Gertsamtkunstwerk

Mark Padmore and the English Concert do Purcell and Handel

Thursday night found me at the Wigmore Hall for an evening of Baroque indulgence. Mark Padmore is a tenor I rate very highly but often forget to include in my pantheon of tenors, because I hear him more on the concert stage than in the Opera House.

I have decided mixed feelings about Purcell. I kind of like his music but I can never quite define why I don't feel passionate about it. I was pondering this during the first half of the concert, dedicated entirely to Purcell, when I asked myself - what's not to like? Pleasant tunes and equally pleasant instrumentation, with the song words of elegance and beauty.

And I got my answer in the start of the second half. A passage from George Frideric Handel's Joseph and his Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat* Brethren - well, you only need to read the title: Where are these brethren - remorse, confusion, horror, fear, full of drama and despair.

Handel was writing as much as half a century after the death of Purcell and his most-performed works, and certainly the excerpts this evening, were the creations of his maturity, a luxury never afforded to Purcell, who died at 35. Indeed, the programme notes begin with this passage:

An anecdote tells that during a performance of Handel's last original oratorio Jephtha (1752), William Savage turned to the old (and now partly blind) composer, and remarked that a passage had reminded him of old Mr. Purcell. Apparently, Handel retorted that "If Purcell had lived he would have composed better music than this"

perhaps pre-empting the speculations as to what Mozart would have composed if he had lived long enough (to at least 58) to have heard Beethoven's 9th.

I suppose listening to an aria such as Let Me Wander Not Unseen from L'Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato one can get an insight into why some people find the da capo aria tedious; a great 'A' and a good 'B' is then followed by an ornamentation of 'A', which works better in some circumstances than others. I thought this was probably the weakest of the Handel pieces, whereas I felt Descend, Kind Pity from Theodora worked so much better.

The final aria Waft Her Angels from Jephtha transformed the evening from pleasantly enjoyable to something magic. I have a CD of Mark Padmore singing this, and it is one of several tracks I put on repeat.

I know I have said that the beauty of Handel is that by sticking to a tried and trusted formula, one can enjoy his works without anxiety about the music being unfamiliar (with the best will in the world, one would need a great deal of spare time and a lack of interest in other composers in order to become entirely familiar as a listener to all his operas and oratorios).

However, as I know really, being familiar with the music and the text enhances one's understanding and thus appreciation of the piece.

I think also it helps that Mark knows this role inside out having performed it in concert and in staged performances. As the concert was drawing to a close, he seemed to relax and get right inside the character/aria, in a way that was truly moving.

Unfortunately, that was also the moment where I found myself having to stifle a cough. The more I tried to stifle it, the more it began to choke me up, and I was beginning to feel that I might actually deprive my brain of oxygen**.

My feeling about him relaxing and enjoying himself were confirmed by his sole encore, Tune Your Harps from Esther.

I thought the lowlight of the evening was the arrangement of Purcell tunes into a 'Purcell Symphony' which interrupted the Handel part of the evening.

I thought the arrangement, by the English Concert's principal trumpeter Mark Bennett was clever and worked on its own terms - a medley of tunes from King Arthur and Fairy Queen.

But it only served to show the relative paucity of Purcell's orchestration. One of the tunes - I got confused as to which - struck me as extremely familiar from some or other collection of incidental music, but as with the Rondeau from Abdelazar (that tune, as used by Benjamin Britten), familiarity doesn't disguise the plodding essence of the tune.

I know I should write in detail about the English Concert, and certainly they were worthy of praise - the stand out was the gorgeousness of the oboes in Tune Your Harp. But ultimately, I chose the concert for the singer, and Mark Padmore did not disappoint.

I love his voice, not least his impressive range. Soaring high with confidence and lyricism robustly and tackling the dramatic end of the range. I suppose if I have reservations it is that he can be a bit uneven - for all the evenings I have spent with him that have delighted me, there have been several where I have thought him a little ordinary.

He is quietly confident on stage, and introduced several of the numbers in a way that seemed both natural and polished. A consummate professional he nevertheless lacks a certain je ne sais quoi, a showmanship that reaches out beyond the proverbial spotlights.

However, his voice is sweet and true, his technique excellent, and his instincts for Handel so perfectly honed it would be churlish to proclaim the evening other than a great success.

