Imeneo, Handel's penultimate opera, was tentatively composed in 1738, then set aside, performed (twice only) at the end of 1740, and then given in concert form in Dublin in the spring of 1742, just before the Messiah premiere. During this brief and chequered history it was, inevitably, much adjusted for different singers with different types of voice, involving the borrowing of music from other operas, transpositions, the reassigning of arias and so on. But the quality of the music is such as to subdue any anxieties about its dramatic integrity. Like others of the late operas, it leans towards the tunefulness and light-textured simplicity of the younger Italians of the time, but there is nevertheless plenty of vintage Handel in it––in the music for Rosmene, who has to choose between the man she loves, Tirinto, and the hero who has saved her life (unexpectedly, she accepts the latter), and Tirinto too has some deeply felt arias. The music for Imeneo (or Hymen, later the god of marriage), a tenor or bass role, is more bluff in quality, rather like Hercules's was to be. The highpoint of the work is the trio for the lovers' triangle at the end of Act 2, a remarkable piece of quite unusual intensity.
This recording, by artists who have given us a couple of other Handel operas, takes us back to the bad old days when musicians felt they didn't need to respect a composer's text. In almost all the arias there are cuts, mostly during their da capo sections, though sometimes entire middle sections and da capos are left out. Some good numbers are omitted altogether. The ornamentation is often poor, that for Clomiri especially, who is permitted to sing uncomfortably high (uncomfortably both for her and for us), and the orchestra is given some ornaments to play (a crazy notion that I thought had died, unlamented, some 15 years ago). Some of the music is transposed. And the orchestral playing often sounds under-rehearsed—though Rudolph Palmer anyway seems unable to bring much natural flow to the rhythms.
In spite of all that, there is quite a lot to enjoy, especially in the really lovely singing of Julianne Baird, an exceptionally tasteful artist and in excellent voice. Listen to the charming liquid sound in her First Act aria, the beautifully placed passagework in the one beginning Act 3, and the expressive power of her arietta opening Act 2 and in her final scene. Then D'Anna Fortunato, with her depth and evenness of voice and her richness of expression, is very moving in the second of Tirinto's two arias at the beginning of the opera, a piece with some elaborately interwoven violin writing; it is a pity that her Act 2 aria is taken far too quickly. Beverley Hoch sings much of Clomiri's music very prettily and gracefully. The title-role is taken by John Ostendorf, in a rather heavy and loud but quite flexible bass-baritone which lacks the clarity of line that Handel needs––and he does rather predominate here, for his music is given virtually complete and he also greedily gobbles up a couple of arias that properly belong to other singers. Ostendorf also provides the notes, which show a modest understanding of the period and are often inaccurate. I don't really want to put readers off this set, because the work is so appealing––you will incidentally hear strong foreshadowings of some Messiah numbers, ''The people that walked in darkness'' and ''Why do the nations'' (done at an absurd speed here), as well as a movement used in the Op. 6 concertos; but there is still room for another recording of this very delightful opera.'