A Radio 3 Memory: Discovering Alwyn’s Miss Julie

I can still vividly remember looking forward to the evening of 16 July 1977. It was the day defined by a specific broadcast on BBC Radio 3: the premiere of William Alwyn’s opera, Miss Julie. At the time, I was less certain of my critical standing on the work, though I distinctly recall that certain melodic fragments appealed to my sensibilities. Looking back, I suspect the intricacies of the plot may have passed me by; opera, with its heavy symbolism and demanding narratives, has never been my strongest suit.

Despite my uncertainty, the event felt significant enough that I captured the broadcast on my old cassette recorder. To this day, those tapes remain in my possession - relics of a major event in Alwyn’s musical career. Curiously, however, I have never revisited them. Even when the definitive recording arrived on CD (Lyrita SRCD2218, 1992), it somehow failed to find a permanent home in my collection, leaving my memory of the music suspended in that summer of '77.

Composed between 1973 and 1976, Miss Julie represents Alwyn’s engagement with the raw, naturalist drama of the Swedish playwright August Strindberg. The work was not finally staged in the United Kingdom until 15 October 1997 at Norwich.

To understand the gravity of the music, one must look to the narrative. Andrew Knowles has provided an excellent précis that bears repeating: it concerns "the spoilt, rich daughter of a Count who falls under the spell of the manservant Jean. The latter plays with Miss Julie’s affections and seduces her, then rejects her and finally tempts her into suicide as the only way of escape from her shame."

It is a harrowing psychological study. When compared to the bright, satirical world of Gilbert and Sullivan - which back in the day I much preferred (and still do) - Miss Julie is a dark descent into class conflict and despair. It is hardly the sort of "happy tale" one puts on to the turntable to cheer the spirits, which explains why the full production has remained at arm's length for me for so many years.

The story of this music took an interesting turn in 2000, when Philip Lane was commissioned by the composer’s widow, Mary Alwyn (Doreen Carwithen), to adapt suitable sections of the opera into a standalone orchestral suite. This transition from stage to concert hall raises an interesting question regarding the raison-d’être of the operatic suite. Is its primary purpose merely to condense the "good bits" into a manageable chunk for the concert hall? Perhaps by removing the vocal lines, the "shame" and "despair" are abstracted into musical tension and release.

We see this tradition across the repertoire, from the vibrant sequences of Bizet’s Carmen to the more complex suites derived from Tippett’s The Midsummer Marriage or Britten’s Death in Venice. I find myself ambivalent about the form. A purist might argue that if you want the music, you should commit to the full production, complete with the libretto and staging. Yet, there is a counterargument to be made for accessibility: the suite allows for a concise exploration of Alwyn’s excellent scoring without the emotional "burden" of the tragic plot or the linguistic demands of the singing.

This Suite provides the listener with a transformative experience. By stripping away the harrowing specifics of Strindberg’s drama, the music is allowed to stand "absolutely." What remains is a collection of very impressive, often deeply romantic sequences that highlight Alwyn’s late-period mastery. In this format, the listener can appreciate the lush textures and harmonic depth of the score as a pure symphonic expression, unburdened by the tragic fate of the Count’s daughter. It turns a dark theatrical experience into a luminous orchestral journey.

Listen to the three movement Miss Julie Suite conducted by David Lloyd-Jones with the Liverpool Philharmonic  (Naxos 8.570705, 2010) on YouTube, here – 1. Allegro - Valse tempo - Moderato (Tempo di polka); 2. Andante sostenuto (poco adagio) ; 3. Lento - Allegro non troppo – Molto Moderato