Every Valley: Handel's Messiah

George Frideric Handel by Philip Mercier, c. 1730. Image credit: Händel-Haus, Halle. Image source: All About Handel

Today is the 283rd anniversary of the première of Handel's Messiah in Dublin on 13 April 1742. The story of Messiah's composition in just three weeks, the notorious adulteress who sang in its first performance, which took place during Holy Week, and the circumstances that brought her together with Handel in Dublin, are vividly retold in Charles King's Every Valley: The Desperate Lives and Troubled Times that Made Handel's Messiah (Doubleday, 2024).

In 1741 Handel was facing a crisis. In the winter season he had witnessed the failure of his Italian opera, Deidamia, which had received only three performances before being ignominiously pulled from the stage. Handel had composed opera seria in London for 30 years; indeed, it had been the reason he had relocated there. But Deidamia would be his final Italian opera.

At this low point, two serendipitous events provided Handel with an opportunity to change his fortunes. First, he received a new libretto from his cantankerous collaborator Charles Jennens, who had previously provided the word books for the English-language oratorios Saul (1739) and L'Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato (The Active Man, the Pensive Man, and the Moderate Man, 1740). Jennens wrote to his friend Edward Holdsworth on 10 July 1741 about the new work, "I hope he will lay out his whole Genius & Skill upon it, that the Composition will excell all his former Compositions, as the Subject excells every other Subject. The Subject is Messiah." [1]

Charles Jennens by Thomas Hudson, c. 1740s. Image credit: Handel Hendrix House. Image source: ArtFund.org

The second serendipitous event was an invitation to put on a season of music in Dublin, at a concert hall newly established in Fishamble Street by William Neale and the Charitable Musick Society. The invitation was probably extended and negotiated by William Cavendish, the 3rd Duke of Devonshire and the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. Handel began composing Messiah on 22 August, suggesting that he had received the Dublin invitation shortly before. He worked rapidly, drafting all the music by 12 September, just three weeks later, and then finishing the "filled-in" score by 14 September. Jennens later complained to Holdsworth that Handel had composed the music "in great hast[e], tho' he said he would be a year about it." [2]

The finished score of Messiah was clearly intended to suit whatever musical forces might be available in Dublin, a city only one-fifth the size of London. The score called only for strings, trumpets and tympani, a chorus, and for as few as four solo singers: soprano, alto, tenor, and bass.

Handel's autograph score of the final measures of the Hallelujah Chorus, dated "September 6, 1741." Image credit: British Library R.M.20.f.2. Image source: The Handel Institute

After spending the late summer and early fall composing Messiah and, to a libretto by Newburgh Hamilton, the oratorio Samson, Handel left for Dublin, arriving on 18 November. Jennens wrote to Holdsworth, "I heard with great pleasure. . .that Handel had set the Oratorio of Messiah; but it was some mortification to me to hear that instead of performing it here he was gone into Ireland with it." [3]

On 29 December Handel wrote to Jennens from Dublin,

I am emboldened, Sir, by the generous Concern You please to take in relation to my affairs, to give You an Account of the Success I have met here. The Nobility did me the Honour to make amongst themselves a Subscription for 6 Nights, which did fill a Room of 600 Persons, so that I needed not sell one single Ticket at the Door, and without Vanity the Performance was received with a general Approbation. Sig[no]ra [Christina] Avo[g]lio, which I brought with me from London pleases extraordinary. . .as for the Instruments they are really excellent, Mr. [Matthew] Dubourgh [Master of the King's Musick in Ireland] being at the head of them, and the Musick sounds delightfully in this charming Room. . .They propose already to have some more Performances, when the 6 Nights of the Subscription are over. . .so that I shall be oblig'd to make my Stay longer than I thought. [4]

The first concert in the subscription series, a performance of L'Allegro, had taken place on 23 December. The series continued over the next month with a repeat performance of L'Allegro, followed by two performances of Acis and Galatea with Ode for St. Cecilia's Day, and it concluded with two performances of the oratorio Esther on 3 and 10 February. By then a second six-concert subscription series had been organized, with Alexander's Feast following on 17 February and repeated on 2 March, with weekly concerts continuing through the end of the month and an extra one added on 7 April. [5]

The second performance of Alexander's Feast had originally been scheduled for 24 February, but had to be postponed due to the illness of one of the singers, Susannah Cibber.

Susannah Cibber, by Thomas Hudson, c. 1740s. Image credit: National Portrait Gallery NPG 4526. Image source: Wikimedia Commons

In the winter of 1742 Mrs. Cibber had turned 28. For a decade she had been one of the leading actresses in London, and had come to Dublin in part to escape harassment by her husband, the actor Theophilus Cibber.

She had married Theophilus, who was a decade older than she was, in 1734. It was not a love-match, but one arranged by her father for her professional advancement: Theophilus was the son of Colley Cibber, the actor, playwright, and poet laureate, and had taken over the management of his company. In 1737 the abusive and spendthrift Theophilus had borrowed money from a rich gentleman, William Sloper, and in lieu of paying him back had coerced Susannah into sleeping with him. The three were soon living in a ménage à trois in a series of houses rented by Sloper.

The arrangement backfired on Theophilus when Susannah fell in love with Sloper. Soon afterwards she became pregnant by him, and tried to leave Theophilus. He abducted her, but after her rescue by her brother Thomas Arne, Theophilus sued Sloper. He accused him of "Assaulting, Ravishing, and Carnally knowing" his wife and demanded £5000 in damages. A jury, hearing testimony about how Theophilus had connived in the situation for his own gain, awarded him a nominal £10. After Susannah gave birth to a daughter in 1739, Theophilus sued Sloper again, this time for £10,000; he was awarded £500. Still, Susannah was generally seen as her husband's victim; she and Sloper would remain together for the rest of her life.

Theophilus Cibber, Comedian, In the Character of a Fine Gentleman (date unknown). Image source: Folger Shakespeare Library ART File C567.7 no.1

In 1741 these events were still fresh in the public mind, and by travelling to Dublin Mrs. Cibber, like Handel, was looking for a break from the London scene. She was appearing in plays at the Aungier Street Theater when Handel asked her to join his group of singers for the second subscription series. Although she had performed before in Handel works, she could not read music and did not have a powerful voice. But as Charles Burney, who knew Mrs. Cibber personally, later wrote in his General History of Music, "by a natural pathos, and perfect conception of the words, she often penetrated the heart, when others, with infinitely greater voice and skill, could only reach the ear. . .[She] captivated every hearer of sensibility by her native sweetness of voice and powers of expression." [6]

Including the extra concert on 7 April, Handel's second subscription series ended just four days before Palm Sunday. He must have begun planning for the first public performance of Messiah shortly after Mrs. Cibber joined his company. Rehearsals would have had to begin well in advance, since she needed to learn her part by ear. 

