Handel L'Allegro, Il Pensoroso ed Il Moderato
The singing is the major attraction of this performance, which comes across, overall, more as a collection of impressive incidents than a cohesive whole
View record and artist detailsRecord and Artist Details
Composer or Director: George Frideric Handel
Label: Classics
Magazine Review Date: 12/2000
Media Format: CD or Download
Media Runtime: 118
Mastering:
DDD
Catalogue Number: 545417-2
Tracks:
| Composition | Artist Credit |
|---|---|
| (L')Allegro, il penseroso ed il moderato |
George Frideric Handel, Composer
Alastair Miles, Bass Bach Choir Christine Brandes, Soprano David Daniels, Alto George Frideric Handel, Composer Ian Bostridge, Tenor John Nelson, Conductor Lynne Dawson, Soprano Paris Orchestral Ensemble |
Author: Stanley Sadie
The improbable notion of interleaving sections of Milton’s L’Allegro and Il Penseroso for musical setting was thought up by some of Handel’s perceptive friends, sensitive to the great man’s response to fine verse and the rich imagery of the poems. They had every reason to be pleased with themselves, even if the addition (at Handel’s own suggestion) of Il Moderato, lauding the 18th-century’s ‘Third Way’, did little to enhance the work – and, in fact, Handel usually omitted it in later performances.
The great strength of this new version lies in the singing, which is of an order of excellence to challenge the recent very fine recording under Robert King (which came extremely close to winning a Gramophone Award). No blow-by-blow comparison with the King version is possible, as the music is rather differently shared between the singers. Here the two sopranos are Lynne Dawson and Christine Brandes. Dawson is in full and warm voice – though not quite as individual tonally as it once was, but she has gained much in richness, control, subtlety of phrasing and the treatment of words. She is equally persuasive in allegro and penseroso music – in Part I, for example, in the group beginning with ‘Come, pensive nun’, which is raptly done, and in the spirited ‘Mirth, admit me’ just after. Her final duet with Ian Bostridge is certainly one of the high points here; another is ‘And ever against eating cares’, a beautifully modulated piece of singing. Then Christine Brandes, with a more sharply defined line and a vibrant glow to her voice, excels in ‘Sweet bird’ and in her carefully managed ‘Oft on a plat of rising ground’ – although there are some uncomfortable moments in her elaborate air with cello, ‘But oh! sad virgin’: much of it is compelling, but some of the detail is not carried off neatly or rhythmically.
Some of the soprano music – probably following Handelian precedent – is transposed and assigned to the alto. Handel used a woman’s voice (that of Susanna Cibber); here it is the countertenor David Daniels, who sings with great delicacy and fine control. ‘Hide me from day’s garish eye’, taken down a fourth, is very tellingly done. The tenor is Ian Bostridge, who excels especially by his natural ability to make the words a part of the music, shaping them and the line conjointly, so that accent, syllable, dynamic and so on are all one. Listen to the timing in ‘I’ll to the well-trod stage anon’, for example, or the relaxed phrasing in ‘Let me wander not unseen’. And the actual voice has much charm, too, at times, if drier than some tenors. Alastair Miles makes a fine, sturdy and vivacious bass, outstanding in the horn air and brilliant in ‘Orpheus’ self’, which was written as soprano music but apparently later adjusted for a bass (although the texture of the music is quite different from that of most of Handel’s bass airs).
The choir is capable but unexceptional; one or two of the choruses seems a shade heavy or sluggish, perhaps taken marginally too slowly. John Nelson conducts very capably and professionally although there are two or three moments of unsure timing. He is on record for his sensible views about doing baroque music on modern instruments, and though nothing will make a group of four semiquavers sound the same on modern bows and strings as it does on period ones, he generally obtains clear and light textures and manages rhythms and ornamentation sensibly. Sometimes – this may be the engineers’ fault – the continuo accompaniment is too faint, and occasionally the bass is too heavy and sustained. Modern pitch is used, and it often sounds a shade too high, especially for the sopranos.
There are, then, many fine things in this performance, but it remains a collection of fine things and never quite manages to gel in the way that Robert King’s does. There, one felt, a philosophy about Nature and Man was captured and conveyed, arising from an integral view of the work; here, we have a series of beautiful idylls. There is an impressive recording from Gardiner, too, but hampered by substantial cuts. So the King version is the one I would recommend, even if this new one does have many delights to offer.'
The great strength of this new version lies in the singing, which is of an order of excellence to challenge the recent very fine recording under Robert King (which came extremely close to winning a Gramophone Award). No blow-by-blow comparison with the King version is possible, as the music is rather differently shared between the singers. Here the two sopranos are Lynne Dawson and Christine Brandes. Dawson is in full and warm voice – though not quite as individual tonally as it once was, but she has gained much in richness, control, subtlety of phrasing and the treatment of words. She is equally persuasive in allegro and penseroso music – in Part I, for example, in the group beginning with ‘Come, pensive nun’, which is raptly done, and in the spirited ‘Mirth, admit me’ just after. Her final duet with Ian Bostridge is certainly one of the high points here; another is ‘And ever against eating cares’, a beautifully modulated piece of singing. Then Christine Brandes, with a more sharply defined line and a vibrant glow to her voice, excels in ‘Sweet bird’ and in her carefully managed ‘Oft on a plat of rising ground’ – although there are some uncomfortable moments in her elaborate air with cello, ‘But oh! sad virgin’: much of it is compelling, but some of the detail is not carried off neatly or rhythmically.
Some of the soprano music – probably following Handelian precedent – is transposed and assigned to the alto. Handel used a woman’s voice (that of Susanna Cibber); here it is the countertenor David Daniels, who sings with great delicacy and fine control. ‘Hide me from day’s garish eye’, taken down a fourth, is very tellingly done. The tenor is Ian Bostridge, who excels especially by his natural ability to make the words a part of the music, shaping them and the line conjointly, so that accent, syllable, dynamic and so on are all one. Listen to the timing in ‘I’ll to the well-trod stage anon’, for example, or the relaxed phrasing in ‘Let me wander not unseen’. And the actual voice has much charm, too, at times, if drier than some tenors. Alastair Miles makes a fine, sturdy and vivacious bass, outstanding in the horn air and brilliant in ‘Orpheus’ self’, which was written as soprano music but apparently later adjusted for a bass (although the texture of the music is quite different from that of most of Handel’s bass airs).
The choir is capable but unexceptional; one or two of the choruses seems a shade heavy or sluggish, perhaps taken marginally too slowly. John Nelson conducts very capably and professionally although there are two or three moments of unsure timing. He is on record for his sensible views about doing baroque music on modern instruments, and though nothing will make a group of four semiquavers sound the same on modern bows and strings as it does on period ones, he generally obtains clear and light textures and manages rhythms and ornamentation sensibly. Sometimes – this may be the engineers’ fault – the continuo accompaniment is too faint, and occasionally the bass is too heavy and sustained. Modern pitch is used, and it often sounds a shade too high, especially for the sopranos.
There are, then, many fine things in this performance, but it remains a collection of fine things and never quite manages to gel in the way that Robert King’s does. There, one felt, a philosophy about Nature and Man was captured and conveyed, arising from an integral view of the work; here, we have a series of beautiful idylls. There is an impressive recording from Gardiner, too, but hampered by substantial cuts. So the King version is the one I would recommend, even if this new one does have many delights to offer.'
Handel L'Allegro, Il Pensoroso ed Il Moderato
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