On This Island (1937)
Benjamin Britten was a leading British composer of the 20th century, particularly known for his operas, choral works and songs. At the age of 15, he began to study under Frank Bridge, who was an influential mentor throughout Britten’s early career. Unlike his contemporaries, Britten’s work displays psychologically dense and idiosyncratic approaches, comparable to those of Leoš Janáček. His contribution to the world of music, not only as a composer, but as a pianist and conductor, achieved global success.
Britten and W. H. Auden met in the summer of 1935 and worked closely together until 1942. Auden's romantic attachment to Britten was clear, encouraging him to accept his homosexuality and dedicating to him two poems from his collection 'Look Stranger!' (1936). ‘On This Island’ sets five poems from this series, and was published in 1937, Britten’s first collection of songs with piano. These texts each paint very different scenes and there is little unity musically between the songs - although the inevitable passing of time is an idea woven through each. Britten was forever influenced by Auden, although distanced himself later in the 40s, as he had for too long been troubled by Auden's oppressively dominant nature.
The first piece, ‘Let the Florid Music Praise!’ encompasses two different states of mind. One proclaims love, whilst the other is anxious and foreboding: the euphoria of the first stanza cannot last as 'time' will inevitably strip us all of our beauty. Britten separates the stanzas into two musical sections, juxtaposing the emotions by creating a distinct atmosphere for each. ‘Now the leaves are Falling Fast’ is set to the poem called ‘Autumn Song’. It explores the certainty of death and the uneasiness associated with the passing of time. The song presents a dark tone, describing a season which leads into a bleak, hopeless future, rather than one of abundance. In the third song, the undulating lines and dynamic rhythms capture the beauty of the 'Seascape', illustrating the sea and its cliffs. The perpetual motion of the waves demonstrates the unrefined energy of nature. As the song ends, the music dies down so gradually into nothingness that it seems the scene is moving far into the distance, whilst never truly ceasing. ‘Nocturne’ is the simplest of the set musically, yet it is rich in profundity, as Auden explores his interest in human nature. The search for meaning in the mundane and the perspective on humanity in nocturnal settings are supported by intense and atmospheric harmony. This ballad was dedicated to Peter Burra, Britten's dear friend, whose tragic death led to the fortuitous meeting of Britten and his eventual partner Peter Pears. The poem 'As it is, plenty’ is based on a story about man having an affair with an music hall acrobat. Britten's cabaret-esque setting playfully mocks the middle-class businessman through dark humour and a jaunty, minimalist, accompaniment.
Poet: W. H. Auden (1907-1973)
1. Let the Florid Music Praise | 03:44
Let the florid music praise,
The flute and the trumpet,
Beauty’s conquest of your face:
In that land of flesh and bone,
Where from citadels on high
Her imperial standards fly,
Let the hot sun
Shine on, shine on.
O but the unlov’d have had power,
The weeping and striking,
Always; time will bring their hour:
Their secretive children walk
Through your vigilance of breath
To unpardonable death,
And my vows break
Before his look.
2. Now the leaves are falling fast | 02:05
Now the leaves are falling fast,
Nurse’s flowers will not last;
Nurses to the graves are gone,
And the prams go rolling on.
Whisp’ring neighbours, left and right,
Pluck us from the real delight;
And the active hands must freeze
Lonely on the sep’rate knees.
Dead in hundreds at the back
Follow wooden in our track,
Arms raised stiffly to reprove
In false attitudes of love.
Starving through the leafless wood
Trolls run scolding for their food;
And the nightingale is dumb,
And the angel will not come.
Cold, impossible, ahead
Lifts the mountain’s lovely head
Whose white waterfall could bless
Travellers in their last distress.
3. Seascape | 02:26
Look, stranger, at this island now
The leaping light for your delight discovers,
Stand stable here
And silent be,
That through the channels of the ear
May wander like a river
The swaying sound of the sea.
Here at the small field’s ending pause
Where the chalk wall falls to the foam, and its tall ledges
Oppose the pluck
And knock of the tide,
And the shingle scrambles after the sucking surf, and the gull lodges
A moment on its sheer side.
Far off like floating seeds the ships
Diverge on urgent voluntary errands;
And the full view
Indeed may enter
And move in memory as now these clouds do,
That pass the harbour mirror
And all the summer through the water saunter.
4. Nocturne | 04:39
Now through night’s caressing grip
Earth and all her oceans slip,
Capes of China slide away
From her fingers into day
And th’Americas incline
Coasts towards her shadow line.
Now the ragged vagrants creep
Into crooked holes to sleep:
Just and unjust, worst and best,
Change their places as they rest:
Awkward lovers lie in fields
Where disdainful beauty yields:
While the splendid and the proud
Naked stand before the crowd
And the losing gambler gains
And the beggar entertains:
May sleep’s healing power extend
Through these hours to our friend.
Unpursued by hostile force,
Traction engine, bull or horse
Or revolting succubus;
Calmly till the morning break
Let him lie, then gently wake.
5. As it is, plenty | 01:43
As it is, plenty;
As it’s admitted
The children happy
And the car, the car
That goes so far
And the wife devoted:
To this as it is,
To the work and the banks
Let his thinning hair
And his hauteur
Give thanks, give thanks.
All that was thought
As like as not, is not;
When nothing was enough
But love, but love
And the rough future
Of an intransigent nature
And the betraying smile,
Betraying, but a smile:
That that is not, is not;
Forget, forget, forget.
Let him not cease to praise
Then his spacious days;
Yes, and the success
Let him bless, let him bless:
Let him see in this
The profits larger
And the sins venal,
Lest he see as it is
The loss as major
And final, final.
Composer: Benjamin Britten (1913-1976)
14:37