Her presence among the performers also raised another issue. The dean of St. Patrick's Cathedral in Dublin was Jonathan Swift. In January he had forbidden church singers and musicians "to assist at a Club of Fiddlers in Fishamble Street," and ordered the punishment of "such vicars as shall ever appear there, as Songsters, Fidlers, Pipers, Trumpeters, Drummers, Drummajors, or in any Sonal Quality, according to the Flagitious aggravations of their respective Disobedience, Rebellion, Perfidy & Ingratitude." [7]

Jonathan Swift by Francis Bindon, c. 1735. Image credit: National Portrait Gallery NPG 5319. Image source: Wikimedia Commons

If Swift was outraged by the church musicians performing in Handel's concert series, what would he think of Mrs. Cibber's participation, particularly in a performance of Messiah during Holy Week? The word book of the new oratorio was Jennens' compilation of excerpts from the King James Bible and Apocrypha about the life, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus. It would be shocking enough to have an actress, even a married one, sing those words from the stage; Mrs. Cibber's eyebrow-raising sexual history would make it even more scandalous.

However, Handel was used to managing difficult personalities. He recruited allies, likely including Swift's Irish publisher George Faulkner, to plead with the dean. He also appealed to Swift's conscience by arranging that the performance of Messiah would benefit charitable causes. Dean Swift relented: on 27 March an announcement was printed in Faulkner's Dublin Journal that the performance would be held "for the relief of the Prisoners in the several Gaols, and for the Support of Mercer's Hospital in Stephen's Green, and of the Charitable Infirmary on the Inns Quay," and that it would involve "the Gentlemen of the Choirs of both Cathedrals," St. Patrick's and Christ Church. [8]

A public rehearsal on the Friday before Palm Sunday stoked excitement for the première on Tuesday 13 April. So many tickets were sold, more than 700 for a room deigned to hold 600, that a notice was published in Faulkner's Dublin Journal: "The Stewards of the Charitable Musical Society request the Favour of the ladies not to come with Hoops this day to the Musick Hall in Fishamble Street. The Gentlemen are desired to come without their swords." [9] The performance started around noon.

Word book of Messiah, Dublin 1742. Image source: Foundling Museum

The first aria after the opening chorus in Part 2 had been given to Mrs. Cibber. The text of "He was despisèd" comes from the Book of Isaiah in the Old Testament, but it has been read in the Christian tradition as a prophecy of the experience of Jesus during his arrest, trials, condemnation, and the Stations of the Cross, events that would be commemorated in just a few days' time. Clearly Handel was relying on Mrs. Cibber's expressiveness and her ability to move her listeners through her "natural pathos." Here is my favorite version, performed by Anne Sofie von Otter accompanied by the English Concert conducted by Trevor Pinnock:

https://youtu.be/1iAb5pyEQi0

Dr. Patrick Delany, rector of St Werburgh’s Church and chancellor of both St. Patrick's and Christ Church, was so profoundly moved by Mrs. Cibber's performance of this aria that at its conclusion he called out to the stage, "Woman, for this be all thy sins forgiven!" [10]

In Faulkner's Dublin Journal an anonymous reviewer wrote, "On Tuesday last Mr. Handel's Sacred Grand Oratorio, the MESSIAH, was performed in the New Musick-Hall in Fishamble-street; the best Judges allowed it to be the most finished piece of Musick. Words are wanting to express the exquisite Delight it afforded to the admiring crouded Audience. The Sublime, the Grand, and the Tender, adapted to the most elevated, majestick and moving Words, conspired to transport and charm the ravished Heart and Ear." [11]

And Edward Synge, Bishop of Elphin, wrote, "As Mr. Handel in his oratorio's greatly excells all other Composers I am acquainted with, so in the famous one, called the Messiah, he seems to have excell'd himself. The whole is beyond any thing I had a notion of till I Read and heard it. It seems to be a Species of Musick different from any other, and this is particularly remarkable of it, That tho' the Composition is very Masterly & artificial [in the sense of "displaying special art or skill"], yet the Harmony is so great and open, as to please all who have Ears & will hear, learned & unlearn'd." [12]

Handel went on to write a dozen more oratorios, and to cement his place as the most beloved English-language composer of all time. It was as an oratorio composer that he was remembered for another two and a half centuries, until his operas began to be revived and their musical riches rediscovered in the 20th century. But nearly three centuries after its première, Messiah remains Handel's most-performed composition.

King's Every Valley (small quibble: Handel set these words as "Ev'ry Valley," although I can see why that was not chosen as the title) covers the slow establishment of Messiah as an annual tradition, something that took another decade, and the fates of many of the participants in the première. It also connects the wealth of Handel's patrons and of Handel himself to the slave trade carried on by the South Sea Company. It's thoroughly researched and compellingly written, although readers unfamiliar with Handel and Messiah may not immediately understand each time King introduces and discusses at length persons whose connection to Messiah is only made fully apparent later on.

There are many books about Messiah; those by Donald Burrows (Cambridge, 1991) and Richard Luckett (Harcourt Brace, 1992) are especially recommendable, and Winton Dean's magisterial Handel's Dramatic Oratorios and Masques (Oxford, 1959) remains an essential source for researchers. But King's account, clearly originating in his deep affection for the work, is well-deserving of a place next to them on the shelf.

Image source: Bookshop.org

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1. Quoted in Donald Burrows, Handel, in Stanley Sadie, ed., The Master Musicians, Oxford University Press, 1994, p. 259.
2. Quoted in David Vickers, Messiah (HWV 56) "A Sacred Oratorio." GFHandel.org
3. Quoted in Burrows, Handel, p. 260.
4. Quoted in Burrows, Handel, pp. 262–263.
5. Dates of the subscription series concerts taken from W. H. Grattan Flood, "Fishamble St. Music Hall, Dublin, from 1741 to 1777." Sammelbände Der Internationalen Musikgesellschaft, vol. 14, no. 1, 1912, pp. 51–57. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/929446.
6. Charles Burney, A General History of Music, Volume the Second, Dover Publications, 1957, pp. 899, 1003. Reprint of 1935 edition edited by Frank Mercer and published by G.T. Foulis & Co., 1935, prepared from the second edition, 1789.
7. Quoted in Charles King, Every Valley: The Desperate Lives and Troubled Times that Made Handel's Messiah, Doubleday, 2024, p. 199.
8. Quoted in King, Every Valley, pp. 201–202. The involvement of the church choirmen meant that the date of the première had to be shifted from 12 April, Holy Monday, to the next day.
9. Stanford University. Handel Reference Database: 1742.
10. Jonathan Bardon, "The Singer Saved by Handel's Messiah," Irish Daily Mail, 21 December 2015. https://www.pressreader.com/ireland/irish-daily-mail/20151221/281698318705097
11. Stanford University. Handel Reference Database: 1742.
12. Stanford University. Handel Reference Database: 1742.
    

Lise Davidsen in recital

Lise Davidsen accompanied by Malcolm Martineau at Zellerbach Hall, Berkeley, Tuesday 4 February 2025.
Presented by Cal Performances. Photo credit: Katie Ravas for Drew Alitzer Photography. Image source: KQED.org

In July 2015, at age 28, the Norwegian soprano Lise Davidsen was catapulted into opera-world fame by winning the first prize, the Birgit Nilsson prize for singing Strauss or Wagner, and an audience award at Plácido Domingo's Operalia vocal competition at the Royal Opera House Covent Garden. A month later she went on to win first prize and two other prizes in the Queen Sonja International Music Competition in Oslo.

