Continuing their acclaimed live series on CORO, the Handel and Haydn Society presents one of Haydn’s early Sturm und Drang (storm and stress) symphonies – No. 26 in D minor. More commonly known as ‘Lamentatione’ because of its association with Easter week, Haydn incorporates an old plainsong chant of the Passion of Christ juxtaposing it against the furious opening theme. The later Paris Symphony No. 86, with its unusual "off-tonic" exposition, shows Haydn at his most inventive and expansive; richly scored it tests the performers’ skill and technique to the limit. Completing the programme is Mozart’s lively and vibrant Violin Concerto in G major performed by H+H’s inspirational Concertmaster, Aisslinn Nosky.

HANDEL Saul • Harry Christophers, cond; Christopher Purves (Saul); Sarah Connolly (David); Robert Murray (Jonathan) • CORO COR16103 (3 CDs: 162:39)

A number of decisions await the prospective purchaser of Saul. Leaving to one side for the moment the question of period instruments, perhaps the most interesting decision concerns the voice type for the role of David. In this disc Harry Christophers cites the scholarship of Anthony Hicks, who was convinced that the role was intended for Maria Antonia Marchesini, who had already sung successfully for Handel in Faramondo and Serse. It is her name, we are told, which is written in the autograph, notably alongside David’s “O fatal day.” But we also know that she didn’t sing at the premiere and a replacement, a man called Russell, was employed for the task. Whether or not he was a countertenor or a singing actor, and whether or not he did sing it transposed down, as suggested, we shall presumably never know. So, to some extent your choice for a set of Saul will depend on whether (or not) it matters to you if David is sung by a soprano, as here (Sarah Connolly) or by such as Andreas Scholl (for Paul McCreesh), Lawrence Zazzo for René Jacobs, or, further back, James Bowman for Charles Mackerras. Decisions will also relate to the orchestral fabric of the performance. From the start of this recording one can hear some luminaries of the period movement. Two of the most prominent and, indeed, audible are violinist and leader Walter Reiter and the first oboist Anthony Robson. They and their confreres in the orchestra provide bracing, sensitive, color-conscious contributions of the highest class. Notable amongst such moments is the beautiful harp playing of Frances Kelly in the Symphony at the heart of act I scene 6. In the triumphant and celebratory moments the band’s trumpeters offer punchy, rounded tone.

Harry Christophers takes excellent tempos, neither rushing his forces, nor lingering too elastically: His is a central reading, avoiding dogmatism and excess, remaining grounded in practicality and intelligibility. The music generates tension by virtue of its incremental unfolding of plot and theme, and Christophers serves it well. The central roles are those of David and Saul himself. Sarah Connolly is an outstanding David. Her “O Lord, whose mercies numberless” is a masterly example of legato expressiveness, and each of her recitatives is paced with a proper concern for textual significance. Christopher Purves’s Saul is packed with theatrical menace. He sings with frightening power, and connives with malicious spite. The trajectory of his rise and fall is plotted with quasi-Shakespearean relish, and he responds with the kind of venomous characterization that raises his stature still further. His voice is not as intrinsically attractive as that of, say, Donald McIntyre for Mackerras, but Purves make you believe him every inch the deranged king. I was fortunate enough to be at the Barbican in London when these forces performed Saul and I remember very clearly Sarah Connolly looking across at Purves—they were quite widely spaced on stage—with a thin, approving smile as he raged away.

The other parts are all characterfully taken. It’s difficult to make too much of the role of Jonathan but Robert Murray sings with straightforward nobility, and he’s clearly an astute musician. It’s important that the roles of the sisters Merab and Michal are sufficiently differentiated. Elizabeth Atherton takes the former, and Joélle Harvey the latter, and I would say that there is just enough to grant them a sense of independent characterization, though both come under just a touch of vocal pressure occasionally. Mark Dobell, the High Priest, is a member of The Sixteen, here expanded to 18, as is Jeremy Budd who sings the role of the Witch of Endor and does so, moreover, without any spurious effects, which is all to the good. The Sixteen sings superbly in the choruses, fluidly negotiating the counterpoint, withdrawing tone, when required, or belting it out—but retaining clarity—in the affirmatory choruses.

