Gustav Holst as seen in Dalston

Gustav Holst is still an undervalued contributor to English classical music. The Planets remains, quite rightly, one of the 20th century's most popular scores, strongly descriptive and illustrative of how it was possible to incorporate English flavoured folk tunes and some of Stravinsky's more acerbic approaches to harmony and orchestration.

Yet many of Holst's orchestral and vocal works languish relatively unheard, despite a rich discography that includes special performances from the likes of Benjamin Britten, Sir Adrian Boult, Yehudi Menuhin and Richard Hickox. Some of these have been made available again on the Eloquence label, which I shall be covering on this site shortly, and there is a fine documentary now available from Tony Palmer, which was broadcast on BBC4 in April and now available on DVD.

Now Grimeborn, the enterprising two-week chamber opera festival, should be applauded for bringing two of Holst's intriguing small scale stage works in from the sidelines. The charming Arcola Theatre in Dalston proved an ideal sized venue on Saturday night for performances of Savitri and The Wandering Scholar, with Daisy Evans' direction making the most of a space incorporating its audience on three of the four sides, the stage in the middle, in front of the small orchestra pit.

The first half brought us the story of one of Holst's unusual Sanskrit-themed works. This is the Hindu legend from the Mahabharata, where Savitri, the widow of Satyavan, appeals to Yama, the lord of death, for his return. The opera is meant to be performed outside, but here in the early evening the light was just right for Evans to successfully evoke that feeling.

Savitri lasts half an hour and is a taut, deeply felt utterance, the music tense throughout. The plot itself was not always easy to follow in this performance, with some words missed as the singers had to turn around on stage, but the emotion was clearly there from Jenny Stafford's pleas in the title role. Edward Ballard as Death was impressive, too, starting the opera with a folk-inflected melodic line that reminded us just how well Holst could write for unaccompanied voice, while Alex Berman had the measure of the ill-fated Satyavan. The chorus sang in a style predating the wordless music at the end of Neptune in The Planets.

The music was striking throughout, in fact, with Holst choosing a chamber orchestra of 16 to accompany his three vocalists. The instrumental colours were beautifully realised, especially the lean single double bass line that gave a feeling of foreboding whenever it was left on its own, and some of the more graceful wind writing up top was well played too by the members of The Little Opera Company. All three vocalists were fine, and Stafford's closing vocalise mirrored Death's opening, giving an essential bit of hope at the end of a pretty dark story. Colourful costumes helped lighten the mood, too, and Evans' use of two expressive sprites hanging on Death’s every word lent a ghoulish edge.

This proved chalk to the cheese of the second half, which was The Wandering Scholar, Holst's last stage work from 1932 and as English as they come. Here was a precursor to the Carry On films, in the shape of a full figured soprano (Stafford, again) gamely fighting off the affections of a lecherous priest (insert) while the Wandering Scholar himself, an open-faced Nick Scott, gradually took centre stage as he revealed the couple’s supposed misdemeanours. There was a lot of slapstick humour here, and Evans did a great job updating the story for the present day. The dog, hilariously played by (insert), read an edition of Nuts while waiting for the opera to start, scratching himself where he shouldn't, while Stafford, having hidden various props in the audience at the sudden appearance of her husband, commendably kept a straight face as he, Louis (Edward Ballard) hilariously tried to get them back.

Again the music was colourful, vulgar at times, and Imogen Holst's observation that the priest in her father’s opera 'would be short and clammy, would roll gently from side to side as he walks, and that there will be grease stains on his cassock' was totally borne out by the excellent (insert). The tunes were good, the script funny, and, as in the first half, there was next to no musical padding, another observation on the part of Imogen of her father’s ability to keep his music straight and to the point.

A thoroughly invigorating evening, then, with a nicely paired double bill that showed off the talents of those on stage, as well as the ability of Holst to write with flair and originality. Chamber opera established itself in the 20th century, and Holst was certainly one of its first exponents.