Peter Katona, who at the time had been the casting director of the Royal Opera House for 30 years, was quoted in Opera magazine as saying, "She could be the next Kirsten Flagstad." [1] By almost universal consensus, Flagstad is considered to be the greatest dramatic soprano in history. Dramatic sopranos require the vocal power to sing over a 100-piece orchestra playing fortissimo, the stamina to perform at a high emotional pitch throughout a four-hour-long opera, and the musicality to sing the heavier roles of Strauss and especially Wagner while retaining accuracy of intonation and beauty of tone, without straining or screaming to be heard. No pressure, then.

Here is Davidsen's prize-winning performance of Elisabeth's "Dich, teure Halle, grüss ich wieder" (Dear hall, I greet you once again) from Wagner's Tannhäuser in the finals of the Queen Sonja competition on 21 August 2015:

https://youtu.be/U9TofuLQOuk?t=4

Impressive as this video is, in the intervening decade Davidsen's low- and mid-range have taken on a fuller, darker timbre. Her voice in that range is now even richer and more opulent, while her high notes can ring out with an almost shocking power. Her Cal Performances recital with the great accompanist Malcolm Martineau displayed all of these vocal strengths, as well as her ability to mesmerize an audience with her soft singing, attentiveness to words, and communicative artistry.

The recital opened with a group of three songs to German texts by Davidsen's countryman Edvard Grieg. From the first song, "Dereinst, Gedanke mein," it was clear that we were in for a very special evening indeed. Here is her 2021 recording of this song, accompanied by Leif Ove Andsnes. No recording, of course, can capture the full resonance and sheer lusciousness of a voice like hers heard in person:

https://youtu.be/3TonfA2SsKY

Dereinst, Gedanke mein (Emanuel Geibel)	One day, my thoughts
Dereinst, Gedanke mein, Wirst ruhig sein. Läßt Liebesglut Dich still nicht werden, In kühler Erden, Da schläfst du gut, Dort ohne Lieb' Und ohne Pein Wirst ruhig sein. Was du im Leben Nicht hast gefunden, Wenn es entschwunden, Wird's dir gegeben, Dann ohne Wunden Und ohne Pein Wirst ruhig sein.	One day, my thoughts, You will find peace. If love's passion disturbs your repose, In the cool earth You will sleep deeply: Without love And without pain You will find peace. What in life You have not found When it is ended Will be given to you; Then without wounds And without pain You will find peace.

This song also introduced a somber mood of love's suffering and anguish which threaded through Davidsen's selections, twinned with the theme of love's joys.

Following the Grieg set were arias from three operas, all expressing a longing for death: Dido's lament "Thy hand, Belinda, darkness shades me" from Henry Purcell's Dido and Aeneas, Elisabeth's "Tu che le vanità conoscesti del mondo" (You who knew the vanities of the world) from Verdi's Don Carlo, and Ariadne's "Es gibt ein Reich" (There is a kingdom) from Strauss's Ariadne aux Naxos. Together they displayed Davidsen's vocal and dramatic range as the characters pass through sorrow, grief, regret, remembered joy, resignation, and resolve. As well as having a gorgeous voice, Davidsen showed herself to be a magnificent vocal actor. The Purcell in particular was immensely moving, and at the climax her "Remember me!" rang out powerfully.

It may be heresy, but in these arias, as well as those from Wagner operas in the second half of the program, I missed the accompaniment of an orchestra. No piano transcription can capture the full sweep of the emotions conveyed in this music. This was not the fault of Davidsen's accompanist Malcolm Martineau, who supported her throughout the evening with playing both beautiful and (that rarest of gifts among accompanists) subtle.

The final song of the first half was a glowing account of Richard Strauss's "Befreit" (Released). Searching for a Davidsen performance of this song to share, I discovered that she has not yet recorded it in either its original piano version or its later orchestral version, oversights that I hope there are plans to remedy soon.

The second half of the program began with a group of four Schubert songs, beginning with "Der Tod und das Mädchen" and "Der Zwerg." Davidsen sang both songs effectively, but they are Schubert in the hyper-dramatic mode that I confess I do not favor. Even her artistry could not make the latter song, about a murderous dwarf (!), seem anything but excessively histrionic. These were followed by lovely renditions of two of Schubert's most deceptively simple melodies, "Du bist die Ruh" (You are my peace) and "Ellens Gesang III (Ave Maria)," which suspended time.

The final section of the recital was devoted to Wagner, starting with Elisabeth's death-prayer from Tannhäuser, "Allmächt'ge Jungfrau" (Almighty Virgin). Following after Schubert's "Ave Maria," it showed the careful thought Davidsen had put into the sequencing of her selections. This was followed by a ravishing "Der Engel" from the Wesendonck Lieder. Here is Davidsen's 2021 recording of the orchestral version with the London Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Mark Elder:

https://youtu.be/VpqD-aFdcGI

Der Engel (Mathilde Wesendonck)

The Angel

In der Kindheit frühen Tagen Hört ich oft von Engeln sagen, Die des Himmels hehre Wonne Tauschen mit der Erdensonne, Daß, wo bang ein Herz in Sorgen Schmachtet vor der Welt verborgen, Daß, wo still es will verbluten, Und vergehn in Tränenfluten, Daß, wo brünstig sein Gebet Einzig um Erlösung fleht, Da der Engel niederschwebt, Und es sanft gen Himmel hebt. Ja, es stieg auch mir ein Engel nieder, Und auf leuchtendem Gefieder Führt er, ferne jedem Schmerz, Meinen Geist nun himmelwärts!

In childhood's early days I often heard talk of angels, Who would exchange Heaven's bliss For the Earth's sunlight, So that, when a heart in sorrow Languishes hidden from the world, So that, when it wishes quietly to grieve, And melt away in a flood of tears, So that, when it prays fervently Only for release from life, Then the angel descends And gently raises it to Heaven. Yes, an angel has also descended to me, And on shining wings Bears aloft, far from every pain, My soul now heavenward!

Periodically throughout the recital Davidsen spoke directly and disarmingly to the audience, making the cavernous Zellerbach Hall seem like an intimate room. She announced that the final work in the program would be her first public performance of the Liebestod from Wagner's Tristan und Isolde. Although it was the end of a long recital and, with just the piano as accompaniment, her voice was completely exposed, she showed no fatigue. Over the seven minutes of the aria she deftly employed both the richness of her lower range and her gleaming top notes to slowly build to a powerful emotional peak. Her interpretation will no doubt continue to develop, but hearing her essay this aria for the first time was a privilege I won't soon forget; with the full power of  a Wagnerian orchestra buoying her up on this flight of ecstasy, it would have been overwhelming. Davidsen has cancelled all of her engagements after mid-March because she is pregnant (with twins!), and so we will likely not see her Isolde on stage for another couple of years. We can only hope that it will not be that long before she is able to return to the recording studio.

After the final notes of Wagner's great aria faded into silence, the audience roared its appreciation in a lengthy ovation. Amazingly, after the marathon of the Liebestod, Davidsen and Martineau generously offered us an "extra": Wagner's "Schmerzen" (Anguish) from the Wesendonck Lieder, which brought the audience to its feet again.