The recording was made in St. Augustine’s Church Kilburn, London, and is first-class in every respect. The booklet is sensibly laid out and the text is in good font size. I mentioned period-instrument performances earlier, and I would say that this recording is now the most recommendable of them all. It is more centrally recommendable than Harnoncourt (with Fischer-Dieskau, no less) and McCreesh (despite Scholl) because it lacks their occasional idiosyncrasies. The singing here is more incisive and memorable than the Jacobs on Harmonia Mundi. Purves, in particular, sings more vividly than Alastair Miles for John Eliot Gardiner on Philips. Each of the recordings of Saul, actually, has many things going for it—I harbor a strong affection for Mackerras—and my list isn’t exhaustive: There’s the old Mogens Wöldike LP set on Vanguard to remember too, with Helen Watts, and the much more recent Philip Ledger on EMI, amongst others. Still, if you’re looking for a new, period performance you won’t go wrong with this set.

FANFARE: Jonathan Woolf

A good modern recording of Samson is overdue. It is extraordinary that this fine work, composed within weeks of Messiah, and in Handel’s day possibly the most popular of all his oratorios, should be represented on the Gramophone Database only by one version recorded nearly 20 years ago and the unidiomatic and heavily cut Harnoncourt recording made in 1992. The new one does not obliterate memories of the old, which captures performances by a generation of British Handel interpreters at their finest (Dame Janet Baker, Helen Watts, Robert Tear, Benjamin Luxon and John Shirley-Quirk, as well as several admirable younger singers). But the new version gives a complete and straightforward account of the work, in tune with styles of Handel performance favoured today. Except in one particular: most conductors of period-instrument groups tend to favour faster tempos than those Harry Christophers generally chooses. This is a decidedly leisurely reading of the work; clearly Christophers has a sense of its magnitude, of the big issues with which it is involved and the nobility of its utterance, and he will not let himself be hurried. I think there are times, especially in the final act, where quicker tempos would have been helpful towards the maintenance of the oratorio’s momentum. Similarly, I wish that he had moved a shade more swiftly during the recitatives, and – or this may be the editors – from one number to the next, simply to sustain the dramatic impetus more strongly. I suspect, however, that Christophers is probably less concerned with the drama of the work than with its religious and philosophical aspects, and of course with presenting a direct and faithful realization of it: a perfectly legitimate approach and one that I am sure many will applaud.

He has an excellent cast. Thomas Randle is well equipped for Samson, a firm, strong tenor, with a hint of baritonal quality in his middle and lower registers. There is no bombast here. “Total eclipse” has much of pathos but no heroics. “Why does the God of Israel sleep” is done with some power, and the renunciation of Dalila (“Your charms to ruin”) is weightily sung; and there is plenty of fire in his rejection of the Philistine braggart Harapha but never at the cost of musical singing. It is not strongly characterized: an estimable performance but one that does not quite catch you by the throat. Samson’s father Manoah is sung with characteristic warmth and depth of tone and feeling by Michael George: listen for example to his “Thy glorious deeds” in Act 1. His bass contrasts aptly with the tauter, more focused one of Jonathan Best’s Harapha. Mark Padmore contributes some well-placed singing as both the Israelite and the Philistine man. Lynne Dawson does the same as the woman from both camps (and also the Virgin, echoing Dalila in one appealing number); she contributes a vigorous “Let the bright seraphim” (which here has a brief choral section at the end, surviving in Handel’s manuscript but probably never heard before). I enjoyed Lynda Russell’s soft, seductive Dalila, a modest role, confined to Act 2; but perhaps above all Catherine Wyn-Rogers excels as Micah, with beautifully intense singing and concentrated tone in all her music – her phrasing in “Then long eternity” and the heartfelt expression in “Return O God of hosts”, for example, are quite outstanding. Stylistically the performance is cautious, with only modest added ornamentation and brief cadenzas, but of course the requisite appoggiaturas in the recitative: if an error, it’s certainly in the right direction.

