Categories
Recording

Love’s Labyrinth

Songs and Duets of Monteverdi and his Contemporaries
The Gonzaga Band (Faye Newton, Jamie Savan, Steven Devine)
deux-elles DXL1213
65:45

With the five-star artists of Jamie Savan’s Gonzaga Band, we know that the artistry of the players, their long history of working together in such small-scale projects and Savan’s meticulous scholarship in editing material will produce a programme that offers fine music in captivating performances.

To appreciate the interlaced threads that make up such a well-researched programme, you need to read Savan’s liner notes: these ten columns are a model for how to coax listeners into believing that they understand the nuances behind the choice of some obscure treasures, and to believe that we have been party to the way in which these pearls have been selected and strung together.

They perform this programme at A=440, and the keyboard instruments are tuned in ¼ comma mean tone. They include a harpsichord by Dennis Woolley after an original by Hieronymus Bononiensis (Rome 1521) in the V & A, a single-strung harpsichord by Colin Booth after a 1533 instrument by Domenico da Pesaro in Leipzig and an ottavino of his after a 17th-century original in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. The organ is a digitally sampled keyboard after the Goetze and Gwynne St Teilo Tudor Organ.

Faye Newton has a beguiling voice: clear as a bell, yet delivered with a technical mastery that makes her the ideal singer for this Italian repertoire that spans the cusp of the 16th to 17th centuries. Her neat Italian diction coveys the changing emotions of the poems perfectly and the choice and arrangement of material, ranging from solo songs through duets to four- and five-voice madrigals, explores every possible combination of instruments, and, as with the Gonzaga Band’s other programmes, we are left marvelling at how so much rich music can be contrived with such minimal resources. As Savan’s note suggests, ‘If Monteverdi’s five-voice madrigals were performed in the context of the musica secreta in the 1590s, with its emphasis on female vocal virtuosity, they would likely have been so in some kind of arrangement for upper voices with keyboards, as exemplified by Luzzaschi.’

This is a delightful programme, and a very good introduction to the power of song as it was being rediscovered in those formative years for modern music.

David Stancliffe

Categories
Recording

Clérambault: Te Deum, Histoire de la femme adultère

Choeur de Chambre de Namur, A nocte temporis, directed by Reinoud Van Mechelen
58:36
Versailles Spectacles CVS163

Member of a family with a long musical association with the French court, Nicolas Clérambault (1676-1749) is today remembered principally as arguably the finest composer of the French secular cantata. However, he was also a distinguished organist who held the post of organist of Saint-Sulpice in Paris from 1715. Commenced in the mid-17th century, the building of the church of Saint-Sulpice (a replacement for a much smaller original church) was not completed until a century later. It is likely that Clérambault’s Te Deum was one of a number of his works given at the lavish opening celebrations in July 1745. Although designated ‘à grand choeur’ and according to reports originally performed by 100 musicians, it is overall less ostentatiously spectacular than familiar examples of the hymn by Lully and Charpentier. While the scoring includes the expected trumpets and drums, they are used sparingly, while in keeping with the custom for French settings the work is colourfully multi-sectional, contrasting solo passages with full choral passages. The composer makes the hub of the work the verse ‘Tibi Cherubim et Seraphim’ (To thee Cherubim and Seraphim), at once the most extended and elaborate passage in the work. Opening with the ethereal high voices of the angels’ praise of God, the section segues into dramatic contrast with the outburst of trumpets and drums at ‘Pleni sunt caeli’ (Heaven and earth are full). Other notable moments include the exceptionally lovely choral devotional passage at ‘Te ergo’ (We therefore pray).

While not aspiring to the use of 100 performers – the forces are fewer than half that number – the intimacy of so much of the writing makes for a highly satisfying reading of the work. The many solos and duets, often involving quite florid melisma, are well taken by a fine team, with haute-contre Reinoud Van Mechelen, tenor Guy Cutting and bass Lisandro Abadie particularly distinguishing themselves. The choral singing and orchestral playing are equally satisfying.