Incidentally, for those of you who have seen him this year with shaven head, you will be relieved to know his hair has grown back. I assume it was shaven for the role of Samson

I don't often go to Wigmore Hall. Partly because I kind of forget it exists and then find I am too late to book tickets. Also, it seems that singers that interest me present programmes that don't (for example Iestyn Davies a week or two ago) or an interesting programme on an inconvenient night (Carolyn Sampson earlier this week).

I think I find it a little bit intimidating. I have a sense rightly or wrongly that a large number of people are Wigmore Hall 'regulars'. Indeed, on a previous outing I overheard someone saying that, as a sub-editor she works nights, and designs her shifts round the Wigmore Hall programme.

I can't really understand that, for me it is just one of several - many - venues in London, and I pick and choose what performances I attend. I don't feel a particular loyalty to any venue.

But of course, this leaves me perceiving, probably incorrectly, a sense of cliquishness which unsettles me.

So, it was a delightful surprise on Thursday to find some people I already know from around town, but who introduced me to several more, which rather belies my fear of cliquishness. So that was a bonus for the evening!

My "Handel Year" ends on Tuesday with ENO's staged Messiah (he's a very naughty boy), which I suspect will be 'interesting'. I seem to have cancelled more Handel performances than I have attended, which is a matter of regret, but sometimes stuff happens.

I suppose the year will be capped by the Royal Opera House's belated token offering in March of next year, which I might go and see if I've nothing better to do at the time - but who goes to ROH for Handel, really! (insert smiley of your choice here!).

* don't try and persuade me I was the only person who had this thought!

** I knew instinctively that it was neither a psychological nor phlegmy cough, that I was actually choking on something. Various finger nails had been splitting throughout the day and my fingers invariably end up in my mouth**. When the aria finished and the audience indulged in sustained and enthusiastic applause I coughed and coughed, eventually producing a strand of my own hair that had become lodged in my throat - it's not even currently long enough to suck, as I tend to do if I can

3 Anniversary Proms

My recent reports from concerts attended have been neither timely nor insightful. I really must get my finger out, especially when I look at my diary for the first fortnight in October which will have six highly reviewable nights out.

The Proms has  so many varied concerts in quick succession, it is impossible for me to attend even a fraction, and thus I don't get the full sense of being immersed in the Festival. It is also quite difficult to choose which I should go to - there were some obvious vocal highlights which became 'must see' for me, but I declined to go many solely instrumental concerts where only part of the programme appealed.

I really should not apologise for only attending a handful of Proms. I have always been a little bit scared of 'completism', that macho need to demonstrate to everybody that you have gone to every single home match, or bought every record, including the 7", the 7" EP and the 12".

I am not alone in believing that the more you consume, the less satisfied you become. It's almost like a drug, that you need more and more highs just to make it feel worthwhile. Whereas, the infrequent concert goer is going to get pleasure irrespective of duff notes, below par singers, and uninspired conducting. Which, I hasten to add, is not a cue for my report on the three concerts I haven't yet mentioned. Well, apart from the uninspired conducting (and I don't mean Harry Christophers).

The three concerts as yet unreported on are the Harry Christophers/Sixteen/Carolyn Sampson Handel evening; the Roger Norrington/ Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment/Joyce DiDonato celebration of the four anniversary boys; and Iestyn Davies/Academy of Ancient Music celebrating Purcell.

Of the three I suspect that the all-Handel evening will linger longest in my mind, although the Purcell, being so very recent (Monday lunchtime, the final chamber Prom) is currently uppermost. And, certainly, if I was ranking singers this season, it would be hard pushed to choose between Carolyn and Iestyn, both of whom I was lucky enough to see twice. I suppose I don't like Carolyn's post-baby voice as much as I did her before-baby voice, but I think I should reserve judgement - it's less than a year since she had the baby. Iestyn is just a phenomenon, an unbelievably beautiful voice, just amazing.

I do so want to like Joyce DiDonato. My intellect can admire and respect her tremendously, but I am not emotionally touched by her. When people write about her technical ability and musical understanding and vocal wealth, I cannot disagree. But she doesn't affect me the way some other singers do.

