Richard Wagner it was who in his own music sought to make the distinction between opera and what he called "music-drama." Opera was Verdi and those other florid Italians; but music-drama adhered strictly to a text, translating and absorbing it into music.

Other composers since Wagner have sought to construct a similar classification. Although Ralph Vaughan Williams' Riders to the Sea is undoubtedly a music drama in the Wagnerian sense, it probably derives more directly from Mussorgsky or Debussy (whose Pelleas et Melisande it most closely resembles).

If Wagner's operas are characterized by unendliche Melodie, Vaughan Williams' piece was written in unendliches Rezitativ-- and the closest thing to a leitmotiv is the broken and falling voice of the sea itself. The lines follow the natural intonations of the human voice as closely as possible, breaking only at rare intervals into a supple and more melodic arietta. The orchestration, furthermore, is designed only to emphasize the emotions of the speakers (the violins quaver in apprehension, the oboe sonorously heightens the women's grief).

The value of such a music-drama is therefore dependent to a very large extent on the text used. And while Purcell or Mozart could always easily transcend or merely ignore their libretti, Vaughan Williams' Riders can be, ultimately, little better than the J.M. Synge play from which it was adapted. And that play, unfortunately, is not a very good one.

Synge's work is a tragedy in undertones; and Vaughan Williams has effectively captured the stark and broken tones of the mutterings of Synge's Irish peasants. But the peasants themselves are not intrinsically interesting. Maurya, the matriarchal mother, has lost a husband and five sons to the sea before the play begins; during it she loses the sixth--he rides the family mare into the sea--and is left, stoically resigned to life, with two unmarried daughters. ("They are all gone now, and there isn't anything more the sea can do to me. We must be satisfied.") And that's all there is to it: quiet, somber, and rather dull. Only at the end, when Maurya finds herself released from the oppression of the sea, does either the play or the opera seem particularly compelling or particularly real.

But if the opera itself is not noteworthy, the performance it received last night quite definitely was. To the part of Maurya, Elisabeth Sheerin brought a warm if rigidly controlled voice that infused the rather stagy bereavement of the mother with true tragic grief. Perhaps Miss Sheerin's voice was not always big enough to dominate the small but remarkably loud accompanying orchestra, but what could be heard of it was most beautiful indeed.

As Bartley, the sixth son, Ray Fenelle was properly head-strong and manly; but his virility often impaired his intonation, and some of the phrasing was forced and unconvincing. Joanna Bartlett '63 and Barbara Katz, as the daughters, sang with clean tone and general competence; their acting was less admirable: despite the efforts of director David S. Cole '63, the daughters (and, indeed, mother and son) often looked lost and forlorn on an empty stage.

Conductor Ronald C. Perera '63 was also impressive, and whenever he could subdue his orchestra (which suffered from ragged attacks and generally fuzzy intonation) he was able to achieve a quiet and quite unself-conscious sound from singers and accompanists alike.

An unworthy opera, perhaps. But the performance is very good, and as such Riders becomes indeed a worthy companion piece to Man of Destiny. Go to the Shaw, of course; but stay for the Vaughan Williams. It's more than worth the effort.

"Peer Gynt," which opened last night at the Loeb Drama Center, will be reviewed tomorrow.