It’s rare for a great musical work to be brought into being
as the direct result of a news story. That is, however, what
happened when Michael Tippett learned of the tragic events concerning
18 year-old Herschel Grynspan. This Jewish boy’s shooting of
a Nazi official in Paris in 1938 precipitated the horror that
became known as ‘Kristallnacht’ – the infamous ‘Night of Broken
Glass’, during which thousands of Jews were killed or injured,
their businesses wrecked, and the first decisive steps taken
by the Nazis towards the Holocaust.
Tippett fashioned the resulting oratorio with the greatest
care, seeking to avoid any suspicion of sensationalism, yet
wishing to drive home as powerfully as possible the message
behind the events. In this, he was remarkably successful, though
it has taken a long time for the work to find the true acceptance
that it enjoys today. As an early work by a late-developing
composer – for Tippett had none of the staggering facility of
the young Britten, for example – it was for many years viewed
with some condescension by admirers of Tippett’s later music.
On the other hand, music-lovers and amateur performing groups
still found it challenging and, in many ways, unapproachable.
The composer had hit upon a brilliant means of universalising
the emotions in the story, which was to use Negro Spirituals
– five of them in all – to clinch the emotional high-points
of the work. These perform much the same function as the chorales
in the Bach Passions, and provide a melodious relief to the
sometimes austere music that surrounds them. The Spiritual settings
have been published separately, arranged for unaccompanied SATB
chorus, and have become, understandably, enormously popular
with choirs that can rise to their challenges. Perhaps that
explains, in part, why the work finally seems to have settled
into the repertoire, even if to a limited degree.
It is, however, an uneven piece; there are some places where
the invention flags, and the choral writing is sometimes miscalculated.
Then there’s that libretto by the composer himself. In fact,
it mostly works surprisingly well, but it is sadly prone to
sudden plunges into befuddlement; “Winter cold means inner warmth”,
sings the bass (anyone for Ready Brek?), while shortly before
this, the alto soloist assures us that “The soul of man is impassioned
like a woman”, which, while you do kind of get what he means,
is a really clumsy image.
However, in a performance like this one, all of this matters
but little, for the composer’s direction gives the whole thing
the authentic ring of intense emotional involvement, which no-one
could possibly mistake. As it happens, I had recently been listening
to Colin Davis’s 1975 recording, which in comparison seems bloodless
and detached. Though the choral and orchestral contributions
are good, Davis’s soloists are a mixed bag; Janet Baker and
John Shirley-Quirk sing well enough, but a young Jessye Norman
is squally and undisciplined, and tenor Richard Cassilly is,
I’m afraid, just awful. Tippett’s quartet on the present CD
are really very fine; Faye Robinson’s soprano is emotionally
intense but always focused – compare her exquisite high Bb (marked
pp in the score), just before the choir enters with Steal
Away, with Norman’s outrageous swoop and belt, and
you’ll see what I mean!
Sarah Walker is on magnificent form, her firm lower register
giving a tragic and sometimes sinister edge to her words. Bass
John Cheek has a splendidly rich voice, with enough baritone
quality in it to lend warmth to his expressive phrases. Tenor
Jon Garrison is possibly the least impressive of the quartet
vocally, but he has the advantage of a very young sounding
voice, which gives the music associated with the central figure,
the “child of our time”, an added poignancy.
Choir and orchestra are more than adequate – the choral soprano
line is quite outstanding – though some of the orchestral detail
could do with greater projection. But the main force behind
this is the composer himself; despite his often discussed shortcomings
as a conductor, he knew exactly how he wanted this music to
go, and it has the burning commitment and emotional energy that
arise from having ‘lived’ these experiences at first hand. Any
listener who knows his Tippett will recognise these qualities
immediately, and even the very fine Hickox version doesn’t come
close to matching that essence.
By the way, one of the joys of this version was to hear the
composer as conductor placing this early music of his in the
overall context of his output. The springy rhythms leading to
the first tenor solo, for example, (track 6) could come straight
out of the Concerto for Double String Orchestra of a few years
earlier, while the alto solo of track 27 contains music that
looks forward unmistakably to the hieratic complexities of A
Midsummer Marriage, to follow some years later.
On the debit side, the tension is allowed to sag towards the
end of Part Two, after the great outpouring of anger that is
Go down, Moses, and there is frequent, though never serious,
untidiness of ensemble. We are probably still waiting for the
definitive Child of Our Time. Nonetheless, this recording
will never lose its rightful place in the discography of this
wonderful and deeply moving work. My thanks go to Naxos for
making it available once more, and for timing its release so
impeccably.
Gwyn
Parry-Jones
see also Review
by John Quinn
