As a teenage guitarist, my first inkling of modern music came when I bought an LP titled "20th Century Guitar". This hinted at something beyond pop music and old Spanish pieces. But I wasn't prepared for the shock of "serious" music. Who were these people — Frank Martin, Hans Werner Henze, Reginald Smith Brindle? It took a long time to become accustomed to them. But Britten's Nocturnal quickly made its way into my heart, with its clear logic and its interesting departures from tonality. I still believe today that it is, as Julian Bream said on the LP sleeve, the greatest guitar piece ever written.
Singing in choirs, I encountered other delights by Britten: A Ceremony of Carols, A Boy Was Born, A Hymn to the Virgin. Less to my liking was Les Illuminations which I heard sung by an awful professor. I started to form ambivalent ideas about Britten. There were vague stories about his twisted father, his fearsome temper, the frustrations of Imogen Holst who wanted his affection, his escape from Britain during the war, the Queen's dislike of the music he wrote for her …
Neil Powell's book corrects all these notions, some of which are simply wrong. Claiming not to be a "real" musician, Powell offers insights gleaned from letters, conversations, and especially Britten's diaries. His approach is more that of a psychologist than of a professional musician. He reads into the diaries and letters meanings which I may well have missed — me being neither English nor homosexual.
I find it hard to agree with some of his findings. He feels that the people of Aldeburgh may well have felt insulted when Britten said their town had "charm". Brits seem to detest ideas like "charm" and "pretty" and "clever". But Powell is quite willing to accept the charm, indeed the unbearable cuteness, of Saint Nicolas, and the fawning letters between Britten, Pears, and some of their friends. "My darling", "I love you, I love you, I love you" … if this is OK between two men, then why is it not OK to say a town has charm?
Powell avoids criticizing even Britten's weakest pieces. He admits that Ethel and Frank Bridge found the Piano Concerto to be awful (and I agree with them) but Powell himself won't say any such thing. Only at the end of the book does he admit to a lack of enthusiasm for one set of Britten's pieces, the church parables. Clearly, he wants to present Britten in a good light.
Britten himself, in accepting the Freedom of the Borough of Lowestoft, said that artists "have an extra sensitivity — a skin less, perhaps, than other people". Powell thoughtfully brings this concept to bear on various aspects of Britten's character, including his defensiveness and temper as well as his brilliant sonic imagination and amazing artistry at the piano.
In the end, Powell has made me want to hear several Britten pieces that I didn't know. I thank him.