Benjamin Britten (1913–1976)

This book offers further proof, if such is needed, that a book does not have to be weighty to give sustenance. This tome stretches to a whole twenty-three pages and was originally a speech, rather than prepared for the written page. It manages, however, to encapsulate the approach of Benjamin Britten to his work.

As I write this, the World is celebrating the centenary of Britten's birth and I, in a desperate attempt to be a little less ignorant than I currently am, have been listening to, and show more reading about our greatest local composer. Other people's opinions are to be respected and can tell one much about a person but, a few words from the heart of the person concerned will always provide the truest insight into the character.

Britten makes a fascinating point about recorded music and the ability to hear anything at any-time. He says that, whilst this may work as a memory of a great event, music is written with a certain auditorium in mind. A piece designed to be heard in a vast cathedral will not give up its full oeuvre in a small spare bedroom. This observation may still hold some truth but, with the advancement of high fidelity recording and play back equipment, I, along with many other impecunious music fans, would like to feel that it is of reduced significance.

By this stage in his career (1964), Britten had come through the early doubts and lack of direction. He had come back from America where, had the phrase been created, he might have suggested that he was trying to 'find himself', and was settling into his stride. These words were spoken at his acme. Although it is slightly tricky to acquire, this is well worth the read for anybody interested in music, and a must for any Britten fans. show less

There is some exquisite material in this, Britten's first opera, from an overstuffed libretto by W.H. Auden. The blues and jazz-inspired content, see especially the Quartet of the Defeated, and Tiny's opening aria, are clearly derivative of American styles, and almost naive by the standards of Britten's later complex operatic writing. But none of these are bad things in the moment.

My husband is the 20th century British Music maven. I don't get it. I see the dramatic possibilities in the story (as I do in Joseph Conrad's The Anarchist - someone really ought to make an opera out of that). I don't see what Ellen Orford sees in Grimes. She must be desperate.

Simon Rattle says that the War Requiem is one work of Britten that has attained popularity in countries other than Britain:

"I think it is an extraordinarily exportable piece--particularly the Owen settings which have a very far-reaching appeal. And after all, Wilfred Owen in translation is still one of the most popular English poets in many countries. Rather than dating, they have a quality which our peace-movement conscious age will grasp on to more tightly than ever. Of course the music show more has always divided opinion--you know about Stravinsky's attack on it in the year it was written. Anything that has that colossal impact is likely to excite that kind of controversy. But if the work still holds more problems for people than many of the other more Brittenish works of the same period, I think it's because they find it harder to get on with the parts which set the Mass rather than the Owen poems. But even then I find it hard to appreciate the difficulty, as the two constituents fuse so incredibly well together, blurring at the edges. Theatrically the piece is brilliant--as brilliantly organized as any of the operas". show less