If the Te Deum is something of a discovery, I’m tempted to say that here it must give way to an even more exceptional work. As French Baroque music expert Catherine Cessac notes in her customarily valuable notes, L’Histoire de la femme adultère is something of an anomaly, an oratorio after the style of those of Charpentier, composed well after such works had passed into history. Like those of Charpentier (and his model Carissimi), it employs a narrator to tell a biblical story, in this case one of the most touching of those involving Christ’s ministry on earth. The story of the adulterous woman comes from the Gospel of St John, and tells of Christ’s forgiveness of a woman accused of adultery, a crime for which she would of course have been put to death. The story revolves around the famous words by which He puts her accusers to shame – ‘He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone’. Unsurprisingly, Clérambault’s setting puts these words at the heart of the oratorio, with a sublime passage of wonderment for the Narrator and chorus. But the work’s remarkable quality is apparent from the outset, a darkly sombre ‘simphonie’. In addition to the Narrator (Abadie) there are roles for Jesus (Van Mechelen), the Adulterous Woman, beautifully sung with sensitive insight by Gwendoline Blondeel, and two Jewish accusers.

Anyone yet to discover Clérambault is urged to hear this exceptional recording. Then go on to explore some of the composer’s secular cantatas, starting with Orphée.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

Charpentier: Les Arts Florissants

Dallas Bach Society, directed by James Richman
65:35
Rubicon RCD 1128

The cover illustration of this issue and listing of the New York Baroque Dance Company among the artists enticingly suggests this might be a DVD rather than CD. The impression is enhanced by a passing observation made in his somewhat bizarre notes by Dallas Bach Society director James Richman, but visits to Rubicon’s website and YouTube bring no further suggestion that there is a film. So quite where a Baroque dance company fits into an audio recording must for now remain a mystery.*

Like a number of works such as Racine and Lully’s Idylle sur la paix, Les Arts Florissants (H.487) owes its existence to the Ratisbon Truce of 1684, the signing of which brought an end to war between Louis XIV’s France and the Holy Roman Empire and Spain. It was written for Charpentier’s long-term patron Madam de Guise, and was doubtlessly performed at her hôtel along with another celebratory work, the brief La Couronne de Fleurs (H.486). A charming conceit, Les Arts brings together the various arts to celebrate the king’s victories in their own brief contributions, seconded by a Chorus of Warriors relieved at the cessation of battle. Meanwhile, Discord still clamours for the return of war, a sentiment opposed and overcome by Peace (La Paix). The five scenes are punctuated by dance, as would be expected in a French work of this kind.

It is probably fair to say that Dallas is not the first place you’d associate with French Baroque music, but James Richman here directs an appealing performance particular notable for the contribution of the members of the Dallas Bach Society. In keeping with the original performing circumstances the instrumental forces are small, just pairs of flutes and violins with cello, gamba, theorbo and harpsichord continuo. The playing throughout is of high technical quality, only just missing out on the final degree of idiomatic rhythmic lift. The eight vocalists are also commendable in their grasp of style, but it is unfortunate that a resonant church acoustic has blunted the already poor diction of most of them, an honourable exception being stand-out soprano Haley Sicking, who is also better with ornamentation than her colleagues. Indeed, with her fresh but attractively rounded soprano, Sicking’s La Paix brings constant pleasure.

It would have been good to add the companion La Couronne, as does the larger-scale performance on Versailles Spectacles, but here we have instead a nine-movement Sonata a 8 (H.548) scored for the same forces as those employed in Les Arts Florissants. Not a perfect CD, but one that shows that French Baroque musical art can indeed flourish far from home.

Brian Robins

* The answer may lurk somewhere on their website

Categories
Festival-conference

Ambronay 2025

COMING SOON!