That having been said, she was the highlight of a somewhat dismal evening that tried to combine pieces from Purcell,  Handel and Haydn in the first half and in the second half had Mendelssohn's lush romantic Scottish Symphony somewhat ruined by (to me) irrelevant period instruments and an unengaged interpretation by Roger Norrington, who wasn't so much stick-waving as drowning. I'm sorry, but I found him intensely annoying, which marred the evening for me. It is said that if you notice the conductor, there's a problem.

The Handel evening was exquisite. Unfortunately,  it was the only concert where I was seated up in the Circle, way too high up really to appreciate the intimate sound of the Sixteen, and not ideal for hearing Carolyn Sampson, who prefers nuanced subtlety to vulgar bellowing.

The concert programme was a mixture of the familiar and pieces that I have seldom heard. The highlight was Carolyn's arias from Semele - Endless Pleasure and Myself I Shall Adore.

She embraced the character of Semele as a rather vacuous hedonist blonde, although this was lost to me in my lofty seat - it came across more convincingly on TV.

Two very different arias. Endless Pleasure could almost be a convincing pop song (hmm, now that's the sort of crossover I'd be interested in, if done intelligently and with fidelity to the composer's intentions).

Myself I Shall Adore presents plenty of opportunity for ornamentation and Carolyn did not shirk. In such a concert performance - more than in staged opera - the singer can have great fun with crazy embellishments full of flourish. I was a little concerned to hear a darkening at the top of her range. I hope that she isn't going to become too heavy, although I will have to accept it if that's where her voice is going.

Other highlights were the pieces I know best - Arrival of the Queen of Sheba and the last of the four Coronation Anthems, Zadok the Priest. I was surprised at how unfamiliar the other three were. I am confident that once I am familiar with them, I will enjoy them more.

I'm afraid the organ concerto did little for me. The programme explained that it was written as incidental music, and that's exactly how it came across. The Handel-era organ works superbly in small intimate venues; in the Albert Hall I want the big booming glorious monster with 9,999 pipes.

The final Chamber Music Prom was my first ever. Iestyn Davies was superb, both in Purcell songs - especially Sweeter than Roses - and in John Blow's Ode on the Death of Mr Henry Purcell. The tenor, Simon Wall, was less convincing but did not mar my enjoyment.

What I like about Iestyn - and what initially draws me to all the best counter-tenors - is the purity of his voice, the exquisite breath control, lyricism of line, and splendid legato. What keeps me fascinated by him, and not by the rest, is the rich tapestry of colours, the variation in tone, dynamics and emphasis, and the occasional hints of baritonal splendour (yet never coming out of the counter-tenor mode).

I have written several times of his impressive stage presence. In Partenope or Samson, he becomes the character and communicates this to the audience. A different setting called for a different behaviour; he showed that he understood the words (which is to be expected!) and also that he grasped the thoughts and sentiments that inspired them and understood how the music reflected them.

I enjoyed the small baroque ensemble from the Academy of Ancient Music, in the purely instrumental pieces and when they were working with the singers.

Parenthetically, a small bugbear: Suzy Klein interviewed their leader, Richard Egarr, who proudly announced that the first thing he sang 'at Cambridge' was a 'fart' that was the start of a Henry Purcell's song not suitable for daytime broadcasting. I don't know why so many people who happened to have studied, often decades ago, at Cambridge University (or Oxford) seem compelled to drop this fact into almost every conversation; it would seem quite strange and very tedious, a sign of arrested maturation, for someone in their 40s and 50s to constantly harp on about how they did student-like things as a student at Neasden Polytechnic in the 1980s.

I enjoyed my Proms season, and feel I got a lot out of what I attended, even those concerts that did not reach my expectations. There were several concerts I would have surely enjoyed if I had attended them, but I didn't, and I do not regret that.

I write this after the Last Night, an unrepresentative nadir, of an otherwise excellent series. Sadly, it is only the second half of this last night that gets any attention from BBC1; there are people who believe (and blog or twitter thus) that this is all the Proms represents. The small proportion that does get broadcast gets shunted into the ghetto on BBC4, or dumbed down into ever-moving slots on BBC2.

Clearly, anyone who wants to see the broadcasts can switch channels or set the recording device of choice, but the BBC sends out a clear message in its choice of channel, timing and cuts. I feel certain that during the 2010 World Cup, every single match will be televised, most of them live on BBC1 (or ITV1), and the less attractive group stages will at least be available through the red button or transmitted in the early hours. The BBC will be proclaiming - this event is important enough to disrupt our normal scheduling, whether or not you want that.