In this memorable recital Lise Davidsen showed that she is not the next Kirsten Flagstad. She is herself, and that is quite enough.

"Schmerzen," with Mark Elder and the London Philharmonic:

https://youtu.be/MRru3QruKPQ

Schmerzen (Mathilde Wesendonck)

Anguish

Sonne, weinest jeden Abend Dir die schönen Augen rot, Wenn im Meeresspiegel badend Dich erreicht der frühe Tod; Doch erstehst in alter Pracht, Glorie der düstren Welt, Du am Morgen neu erwacht, Wie ein stolzer Siegesheld! Ach, wie sollte ich da klagen, Wie, mein Herz, so schwer dich sehn, Muß die Sonne selbst verzagen, Muß die Sonne untergehn? Und gebieret Tod nur Leben, Geben Schmerzen Wonne nur: O wie dank ich, daß gegeben Solche Schmerzen mir Natur!

Sun, every evening you weep Until your beautiful eyes turn red, When sinking into the sea's mirror You are touched by early death; Yet you rise again in your former splendor, Glory of the gloomy world, Each morning you reawaken, Like a proud victor! Ah, how can I lament, Why, my heart, do you ache so, When the sun itself must despair, When the sun itself must sink down? And if Death always gives birth to Life, And anguish always to bliss: I am thankful that Nature Has given me so much pain!

Update 16 February 2025: After publishing this post I learned that just four days before her Berkeley recital Davidsen had appeared as Ariadne in the final performance (of four) of Strauss's Ariadne auf Naxos at the Staatsoper in Vienna. At short notice she had replaced Anna Netrebko, who withdrew because of illness. On Bachtrack, Mark Pullinger wrote of her "triumphant" performance on 28 January, "Lise Davidsen and Richard Strauss are a match made in heaven. Hers is a Rolls Royce soprano, luxuriously rich and powerful, filling the house. She rode the long gleaming lines of 'Es gibt ein Reich' with ease, a molten glow that I can still feel now. The final duet with [Michael] Spyres [as Bacchus] was sublime. . .An outstanding portrayal." For more on the production, please see "Lise auf Naxos: Davidsen makes a triumphant return to Vienna's Ariadne" on Bachtrack.

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1. Henrietta Bredin, "Competitive Instincts," Opera Vol. 66 No. 10, October 2015, p. 1387.

Favorites of 2024: Live performances

We saw a lot of great live performances this year, so it was difficult to narrow my choice of favorites to just eight. In chronological order of performance:

Premier Ensemble of the San Francisco Girls Chorus with musical director Valerie Sainte-Agathe. Image source: San Francisco Girls Chorus

Antonio Vivaldi, Juditha Triumphans (Judith triumphant, 1716), libretto by Iacopo Cassetti.

Performers: Premier Ensemble of the San Francisco Girls Chorus, musical direction by Valerie Sainte-Agathe, stage direction by Céline Ricci, score arranged by Adam Cockerham.

Co-presenters and venue: San Francisco Girls Chorus and Ars Minerva; Z Space at Project Artaud, San Francisco; seen 9 March.

Antonio Vivaldi wrote many of his works for the Ospedale della Pietà in Venice. The Pietà was one of four orphanages that took in abandoned girls and provided musical training to those who showed talent; at various times Vivaldi was a teacher, music director and composer there.

So it's entirely fitting that the sacred oratorio Juditha Triumphans, written for the highly skilled women of the Pietà, was performed by the Premier Ensemble of the San Francisco Girls Chorus. The oratorio tells the Apocryphal story of the beautiful Bethulian widow Judith, who, when her city is beseiged by an Assyrian army commanded by Holofernes, goes to his camp and pretends to betray her people. But when she and her maid are left alone with Holofernes in his tent, she plies him with wine until he falls asleep, beheads him with his own sword, and escapes back to her city.

Judith beheading Holofernes, by Artemisia Gentileschi, ca. 1612. Image source: Wikimedia Commons

The score of the oratorio was arranged for a small instrumental ensemble and the arias were judiciously trimmed by theorbist Adam Cockerham. Stage director Céline Ricci assigned the role of Judith in turn to different members of the Premier Ensemble, suggesting that all women possess Judith's courage and strength. The singers were dressed in contemporary clothes, with each Judith being strapped by her compatriots into a breastplate symbolic of her warrior status. The transformation from one Judith to the next was often effected through a magic box onstage; one Judith would enter the box and after a few moments the next would emerge. Sharing the part of Judith was a meaningful way to distribute the taxing role among multiple young singers, who each fully embodied the heroine dramatically and vocally.

From Juditha Triumphans, the song of the Assyrians welcoming Juditha to their camp, "O quam Vaga," sung by members of the Premier Ensemble accompanied by Corey Jamason on harpsichord:

https://youtu.be/d1WP3N-dEzI?t=3218

After their excellent performance of Henry Purcell's Dido and Aeneas with Voices of Music at the 2018 Berkeley Festival and Exhibition, the San Francisco Girls Chorus did full justice to another great Baroque work written for young women with Juditha Triumphans. More, please! Next, might I suggest John Blow's Venus and Adonis (the other opera that we know was performed in the 1680s at Josias Priest's boarding school in Chelsea for "young gentlewomen"), or more music composed for the Ospedali? For more information on their upcoming projects please visit the SFGC website.

Clockwise from top left: Gregório Taniguchi, Mischa Bouvier, Julie Bosworth, Jesse Blumberg, Steven Brennfleck, and Agnes Vojtkó. Image source: American Bach Soloists

Johann Sebastian Bach, St. John Passion (1724), librettist unknown (possibly Bach himself).

Performers: Gregório Taniguchi (Evangelist), Mischa Bouvier (Jesus), Jesse Blumberg (Pilate), Daniel Yoder (Peter), Julie Bosworth (soprano), Agnes Vojtkó (mezzo-soprano), and other soloists, with American Bach Soloists conducted by Jeffrey Thomas.

Presenter and venue: American Bach Soloists; St. Mark's Lutheran Church, San Francisco; seen 10 March.

Bach's Johannes-Passion was written for his first Good Friday in Leipzig in 1724. Just a few weeks shy of its 300th anniversary, Jeffrey Thomas conducted a taut, compelling performance of the drama of Christ's condemnation and crucifixion. His soloists were uniformly excellent, but I must make a special mention of mezzo-soprano Agnes Vojtkó's moving rendition of "Es ist vollbracht!" The indefatigable tenor Gregório Taniguchi as the Evangelist and the bright-voiced soprano Julie Bosworth were both late substitutes in their roles and performed admirably. For information about the remaining concerts in ABS's 2024–25 season, please visit the ABS website.

Jory Vinikour and Rachel Barton Pine. Image source: Early Music in Columbus

Johann Sebastian Bach: Sonatas and Partitas (1717–23)

Performers: Rachel Barton Pine, Baroque violin, with Jory Vinikour, harpsichord.

Presenter and venue: San Francisco Early Music Society; St. Mark's Lutheran Church, San Francisco; seen 7 April.

