The charms of Folkestone are equivocal. But one small corner of the town is worth the 50-minute train from St Pancras: tranquil, picturesque, with sea views and an ancient church part-dedicated to St Eanswythe (new to me, but she apparently created the first English convent). The Sacconi Quartet run a festival here. It’s engagingly well programmed and a showcase for the virtues of a group who rank among the best in British chamber music. Others may be stronger technically, but the Sacconis have a warmth and passion that wins hearts. And so it was, in Mendelssohn’s F Minor Quartet on the opening night: a turbulently dark score which, for all the dangers of regarding music as biography, reflects the desolation that the composer felt after his sister’s death – not long before his own from the same cause: a stroke. It was a different sort of desolation, though, that drew me to Folkestone: a new song cycle for voice and string quartet composed by Jonathan Dove, to texts by the Syrian poet Ali Safar that declared with cool, spare, dignity the wretchedness of living in a war zone. Titled In Damascus, it had irresistible emotional appeal. And musically there was a lot to like: Dove writes with easy, open lyricism, honest feeling and a way with words – all qualities that the Sacconis and their tenor soloist Mark Padmore made the most of. But, as ever, Dove composes like a Glyndebourne picnicker who shops at Marks & Spencer. There’s a style and elegance but it’s pre-packed: out come tidy bites of Britten and Broadway with a minimalist dressing. As ingredients go they’re fine. But, you wonder, is this his own voice? It’s not obvious. The Royal Opera House has had so many clumsy homegrown shows of late that it’s a joy to see a new production working well and looking fabulous – as is the case with George Enescu’s Oedipe: an extraordinary, almost unknown opera by a major talent of the early 20th century. But then Oedipe (French for Oedipus) isn’t a homegrown show: it’s been imported wholesale out of Brussels where the same production team (from theatre collective La Fura dels Baus) and conductor (Leo Hussain) launched it five years ago. A sprawling score with slow-burn energy, it follows Oedipus’s life from birth to death in drama that combines humanity with ritual, and music that extends the fragile soundworld of Debussy’s Pélleas towards the Straussian modernism of Elektra. Parts of it, the last act in particular, are heart-stopping. And with a fine cast, led by Johann Botha in the title role and veteran bass John Tomlinson magnificently thunderous as Tiresias, it’s a must-see, must-hear. This is one forgotten opera that should never have been left to languish in obscurity.