I believe it has been demonstrated numerous times that a significant number of people, at least some of the time, watch what is provided for them, without actually making a positive choice. The BBC doesn't have the courage to engineer the viewing of their Proms in the same way they do for snooker or celebrity-reality TV.

NB For all three concerts, and all the other Prom concerts reported on,  I purchased the tickets myself; they were not provided free by the venues or organisers.

Fairy Queen at the Proms

This was a couple of weeks ago now, and I have few excuses for not getting this done earlier. It's a shame I've left it so long because, inevitably, some of the magic has dissolved into warm fuzzy memories.

The Fairy Queen, by Henry Purcell, my second localest composer* is not strictly speaking an opera, but a series of masques linked with dialogue. I reviewed a DVD a couple of years ago and won't repeat all that, focusing instead on the actual performance I attended.

It was an import from Glyndebourne. I had read some great reviews of the production and orchestra and some broadly positive reviews of the singing. I am Facebook friends with a couple of the singers, and it was amusing to read a few comments from Ed Lyon.

Glyndebourne operas are only semi-staged at the Albert Hall, but even so, are good fun. I have never been to Glyndebourne, and, although I would love to go for the opera, I would be very anxious about the dressing up, and I don't think I would be entirely comfortable with the picnic thing unless I was with someone who would be happy to fit in with my catering plans.

It was a long evening, from 6.30 to 10.30, with only a twenty minute break. It would have been nice to have a decent supper interval, rather than just grabbing a sandwich on the bus, but then, of course, that would have meant leaving work even earlier.

There was a large cast, not only of singers, but also of dancers and actors, and the Orchestra of the Age of the Enlightenment, conducted (from harpsichord) by the wonderful William Christie. I suspected that the actors were miked, and later read that this was indeed the case, but I didn't find the microphones over-intrusive. Obviously, most of the actors were unknown to me, and while I think that they worked well as an ensemble, obviously it wasn't star-studded. For me, two were outstanding, Desmond Barrit as the Drunken Poet/Bottom and Sally Dexter as Tatiana. Both of them seemed to grasp the size of the hall and projected larger-than-life characters. Verging on camp, but quite fitting for a particularly silly work.

I thought the production was wonderful. It is difficult to remember every aspect of it. I know I certainly enjoyed most of the dancing, even though I now don't recall especially stand-out moments. Apart from the rutting rabbits, of course - can you imagine six, or was it eight, human size Easter Bunnies gambolling onto stage and proceeding to enact a ballet straight out of the Karma Sutra. There was considerable laughter from the audience, even though, apparently, the BBC (Proms organisers) have received complaints.

The introduction of the Mechanics was quite a hoot. They came on dressed as cleaning ladies, and proceeded to do their cleaning, with hoover and all, in a parody ballet. Of course it's been done before, in La fille du regiment at Covent Garden and elsewhere, but it's still entertaining.

One of the highlights was Andrew Foster-Williams' entrance as Hymen (I'm afraid whenever I encounter the Greek god, I always snigger at the rude word). He fought his way along the front row of one of the blocks of the stalls, inducing visible embarrassment in some audience members. He entered the area occupied by the orchestra, tried to involve the percussion section in a discussion, rearranged the music of some string players, and then picked a fight with William Christie at the keyboard, who had to throw a few punches to defend himself.

Another highlight came towards the end, with a duet by a Chinese Man and Chinese Woman, actually Ed Lyon and one of the Glyndebourne chorus women, wearing nothing but a fig-leaf each. Although the shock to me were the blonde wigs! This was a prelude to them eating the apple in the Garden of Eden and hastily putting on beach wear.

The OAE were splendid throughout, and a fine pace was set by Mr Christie. Obviously, lots of recitative, and no outstanding orchestral moments, but fine playing, and, to my surprise, more percussion than I would have expected from the 17th century. Nice period instruments, including theorbo as well as many of the instruments familiar from modern orchestras**.

