The Christmas Oratorio is a series of six separate cantatas, collectively relating the story from Christmas through to Twelfth Night. Bach wrote the work in Leipzig in 1734 and 1735 for Christmas Day, Boxing Day, the third day of Christmas, New Year, the Sunday after New Year, and Twelfth Night. As with the Passions, the texts here are drawn from three sources: the evangelical texts intoned by the Evangelist as recitatives, chorales from the Lutheran tradition and free texts for arias and some choral passages, written by the poet Picander. This performance is perhaps as close as presently possible to what we imagine Bach might have had in mind as he composed the work in Leipzig. First of all, we have the 'one to a part' aspect: historical research among the various sources clearly shows that Bach did not ask for a choir to perform his cantatas, but simply a vocal quartet. This 'single line singing' certainly adds to the individual expression of the text and the music's transparency. Bach's religious music always uses the text as it's starting point and a great deal of attention is therefore paid to correct enunciation. The vocal principle of 'one to a part' also has a major influence on the instrumental forces. Bach employed a small-scale string ensemble, as well as single wind instruments where appropriate, all supported by an organ, which formed the continuo in conjunction with the bass violin. And since the instrumental music is also completely permeated by the rhetoric that stems from the text, the transparency of this small ensemble intertwines seamlessly with the vocal lines, giving a refined polyphony that reached it's zenith in Bach's music.

La Petite Bande recorded its set during the late 1970s and these are performances which do considerable justice to the music. Brisker tempos, lighter bass string playing and an altogether more imaginative approach to continuo realization bring these concertos alive to an extent hardly realised by I Musici. Sigiswald Kuijken, the leader and director of La Petite Bande, includes a theorbo in his continuo group and this is invariably an effective addition... [I]n matters of baroque style, as in its more highly developed spirit of fantasy, La Petite Bande offers satisfying performances.

-- Nicholas Anderson, Gramophone [9/1990]

These two symphonies were composed for Haydn's second visit to London, during the winter months of 1794-95. He knew the musicians for whom he was writing, and they were a virtuoso ensemble. Therefore these are among the largest scaled, most technically demanding among all his symphonies.

Kuijken's performances are very direct and fresh. His ensemble sounds on the small side for the music, which means that there are fewer strings than there might be. How this would affect a live performance would of course depend upon the size of the chosen venue. In a recording, one can only judge on the end result, and while the sound has good perspective and balance, the strings in both symphonies do sound somewhat 'under nourished'. This may be the recording, may be the playing, may be the lack of sufficient numbers to make an ample sound in tuttis. On the other hand, it may well be intended.

Kuijken's band is full of splendid musicians, and they play on original instruments. The strings use gut rather than wire, and there is little bloom and less vibrato in their sound. Too little of each for my taste, in fact, and in these symphonies this seems less appropriate than it did in the companion performances of the earlier Paris symphonies, composed during the previous decade.

Kuijken's tempi and phrasing are eminently sane and deliver some exciting rhythmic purpose to proceedings. The fast sections develop tellingly out of the slow introductions, and the overall balancing of the movements is highly effective. In fact the music sounds best in the two finales, which reveal the composer's uniquely bubbling wit.

Although the slow movements are expertly paced, in No. 102 especially the lack of bloom in the string sound denies the music some of its intensity and line. For this Adagio movement can stand a slower, more eloquent expression than this. At face value what Kuijken chooses is perfectly fine, but try alternatives such as Sir Colin Davis and the Concertgebouw (Philips) or Eugen Jochum and the London Philharmonic, and the extra richness pays dividends.

These performances have undoubted merits, and are recommended particularly to enthusiasts devoted to the 'original instrument' sound. For the more indulgent listener, it is probably best to try elsewhere. In an ideal world, these do make excellent alternatives to the larger collection, opening up fresh vistas on two great symphonies.

-- Terry Barfoot, MusicWeb International Reviewing DHM 77859

A major achievement - John Elwes is a stylish and eloquent Zoroastre and Gregory Reinhart makes a formidable Abramane with a commanding vocal presence. Rameau's Zoroastre should afford enduring pleasure.

Here once more, but in a new CD format, is Zoroastre, Rameau's penultimate tragedie-lyrique. Readers who bought the earlier CD issue when Deutsche Harmonia Mundi were distributed by EMI (1/88) will not be amused to learn that a new booklet has been prepared for the BMG release; this contains the full text of the opera, legibly printed and now with an English translation. Thanks are due to BMG for repackaging an otherwise excellent product, thus making it accessible to a wider listenership.

