These are ‘premieres’ not only in the sense of ‘first recordings’ (the Ceremony of Carols, the pieces for two pianos and the Soirees musicales) but also in the sense of ‘never reissued until now in any form’ (the Ceremony of Carols again, believe it or not, a performance of which Britten thought highly) and even ‘appearing on disc for the very first time’ (the soundtrack from Strand Films’ Way to the Sea, which few Britten enthusiasts can ever have heard).
The last of these is undoubtedly the most intriguing. During his early twenties Britten wrote vast quantities of incidental music (for theatre and radio as well as film) and from the few glimpses we have of it it seems obvious that it was the seed-bed of his later assurance as a dramatic composer. This particular film has the added interest of being one of his comparatively rare collaborations with W. H. Auden, whose text (not spoken by him) becomes more and more characteristic as it proceeds. At first Britten is required to provide only atmosphere and period detail, as the words give a rather breathless potted history of Portsmouth, leading to the triumphant climax of the electrification of the railway line to that port. But the later stages give him the opportunity for an ingeniously not-quite-pastoral waltz (with prominent saxophone) and an appropriately end-of-the-pier fairground jubilance. It is not important music, but fascinating period detail for railway enthusiasts as well as Britten’s admirers, I would have thought.
The Ceremony of Carols is no less interesting, as evidence of the sort of sound Britten had in mind for his first work for boys’ voices: bright innocence, a readiness to sing out, a slight, touching hint of unsteadiness to one or two of the solos; not a trace of the ‘Anglican hoot’. The pieces for two pianos have always struck me as rather over-extended; they seem less so in these performances, where Britten and Curzon adroitly point up their variety (some shadow in the mostly robust Rondo, some gracious lyricism in the mournful Mazurka), though neither they nor the slightly harsh recording can hide their density of texture. A tiny, plucky orchestra clearly enjoys the Soiree musicales and the efficiently arranged Irish reel that was originally the title music for another film.
If Britten’s other film scores can be as efficiently transcribed from original soundtracks as Way to the Sea (there are noisy patches, but every word and note is crystal-clear), I hope that many more of them will be investigated. They were Britten’s creative laboratory at a crucial stage of his development, and even the slightest of them are of capital importance.'