William Christie's approach in this latest 'authentic' Dido as much in common with that of Andrew Parrott's now famous mould-breaking Chandos recording. Each has an excellent dozen-piece orchestra (but Christie employs a harpsichord throughout for the continuo and does not share it with an archlute) and a highly efficient small chorus (Christie's of even fewer singers, though it nevertheless manages to sound more solid); each allows his soloists a few stylish ornaments; each has a feeling for the rhythms of the English language, with none of the heavy-handed accentuation that clogs Harnoncourt's Teldec performance, and with thoroughly intelligent, flexible treatment of recitatives. Christie does not, however, as Parrott does, make interpolations to fill gaps left by movements known to be missing in the score.
A glance at the cast-list of the new issue reveals a preponderance of French artists, but with a couple of exceptions (to be mentioned in a moment) there is scarcely a suspicion of non-native English pronunciation—some good coaching has evidently been done. In one respect the casting is superior to Parrott's, whose chief weakness is the over-the-top horror-movie portrayal of the Sorceress (and her attendant witches): here the use of a male alto (which prompts the speculation whether Purcell himself—also an alto—might have taken the part) is remarkably successful, thanks to the extremely subtle and technically brilliant singing (up to soprano F and G without trouble) of dominique Visse. A tenor Spirit and Sailor are also preferable to Parrott's genteel sopranos in these parts, though, alone of the soloists, both men's vowels betray their nationality. Philippe Cantor, a lighter and younger-sounding bass than the robust David Thomas (Parrott), makes a dependable Aeneas; and Jill Feldman—a more secure Belinda than Harnoncourt's Rachel Yakar—is agile in a fast ''Pursue thy conquest, love'' and moves prettily in thirds with Agnes Mellon in a lightly tripping ''Fear no danger''. But of course Dido revolves round the title-role, and it has to be said that Guillemette Laurens is somewhat over-parted here; though she sings with dignity and feeling she presents no serious challenge to her competitors, possessing neither Emma Kirkby's girlish purity (Parrott) nor Anne Murray's warm beauty of tone (Harnoncourt): intonation is slightly uneasy in her initial ''Ah, Belinda'' aria, and the excessively slow pace adopted for ''When I am laid in earth'' (in which decorations seem out of place) obliges her to snatch a breath at ''May my wrongs create/no trouble''.
Christie brings drama and intensity to the performance, as well as crisply dotted rhythms, but he drags the final chorus, which slows down even further at the end: I like his fast, staccato, ''Cupid only throws the dart'', and the laughing choruses are splendidly done; but the inserted pause before the end of ''Destruction's our delight'' seems unnecessary, and I have yet to encounter a real echo which makes a violent crescendo like the snarl which leads into the Echo Dance. I should have welcomed a rather more resonant ambience for the echoes, but otherwise the recording, with a good firm bass line, is first-class.'