Zoroastre was first performed in Paris in 1749 and was, by and large, well received. But the librettist, Cahusac was taken to task by some for relegating the love element in the opera to a secondary place. When it was revived in 1756 Cahusac made shifts of emphasis within the plot and it is this version as it first appeared, rather than that which involved yet further small changes later in the season, which is performed here. The libretto deals with the conflict between Good and Evil or Light and Darkness central to Zoroastrianism. Oromases, King of the Genies, represents the former and has Zoroastre as his high priest, while Abramane, high priest of the Temple of Darkness represents the latter. The chief protagonists in the drama are Zoroastre and Abramane who vie for power, glory and love; their characters are skilfully and often strikingly portrayed by Rameau, whose score is richly endowed with bold dashes of colour.

I very much liked this performance when it was first issued on LP in 1984 and feel much the same about it now. John Elwes is a stylish and eloquent Zoroastre and Gregory Reinhart makes a formidable Abramane with clear diction and a resonant, commanding vocal presence. His "Osons achever de grands crimes" (Act 3 scene 2) with its syncopated accompaniment and characteristically effective bassoon writing, is especially noteworthy. As I have remarked in previous reviews, the three principal female roles are sung well though I should have liked greater aural contrasts between them. Agnes Mellon as the innocent Cephie is a particularly happy piece of casting, though Mieke van der Sluis as the jealous Erinice is rather less so. Her voice is a warmly alluring one but seems ill-suited to the darker shades of this character. Greta de Reyghere brings warmth and clarity to the role of Amelite though she does not entirely succeed in conveying the danger and unpleasantness of her predicament.

La Petite Bande is on its liveliest form and Sigiswald Kuijken's direction reveals an insight into and affection for Rameau's music. In spite of some reservations, this is a major achievement and the work one that should not be omitted from any serious opera or baroque enthusiast's library. The recorded sound is excellent and as I have already indicated, the discs are now accompanied by an informative and helpful booklet. Rameau's Zoroastre should afford enduring pleasure.

-- Gramophone [6/1991]

Elsewhere in this issue, in choosing the records of the year, I have singled Out the new version of Handel's opera Admeto for its broadly successful attempt at a true Handelian style. Well, those words were no sooner in the post to the Editor than I heard this new set, which considerably surpasses it in almost all regards: indeed this seems to me comfortably the best Handel opera recording I have heard. It is an easier opera to perform than the heroic ones of the 1720s (at least, to perform on records; perhaps it is not so easy on the stage— though I remember with pleasure its only English revival, at Abingdon in 1961). Partenope was written in 1730, for the first season of what was called the 'new Academy', run by Handel himself and his manager, after the collapse and the discrediting of the Royal Academy, of which Handel had been salaried musical director and which had organized opera in London since 1720. Handel now had a new team of singers, and the operas he wrote for them show distinctly the influence of the works he encountered during his talent-spotting trip to Italy. Partenope does so in particular. It is to a libretto by Silvio Stampiglia, markedly influenced by the vein of ironic humour popular in Venetian opera. The plot concerns the founding queen of Naples, Parthenope, and her various suitors, one of whom (Arsaces) deserted his betrothed (Rosmira) to woo her, and is pursued by Rosmira who in male clothes is herself masquerading as an admirer of Parthenope. The musical idiom beautifully catches the vivacity, the ironic wit, the gentle ardour and the charm that distinguish the plot. The musical textures are for the most part light and airy; there is more of rapid music than in most of Handel's operas; the phrase structure is simpler; and the vocal colour is different from usual—dictated, to be sure, by the particular cast Handel had at his disposal, yet characteristically he turned to positive ends the fact that he had only one soprano (Parthenope), one tenor, one baritone and all the rest altos of one kind or another. The orchestral texture, more often than usual, consists of just a violin line and continuo: the occasional more fully-scored aria, like Emilius's in Act I with its rich semi-contrapuntal string writing, or Rosmira's brilliant hunting aria with oboes and horns to end the act, accordingly makes a striking effect—and none more so than Arsaces's G minor lament, with muted violins, moaning flutes, theorbo and pizzicato basses, near the end of the opera. There are several ensemble numbers, including a trio and a quartet, but as the characters rarely sing simultaneously this does not make a geat deal of difference.

