A second Naxos disc
of Britten’s stunning song-cycles Serenade
and Nocturne makes a fearsome
rival for their other (1996) version
with Adrian Thompson and David Lloyd-Jones/Bournemouth
Sinfonietta (8.553834) [not
reviewed]. Philip Langridge stars
on the new disc, which was actually
recorded two years earlier in 1994 and
originally released on Collins Classics.
Here, Steuart Bedford conducts the English
Chamber Orchestra and Northern Sinfonia
in very different, but equally excellent,
performances of these works.
Both Naxos discs commence
with the Serenade. Frank
Lloyd is the horn soloist on the
Bedford disc, and opens with a dreamy
rendition of the Prologue, effective
but lacking the radiance of, for example,
David Pyatt on the EMI disc (EMI Eminence
565899-2) with Nick Cleobury conducting
the Britten Sinfonia. Langridge's beginning
in the Pastoral is characteristically
thought-provoking. Tying in with the
text "The day’s grown old",
one presumes, he launches in with an
intentionally faltering, faint and slightly
weak sound. Whilst one might prefer
the cleaner, clearer, punchier start
of John Mark Ainsley on the EMI disc,
there is no doubt that this is an atmospheric
device, and sets the scene well for
the rest of the cycle. From the start,
both Ainsley and Thompson create a prettier
sound, particularly Ainsley, who invests
the work with great lyrical beauty and
exquisite enunciation. Thompson comes
across as more precious and dainty than
Ainsley and lacks both his and Langridge's
gravitas, and in places is in danger
of being drowned out by the orchestra.
The balance in the Bedford Naxos disc
is much better. Yet in a way, the sound
that Ainsley and Thompson produce is
almost too comely and charming – Langridge's
gritty, harsher rendition is more realistic
and efficacious. This is even more apparent
in the third track, Nocturne,
where Ainsley is noticeably lighter
and has greater clarity, yet Langridge’s
gorgeous, slightly huskier, timbre seems
more appropriate. Thompson is here worth
listening to for his lovely word painting
on "dying", which is wonderfully
evocative.
The differences between
these styles really comes to the fore
in Elegy. Langridge makes the
word "sick" sound sick. His
"howling" howls. He emphasises
the dissonances, and the whole song
is - quite correctly - presented as
evil, dark, and menacing. Listen to
the way he sings "found out thy
bed" and "rose" – more
forceful, brutal, harsh and aggressive
than his competition and making for
a more powerful and convincing version.
Ainsley and Thompson, on the other hand,
sing a completely different song – mournful
and lugubrious rather than savage, corrupt
and nefarious. Frank Lloyd, meanwhile
does not particularly help enhance Langridge’s
sinister atmosphere. The swoops between
his notes are too clean, fast and not
pronounced enough, and a tiny bit more
portamento wouldn’t go amiss. Although
he increases in wildness to become suitably
violent just before the voice enters,
and although the slide on his final
note is good - and more protracted than
in other versions - he is still not
as scarily chilling as David Pyatt on
Nick Cleobury's EMI disc.
Langridge adopts an
appropriately ghostly voice for the
Dirge - dramatic and dark. This
track is fantastically performed. Langridge
sustains a brilliantly controlled build-up
until that sublime and stunning climax
two thirds of the way through when horn
enters. Langridge manages to come across
as both unrelenting and imploring at
the same time, returning to an eerie
and ethereal sound at the end. On the
earlier Naxos disc, Thompson starts
off very quiet and gentle and takes
a fair time to build the wildness up,
which means that when he finally lets
rip at the climax it is quite overwhelming.
In the Hymn, Langridge is duly
light and vivid and endows his words
with great characterisation and word
painting, as does Ainsley. Langridge’s
softening to a whisper in places here
is particularly effective.
The English Chamber
Orchestra, who have been brilliant throughout,
really show their colours in the Sonnet,
creating a beautifully translucent sound,
while Langridge is aptly dramatic. Frank
Lloyd is mysterious, unrushed and moving
in the Epilogue and has the edge
on his competitors – Pyatt, who is a
little too loud and Thompson, who is
slightly too fast.
Nocturne ensues,
with a hair-raising Langridge, and an
umbriferous and transparent orchestra
in On a poet’s lips I slept.
Again, whereas Langridge is more chilling,
Ainsley is more lyrical and beautiful,
and Thompson more languorous. Then an
exciting Below the thunders of the
upper deep with a fantastically
wild Langridge, whose dark and deep
timbre is perfect here, and an alluringly
light, dreamy and romantic Encinctured
with a twine of leaves. True to
character, Langridge is still a little
bleaker than Ainsley, who comes across
as more graceful, supple and lithe,
and Thompson, who is so smooth and gentle
that he floats effortlessly. Langridge’s
idiosyncratic, intelligent and individual
singing enhances Midnight’s bell
goes ting, ting, ting, ting with
superb word-painting for the cat’s mew.