This concert featured two of Bach's Sonatas for violin and harpsichord (No. 1 in B minor and No. 3 in E major), along with the great Partita for solo violin in D minor. All were written by Bach during his years in Cöthen, before he took the position of Thomaskantor in Leipzig. Rachel Barton Pine gave bold, extroverted interpretations of these works, particularly the monumental, 13-minute-long Chaconne of the Partita. It's the supreme test of any violinist, and she met its challenges with flawless technique. Although this was not as searching or inward an interpretation as some I've heard, Barton Pine's bravura performance was an equally valid reading and a stunning achievement. The 2024–25 San Francisco Early Music Society season continues; details can be found on the SFEMS website, where pay-what-you-can tickets are available.

Amanda Forsythe. Image source: Helen Sykes Artist Management

Awake, Sweet Love: English music for voice and viols (late 16th–early 17th century)

Performers: Amanda Forsythe, soprano, with Voice of the Viol, Elizabeth Reed, director.

Presenter and venue: San Francisco Early Music Society Berkeley Festival and Exhibition; Berkeley City Club; seen 11 June.

Amanda Forsythe is a pure-toned soprano who can manage astonishing flights of coloratura with apparent ease. This program called on a different talent: conveying deep emotion through deceptively simple means. Accompanied by the consort Voice of the Viol led by Elizabeth Reed, Forsythe performed love songs by English composers such as John Dowland, William Byrd, and John Wilbye, who bridged the time of Queen Elizabeth I and King James I. The Julia Morgan-designed Berkeley City Club ballroom, with its wood panelling and bright acoustic, was the perfect venue for this concert. If ultimately I think I prefer Forsythe in 17th- and 18th-century opera, it was still wonderful to hear her in this intimate repertory. This is the second of three entries in this list presented by the San Francisco Early Music Society, which seems to be going from strength to strength under the leadership of director Derek Tam (himself a well-regarded early music performer).

The Fortune Teller, Jean Frederic Bazille, 1869; The Death of Dido, Joseph Stallaert, c. 1872. Image source: The Handel Opera Project

Antonio Caldara: The Card Game (Il giuoco del Quadriglio, 1734), librettist unknown (possibly Pietro Metastasio).

Performers: Eliza O'Malley (Livia), Courtnee Rhone (Clarice), Daphne Touchais (Camilla), Katherine Gray (Ottavia); stage director Olivia Freidenreich.

Henry Purcell: Dido and Aeneas (1688?), libretto by Nahum Tate.

Performers: Sara Couden (Dido), Wayne D. Wong (Aeneas), Daphne Touchais (Belinda), Katherine Gray (2nd Lady), Don Hoffman (Sorcerer), Eliza O'Malley, Ellen St. Thomas and Reuben Zellman (Witches); stage director Ellen St. Thomas.

Presenter and venue: The Handel Opera Project; First Church of Christ Scientist, Berkeley; seen 15 June.

I'm of the school that Henry Purcell's 50-minute-long Dido and Aeneas is a full program all by itself, on stage or record, and needs no pairing (with the possible exception of John Blow's Venus and Adonis, the opera that Dido and Aeneas was clearly modelled on). So I approached this double bill with a bit of trepidation. That trepidation was only heightened when I noticed a banjo and electric bass player (Ryan Danley) listed among the instrumentalists, and that the Sorceress in Dido had become a Sorcerer (in the oldest surviving score the role is in the alto range).

And, in fact, apart from the vocal and instrumental forces required, there isn't really any connecting thread that I could discern between Caldara's witty comedy and Purcell's profound tragedy. The Card Game portrays a hand of quadrille played by four argumentative friends (the program helpfully included a reproduction of an 18th-century guide to the game). As one character sings, "card playing reveals your real character, whether you're winning or losing," and each player sings an aria illustrative of her personality—blithe, impatient, competitive, moralizing—until they all become frustrated and quit the game with a final chorus and invitation to dance.

It's a soufflé-light entertainment originally written for the Habsburg Archduchess Maria Theresa to perform in on her 17th birthday (she sang Clarice, while her sister Maria Anna sang Livia), and it was given a charming staging by Olivia Freidenreich. Perhaps a more closely related companion piece would have been Caldara's Le cinesi (The Chinese women, 1735), written for Maria Theresa to perform in on her 18th birthday, or Gluck's version of two decades later, which was Vittoria Tesi's final opera performance.

But we were there for Dido, and weren't disappointed. Sara Couden gave a magnificent performance in the title role, her deep, powerful alto conveying all the sorrow of the wronged queen. Daphne Touchais was an excellent Belinda, at first urging her queen to love the hero Aeneas (Wayne D. Wong) and too late realizing that her counsel has brought disaster.

There were subtle touches throughout Ellen St. Thomas's staging, which made good use of the unusual space in the beautiful Bernard Maybeck-designed church. And Danley's electric bass provided some eerie rumbling sound effects at the change of scene from Dido's court to the cave of the sinister Sorcerer (Don Hoffman) and his trio of witches (Eliza O'Malley, Ellen St. Thomas and Reuben Zellman). It was a production that made the most of its strengths, particularly Couden's memorable assumption of the title role. For current and future projects see The Handel Opera Project's website.

The servant Leporello (Donghoon Kang) clings to his master Don Giovanni (Hyungjin Son) in the Merola Opera Program's production of Don Giovanni. Photo credit: Kristen Loken; image source: SF Classical Voice

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Don Giovanni (1787)

Performers: Hyungjin Son (Don Giovanni), Donghoon Kang (Leporello), Lydia Grindatto (Donna Anna), Viviana Aurelia Goodwin (Donna Elvira), Moriah Berry (Zerlina), Justice Yates (Masetto), Benjamin R. Sokol (Commendatore), and Michael John Butler (Don Ottavio), with the San Francisco Opera Center Orchestra conducted by Stefano Sarzani; stage direction by Patricia Racette.

Presenter and venue: Merola Opera Program; Caroline H. Hume Concert Hall, San Francisco Conservatory of Music; seen 3 August.

As I wrote in my full review, "the inspiration for director Patricia Racette's production of Don Giovanni was the neorealist film movement in postwar Italy." But "her focus was less on the concept and more on helping the performers create fully fleshed-out characterizations. Interactions among the characters were also carefully thought through. As a result, this seemed more like a true ensemble work than merely a showcase for Hyungjin Son's excellently-sung Don Giovanni. . .Many a major opera company would love to be able to produce a Don Giovanni so well-performed and -directed." For future productions and showcases, see the Merola Opera Program website.

Ambroisine Bré. Image source: Olyrix.com

The Sound of Music in Versailles (late 17th–early 18th century)

Performers: Ambroisine Bré (mezzo-soprano), with Les Talens Lyriques directed by Christophe Rousset.

Presenter and venue: San Francisco Early Music Society; First Church UCC, Berkeley; seen 12 November.

What a privilege to see the renowned Christophe Rousset and musicians from his ensemble Les Talens Lyriques. They appeared twice on my Favorites of 2021: Recordings list, and could have appeared again this year with Lully's Acis et Galatée (Aparté AP269), in which Ambroisine Bré sang Galatea. She also sang Climene in Francesco Cavalli's L'Egisto (Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS 076), another candidate for my favorites list that was cut (for reasons of space, not quality).

