Towards the end of 1984, when Michael Tippett was about to celebrate his 80th birthday, I wrote in an essay that a new theatrical work was suddenly and unexpectedly in progress: ‘Early rumours of the presence in the scenario of a giant panda and a flying saucer are a tantalising glimpse of another Tippettian world in the making.’ The poor panda didn’t make the final cut but the saucer plays a pivotal role in what became the composer’s fifth and final opera, New Year. It took four years to complete the project, between 1985 and 1988, and premiere productions were seen in Houston, Glyndebourne and on BBC television in 1989, 1990 and 1991 respectively. A planned recording then fell through and the opera wasn’t seen or heard again until 2024, and that is where this venture flies in miraculously.

Thanks to the BBC and NMC, Tippett’s operatic swansong can finally be heard exactly as he would have wished. In it, two worlds collide – the reality of today as an urban dystopia and a fantasy projection of tomorrow travelling from space. The interaction concerns an innocent young girl from Somewhere and a beautiful ‘coal-haired stranger’ from Nowhere: here are Jo Ann and Pelegrin, heroine and hero. Also involved are Jo Ann’s delinquent brother Donny and the flying saucer’s imperious mistress Regan: their furious confrontation leads to the climactic riot that occurs at the arrival of New Year itself. Patrolling home is foster-mother ‘voice of reason’ Nan, and mastermind of space is ‘magician’ Merlin. There are traits here from all four of Tippett’s previous operas as well as A Child of Our Time and The Mask of Time, and these diverse elements – both of text and music – are synthesised to create a work at once entirely characteristic and inimitably idiosyncratic.

This Scottish-based performance (plus the expert BBC Singers) has no weak links of any kind and is superbly sung and played under the cast-iron guidance of Martyn Brabbins in Glasgow’s City Halls. With such a kaleidoscopic score to capture – in instrumental, vocal and electronic terms – the very feat of recording all its multifarious layers so transparently is triumphantly achieved by producer Andrew Keener and engineer Dave Rowell. Most missed from the various premiere casts is the Welsh soprano Helen Field as Jo Ann, so to find her compatriot Rhian Lois assuming the role with such conviction and radiant compassion is a particular joy. Susan Bickley is a warm and sympathetic Nan, Rachel Nicholls a dazzling and steely Regan and the three men shine magnificently, too. Outstanding also is Alan Oke as the Presenter, effectively Tippett’s own voice, who elucidates the action and its meaning. If I had stars to award, I would give all five in glowing gold!