The time when recordings of Vivaldi operas were almost unheard of is absurdly recent, yet in the past couple of years they have been coming thick and fast, the suddenness of their acceptance and perceived marketability threatening to make even the past decade’s rise of Handel operas seem slow. Whether Vivaldi can match up to his contemporary’s heavyweight reputation as a musical dramatist is no doubt too early to judge – though in truth it seems unlikely – but, hey, so what? Lovers of Vivaldi and Baroque opera will certainly not be complaining at the appearance on disc of so much ‘new’ music.

Bajazet was Vivaldi’s opera for the 1735 Carnival season at Verona, and is based on the same libretto as Handel’s Tamerlano. The Ottoman sultan Bajazet has been defeated and taken captive by the ruthless Tartar emperor Tamerlano, but defiantly refuses to submit to him. Tamerlano wishes to marry Bajazet’s daughter Asteria, for whom he is prepared to ditch his fiancée Irene, but Asteria, after some confusions, remains loyal to her true love Andronico, one of Tamerlano’s allies. Just as the furious Tamerlano is promising all manner of dire punishments, Bajazet’s suicide brings him to his senses and the original relationships are restored.

This is strong stuff and Vivaldi responds with sound dramatic sense. His recitatives especially show a conversational realism that allows them to be more than just a functional advancement of the plot, and indeed Bajazet’s biggest moment – his bitter denouncement of the daughter he believes unfaithful – is a powerful accompanied recitative.

Vivaldi also works harder at characterisation than is often the case, if by unusual means: Bajazet is partly a pasticcio, which is to say that it borrows and adapts arias from other operas, and in this case, while the arias for ‘conquered’ characters such as Bajazet and Asteria are by Vivaldi, those for the conquerors – Tamerlano, Andronico and Irene – are other men’s work. What is more, these men are exponents of the fashionable and suave Neapolitan style, composers such as Hasse and Giacomelli who by the 1730s were beginning to dominate the operatic world. In his booklet-note, Frédéric Deleméa suggests a conscious allusion by Vivaldi to proud old Venetian opera succumbing to an arrogant Neapolitan new order. That is as maybe, but it cannot be denied that Vivaldi chose his arias well. A composer with his penchant for spectacular vocal writing would, of course, have appreciated the crowd-pleasing virtuosity of an aria such as ‘Qual guerriero in campo armato’, originally written for Farinelli by his brother Riccardo Broschi; but here it aptly expresses Irene’s near-deranged indignation at being dumped by Tamerlano. Clever choices such as this make Bajazet a real opera, not just a hotch-potch.

The same can be said for the performers here. The cast has hardly a weak link: David Daniels is in typically beautiful voice as Tamerlano, yet at the same time manages enough hardness to suggest the spiteful anger of the man; Elina Garanca conveys a suitable measure of weakness as the indecisive Andronico; and Marijana Mijanovic’s moving and dignified Asteria never looks like losing her moral high ground. Vivica Genaux gives a show-stopping display as Irene (not least in that ‘Farinelli’ aria) and Patrizia Ciofi proves no less equal to the tough technical challenges set by the role of Andronico’s friend Idaspe. Only Ildebrando D’Arcangelo as Bajazet disappoints slightly, failing to reach to the Sultan’s defiant heart, and rushing at his big recitative – a major missed opportunity.

The orchestra’s contribution, on the other hand, is a major bonus. Fabio Biondi has never been one to miss details and he and his players bring out countless nuances in the score with their usual array of interpretative devices ranging from gentle cello chords in recitative to sparky off-beat accents and pizzicati, and even some acid sul ponticello. There could hardly be a better way to bring this opera to life.