Over three weekends next month, this wonderful festival that takes place in an abbey not far Lyon, Annency and Geneva covers everything from trio sonatas to the B minor mass, and from “a duet for clown and viola da gamba”(!) to Mozart’s precocious “Die Schuldigkeit des Ersten Gebots”. Performers include well-known ensembles such as Vox Luminis, Ensemble Correspondances, Cappella Mediterranea and Pygmalion, but also – a trademark of this talent-fostering organisation – plenty of young artists who will undoubtedly continue to grow as a result of such exposure.

If you’re lucky enough to be in the area, check out the programme here: Dossier de presse_Festival 2025 (in French only, and accurate at the time of printing!) and support Ambronay’s initiatives if you can!

Categories
Recording

Northern Light

Echoes from 17th-century Scandinavia
Lucile Richardot mS, Ensemble Correspondances, directed by Sébastien Daucé
81:39
harmonia mundi HMM 905368

The subtitle of this collection introduces us to a rare repertoire of sacred works (plus a short suite of dances by Sebastian Knüpfer (1633-1676), Kantor of the Thomaskirche in Leipzig from 1657). It takes its inspiration from a collection gathered by Gustav Düben, a member of a musical family that had strong connections with the Swedish court for nearly a century. The collection suggests that unlike royal courts with a strongly nationalist repertoire – that of Louis XIV is a prime example – the Stockholm court heard music by an eclectic range of European composers and musicians, including both Germans and Italians. The present CD reflects that variety by featuring music by both, including among the latter motets by Vincenzo Albrici (1631-96), one of an itinerant family of Roman musicians and a member of the court of Queen Christina of Sweden prior to her abdication in 1654 and later in Dresden, where Giuseppe Peranda (1625-1675) also worked under Schütz. The motets of both are laid out as solo verses interspersed with a refrain for a vocal ensemble.

At the time of the accession of King Charles XI in 1675, Düben led a court ensemble of 16 singers and musicians of varied nationality. Most of the music included on the present disc is reminiscent if not the equal of the smaller scale works of Schütz and features primarily works for an alto soloist with accompaniment for strings and continuo. The most ambitious piece is a birthday motet for the king ‘Jubilate et exultate’, a celebratory work adapted from an Advent motet by Franz Tunder originally in German. It seems the adaptation of works was common practice among Düben and his associates, another being ‘Ack Herre, låt dina helga änglar’, a Swedish-language adaptation of another work of Tunder’s. It is a reflection on joining Christ in death of sombre beauty, as is the lamentation on the death of Charles in 1697. It is by Johann Fischer (1646-1716 or 17), whose original music is lost but the poetry of which is here fitted to another lament by the composer.

Many of the works included are simple strophic settings, but one that is strikingly original is ‘Es war aber an der Stätte’ by Christian Geist (c1650-1711), a north German singer and organist that worked in the Danish and Swedish courts during the 1670s. Scored for solo alto, the first part is a narrative about the entombment of Christ. That is followed by a deeply felt and bitter lamentation in four strophic verses laced with a falling chromatic figure that serves to accentuate the agony. It is worth adding that the one work here that will be known to many is also the best, Johann Christoph Bach’s tear-drenched lament ‘Ach, dass ich Wasser’s g’nug hätte’.

All this music, much of it deeply devotional, is performed by Lucile Richardot and the peerless Ensemble Correspondances with a quiet authority that all but defies criticism. Richardot is not only the possessor of a richly burnished mezzo with a particularly distinctive contralto range and superbly controlled delivery but, and perhaps more importantly, she is one of the most expressive singers of Baroque repertoire currently active, as anyone that has heard her magisterial Penelope in Monteverdi’s Il ritorno d’Ulisse can testify. Add to that a technique that includes an ability to turn ornaments with clean precision and you have a set of performances to cherish. The several items that require a vocal ensemble in addition to Richardot can boast the participation of such fine singers as soprano Caroline Weynants and the outstandingly talented young tenor Antonin Rondepierre.

There are some recordings that are difficult to describe because they are so ordinary. Then there are those hard to do justice to because their apparent ordinariness and lack of sensationalism cloaks attributes more elusive but no less valuable. This is one of those. There’s no great music here, just supreme art concealing art.

