A ‘secular oratorio’ was how Schumann, then 33, summarized Das Paradies und die Peri, his first major choral work, with its moral message of redemption through repentance conveyed not by the Scriptures but rather by the colourful oriental romance of Thomas Moore’s Lalla Rookh. It was atmospheric evocation no less than new conquest of space that won it immediate acclaim in an age irresistibly lured by the exoticism of the East. And it is Gardiner’s own graphically vivid response to its battles, plagues and seductive spirits, alongside more personal undertones - all reinforced by exceptional vividness and clarity of recording - that makes this new release so arresting an addition to the catalogue which is already well-stocked with pleasurable versions of temptingly varied price.
Tempo contrasts are very marked - and how well the two big homophonic choruses (which can sound more conventional than the rest) flourish on Gardiner’s highly spirited Sehr lebhaft at the end of the first and last sections. Slow tempo is sometimes slower than the prescribed metronome markings, with telling poignancy for the most part, but once or twice at the expense of the music’s natural flow - as notably in the heart-easing ‘Schlaf nun’ choral farewell in Part 2, and the solo baritone’s ‘Jetzt sank’ towards the work’s end.
Gerald Finley nevertheless sings this - and his subsequent repentance - with outstanding lyrical sensitivity, and I was equally impressed by similar qualities throughout from the compassionate story-telling tenor, Christoph Pregardien. In short, excellent support from a cast headed by Barbara Bonney, whose clean crystalline soprano overrides all in unquenchable determination to regain her lost place in Paradise. Chorus and orchestra are first-rate, the latter as eloquent in intimate interweaving with soloists as they are powerful in dramatic climaxes - where Gardiner certainly never holds them back.
The little Requiem fur Mignon (1849) is a welcome inclusion in this Goethe anniversary year, tellingly contrasting grieving boys’ voices with those of the comforting choir. But the great discovery for many could well be the Nachtlied (also 1849) , a Hebbel setting lasting a mere nine minutes evoking the coming of the night and the mystical splendour of its sky before the gentle onset of eternal sleep. Its great arc of sound surely places it among Schumann’s masterpieces. Another vividly explicit performance, yet for me lacking a measure of the awe-inspiring mystery of its recent CD forerunner recorded in Dusseldorf’s Thomaskirche.'