Britten's 'complete' folk-song arrangements came out not long ago on Hyperion, with Malcolm Martineau as pianist and the excellent Lorna Anderson with Regina Nathan and Jamie MacDougall as singers. It was an attractive boxed-set and those who bought it probably thought that they had at least one area in their collection which was complete and need not be reconsidered. Now comes another set, with three CDs, not just two. So the questions run: ''What is the extra material?'', ''How good is it?'' and (if the answer to that is not conclusive) ''How do the performances compare?''Eight unpublished settings for solo or duet, one for choir and tenor and one unidentified folk-song setting plus 14 of the published songs rearranged for voice and orchestra: that is the tally. Additions to the voice-and-piano repertoire include Greensleeves (harmonies characteristically unsettling, the pianist's right hand providing a melodic and rhythmic counterpoint) and The Crocodile (song of a sailor who spins a yarn for landsmen gullible enough to swallow the 500-mile length of croc with attendant wonders). I wonder as I wander, a favourite encore in Pears's concerts, is here on record for the first time, according to Philip Reed's notes, as (unknown to Britten at the time) the tune and words were under copyright, the owners now having given consent for inclusion. These and two light-hearted duets all give pleasure, though perhaps not so acute as to make the purchase imperative. More unexpected, perhaps, is the setting which goes under the title of The Stream in the Valley and which turns out to be Da unten im Tale, best known today in the arrangement by Brahms. In this Britten introduces to very lovely effect a part for cello, which is then heard in a mystery-item mentioned above. A manuscript exists in Britten's hand, writing out a melody with simple piano accompaniment and no indication of text. It is included, says the note, ''in the hope that someone will be able to identify this very beautiful folk song''.
Interest, then, begins to add up. The orchestrations may not add much more, though it is interesting to find that the remoteness of tonality in Fileuse and to some extent Eho (Vol. 2) seems increased. The choral settings are fun (perhaps more than that), and the great discovery among them is the unfinished, comparatively large-scale arrangement of The Bitter Withy, a fascinating piece and apparently going so well that it is astonishing to find Britten putting it aside and never returning to it.
Frankly, I'm not quite sure whether the additional material should 'compel' those who already have the Hyperion set to replace it with this for the sake of completeness. Certainly for first-time buyers this is the one to have. As to the performances, much in a Britten collection of this kind depends on the tenor, and Philip Langridge quickly establishes himself as a worthy successor to Pears, a singer of intelligence and bold, distinctive character. In most of the volumes he shares with Felicity Lott, who is comparably sensitive to modulations and underlying feeling (an urgency of yearning in the tone, for instance, in Il est quelqu'un sur terre and the last verse of O Waly, Waly). Thomas Allen makes only a brief appearance, but it is good to hear his warm tone and fine legato in the version of The Sally Gardens with strings. Fine playing by Osian Ellis and the guitarist Carlos Bonell and a strong contribution from the Wenhaston Boys' Choir are further attractions. The booklet is also more than adequate, with excellent documentation by Philip Reed and an observant essay, just slightly hectoring in tone, by Donald Mitchell. Having left Graham Johnson till last, I shall compound the offence and save him up for the Purcell.
This may pose a small problem for the Catalogue Editor. Does it go under Britten or Purcell? Or both? The emphasis in presentation is on Britten, naturally so since it is Britten's realizations that are being performed. Also to a larger extent than usual, the reader's attention is focused upon the Brittenic element: we buy the set so as to acquire a collection of Britten's realizations and we listen to it with an interest in correlating our experience of each so as to form a better understanding and estimate of the whole. It is a small but important part of Britten's work that is under survey; yet Purcell is the composer.
That is only one of the paradoxes. Another is that Britten's individuality is so distinctive that everything he touches bears his imprint, which here draws attention through the restraint he exercises in its usage. The points at which Britten's treatment transforms the material (or our perception of it), as happens constantly in the folk-song arrangements, are surprisingly few (probably most frequent and notable in the Five Songs of 1960); yet precisely because the individuality works within so admirable a discipline we listen with all the more concentration upon that aspect of the matter, so as to seek it out. Moreover, the performances here respond to Britten's restraint and work by a corresponding subtlety of means. So there is nothing conspicuously coy in the performance of the more 'wanton' pieces (in the duet Celemene for instance), nothing too insistent on darkening or souring the singing tone in the songs of torment (such as Job's Curse); and the madness of Mad Bess is not a willed tour de force but a normality that makes more alarming the sudden irrational jump (''Did you not see my lover as he past by you?'') and all the more moving the quietness of its desolation (''Cold and hungry am I grown'') instantly suppressed by the quietly demented consolation of ''Ambrosia will I feed upon''.
Sarah Walker gives a finely moderated performance of this, and indeed all the singers appear to work in the same spirit. As in the folk-songs, Felicity Lott is an unfailing source of strength, particularly lovely in Sweeter than Roses. The two singers relatively new to our recording lists, Susan Gritton and Ian Bostridge, both sing with character, and Bostridge fully justifies himself as the choice for The Queen's Epicedium. Most impressive of all is Simon Keenlyside in Let the dreadful engines of eternal will, longest of the solos and the last. And Graham Johnson's time has come round at last. His playing in the folk-songs was fine, so that one almost took it for granted – the strength and the delicacy, the appreciation of wit as well as sensitivity to the unease that runs through so many like ''the invisible worm that flies in the night''. In the Purcell, his touch, not unlike Britten's own, makes musical sense of points that in other hands can seem no more than quirky – Music for a while, for example, can seem austere to the point of grimness in this realization, but here tempo and touch find a far more fitting character in it.
Both sets are well recorded, the Collins engineers skilfully 'aligning' the acoustics of their five different locations. For once, Hyperion's documentation leaves something to be desired: we want to know more about the origins of individual items and (for instance) the names of the authors of the texts. Much more important, however: both sets are major contributions to the collector's library, valuable for their completeness, rich in the beauty and interest of their contents. '