The program was French music primarily from the time of Louis XIV by Lambert and Lully, with two rarely performed cantates by Montéclair that were first published in 1728, during the reign of Louis XV, but may have been written earlier. Lambert's music was simpler and each song tended to focus on a single feeling or state of mind, while the Lully and Montéclair selections were more like miniature operas, calling on Bré to express a wide range of emotions. Her voice is lovely, with an appealing richness in its lower range. As Christophe Rousset says in the preview video below, this is music of intimacy and refinement, and Bré and Les Talens Lyriques were its ideal exponents.

https://youtu.be/op0TH9lSd9c

For more information about the remaining concerts in the 2024–25 season, please see the SFEMS website.

Alexa Anderson as the title character in La Flora. Image source: Ars Minerva

Antonio Sartorio and Marc'Antonio Ziani: La Flora (1681), libretto by Novello Bonis.

Performers: Alexa Anderson (Flora), Jasmine Johnson (Pompeo), Wayne Wong (Silla), Aura Veruni (Emilia), Sara Couden (Servio), Nina Jones (Geminio), and others; stage director Céline Ricci.

Presenter and venue: Ars Minerva; ODC Theater, San Francisco; seen 17 November.

All opera involves suspension of disbelief, but the lieto fine or "happy ending" of Baroque opera is a convention that can stretch credulity past the breaking point. After three hours of misunderstandings, reversals, threats, betrayals, and anguish, in the final scene all conflicts are abruptly resolved and the proper couples are united at last.

But in the end is everything always made right, and are the right couples always united? Sometimes (as in Monteverdi's L'incoronazione di Poppea (The Coronation of Poppea, 1642), or Handel's Agrippina, 1709) that question is raised explicitly, but even when it seems we're supposed to take the happy ending at face value we can feel a distinct unease.

In La Flora, director Céline Ricci brilliantly heightened that unease. The Roman ruler Silla (Wayne Wong) orders his son-in-law Servio (Sara Couden) to divorce Silla's daughter Emilia (Aura Veruni) so that she can be married instead to Pompeo (Jasmine Johnson). The new marriage is planned for Sulla's political advantage; the feelings of Emilia and Servio, who love each other, as well as those of Pompeo and Flora (Alexa Anderson), who are also a couple, are not consulted.

Servio obeys Silla's orders to divorce the stunned Emilia, but then dies when he attempts to lead a rebellion and kill Pompeo. Emilia is left bereft and in a state of shock, which was depicted with chilling verisimilitude by Ricci and Veruni. Her status as a sexual pawn in her father's political game is made wrenchingly clear to her, and to us. No happy ending is ever going to be possible for her, and indeed in the final scene Ricci imagines the opera's characters taking matters into their own hands to elude the dictator's calculated arrangements.

Once again, as she writes in her director's note, Ricci's staging of a centuries-old opera was "more than an exercise in musical archaeology." In La Flora, "the human cost of political machinations is illuminated—a reality as relevant today as it was in ancient Rome or 17th century Venice." On a budget several orders of magnitude smaller than that of our civic opera company, she brought together all the elements necessary for another incisive Ars Minerva production: a restored performing score by theorbist Adam Cockerham, an excellent period-instrument ensemble led by Matthew Dirst, a vocally and dramatically compelling cast, Entropy's scene-setting projections, Marina Polakoff's costumes (especially a series of glittering gowns for Flora), Joe McClinton's colloquial supertitles, and her own keenly intelligent direction.

As ever, Ricci's work brought us much pleasure this year. It's fitting that my list of favorite performances of 2024 begins and ends with her. For more on her past and future projects, please see the Ars Minerva website.

My Favorites of 2024:

• Movies and television
• Recorded music
• Live performances
• Books

Favorites of 2024: Recorded music

Favorite recorded music of 2024

Opera

This was an especially rich year for new discoveries in opera. I limited myself to five choices, but my list could easily have been twice as long. In alphabetical order by composer:

Ludwig van Beethoven: Fidelio (1814), libretto by Joseph Sonnleithner (1805), Stephan von Breuning (1806 revisions) and Georg Friedrich Treitschke (1814 revisions).

Performers: Gundula Janowitz (Leonore), René Kollo (Florestan), Lucia Popp (Marzellina), Manfred Jungwirth (Rocco), Hans Sotin (Don Pizarro), Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (Don Fernando), accompanied by Wiener Staatsopernchor and Wiener Philharmoniker conducted by Leonard Bernstein.

Recording: Deutsche Grammophon 474 420-2 (2 CDs); recorded 1978.

For regular readers of E&I this choice may cause some puzzlement. I'm on record as being ambivalent about Beethoven, about much 19th-century opera, and about the singspiel—with its spoken German dialogue—as a form. Also: it has a tenor hero, on this recording sung by René Kollo, whose voice sounds to my ears somewhat strained and constricted at the higher end of his range.

I would in no way claim that this is the best version of Fidelio available; I don't have a sufficient basis for comparison. But this version features two of my favorite singers: Gundula Janowitz (who gave definitive performances of Mozart's Pamina, Strauss's Four Last Songs, and his Orchestral Lieder) and Lucia Popp (a great Queen of Night, Susanna and Sophie).

Florestan (Kollo) has been condemned as a political prisoner by Don Pizarro (Hans Sotin), who spreads the rumor that Florestan has died. But Florestan's wife Leonore (Janowitz), disguised as a young man, "Fidelio" (the faithful one), goes to work in the prison to search for him. The warden Rocco (Manfred Jungwirth) is cheerfully corrupt but has occasional twinges of conscience. His good-hearted daughter Marzelline (Popp) falls in love with Fidelio, to the dismay of her would-be lover Jaquino (Adolf Dallapozza). But even if Fidelio can deflect Marzelline's impassioned attentions and locate Florestan in the dungeons of Don Pizarro, how can she win his freedom?

Fidelio is based on a French opera, Pierre Gaveaux's Léonore (1798), with a libretto by Jean Nicholas Bouilly. Winton Dean wrote of Léonore,

The compound of realism, low life and earthy humour on the one hand. . .and heroic endeavour, a last-minute rescue and an elevating moral on the other is typical of French opera in the revolutionary decade. [1]

It's also characteristic of two German operas well-known to Beethoven, Mozart's Die Entführung aus dem Serail (The Rescue from the Harem, 1783) and Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute, 1791); the sound-world of Fidelio is at times especially similar to the latter. As with Mozart, in Beethoven's opera the music of love and joy is supremely lovely, but not always unmixed with other emotions. In "Mir ist so wunderbar" (To me it is so wonderful), an ensemble from Act I, Marzelline sings of her love for Fidelio and her hope that he will love her in return, while Fidelio is fearful of exposure, Rocco looks on as the indulgent father, and Jaquino is wracked with jealousy:

https://youtu.be/A9l1wKCv9nE

In music writer Ralph Moore's survey of Fidelio recordings he says of Janowitz's Leonore that it is "a role not entirely suited to her lovely voice"; he thinks she sings too beautifully to be convincing as someone trying to pass as a young man. I think that on this recording she is a superb exponent of some of Beethoven's most lyrical music. Opera already requires a suspension of disbelief, and I can't be sorry that Janowitz does not have a more convincingly masculine sound. Instead I'm glad to be able to experience such beauty, most especially at this moment.