But I chose this Prom overwhelmingly for the singing, and the singing lived up to my high expectations, indeed better. A predominantly young cast, with Carolyn Sampson being the most experienced singer, probably the only one who is a 'household name' in opera households. I was also excited at the prospect of Lucy Crowe and Ed Lyon (my FB friends), whom I heard and adored in Agrippina and La Callisto respectively. Also Lucy is exquisite in duet,  As Steals the Morn, the title track of Mark Padmore's Handel CD.

A new voice to me was Andrew Foster-Williams, although I have been reading good things of him for a while. And he certainly showed why such good things have been written about him. A pleasant baritone voice, good tone and legato, excellent pitch and expressive, which coupled with good acting make for an all round excellent artist. Perhaps not one to set my knees trembling, but definitely one I am keen to hear again.

Lucy Crowe was gorgeous. I love her voice. It has a splendid combination of a crystal clear top and a rich velvety lower range, something that I find rare in sopranos (also in tenors). On stage she is fascinating. She was not especially active in this, but by standing there, collected and composed, she exuded a calm serenity. I think she is on the verge of a very significant career.

I was so pleased with Ed Lyon. I fell in love with his voice on account of a phrase or a tone in La Callisto, and other than a performance downloaded from (I think) German TV, I haven't heard him since. But I am even more convinced that I love his voice. There is something unique in his voice, a steely edge, which provides quite a contrast with what is essentially a fairly light tenor. He has a cheerful bouncy stage persona, moves well round stage, looks good in the nearly buff, and is generally easy on the eye, (but, unfortunately, sings for the other choir!).

Of course my favourite was Carolyn Sampson. It is over a year since I last heard her live, since when she has had a baby. So I wasn't entirely sure what to expect. She was gorgeous, and her Plaint was truly outstanding, the biggest highlight of the night. I was totally transfixed on her, through the binoculars, and it was one of those wonderful occasions when, even though you are in a massive hall with 6000 other people, you are totally lost in the music.

She does not do a great deal of opera, especially not staged, indeed the only live opera I had previously heard her in was Semele, although I have recordings of her in Tamerlano (Handel) and Elena e Paride (Gluck). I don't know why, it seems a shame, because she has such a natural yet sultry air and knows perfectly how to hold the audience in her hand. Oh, and that voice! I know some people prefer sopranos who scream and squawk their way up the scale, but I prefer the approach of Carolyn (and Lucy), gliding as free as air and seemingly effortless.

So, all in all, even though I found some of the actory bits a bit long and fidget-making, I came away with a warm glow inside and a smiley face on the outside, tripping lightly on an effortless journey home, delighted at a wonderful and memorable evening's entertainment.

* he's my local at work, I peer down the road he was born when I have an occasional ciggie, but my local to where I live is Streatham boy Arnold Bax (and local to where I was born is, I think Peter Maxwell-Davies)

** sorry, I know that sounds stupid, considering I probably encounter - outside the ROH - more period orchestras than modern ones, but I'm still stuck in the mindset of when I learnt the instruments of the orchestra in 1970-something, when neither the Observer's Book of Music nor the Halle chose to enlighten me about such wonders as the theorbo.

PS I found the photo in The Times and thought I would nick it whileI could...! Unfortunately, they don't credit the photographer, so neither can I. 

Dido and Aeneas and Acis and Galatea double bill

What a fabulous night. I was on such a high even before I checked out the Porto 0 Manchester 1 result (that was me going "Yes, yes, yes....!" orgasmically in the Ladies at Covent Garden!).

I have decided that I don't especially like Dido & Aeneas (Purcell) as a piece of work, but it had sufficient highlights to make it enjoyable. The highlights were obviously that whole closing sequence with Dido's lament and that gorgeous chorus. Special highlights were Ji-Min Park singing his aria as the Sailor and Iestyn Davies singing from the Dome as The Spirit. I have to confess to having a massive crush on Iestyn Davies. It seems a little bit shameful to have a crush on a counter-tenor, but he has such an unbelievably gorgeous voice, and unlike most counter-tenors he has so much vocal  drama and colour. Although not evident tonight, because he was singing in the roof he cuts a fine figure on stage, too. If he was as ugly as fuck, I would still adore him. But he isn't.

I have to acknowledge Sarah Connolly was good. Whenever I see her she is good. But I have to confess that I don't get the cult of Connolly. I know so many people go crazy about her. I don't, even though I know she's good.

