkin that dominates. Try the sequence tracks 
                  16-18 where the shadow of Copland looms large. This is involving 
                  stuff, and Griffelkin is completely within her part. Kendra 
                  Colton's clear soprano gets the role perfectly. There is a happy 
                  ending. Because of his good deed at bringing the Mother back 
                  to life, he is banished from Hell and has to live as a mortal. 
                  He is taken in by the Mother's children.
                Aaron 
                  Engebreth is the appropriately authoritative Policeman. In fact 
                  all of the smaller parts are taken to perfection. It is evident 
                  that real care has gone into the casting, while the recording 
                  is simply superb: Producer Blanton Alspaugh; Engineer John Newton. 
                  A life-enhancing project.
                Colin 
                  Clarke
                see also Review 
                  by Paul Shoemaker