Brian Robins

Categories
Concert-Live performance

Sense and Musicality

Jane Austen’s connections with music have been long acknowledged. They are by no means without controversy and apparent contradiction, Austen’s own undoubted life-long interest in music is to a certain extent counterbalanced by her own observations such as implying that while music might be a good thing on its own terms, sitting listening to a concert might perhaps not be. Otherwise Jane’s large collection of music books, many transcriptions written in her own hand, offer an argument that might serve to arrive at a different conclusion.

Such matters were among those explored in a programme mounted to celebrate the 250th anniversary of Austen’s birth in 2025. It is being presented in various venues by The Little Song Party – soprano Penelope Appleyard and the pianist Jonathan Delbridge, who accompanies her on a Broadwood square piano dating from 1814 and which is thus an instrument that Jane Austen could have known. I suppose the correct name for their well-researched programme would be ‘lecture-recital’, but that hardly does justice to the delightfully relaxed ambiance the performers achieved in presenting it as a part of the Newbury Spring Festival at Shaw House in Newbury. The venue in itself made for a highly appropriate setting, being an Elizabethan house built in 1581, but substantially altered during the 18th century by the then owner James Brydges, 1st Duke of Chandos (he of Handelian fame) and subsequently several James Andrews, the last of whom takes us up to Austen’s day.

The programme juxtaposed introductions and readings with a judicious choice of music that ranged from popular ballads through folk songs and operatic ‘hits’ of the day to themes associated with contemporary films of Austen’s works and in one instance a new work especially commissioned for the concert series. This was ‘Ode to Pity’ by Donna Mckevitt, a rare example of the poetry of the novelist being set to music.* Written when she was in her teens, the song captures well the wry sense of humour that would become a hallmark of Austen’s writing. It was well projected by Appleyard, who not only delivered her spoken words with winning natural charm, but whose clear, fresh-sounding soprano is ideal for this type of repertoire. This is not the kind of programme that requires a detailed critique, but it is worth noting that where needed Appleyard added appropriate ornamentation (I thought the principal theme of Gluck’s ‘Che faro’ might have been afforded a little more decoration on its repetition). Delbridge supported the singer throughout with playing of character and sensitivity, providing several solos on his own account. One of the greatest successes of the afternoon was the ‘Storm Rondo’ by Daniel Steibelt, the piece believed by one commentator to be the agitated music played by Marianne Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility to cover up her sister Elinor’s secret conversation with Lucy Steele. Delbridge’s fine playing was ideally complemented by Appleyard’s muttered reading of both parts, the dramatization deservedly bringing the house down.

The programme will be given several more times, perhaps most notably at the Jane Austen Festival in Bath in September . If you happen to be in the vicinity don’t miss this enchanting event.

Brian Robins

* You can enjoy a performance HERE.

Categories
Recording

If the fates allow

Helen Charlston mS, Sounds Baroque
58:46
BIS-2734

If the title of this outstanding CD gives little away, its appendage is rather more forthcoming – ‘Music by Purcell and his contemporaries’. Even so and although there are several staples from the Purcell recital repertoire (‘O Solitude’, ‘I attempt from love’s sickness’), there are some rather more unexpected inclusions; ‘If music be the food of love’ is included in two of the three settings made by Purcell, but neither is the well-known one (Z. 379b).