Marc-Antoine Charpentier: David et Jonathas (1688), libretto by François Bretonneau.

Performers: Reinoud Van Mechelen (David), Caroline Arnaud (Jonathas), David Witczal (Saul), Francois-Olivier Jean (La Pythonisse/Witch of Endor), Antonin Rondepierre (Joabel), Geoffroy Bufiere (Ghost of Samuel), accompanied by Ensemble Marguerite Louise conducted by Gaétan Jarry.

Recording: Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS102 (2 CDs + DVD/Blu-Ray); recorded 2022.

Marc-Antoine Charpentier had the bad luck to be a contemporary of Jean-Baptiste Lully. In 1672 Lully bought the privilege of the Opéra, essentially a lifetime monopoly on opera production in Paris and environs. Charpentier had to look elsewhere for employment.

In the early 1680s he was appointed as music director at the Jesuit Collège de Louis-le-Grand and church of St. Louis. He composed sacred music dramas for the Jesuits that were performed between the acts of tragic plays on Biblical subjects. David et Jonathas (David and Jonathan) was written for the Collège and performed in conjunction with Pierre Chaillmart's Latin play Saül. Like the other plays and the music-dramas for the Jesuits, these were performed by all-male casts.

Not so this production, captured both on CD and in an excellent staged production on the included DVD/Blu-Ray, where the soprano role of Jonathas is sung by Caroline Arnaud (there are also women among the dancers and chorus). Apart from a moment's disorientation when watching the DVD at Jonathas' first entrance (Arnaud does not look very boyish, and for a few seconds we were unsure of who this new character was), this caused us no difficulties, and follows a common modern practice when performing this opera. The singers are all very fine and the production is well staged in the Royal Chapel of Versailles. Of particular note are the costumes by fashion designer Christian Lacroix; the bejeweled La Pythonisse (The Witch of Endor) is especially spectacular:

https://youtu.be/z68upAcfHBA

Be forewarned: as those of you familiar with the Old Testament may remember, it doesn't end well for Saul or Jonathas (or pretty much anyone else around David; he left quite the swath of destruction in his wake). But despite the horrors depicted onstage, the music of this dual tragedy is exquisite.

Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, Céphale et Procris (1693), libretto by Joseph-François Duché de Vancy.

Performers: Reinoud van Mechelen (Céphale), Déborah Cachet (Procris), Ema Nikolovska (L'Aurore), Samuel Namotte (Arcas), Lore Binon (Dorine), accompanied by a nocte temporis and the Choeur de Chambre de Namur conducted by van Mechelen.

Recording: Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS119; recorded 2023.

Céphale et Procris was Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre's first and only opera. As listeners of this recording can attest, it is filled with striking and beautiful music. Her contemporary Hilaire Rouillé du Coudray wrote, "I have great hopes for the new opera by la petite La Guerre. I have seen two rehearsals; it will be very good." However, the work was not well received and was only given a few performances. It's not clear why it failed, but it can't be ruled out that it was rejected by the public because its composer was a woman. It may not have helped that it was also the first opera written by its librettist, Joseph-François Duché de Vancy. Whatever the reason(s), Jacquet de La Guerre never attempted another drama for the stage.

Based on Ovid's Metamorphoses, Céphale et Procris tells a story of humans as the playthings of the gods. Céphale and Procris are about to celebrate their wedding, but the goddess Aurora desires Céphale for herself and sends a priestess to interrupt the festivities with the message that their union is forbidden by the gods. Instead, Procris is commanded to marry Prince Borée; later, Aurora will abduct Céphale and sow doubts in Procris' mind about his faithfulness.

From Act II, the farewell of Procris (Déborah Cachet) and Céphale (Reinould van Mechelen) after they have learned of the goddess's decree, "Le Ciel m'avait flatté de la vaine espérance" (The heavens have flattered me with a vain hope):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xet4wLiaPA4

Although in this opera Jacquet de La Guerre generally followed the conventions of Lullian tragedy, she departed from them in the stunning final scene. Aurora repents, assuages Procris' doubts and jealousies, and tells her that her marriage to Céphale can proceed. Overjoyed, Procris rushes to reunite with Céphale. However, Borée, enraged by the sudden reversal of his plans, attacks Céphale. In the melée Céphale shoots an arrow that strikes Procris, mortally wounding her. As her life ebbs, the music grows slower and quieter, and the phrases are separated by lengthening pauses; with Céphale we listen to her last breaths. In despair he vows to join her in the Underworld; at his final words marking his own death, the opera simply ends, without any final chorus or instrumental passage. [2]

Contemporary audiences may have been shocked by this innovation; perhaps it is another reason the opera was not accepted. Fortunately in this recording it has now received a performance that enables us to appreciate its many remarkable qualities.

Jean-Philippe Rameau: Les Boréades (1763), libretto attributed to Louis de Cahusac.

Performers: Mathias Vidal (Abaris), Nicolas Brooymans (Borée), Déborah Cachet (Alphise), Caroline Weynants (Sémir), accompanied by Collegium 1704 conducted by Václav Luks.

Recording: Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS026; recorded 2020.

Les Boréades is a story of the defiance of the gods: Alphise (Déborah Cachet), queen of Bactria, loves Abaris (Mathias Vidal), a handsome stranger whose parentage is unknown (he has been raised by Adamas (Benoît Arnould), the High Priest of Apollo—perhaps that's a clue?). By time-honored custom, the Queen of Bactria must marry one of the descendants of Boréas (Nicolas Brooymans), the God of the North Wind. Queen Alphise decides instead to abdicate and marry Abaris, giving him a golden arrow bestowed on her by Amour (Helena Hozová). But before the rites can be concluded the angry Boréas sweeps in and abducts Alphise. He takes her to his realm, where his two sons vie for her hand. Brandishing the golden arrow, Abaris follows to attempt a rescue. A mortal cannot successfully oppose the will of the gods—but is Abaris truly a mere mortal, or does he have a certain powerful god on his side?

Rameau's final opera, written when he was 80 years old, Les Boréades was never publicly performed during his lifetime. Its first full staging actually didn't take place until 1982 at the Aix-en-Provence Festival with a largely British cast conducted by John Eliot Gardiner. After Gardiner's landmark first full recording came out in 1984 it was another 20 years until the staging of the opera directed by Robert Carsen and conducted by William Christie was released (to mixed reviews for the staging) on DVD. Since then Les Boréades has remained a rarity—at least until recently.

Like the proverbial buses, recordings of Les Boréades can take forever to arrive, but when they do there are three all at once. Sixteen years after Christie, Václav Luks' concert version was issued by Château de Versailles Spectacles. Just one year later the Komische Oper/Opéra de Dijon coproduction directed by Barrie Kosky and conducted by Emmanuelle Haïm came out on DVD. This year another recording of the complete opera has just been released, conducted by György Vashegyi, with the vocally stunning Sabine Devielhe as Alphise. We're spoiled for choice, and with its excellent cast Vashegyi's version is self-recommending.

