The destructive power of envy is the central theme of Handel’s Saul: Saul’s unruly emotions bring about the end of his dynasty and the defeat of his nation. It’s a grand theme, treated on a large scale. The special strengths of Paul McCreesh’s performance here lie in the drama and the urgency he brings to the work, the keen sense of character he imparts to the music, the vigorous pacing that carries the action forward with the inevitability of a Greek tragedy.

But Saul is a tragic work; and you may feel, as I do, that there is sometimes a want of the necessary gravitas. Thus, although I delighted in the spirited way he directs the overture, with beautifully defined phrasing, light textures and ebullient rhythm, it doesn’t quite fit with the mood of the work to come. True, the oratorio begins with the Israelites celebrating a victory. All the same, greater weight and a steadier tempo might have served better. More to the point, perhaps, are the two magnificent choruses that flank Act 2. It begins with the famous disquisition on Envy, ‘eldest born of hell’, marked Andante larghetto by Handel, which double indication seems clearly to suggest sombre por-tentousness rather than a jaunty step. And then, at the end of the act, ‘Oh fatal consequence of rage’, which Handel unhelpfully marked A tempo giusto. We may all have different ideas of a tempo that is ‘just right’, but one that takes account of the words and the ominous situation, and allowed more weight to the music, might be more to the point.

That said, I found this a gripping and very inspiriting performance. McCreesh uses quite modest forces, a choir of 8.6.5.5 and an orchestra with strings 8.8.4.4.2, which is far closer to the kind of scale Handel had in mind than performances with a choir of 40 or more, and gives a truer balance and much better defined textures. And the precision and flexibility of the Gabrieli Consort is a constant delight; the voices are fresh and bright, the words well articulated. The Gabrieli Players, too, produce a fine and distinctive period orchestral timbre. The movements scored for special effect come off admirably: a delightful tinkly ‘carillon’, sonorous trombones and blazing trumpets in the battle symphonies, and excellent concerto movements for organ, played with much character by Timothy Roberts. In the Dead March, which is given due weight, the slow-speaking organ is often marginally behind the flutes that it accompanies.

Andreas Scholl makes an ideal David, with sweetness and unusual depth of tone, exceptional precision of rhythm (listen to his articulated semi- quavers in ‘Your words, O king’) and perfectly clear words. If you try ‘O Lord, whose mercies’ you will buy this set. His caressing of the music in ‘Such haughty beauties’ is a joy. I enjoyed, too, Nancy Argenta’s natural, delicately phrased singing of Micah’s music (though she sounds less comfortable in the hurried account of ‘No, let the guilty tremble’), and also Susan Gritton’s telling portrayal of Saul’s elder daughter, Merab, whose character development is well reflected in her singing (notably in her poised, finely detailed ‘Author of peace’). Saul himself, sometimes fiery, nearly always agonised, is effectively and always musically drawn by Neal Davies; and Mark Padmore’s warm and gently graceful tenor is ideal for Jonathan’s music. Jonathan Lemalu brings dark and full tone to Samuel’s brief appearance; Paul Agnew sings the music for the High Priest (restored here, as on several recordings, although cut by Handel) and the Witch of Endor, rather blandly.

There is no shortage of good recordings of this work. The two German ones both have many merits, though Neumann’s suffers from some weak soloists and Martini’s is marred by its blurry acoustic. Gardiner’s weighty version holds the field but this new version presents a serious challenge; the lightness and clarity, the livelier drama and the solo singing of Scholl in particular tell in favour of McCreesh.