Also unusual is the absence of programme notes, foregone in favour of a fascinating conversation between Helen Charlston and Emma Kirkby, in which they express their feelings about Purcell’s songs and what it means to sing them. Naturally, there is much accord, but what is interesting when it comes to performances is just how contrasted the approach is. One need only listen to a little of Emma Kirkby’s wonderful 1983 recital of the songs after this CD to recognise that the objectives of the singers are quite different. Dame Emma’s performances are all about vocal purity, clarity of diction and a near-perfect musical technique, with cleanly articulated ornaments and shaping of phrases. Charlston comes from a new generation, the best of whom – certainly including singers like her and Lucile Richardot – is starting to recognise that there is potentially more to this repertoire than simply singing it perfectly. Take Charlston’s singing of ‘Morpheus thou gentle god’ by Daniel Purcell, Henry’s younger brother. In this at-times fiery text about jealousy by Abel Boyer – the penultimate passage starts ‘I rage, I burn, my soul on fire, Tortured with wild despair and fierce desire’ – the demands on the singer are in stark contrast to the long cantabile of the earlier part, dramatically intense and full of rhetorical gesture. Charlston rises to these demands superbly, bringing the song to a terrifying peroration on the final word ‘destroy’.

This is, of course, an extreme example that takes us into a world of Italianate fervour and intensity, but this attention to the rhetorical detail of all the songs here is one of the striking details of the recital. One is given the impression that Charlston has thought deeply and carefully about every word she sings and never forgetting, or letting us forget, that in Purcell’s day this repertoire was often sung by actor-singers. Rarely, for example, in my experience has the Virgin’s fear in ‘Tell me, some pitying angel’ been so graphically expressed, each ‘Why?’, each ‘How?’ given a marginally different inflection, while the lack of a ‘vision from above’ at the ‘wondrous birth’ brings near panic in the repeated calls of ‘Gabriel, Gabriel’. The result is a compelling mini-drama. In ‘Music for a While’ Dryden’s snakes drop from Alecto’s head with languid perfection. And there are so many more examples to explore. I urge you to discover them for yourself.

Throughout the recital Charlston is supremely well supported by Sounds Baroque (Jonathan Manson, bass viol, William Carter, Baroque guitar and theorbo, and Julian Perkins, harpsichord and chamber organ); on their own account they contribute a set of Divisions by Christopher Simpson and John Blow’s Morlake Ground, the latter played by Perkins on a richly sonorous copy of a two-manual Ruckers Hemsch instrument by Ian Tucker.

At a time when I frequently have cause to compare the state of early music in the UK unfavourably with what is happening in several European countries, France in particular, this is pure manna from heaven. Here are British artists performing English music to as near perfection as one has any right to expect.

Brian Robins

Categories
Concert-Live performance

Les Talents Lyriques at Les Invalides

Given its history of rule by the Bourbons and Napoleon, neither averse to the limelight, it is no surprise that grandiosity plays no small role in French architectural and artistic history. Even so, the Hôtel des Invalides still has the power to overwhelm. It was the inspiration of the most brilliant of all the Bourbons, Louis XIV, who founded Les Invalides for all those that had seen service in his massive and long-time all-conquering army. The huge complex first opened to veterans in 1674, on one site housing a hospice, barracks, convent, hospital and factory. Home to some 4000 boarders in the 17th century, today it still serves its initial function, having needless to say gained additional fame as Napoleon’s burial place.

Among many spectacular aspects, the Grand Salon, the former council room, is especially impressive with its ornamental fireplaces, monumental chandeliers, weaponry, portraits of Napoleon III and Louis XIV and red velvet hangings. All combine to produce the elegant effect of an exceptional room. Today, Les Invalides plays host to a series of concerts, the majority of which are chamber concerts given in the opulent surroundings of the Grand Salon, thus keeping alive the institution’s long association with music, most notably as the venue of the first performance of Berlioz’s Requiem, the Grande Messe de Morts.

The concert given on 28 April by Christophe Rousset and members of Les Talens Lyriques was on a rather less ambitious scale. Entitled ‘Louis XIV au Crépuscule’(the twilight of Louis XIV) it consisted mainly of chamber works by François Couperin, concentrating particularly on three of the sonates en trio. Of these La Steinkerche was particularly appropriate in the context of Les Invalides, it having been written to celebrate the victory of Louis XIV’s forces over the Dutch in the eponymous battle in 1692, its witty evocation of the sounds of battle well portrayed by Les Talens Lyriques, as was La Superbe (1695) with its alternation of nobility and playfulness. The sonata La Visionnaire post-dates the king’s death in 1715, since it dates from 1726 and it demonstrates how far Couperin had travelled in his desire to unite elements of the French and Italian styles. All this music was played with the faultless command of idiomatic style long a hallmark of Les Talens Lyrique’s performances.