Luks' version has not been put entirely into the shade, however. Luks' pacing of the opera is less frenzied than Vashegyi's, but still generates plenty of excitement, and his French and Belgian cast sing superbly.

https://youtu.be/_qqCWrWjExQ

One of the things about Les Boréades that has attracted conductors is the richness of its orchestration. As you might expect of an opera about the God of the North Wind, flutes, oboes, clarinets and bassoons are prominent. And when the rising of the wind is musically represented, the orchestra and chorus can whip up quite a storm (ends at 1:14:20). Rameau was also structurally innovative; the scenes linked in the previous sentence bridge Act III and Act IV without pause or the need for a change of scenery, sweeping the drama forward. Even at the very end of his long life, Rameau continued to perfect his art.

Antonio Sartorio: L'Orfeo (1672), libretto by by Aurelio Aureli.

Performers: Ellen Hargis (Orfeo), Suzie Le Blanc (Euridice), Ann Hallenberg (Aristeo), Anne Grimm (Autonoe), Josep Cabré (Chirone, Bacco), Harry van der Kamp (Esculapio, Pluto), accompanied by Teatro Lirico conducted by Stephen Stubbs.

Recording: Vanguard Classics 99194/Challenge Classics CC72020; recorded 1998.

This choice is a bit of a ringer, as this year is not the first time I've heard this recording. I've owned it for probably 20 years, but it had been more than a decade since I'd last listened to it. I was inspired to do so by Ars Minerva's production of Sartorio's La Flora (see Favorites of 2024: Live and streamed performances). And within moments of putting it on again, I discovered anew how wonderful this recording is. It was recorded live at the Early Music Festival Utrecht, but it sounds like a well-recorded studio version (applause has thankfully been edited out and there is no stage noise).

The opera is a highly elaborated retelling of the Orpheus and Eurydice story. In this version Orfeo's brother Aristeo is a rival for Euridice's affections, and neglects his own lover Autonoe. Orfeo becomes so jealous that he sends a shepherd boy, Orillo, to murder Euridice (!). So the story is changed almost beyond recognition, including cameo appearances by the centaur Chiron, Achilles, and Hercules.

The libretto may be a mashup of mid-17th century opera conventions—a quartet of ill-matched lovers, a comically lustful nurse (Erinda) played by a male tenor in drag, a sage advisor (Esculapio) whose wisdom is ignored—but the music is absolutely gorgeous. When Orfeo (Ellen Hargis) learns of Euridice's death by snakebite, he sings a sorrowful lament—even though he'd sent Orillo to murder her!—and then sinks into sleep (sleep scenes being, of course, another Baroque opera convention). While unconscious he is visited by the spirit of Euridice (Suzie Le Blanc), who chastises him for not rescuing her from the Underworld in "Orfeo, tu dormi?" (Orfeo, are you sleeping?):

https://youtu.be/g6rqWlDNjGY

So many thanks once again to Ars Minerva for enabling me to rediscover this musical gem.

You will have noticed that three of my five favorite opera recordings this year were produced by Château de Versailles Spectacles. At a time when many labels are retreating from opera and, indeed, from physical media entirely, CVS continues to issue a stream of beautifully packaged recordings of superb performances of both acknowledged and underappreciated French Baroque masterpieces. It's no wonder it received 2022 Label of the Year from the International Classical Music Awards. In making the award the judges commended the label for "the attractiveness of the works (many of them world premiere recordings, and practically all of them recorded in the Palace of Versailles), the quality of the ensembles and artists, the excellent quality of the sound recordings and a presentation so luxurious that it can only be described as Versaillesque." Let us hope that they are able to continue long into the future.

Vocal music

Franz Schubert: An Die Musik and A Bouquet of Schubert

Performers: Elly Ameling, soprano; Dalton Baldwin, piano.

Recordings: Philips 410 037-2, Etcetera 1009; recorded 1983 and 1984.

I was first alerted to the wonderful Dutch soprano Elly Ameling by the Bollywood blogger Memsaab, who, in the comments of my post on The songs of Erich Korngold and Reynaldo Hahn, recommended Ameling's album of Schubert and Schumann lieder with Jorg Demus (piano) and Hans Deinzer (clarinet) as a place to continue my exploration of art song. Not for the first time, I regret not following up sooner on one of her recommendations.

During Ameling's active career (she retired in 1995), she was primarily a recitalist, and she approaches these songs with refinement and elegance—I might almost say delicacy. She does not over-emote, and she and Baldwin choose tempi that seem just right. Her voice has a beauty and warmth that makes for highly pleasurable listening, as in the title song of An Die Musik (words by Franz Adolph Friedrich von Schober):

https://youtu.be/PPRXPVzqx9I

An die Musik Du holde Kunst, in wie viel grauen Stunden, Wo mich des Lebens wilder Kreis umstrickt, Hast du mein Herz zu warmer Lieb entzunden, Hast mich in eine beßre Welt entrückt. Oft hat ein Seufzer, deiner Harf entflossen, Ein süßer, heiliger Akkord von dir, Den Himmel bessrer Zeiten mir erschlossen, Du holde Kunst, ich danke dir dafür.

To music Oh beautiful art, in so many dark hours, When the wild circle of life has entangled me, You have kindled my heart to a glowing love, And have carried me away into a better world. Often a sigh has flowed from your harp, A sweet and sacred chord of yours, Which opened up to me the heaven of better times. Oh beautiful art, I thank you for that.

Alessandro Grandi: Venetian Christmas Vespers 1630

Performers: Laura Heimes, soprano; Jennifer Ellis Kampani, soprano; John Taylor Ward, bass-baritone; accompanied by Voices of Music, directed by Hanneke van Proosdij and David Tayler.

Recording: Voices of Music CD; recorded 2013, issued 2017.

This recording is a reconstruction of the First Vespers on Christmas Eve as it might have been performed in 17th-century Venice. But despite the title, it's not a service that someone could have heard in 1630—it includes antiphons and additional music by other composers, such as Monteverdi, Frescobaldi, Merula and Marini, written both before and after that year. However, the lack of historical specificity makes no difference, because without exception the music in this performance is wonderful, and wonderfully performed. The opening Versicle & Response: "Deus in adjutorium meum intende" by Claudio Monteverdi, arranged by David Tayler:

https://youtu.be/ic8WFqApNP8 [ends at 1:56]

Alas, this disc is not available on the Voices of Music website. However, the recording is taken from the audio of the YouTube video of this program embedded above. The entire program has been made freely available by Voices of Music—I recommend watching the whole thing.

My Favorites of 2024:

• Movies and television
• Recorded music
• Live performances
• Books

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1. Winton Dean, "Beethoven and Opera," in Denis Arnold and Nigel Fortune, eds. The Beethoven Companion. London: Faber and Faber, 1971, p. 342.
2. In the usual version of the myth, Cephalus is out hunting and, hearing a rustling in the undergrowth as Procris approaches, shoots an arrow or hurls a javelin that mortally wounds her.