Whereas Ainsley and Thompson sing the
word "Mew", Langridge actually
imitates a cat’s cry, and not many other
singers I’ve heard have sounded as gorgeously
(scarily?!) feline as Langridge. Similarly,
he turns But that night on my bed
I lay into a terrifying nightmare
of a song, with a petrifying, commanding,
powerful voice; listen to the way he
sings "September massacres"
- utterly brilliant. Yet the last words
of the song, which many other singers,
Ainsley included, sing, and some half-speak,
half sing (Thompson, for example), Langridge
has the courage to half-cry, half-wail
out – "Sleep no more!", in
a devastatingly shocking, paralysing
and intensely stunning yet steely version.
Langridge continues
to emphasise the other-worldly element
of the work in She sleeps on soft,
last breaths, accentuating the dissonances
and incorporating excellent word-painting
(for example, on "Not afraid of
their footfall"), with a harsh,
black tone, where other singers are
more delicate and lyrical. This overtone
of menace and threat continues in What
is more gentle than a wind in summer,
which is possibly a little too heavy
and dark and has a slightly inappropriately
sinister air, exaggerated by Langridge’s
slow pace. Ainsley and Thompson, meanwhile,
are more buoyant, romantic and poetic,
and transform it into a far more pleasant
song, without any ominous overtones.
As a general rule,
Langridge takes these song cycles a
fair bit faster than the others, therefore
giving the works greater drive and clout.
His voice is less silky-smooth than
Ainsley’s and Thompson’s, and actually
suits these works better, to my mind,
than theirs. Whilst Ainsley brings beauty
of tone and Thompson fantastic enunciation,
Langridge endues the pieces with greater
power and is more shocking, chilling,
moving and menacing than the others.
One may not always agree with his interpretation
of the music, and sometimes his experimental
touches can seem a little out of place
(the opening of Pastoral, for instance,
or the strange emphasis on the word
"candle" in "candle-light"
in the Serenade’s Dirge), but he constantly
fascinates, challenges and excites interest.
His performances are never boring but
always interpret the work in a fresh
and original way, opening it to re-evaluation.
The orchestras in all three recordings
are first-rate and offer sympathetic
and beautifully played accompaniment,
although the orchestra is more prominent
in the Lloyd-Jones’ Naxos version (possibly
slightly too much so).
I have concentrated
on comparing these two song cycles to
the Ainsley and Thompson ones as I felt
that these offered the stiffest competition
of all modern recordings, but there
are other recordings that have much
to commend them, including, not least,
Britten himself and Pears on Decca London
and on Pearl (wonderful!), Tear and
Marriner on EMI (Serenade only), Anthony
Rolfe Johnson and Bryden Thomson on
Chandos (Serenade only) and Prégardien
and Vanska on BIS. Bostridge can be
found singing the Serenade on EMI, and
Martyn Hill with Hickox on The Classics.
Britten’s atmospheric
and brilliant "dramatic cantata"
Phaedra – his last major
vocal work – concludes the disc, with
Ann Murray as the tragic heroine. The
words are taken from Robert Lowell’s
verse translation of Racine’s ‘Phèdre’,
rather than Euripides’ ‘Hippolytus’.
Ann Murray has a pleasingly bright voice,
clear and mature. She sings this part
very well, giving it great characterisation
(listen to the word "murderer",
sung so full of venom and hatred). Rough
and harsh in places, she acts a fittingly
wild and impassioned Phaedra.
Yet there is one outstanding
rival for this Bedford/Murray version,
and that is Lorraine Hunt Lieberson
on Elatus, with the Hallé Orchestra
conducted by Kent Nagano. Lieberson’s
sound is clearer and more immediate
than Murray’s, her voice fuller and
more mature. Lieberson is more weighed
down by misery and so, for example,
says "murderer" with heavy,
oppressed grief, rather than the bitter
malice of Murray. Again her "Fool,
I love you" is a whispered, personal
anguished muttering as opposed to the
more emotional outbursts of Murray.
These more introspective and personal
soliloquies, I feel, are closer to the
spirit of the piece, and Lieberson’s
heavier, more mature voice and more
depressed touch seems to suit the work
better than Murray’s shriller, lighter
and wilder air. Towards the end of the
work it is Lieberson who captures the
dramatic tension most successfully in
the lines "I’ve chosen a slower
way to end my life - Medea’s poison;
chills already dart along my boiling
veins and squeeze my heart", in
a version that is more moving, intense
and passionate than Murray’s much colder,
more sinister rendition. Again, Lieberson’s
"I stand alone and seem to see
my outraged husband fade and waver"
is remarkably poignant, atmospheric
and affecting. The sound of the Hallé
is far more sheer under Nagano’s baton
than the ECO under Bedford. So while
I would personally opt for Lieberson
and Nagano, this Murray version is a
perfectly excellent alternative – as
is Janet Baker, also with Steuart Bedford,
on London (with The Rape of Lucretia).
It is rather curious
to programme the Serenade and
Nocturne with Phaedra rather
than Les Illuminations, but I
am delighted that this less-well known
work gets a look-in here. While all
these works are available in other versions,
some of which could be argued to be
at least marginally better, but certainly
very different from these, this is overall
a superlative disc, with flawless and
very characterful performances, and
one that cannot recommend highly enough.
Em Marshall
Philip Langridge, (tenor); Ann Murray (mezzo);
Frank Lloyd (horn). 