I didn't like the ballet in Dido and Aeneas.

After the interval was Acis and Galatea (Handel). Now, this is weird. It seems to me that I know this opera, but I don't know that I know it. I don't believe I have ever seen it live. I don't thnk you would forget having seen something live at the point where you are seeing it again. I don't have it on CD. I don't think I have it on DVD. It is bizarrely lodged in my semi-conscious. I can only assume that I must have heard it as a child, at that age where one only has to hear a tune once to be able to recall it when heard many years later. Only, how can I possibly have heard it as child? Obscure Handel operas weren't done when I was a child.

Everyone in the blogosphere and the MSM seemed to hate A&G, or at best, find it disappointing. Particularly open to criticism was the ballet and the staging. I must admit, when the curtain opened I was disappointed by the painted backdrop. Oh god, how ballet, I thought. And I wasn't much impressed when that went up to reveal another painted backdrop. But Act II, which is much longer than Act I had some real scenery.

The highlight of this was Matthew Rose as the Giant, Polyphemus. Never in the history of opera has a singer been so suited to the role. He has a wonderful voice, is so obviously musical, and has come on leaps and bounds as a stage animal. I think he is an exemplary Handel singer.

Ji-Min Park was fine in a small part. Danielle de Neise was okay, but nothing special. No reason I could put my finger on, she was just disappointing. Paul Agnew wasn't very good at all, but seemed good in comparison to the other tenor.

Charles Workman, let's be honest, had no business whatsoever being on that stage. I don't know whether he was actually out of tune or whether his voice is just so unbelievably horrible that the grating tone just sounds like he is. Didn't seem to have a clue about how to sing Handel. It wasn't just the tone, it was the lack of legato, the broken runs, the poor breath support, the cracks (not mega cracks but lots of nano-cracks). He moved well on stage and from a distant looked fairly easy on the eye, although the photos show that he's nothing special. I don't understand why the Royal Opera House has to employ a fourth-rate American tenor to sing this role when there are plenty of second-rate English tenors who could have done it justice. With the exception of Marco Berti, he is the worst tenor I have ever heard. This was the most welcome death of an operatic character since Katie van Kooten breathed her last as Mimi, and it was the first time since Sondra Radvanovsky in Stiffelio that I have had to cover my ears to take away the pain of ugly loud singing. 

And I loved the ballet, even though there is nothing intelligent I can say about it - except it wasn't modern. I've seen moderner ballets in the provinces in the 1970s. But I loved the choreography and I loved the execution. 

If I get a chance I might write a more reflective piece later in the week. And again, maybe not!

And I've discovered an interesting interview with Iestyn from a few months ago

Fairy Queen

To be filed under 'opera' because I don't have a category for semi-opera, or masques.

By Henry Purcell. Purcell is said to be the father of English opera, although it is said he only wrote one, Dido and Aeneas, which is short. And until Britten, there aren't really any other English opera composers whose works have endured, unless you include Handel, which I think you can, but cautiously.

I walk past Purcell's birthplace on average about once a week. Indeed most of my smoking breaks are spent staring down the street on which he was born. I suppose that makes him my local composer.

According to the booklet that came with this DVD, this isn't an opera. Furthermore, although the various audio editions include dialogue, this is a very free interpretation by director David Pountney. It does seem a bit strange. The actual DVD describes itself as 9 masques in 3 acts. The uniting factor is the music: the usual baroque formula of numbers - often exquisitively beautiful joined together by continuo. Supposedly, there is also the drama, based on Shakespeare's Midsummer Night's Dream, that propels the semi-opera together. But, I have to say, if I didn't know the story of MSD, I am not sure I would be able to follow this.

It comes over to some extent as separate sections of singing and dancing. I don't care for the dancing in this. I could be facetious and say there is too much of it. I suppose if one happened to be a fan of that style one would enjoy it - but the singing would get in the way. at times I found some of the costumes disturbing - such as Puck (male) wearing a bra and one of the other dancers wearing a nappy. All the positive reviews comment on the humour in the piece.

The booklet says this is generally performed in concert. The scores went missing in 1695 and mysteriously reappeared in the early 20th century; it was the first performance of the Covent Garden Opera Company in 1946. The accompanying booklet to this DVD says that Benjamin Britten unburied the work in 1970. This DVD dates from 1995; there is an excellent review of the 2002 revival at MusicOMH. It's currently playing in rep in Linz; and has also been performed in Como and Aachen this season.

