Grimeborn experience

Exactly ten years ago I visited Battersea Arts Centre to see eight short operas performed by Tête à Tête.

Exactly ten years ago I visited Battersea Arts Centre to see eight short operas performed by Tête à Tête. It was a memorable evening, and showed what a good idea it is to encourage young composers to write quarter-hour-long pieces, instead of making a whole evening of their first attempt at opera. Inevitably, of course, there is a workshop aspect to these occasions, and anyone who feels understandably suspicious of workshops is likely to give them a wide berth — and thereby to miss a good deal of hit-and-miss pleasure. There is also, and increasingly since New Labour has tightened its tyrannical, repressive, soulless and mindless grip on the nation’s cultural life, a sense of boxes to be ticked, if these events are to receive any kind of public support or funding. How does it rate for ethnic diversity? Any meaty roles for the differently abled? Any awareness, in this most elitist of art forms, that popular culture must be incorporated somehow, or at the very least grovellingly acknowledged?

Tête à Tête itself, though its artistic achievements have been intermittent, has had a largely successful decade, the climax being, for me, the full-length opera Push!, the chronicle of a day in the life of a maternity ward, set to often brilliantly apposite music, and performed with vocal and histrionic virtuosity. Now, at the Arcola Theatre, a reclaimed factory, needless to say, just off Kingsland High Street in Dalston, a comparable but independent festival of contemporary opera — Grimeborn — has been set up. Midway through there was a single performance of Aaron Copland’s The Tender Land, which I haven’t heard since its disastrous European première in Cambridge in 1962, but at the last moment I wasn’t able to see it; instead I saw two evenings of brand-new operas, staged by companies of which I hadn’t previously heard.