Two of Tippett’s most lovable works, together with one of his,
for me at any rate, more problematic. Let me deal with the
problem first; the Songs for Dov are an off-shoot of
the opera The Knot Garden, first seen at Covent Garden
in 1970 – though paradoxically, the songs were heard before
the opera’s première. The character Dov is a gay black
American. His hedonism and cultural eclecticism dominate much
of the second act of the strange, convoluted drama that is The
Knot Garden.
The first and second songs begin with Dov’s dog-like baying
(“Bow-wow, bow-wow” read the songs’ titles helpfully), before
settling into the more angular, formalised vocal writing that
we normally associate with Tippett. These howling sounds inevitably
call to mind Maxwell Davies’ Eight Songs for a Mad King,
written at exactly the same time; but the likeness goes further
than animal sounds, for Tippett engages in just the same sort
of patchwork of stylistic references. The second song, for
example, moves from a pseudo-Classical trumpet solo, to hints
of Schubert’s “Kennst du das Land?” and Wagner’s Flying Dutchman
overture, as well as many other more obscure fleeting memories.
The third song, “I passed by their home”, culminates with what
seem bold statements, presented like headlines; “Talk their
talk and walk that walk”, “It don’t mean a thing if it aint
got that swing”, “The living language of our time is urban”
– this last one shouted aggressively by the singer, followed
by a brief burst of electric guitar. Indeed the whole of this
last song, as Meirion Bowen suggests in his booklet note, exudes
cynicism, disillusionment and alienation, concluding with a
bitter “Sure baby!”. These songs are certainly thought-provoking,
and very much ‘of their time’; it’s just that I don’t think
I like Tippett very much in this mood. It’s certainly an uncomfortable
experience, though I acknowledge that, in the long run, this
may be the side of his music that proves the most fruitful and
influential for succeeding generations of composers. Nigel
Robson copes manfully with the crippling demands of the tenor
part.
Well, a relief to turn to his less complicated – philosophically
at any rate – earlier music, with the lovely Concerto for
Double String Orchestra from the 1930s, and a work which
has claims to be his finest masterpiece, the Corelli Fantasia.
Both of these are well established in the repertoire of string
and chamber orchestras, and it is pleasing to have the composer’s
readings back in the catalogue. These are good performances,
though I have to say that they lack something. Tippett, though
he developed into a much more than competent conductor, was
never an outstanding one, and there is a certain stiffness to
the rhythms in the Concerto – Marriner and the Academy of St
Martin-in-the-Fields are surely far more convincing in the syncopations
of the first movement, as they are in the growing confidence
and excitement of the finale. Similarly, in the Fantasia,
though everything is in its place, the music lacks that
abundant sense of exultation that, once again, Marriner and
his players are able to bring to it.
A fine disc, though, and a spacious, clear recording from EMI,
even if the acoustic of Glasgow City Hall is perhaps a little
too boomy and impersonal for this intimate music. And it is
a great pity that there are no texts for the Songs for Dov.
Yes, they are in English, but Tippett’s vocal writing and
orchestration make it impossible to catch all the words. In
any case, the texts are so complex as to call for separate study
if one is to understand the complex images and allusions.
Gwyn
Parry-Jones
John Tunnell and Rosemary Ellison (violins), Kevin McCrae (‘cello),
