Doom-laden and forbidding, this new Dido revels from the outset in every kind of symbolic reference to the inexorably declining fortunes of the pitiful protagonists. This is powerfully conveyed by the deliberately astringent and slightly louche-sounding Taverner Players, enhanced by the imaginative scene-setting of its leader, Andrew Manze. But it isn’t all clever tricks. There is an elegance and wistfulness in the air, conveyed in the beautifully shaped choruses, and a sense of pageantry in the effectively deliberate pulse of ‘Fear no danger’. Far more than the comparatively inhibited version Parrott recorded in 1981, the drama unfolds with great seamlessness. This is achieved despite Parrott’s own additions (his edition includes the interpolation of some attractive, short dances) which, for the unsuspecting – and in less expert hands – might appear to halt the natural momentum.
There is a feeling in this stylish and uncliched account of Dido of a ‘troupe’ steeped in the theatricality of the work, where voices and instruments cohabit but none is overprojected. In one or two cases, this is perhaps no bad thing: Aeneas, always a tricky proposition, is a character whose nobility is questionable and musical presence, in Purcell if not Berlioz, comparatively static. Ben Parry’s light baritone is dramatically convincing, this gauche Prince-figure stumbling around quite ill-equipped for the emotional fathoms which face him. Even more compelling is the male Sorceress of Haden Andrews; we know of a professional production from 1700, held at the Lincoln’s Inn Fields Theatre, where a bass sang the Witches’ Scene as a quasi-‘divertissement’ to a production of Measure for Measure. Both singers’ vocal production here exudes some background in musical theatre; those looking for a conventional pure-classical delivery can be excused for recoiling at moments of unyielding tonal quality. Such is not the case in the urgency and clarity of Janet Lax’s Belinda.
Emily Van Evera gives us an engaged and characterful Lament even if it lacks the vocal coloration to transcend her many affecting, occasionally maddening, but also at times original nuances. It gets off to a curious start with the ground in a steady ‘three’ before Dido settles in for an exceptionally slow tempo; the effect is tingling for the first few bars but you have to be a Jessye Norman to sustain the intensity of line at that speed. This is, however, a mainly satisfying performance which hangs together well, as very few do. The recorded sound is good though the opening strains of the overture are unacceptably hissy (unless I am mistaking it for the Aegean). Hogwood with Catherine Bott is still, for me, the most accomplished of the ‘period’ versions. But this can be counted among a distinguished bunch.'