A flawless orchestra - and a singer in lingerie
Michael White at Glyndebourne
30 May 2008

If there was ever an opera where the wicked triumph and the good get kicked in the teeth it's Monteverdi's L'incoronazione di Poppea which Glyndebourne has chosen to launch its 2008 season - largely as a vehicle for the slinky, siren-like Danielle de Niese, who takes the title role and does it with no great call on the ingenuity of a costume designer since she scarcely appears in anything but her underwear.

De Niese, you may recall, is the 28-year-old American sensation (no other word quite fits) who emerged from nowhere to steal the show as Cleopatra in Glyndebourne's 2005 Giulio Cesare. And in the current world of lyric femmes fatales she is a clear front-runner: slightly brassy but a brilliant and alluring singer/actress perfect for the ruthless sexual ambition of Poppea who, in the course of this opera, overcomes all obstacles to seduce the Roman Emperor Nero and make herself his queen.

But Robert Carsen, the stage director, has taken some effort to flesh out her character from the one-dimensionality of cartoon evil. In a stylish show that, as usual with Carsen, deals in chic subversion, the discreet thuggery of Nero's Rome is relocated to the power politics of the mid-20th century, with everyone in dark suits and classic Kennedy-clan frocks (or, in the case of Ms de Niese, lingerie).

An intensely brooding atmosphere is conjured out of little more than heavy lighting and an awful lot of blood-red curtains, which perhaps convey regality but also indicate the sort of well-heeled nightclub where you'd find the Kray twins standing drinks for members of the House of Lords.

And there's a sense that, in this sewer of unpleasantness, Poppea is no more than a small-time opportunist getting out her depth and into something that will be her own downfall - which was actually the case historically (Nero had her killed), and was signalled here by leaving her alone on stage after the great final duet, Pur ti miro, wrapped in some of that red curtain and looking terrified.

For all her efforts, though, de Niese didn't quite steal the show this time. The star here was the period band - members of the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment who, under the immaculate direction of Emmanuelle Haim, delivered flawless playing from start to finish.

Meanwhile, vocal laurels went to Alice Coote, who looked bizarrely genderless as Nero (a castrato role) but sang with stunning definition and projection. And though most of the supporting voices were too thin to be pleasing (this was Monteverdi extra-lite), there was a wonderfully full-value cameo from Lucia Cirillo as the otherwise irritating Valleto. A career to watch.

From the small numbers that turned out to support the London Festival of Contemporary Church Music, held this year as for the past six in the Greek revival temple of St Pancras, Euston Road, it's fair to assume that this niche of a niche-sector interest isn't of much concern to most of us - and the fearful combination of the words "contemporary" and "church" a guarantee of death at the box office.

But for its sheer determination not to let church music slip into the lost cause of museum culture, this heroic little festival deserves acknowledgement. And, dare one say so, enough funding to promote itself more forcefully.

Through a densely packaged week of choral concerts, organ recitals and (to prove its practical objectives) music-loaded services, it showcased endless treasures of new repertory - sometimes arcane like Bayan Northcott's austere Marian Motets that turned up in a concert by the glorious Gothic Voices, sometimes bold and forthright like the music of Diana Burrell, who got a 60th birthday portrait concert from the impressively professional resident choir at St Pancras and was one of a healthy number of women composers featured overall, including Cecilia MacDowall whose Canterbury Mass closed the week.

Moral: there are composers out there writing for the Church, and they're not all John Rutter (blessed be) nor even James Macmillan or John Tavener, but an encouragingly wide cross-section of the creative community who are far from marginal figures, who command airtime, dates in major venues and column inches. And their church music ought to be pulling audiences - as well as generating some consideration of the virtues of real music in worship as opposed to the maudlin, sing-a-long-a dross most parishes provide these days.

Let's hope that next year, with more obvious support from Catholics, this largely Anglican venture manages to fill more of its seats.