In Adnseto I questioned the wisdom of using so small an orchestra. Here the orchestra is much the same size, but it is about right since the music is so much less heroic in temper. It would perhaps be cynical to suggest that Handel, now he had to pay the bills himself, wrote music that worked well with fewer players; but with Partenope it could be not far from the truth. The group here p1a(s superbly: there is a dash and a sparkle to the string playing that makes the rapid passage work a real joy to listen to; the bass is firm and shapely; the wind playing is on the whole very well tuned; and the continuo playing provides sensible and unobtrusive support. Above all, the direction has the kind of rhythmic breadth and sense of purpose that I had despaired of meeting in an 'authentic' performance. Too often Handel's stature is diminished, the grandeur of his designs whittled down, by short-breathed and finicky phrasing. Here, in authentic timbres, Handel emerges as the giant he always did under the Woods and the Sargents, but without any over-inflation. This is greatly to the credit of the musicianship of Sigiswald Kuijken and his players. His orchestra has strings numbering 5.5.2.3.2, with four oboes and two bassoons, and pairs of flutes and horns and a trumpet as needed.

As for the singing, there are two names new to me of which I shall hope to hear very much more. One is the Parthenope, Krisztina Laki, a fluent and agile soprano with a happy glitter to her voice. She copes comfortably with the difficult divisions, and brings a suitably light expressive touch to the slower arias; altogether an accomplished and promising performance and an intelligent interpretation. Even more striking, perhaps, is the Rosmira of Helga Muller Molinari—plumb in her intonation (more so than anyone else in the cast), and capable of infusing her passage work with genuine vigour and passion. The angry C minor aria in the Second Act is magnificent, a real musical explosion of wrath; but the love music too is finely done. The timbre itself is not extraordinary, but the voice is perfectly focused and controlled. With the Arsaces (and this is the biggest part, composed for the famous castrato Bernacchi) I am less happy; as in Admeto, René Jacobs swoops and swoons too much, in a mannered way, and is not dependable over pitch. John York Skinner gives a capable account of the role of Armindus, Parthenope's ultimately successful lover, best in the direct style of his Act III aria than in the more expressive earlier ones. Martyn Hill as Emilius is firm and clear in the tenor arias, and accurate and expressive too; and Stephen Varcoe does his single aria in a pleasantly clean and light manner, without any booming or ranting.

Handelians may object, with some justification, that there is insufficient ornamentation in this set. That is true. Here and there a cadence crying for a trill is . . . well, left crying; and even the da caps sections of the arias are mostly sung without elaboration, which we know is contrary to Handel's expectation. Still, it is far better to do nothing than to do something wrongly or tastelessly, and that is particularly true in recordings, where one does not want to hear the same piece of bad decoration every time. Jacobs decorates a little, and some of the others do, too, very modestly. I wish a little more effort had been made over achieving a performing style a little more accurate and historical in this respect. On the other hand, I have nothing but praise for the execution of the recitatives, which (given in a form more complete than in the Handel-Gesellschaft score) move along quickly and conversationally, with the cadences correctly elided, while losing nothing of their dramatic force or their meaning from these excellent, and obviously well coached, singers. Altogether this set can be warmly recommended to lovers of Handel operas—and indeed to others too, who might find themselves drawn to become lovers of these masterpieces.

-- S.S., Gramophone [12/1979] Reviewing original LP

Reissue. Originally released in 2014. The audio clip below associated with this release is from the original issuance of this title. - ArkivMusic

An account that reflects the latest information and researches on 'period instruments' practice. A 'one to a part' standard - for both voices and instruments.

The Christmas Oratorio is actually not an ‘oratorio’ in the mold of, for instance, Bach’s Ascension Oratorio or Handel’s Messiah. It is a series of 6 separate cantatas, collectively relating the story from Christmas through to Twelfth Night. Bach wrote the work in Leipzig in 1734 and 1735 for Christmas Day (I), Boxing day (II), the third day of Christmas (III), New Year (IV), the Sunday after New Year (V), and Twelfth Night (VI).

As with the Passions, the texts here are drawn from three sources: (1) the evangelical texts (primarily Luke and Matthew) intoned by the Evangelist (tenor) as recitatives, (2) chorales from the Lutheran tradition and (3) free texts for arias and some choral passages, written by the poet Picander.

Read our exclusive interview with Sigiswald, Marie, and Sara Kuijken!

Magnificent and transparent, a recording of the famous masterpiece by J.S. Bach by La Petite Bande and Sigiswald Kuijken. The ensemble has a worldwide reputation of aiming for the most authentic sound possible. Again Kuijken and his group of musicians and vocalists have achieved this the most sublime way! By using authentic instruments and the original way of playing them, both in interpretation and sound quality, La Petite Bande strives to revive baroque music as faithfully as possible without lapsing into rigid academics.