In addition to the instrumental music, the concert included vocal music sung by the exceptionally promising young bass Lysandre Châlon. The possessor of a richly rounded, well-projected bass-baritone, he impressed with his ability to communicate effectively text in cantatas and airs by Couperin and Monteclair’s striking cantata L’enlèvement d’Orithie, which relates the tale of the abduction and rape of the Athenian princess Orithyia by the north wind Boreas.

The combination of concert and introduction to Les Invalides made for an outstanding experience, but a word of caution to anyone who might think of going to a concert there. If you are not fully mobile, there is the walk across the courtyard then a considerable flight of stairs (no lifts in the 17th century) and further long corridor walks before reaching the splendour of the Grand Salon.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

Georg Österreich’s resurrected treasures

Musica Gloria, directed by Nele Vertommen oboe, and Beniamino Paganini harpsichord/organ
79:06
Et’cetera KTC 1819

Rather disarmingly, the track listing for this generously filled CD notes at its conclusion, ‘All world-premiere recordings – as far as we know’. Well, here’s one listener happy to take the directors’ word for it, particularly given the meticulous research that has evidently gone into planning this recording. So who was Georg Österreich and what are his ‘resurrected treasures’? Well, for a start he was a very lucky man since he inherited a brewery. More importantly for our present concerns, he was a virtuoso singer born in Magdeburg in 1664. His early career was spent in Leipzig, Hamburg and Wolfenbüttel, but in 1689 Österreich was appointed Kapellmeister at the ducal court of Gottorf, now part of Schleswig-Holstein in northern Germany. There he made an extensive collection of German sacred music before the time of Bach along with Italian secular music. The former, now housed in Berlin and known under the name of Österreich’s pupil and its inheritor, Heinrich Bokemeyer (1679-1751), is the largest collection of north German sacred music in central Europe. The present CD, subtitled ‘North-German Cantatas around 1700’, is the result of intensive research on the collection by Baroque oboist Nele Vertommen.

The selection chosen by Vertommen and Beniamino Paganini, her co-director of the vocal and instrumental ensemble Musica Gloria, reflects the links to Österreich’s circle, including as it does two works by the man himself, one by his elder brother Michael (1658-1709), one by his teacher Johann Theile (1646-1724), one by Bokemeyer, and one by his singing teacher Giulio Giuliani (? – ?), the two last named being Latin settings. Also included is the more modern style of cantata by Johann Philipp Förtsch (1652-1732), one-time resident composer of the Hamburg Opera and later court physician at Gottorf to Duke Christian Albrecht of Schleswig-Holstein and then the Bishop of Lübeck. The works included are particularly notable for the wide variety of instrumentation and vocal forces required, the latter quite properly restricted to one-voice-per-part (OVPP). It is a general and welcome feature of the performances that the young singers of Musica Gloria bring a robust and strongly rhetorical performance style to all the music, singing also with generally excellent diction.

Arguably the most imposing and impressive of the works included is Georg Österreich’s own motet in the concertato style Weise mir Herr, deinen Weg, scored for four voices (SATB) plus ripieni and instrumental forces including two oboes, two violins, two violas, bassoon obbligato, cello and continuo. Worth noting is that the organ continuo is played on an Arp Schnitger instrument dating from 1690 and sited in the recording location, the Mauritiuskirche in Hollern-Twielenfleth on the banks of the Elbe. A setting of verses from Psalm 85 (86), it takes full cognisance of the potent and dramatic text, the solo trio at the supplicatory words ‘Wende dich …’ (Turn to me and have mercy on me) being especially telling, as is the beautiful bass solo ‘Denn deine Güte ..’ (For great is your love toward me).