The Sixteen provide clear and spirited choral singing throughout, suitably jolly in the Philistine music, duly noble in that for the Hebrews. I was struck by the unusual clarity of texture in the choruses, attributable both to Christophers’s direction and insistence on firm tone and incisive articulation and to the work of the engineers. Altogether a welcome issue.'

Stanley Sadie, Gramophone [8/1997] Reviewing Collins Classics 7038

Dramatic, highly-colored music from one of the most approachable and individual voices in contemporary music.

Handel’s ever-popular Messiah was recorded live in the superb acoustic of Boston’s Symphony Hall, to mark the 200th anniversary of the founding of the Handel and Haydn Society, America’s longest-standing performing arts organization. Messiah was first performed in Dublin in 1742 and the Handel and Haydn Society gave the first complete performance of the work in the USA in 1818. It has been performed annually in Boston as part of the Handel and Haydn Society concert season every year since 1854.

REVIEWS:

In his rendering of the score, Harry Christophers eloquently guides us through the entire oratorio with a steady hand and firm conviction. The tempi are sprightly where they ought to be, even sparkling like jewels at times—but not blazing as if on fire—and are equally slackened when they need to be. Further, the text is not merely declaimed; rather, every word is expressed!

The period instrument orchestra plays each and every note, trill, and ornament to perfection. As one would expect, the soloists are likewise fantastic. Soprano Gillian Keith, countertenor Daniel Taylor, tenor Tom Randle, and baritone Sumner Thompson off er impressive virtuoso contributions.

The chorus’s full-bodied yet accurate ensemble singing perked up these ears from the very first pitch of “And the glory of the Lord shall be revealed” all the way through “Worthy is the Lamb that was slain” and the mammoth, closing “Amen.”

– Choral Journal

Recorded in 1995, this Esther was first issued as Collins Classics 7040-2 early the following year. Like Hogwood, Harry Christophers recorded the original 1718 version of what has gone down in history as Handel’s first English oratorio.

In point of fact, the complex and still largely unresolved history of Esther suggests that it was not originally composed as an oratorio at all, but rather as a staged work that would have formed a companion to the near-contemporary Acis and Galatea. Like the English masque, Esther was one of the works composed during the period Handel was patronized by James Brydges, later Duke of Chandos, although—unlike Acis and the Chandos Anthems—there is no firm evidence that it was first given at Brydges’s recently completed lavish country home, Cannons. During the 1720s, Esther lay undisturbed as Handel consolidated his reputation as an Italian opera composer, but in February 1732, it re-emerged, firstly in three private performances given in London to celebrate Handel’s forty-seventh birthday, and then two months later in a pirate public performance. Handel’s response, as would frequently be the case when his music was appropriated without authorization, was to perform a substantially revised and expanded version himself on May 2, thus unwittingly laying the foundations for the great series of oratorios that would follow.

The source for Esther was Racine’s 1689 Biblical play of the same name, which had recently been translated into English by Thomas Brereton. The author of Handel’s libretto has not been identified, possibly fortuitously given the universally bad press it has been accorded among Handel scholars. As has been pointed out by Handel scholar Winton Dean, there is nothing sacred about the Book of Esther, which is rather a piece of Jewish history that relates how the exiled Jews were saved from massacre at the hands of Haman, chief minister of the Persian King Ahasuerus (Xerses I) by Esther, a member of the Jewish community who has recently become the king’s second wife. The music with which Handel clothed this scenario was to a substantial extent (nine of the 21 numbers) drawn from his recently completed “Brockes Passion,” a German work that he would have had little opportunity to perform in England.

Notwithstanding structural weaknesses and the static nature of much of the action (it is difficult to imagine the work being staged), there is plenty of fine music for Handelians to enjoy. Much of it has a youthful verve and energy that harks back to the composer’s Italian period, while the colorful deployment of the relatively small orchestral forces (harp obbligato in the Israelite Woman’s “Praise the Lord,” a pair of crooning bassoons in Ahasuerus’s “O beauteous Queen,” and thrilling horns in the Priest’s “Jehovah, crown’d” and the succeeding chorus “He comes, he comes,” later to become the opening movements of the second of the Concerti a due cori) provides a constant source of pleasure.

