Three decades after his death, the anniversary of which falls next week, Britten's reputation as an operatic composer soars higher than ever. Two works spanning the start and finish of his career were performed in London last week.

Phyllida Lloyd's staging of Peter Grimes, on tour after an acclaimed debut in Leeds, is a mix of abstract and naturalistic. In Anthony Ward's near black set, illuminated by alienating pinpoints of light, sea and shore are only hinted. Despite much in the way of netting and rigging, the landscape of Crabbe's Suffolk Borough is above all psychological.

Perhaps something has been lost on the road south; Sadler's Wells is never an easy theatre. While this was intelligent and musically assured, it did not transcend the sometimes over-contrived theatricality. Casting felt too ambitious and though well sung, and expertly conducted by Richard Farnes, the whole failed to engage. Where Britten gives us

the entire human and natural world in the famous orchestral interludes, we were distracted by mere marine illustration. Jeffrey Lloyd-Roberts plays Peter Grimes as a big bully who weeps as he takes his dead apprentice boy in his arms.

Any extra dimension of this complex figure remains hidden. The chorus, however, excelled, and their final accusing cries of "Peter Grimes" had the terrifying force of a hurricane.

Death In Venice/ Philharmonia
Queen Elizabeth Hall
*****

One of the great Grimes of our day has been Philip Langridge, who sang the elderly Aschenbach in a concert performance at Queen Elizabeth Hall of Death in Venice, completed in 1973 when Britten was already seriously ill.

This is surely the composer's most voluptuous score, its limpid orchestration glowing with an array of gamelan-inspired percussion, sensuous harp and piano and richly imaginative string writing, especially for violas and ever prominent double basses.

A superb Philharmonia orchestra and Voices gave an enthralling account, semi-staged with ideal clarity by Kenneth Richardson. Richard Hickox, conducting, has already recorded this elegiac work with Langridge and another definitive Britten intepreter, Alan Opie, here brilliantly transforming himself into Fop, Gondolier, Barber and those other walk-on characters who add to Aschenbach's tristesse.

William Towers gave a pure-voiced Apollo. Langridge's haunting performance was a miracle of vocal and dramatic variety, not to mention stamina. The capacity audience, which included a handful of Britten luminaries associated with the first performance, visibly moved, applauded long into the night. In a year which has had its share of operatic triumphs, this shines as a highlight.