Also impressive is brother Michael’s setting of the Lord’s Prayer for two sopranos, alto and tenor with instrumental parts for two violins, two violas, bassoon and continuo. But in truth there is nothing in the collection that is not without merit and worthy of these searching, communicative performances, which are not only worth discovering in their own right but provide valuable clues as to where Bach’s early sacred works come from.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

Greene: Jephtha

Early Opera Company, conducted by Christian Curnyn
99:22 (2 CDs)
Chandos CHSA0408(2)

The story of Jephtha and his rash vow to sacrifice the first person from his household he encounters on his return from battle if God will support his military action is known in music chiefly through the brief, but renowned 17th century oratorio by Carissimi (c.1648) and Handel’s eponymous final oratorio composed in 1751. To them can be added the version composed by Maurice Greene, the leading English composer during much of the period Handel was domiciled in London. Greene’s Jephtha appeared in 1737, but exact details of its earliest performance(s) remain shrouded in mystery. In his notes, Peter Lynan, who produced the edition used in the present performance, dismisses the theory that Jephtha was first given at the King’s Theatre during Lent 1737, no evidence for a public performance existing until its modern revival in 1997.

As with Handel’s setting, Greene’s libretto was the work of a clergyman, John Hoadley. However, the inexperienced Hoadley’s book is poor stuff compared with Thomas Morell’s, couched in stilted verse – ‘It is decreed, And I must bleed’ – and clumsily constructed. It also lacks any hint of the kind of dramatic element achieved by Morell’s fleshing out of the basic story with additional characters, while supplying a redemptive conclusion in which Jephtha’s daughter is dedicated to rather than sacrificed to God. Greene’s Jephtha is written for just four characters: Jephtha himself, his unnamed daughter (Iphis in the Handel) and two Elders of Gilead, the first a bass, the second a tenor. Like most oratorios of the period, it is cast in two parts (or acts; Handel’s is in three) and of course there is a substantial role for the chorus, Curnyn’s here being one of the successes of the performance. Like much else in the score, they cannot totally escape the taunt so often levelled at Greene that he was merely a lesser Handel. As so often with such lazy labels, there is plenty of evidence that the Englishman was his own man and we might at times more advantageously look back to Purcell. I’d suggest as an example the chorus that ends Part 1, ‘God of Hosts’. Here the reiterated war-like cries of ‘strike, strike’ have a distinctly Purcellian flavour. The final chorus is interesting, too. Since there is no redemption, the daughter’s death will happen, but unlike the sublimely tragic and bitterly chromatic chorus that concludes Carissimi’s Jephte, Greene’s follows a broad, throbbing course that is not so much tragic as understated, while reaching a peroration of real beauty. It is somehow very English.

Thanks are certainly owed to Christian Curnyn and his Early Opera Company forces for this first recording. Sadly, such gratitude must be tempered with the conclusion that Curnyn’s performance is lacking the kind of persuasive qualities needed to revive such a work. His direction overall is prosaic and lacking dramatic purpose. Too often tempos are sluggish and although the orchestral playing is neat and tidy it lacks spirit, while the almost certainly spurious inclusion of a theorbo in the continuo is greatly exacerbated by the narcissistic inclination of the player to be heard as clearly as possible as often as possible. The best of the soloists is the First Elder of bass Michael Mofidian, splendidly vibrant and producing some impressive low notes. Andrew Staples’s Jephtha is neatly and reasonably stylishly sung, but his lyric tenor is too small to convey the authority of the character, who was a renowned war leader. Mary Bevan’s Daughter lacks control in the upper register, though she is affecting in her beautiful final air, ‘Let me awhile defer my Fate’, with, to this listener at least, its affinity with Handel’s ravishing duet ‘As steals the morn’ from L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato, which postdates Greene’s Jephtha by three years.

Even if it cannot match the Handel, one of his greatest creations, Greene’s Jephtha contains much fine music and if we ever start to place some value on our 18th-century English musical heritage, it will doubtless occupy a valued place.

Brian Robins