Even if Schoenberg’s song cycle Pierrot Lunaire is never going to feature on anyone’s Desert Island Discs, it stands as a work of rich and complex resonance shot through with all the neurotically introverted obsessions behind expressionism. Through Albert Giraud’s 21 opaque lyrics, scored atonally for a soprano who declaims rather than sings them, accompanied by seven instruments, it presents some sort of parable of the tormented artist adrift in a hostile world. Perhaps one can’t be charmed by the result, yet its power is undeniable: it grips even when it baffles and repels.

Perhaps one can’t be charmed, yet its power is undeniable: it grips even when it baffles and repels

Perhaps one can’t be charmed, yet its power is undeniable: it grips even when it baffles and repels

Glen Tetley’s ballet, dating from 1962 but still fresh and forceful, makes Pierrot Lunaire’s obscurities more palatable and approachable. Without making much attempt to illustrate visually the symbolist imagery of the........

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