So, how do I rate it? Musically, it is always pleasant, but, despite hearing it three times, there is not a single number that stands out. I rate Dido & Aeneas much more highly - this CD rather than this video; not least for the well-known aria When I am laid in earth.

I think if my attention was drawn to a cheap CD or download with exceptional singers I would consider obtaining it. If it were to be performed locally, I might consider going, but more likely to a concert performance. I missed the Armonico Consort's production in last year's Chelsea Festival, and can't decide whether or not to go to their King Arthur next month. From what I have seen on this DVD, were ENO to revive it my decision whether to go to would be based solely upon whether or not the cast attracted me.

Not so long ago I had a reaction to Handel along the lines of 'very nice, but so what, shrug'. I have got over that, at least to some extent. I tended to think that Handel wrote loads of gorgeous music, but I could not see the collection of numbers as part of a coherent whole in the way I would for Mozart, Donizetti, Verdi, Wagner etc. And I suppose that is my problem with Purcell: that there isn't enough unique DNA in Fairy Queen - or Dido, or Indian Queen - to motivate me to become sufficiently familiar.

Various reviews

Trawling through the online press for various seen and unseen and yet to be seen.

Matthias Goerne - the Guardian, like me, seemed to enjoy the Berg more than the Schumann or Wagner. The Independent

The Guardian didn't like Götterdämmerung

Ambivalence from the Independent

I think the Times headline of Simply Delightful  applies to Orfeo rather than Götterdämmerung. But even though I don't especially disagree with the detail of what the critic says, I disagree with the overall tone and conclusion. The Observer hates it  Music OMH has a far more sensible take, suggesting perhaps that the critics in the Mainstream media are, in general, jaded, and could do with an infusion of new blood. Although I doubt the date of June 27th for televising, for reasons I have laid out elsewhere

I couldn't figure out how to fit Orfeo into my diary, which is a disappointment but I'll live. The Independent praises it highly but is stingy with stars awarded.  Trendy mix of modern and mythic, The Times really likes it.  MusicOMH. MV Daily includes loads of striking pictures.  Oh well, I'm sure it will  be revived.

I did not get round to writing up The Indian Queen. I actually left at the interval, with ambivalence. I was glad I had been there for the first half but I had no desire to stay any longer. I think the Guardian is pushing it by saying that the singing was faultless, although a couple of the sopranos did impress. But in the end I was unable to get emotionally involved or musically hooked.

It was  billed as an opera, but it seems a strange opera where there are specific characters but none of them are played by specific singers. Instead, the story is narrated by an actor and the singers, known only by their vocal type, step up to do numbers. And I felt that the music was not of a sufficiently high standard to make it especially worthwhile.

Update Vince has snazzled the text  of the FT G'd'rung review - saves all that pesky registration/deadlinks mullarkey.

Update La Belle Helene at ENo, reviewed by Robert.

Dido and Aeneas

Some time ago I taped off the Performance Channel a production of Dido and Aeneas by Purcell. Being the Performance channel it's shown about once every three months.

I actually wrote a rough draft of a review, then I thought, what's the point?

The dreadful production and the patchy singing (ie one or two decent singers, the others, especially Maria Ewing really bad) could not ruin beautiful music conducted gorgeously by Richard Hickox. But it wa sonly the music that survived.

Best aria When I am Laid in Earth is simply gorgeous. Shame Maria Ewing made such a pigs ear of it.

The only thing I can say is, whatever you do, do not watch this on the TV. You will not ever get that hour of your life back. Instead, I intend to buy a CD.

Opera Nights recommends thi sone conducted by René Jacobs, with the cast including, ooh, Gerald Finley. Conventional wisdom says it has to be this one with Janet Baker

The Performance Channel annoys me a lot. It has some absolute gems in its repertory but it seems to show a lot of rubbish they obviously acquired because it was cheap rather than it having any artistic merit.

In fact, it more than annoys me. Suppose someone were to watch that ghastly production of Dildo and Anus and think that's what Baroque Opera is all about? They'd be deterred for life. And that, to me, is verging on the criminal.

It's also available on video. Let's hope it never comes to DVD.