There can be little question that the true heroes of the present recording are Christophers, who conducts the work with a fervent conviction that makes the excellent Hogwood look at times a little prosaic, and his quite magnificent chorus, who sing throughout with an incisive precision, superb articulation, and clarity of diction that is often electrifying. His soloists enjoy somewhat more mixed fortunes, with the good if rather anonymous Esther of Lynda Russell proving no match for that of Hogwood’s Patrizia Kwella, and the highly capable Tom Randle’s Ahasuerus failing to dislodge memories of Anthony Rolfe Johnson at his peak. But Michael Chance sings a wonderful Priest (his intensely moving “O Jordan, Jordan” is one of the highlights of the set) that eclipses that of Drew Minter, and Nancy Argenta provides a poignant reminder of the singer she was with a radiantly joyful “Praise the Lord.” Haman, the one character of real interest (there are surely pre-echoes of Saul in his downfall), is powerfully sung by Michael George, although David Thomas for Hogwood arguably invested the role with greater personality. In general, though, this is a quite splendid performance of a work more often mentioned by historians than heard, a fate it certainly does not deserve. -BRIAN ROBINS, FANFARE

The nature of 'Alexander's Feast' is perhaps better summoned up by its other title, 'The Power of Music'. It is a celebratory ode for St. Cecilia's Day, written by Dryden in 1697 for the City of London's traditional celebration of the patron saint of music, and set in celebratory style by Handel in 1736. At its first performance that year, he incorporated two delightful concertos, one for harp and the other for organ, and these are included on this recording.

For the past 30 years Harry Christophers and his Sixteen choir have been reliable and often inspiring interpreters of Renaissance and Baroque choral music, whether putting their own stamp on the grossly familiar--Handel's Messiah--or introducing us to eminently worthy but obscure repertoire by such early English composers as Fayrfax, Browne, Davy, Lambe, Cornysh, and Carver. (My favorite Messiah remains a rarely-mentioned live performance on Erato from 1983 with The Sixteen and the Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra led by Ton Koopman.) This ensemble and conductor even ventured into 20th-century music several times, offering classic renditions of the choral works of Benjamin Britten, among other composers.

The Sixteen has tackled Victoria before, notably on its own Coro label, and here the choir shows once again its mastery of style and confident ensemble technique, savoring the rich harmonies and executing Victoria's reams of lovely lines with care for detail and requisite sensitivity to rhythm and dynamics in the shaping of phrases and cadences.

Although the Mass is the "big" piece, impressive as it is, for me highlights are the magnificent five-part motet Alma Redemptoris Mater, the intimate Ne timeas Maria, one of those rare, perfect marriages of text and music, and the joyous Gaude Maria, for which the singers give full measure of enthusiasm. The production, managed by legendary producer and engineer Mark Brown and Mike Hatch, was recorded at the very choral-friendly All Hallows Church in London. This is a must for every serious choral music library--and makes an excellent introduction to Victoria for those looking to explore the work of this inimitable Renaissance master.

--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

A Franco-Flemish composer and music theorist of the early Renaissance, Dufay was the central figure in the Burgundian School and was the most famous and influential composer in Europe in the mid-15th century. His music was copied, distributed and sung across Europe and almost all composers of the succeeding generations absorbed some elements of his style. The Hilliard Ensemble is one of the world's finest vocal chamber groups, and is probably unrivalled for its formidable reputation in the fields of both early and new music. Its distinctive style and highly developed musicianship engage the listener as much in Medieval and Renaissance repertoire as in works specially written for the group by living composers. 'Guillaume Dufay' is the final disc in the Hilliard 'Live' series to be released on CORO. The first disc - Pérotin and the Ars Antiqua - won a Diapason d'Or. '...eloquence of worshipful music, winding through some amazing counterpoint.' - The Times 'Supremely musical and overflowing with food for thought.' - The Guardian

"Let these glorious sounds fill your ears and lift your spirits." GRAMOPHONE "Outstanding...astonishing stylistic and expressive range." BBC MUSIC MAGAZINE "One of the finest choirs of our day." GRAMOPHONE This disc features music from over a dozen composers representing ten countries from Palestrina's Assumpta Est Maria and Monteverdi's Beatus Vir to excerpts from Poulenc's Sept Répons des Ténèbrae and Frank Martin's Mass for Double Choir. This disc provides a superb collection of works from some of Europe's most celebrated composers and, alongside the first disc in this set, Great British Choral Works, is the perfect introduction to The Sixteen's wonderful music

