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Why Britten's St Nicolas had me reaching for a handkerchief in Smith Square

I don't regard myself as more than averagely sentimental and there isn't too much music that reduces me to tears. But a moment in Britten's St Nicolas does it with press-button certainty, when the pickled boys come back to life and sing their Alleluias. And as usual it had me passing off my snuffles as [...]
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