The Sixteen continues it's acclaimed series of discs exploring the work of Italian Renaissance master, Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina. An enormous body of sacred works, including over 100 Masses, rightly earned Palestrina the title of 'the prince and father of music' and 'the saviour of church music'. His legacy has impacted sacred music worldwide for over 400 years and composers throughout the centuries have studied and learned from his gift of writing exquisite polyphony. Central to this sixth disc is Palestrina's unjustly neglected 5-voice L'Homme arm� Mass. Written before 1570, it is no mere technical showpiece, but contains music of the highest quality. It is accompanied on this disc by a group of penitential and devotional motets and Offertories on well known texts such as Parce mihi Domine, Si ambulavero in medio tribulationis, Tribulationes civitatem, de profundis, and Super flumina Babylonis, eliciting from Palestrina his best and most moving music. Three further Song of Songs motets in the Sixteen's ongoing complete survey complete the CD.

The Sixteen take a trip back to 16th-century Spain and more specifically to one of the biggest, richest and most cosmopolitan cities on earth - Seville. It was during this 'golden age', when arts and culture flourished, that Francisco Guerrero and Alonso Lobo made their mark. Between them these two composers captured an astonishing variety of moods within their music, from ecstasy and joy to despair, longing and devotional stillness.

The long-established tradition of devotion to the Virgin Mary resulted in some superb settings from Spanish composers. Supreme amongst them, Victoria set some of his finest music to Marian texts. This recording showcases works for eight parts, some of them for two antiphonal choirs discreetly accompanied by organ and bajón, all displaying the magnificent fervent sonorities for which he is famous.

Includes there is no rose. Ensemble: The Sixteen. Conductor: Harry Christophers.
Includes work(s) by various composers. Ensemble: The Sixteen. Conductor: Harry Christophers.

2011 Grammy Nomination for Best Small Ensemble Performance. "Christopher's choir, The Sixteen, is arguably the most visible professional choral ensemble in Britain" The Times (London) Sixteenth-century England was a place of much religious change. It was a dangerous and confusing time as Henry VIII, who had split with Rome, was succeeded by his young son Edward VI, then by the ardent Catholic, Mary, and finally by the Protestant, Elizabeth I. Composers of the day, such as William Byrd, John Sheppard and Thomas Tallis, were required to adapt to rapidly changing musical requirements and it is testament to their incredible skill and musical mastery that they produced such magnificent works in such troubled times. At the heart of this programme are Sheppard's monumental Media vita in morte sumus and Byrd's deeply personal setting of Infelix ego. Set amongst these exceptional masterpieces are Byrd's joyful motets Laudibus in sanctis and Haec dies, and one of the gems of this recording - Tallis' Miserere nostri.

BUXTEHUDE Membra Jesu Nostri • Harry Christophers, dir; The Sixteen • CORO COR 16082 (61:23 Text and Translation)


After a thorough look at the extensive representation of this work on disc ( Fanfare 31:5), we get a reissue of an earlier version first reviewed by colleague Michael Carter (25:5), who described as “a smattering of recordings” a Buxtehude discography that has embraced more than 80 of the 120 cantatas stretching back to 1937, a count that is now up to 90, with more than a dozen versions of some of the more familiar works. This version’s performing forces were almost exactly replicated by Alexander Weimann in that recent disc, with five solo singers, nine string players, and organ (Weimann had eight Baroque string instruments). While Weimann delivered one of the two fastest performances in my collection, Harry Christophers hits the median timing, never a bad thing in ranking any competitive series. The recent solo-voice performances include René Jacobs (both versions), Konrad Junghänel, and Jos van Veldhoven in addition to these two, so that will narrow the field for purists. Otherwise, there are some fine performances among the more recent versions cited in the previous review. If I had to limit my choice to a single version, however, it would be Harry Christophers and his sterling group of soloists.


FANFARE: J. F. Weber