London 
                            Handel Festival - Handel, 
                            Judas Maccabaeus: Soloists, London Handel Singers, 
                            London Handel Orchestra, directed from the fortepiano 
                            by Laurence Cummings, St.George’s Church, Hanover 
                            Square, 30.3.2006 (ME)
                           
                           
                          This 
                            performance of one of Handel’s greatest works was 
                            the inaugural concert of the 2006 London Handel Festival, 
                            a Festival which has grown in artistic stature year 
                            on year whilst still continuing to exist from hand 
                            to mouth in financial terms. The programme this time 
                            is an exceptionally enticing one, including such delectable 
                            prospects as a St John Passion on Good Friday, 
                            in which the Evangelist will be sung by the rising 
                            star Robert Murray, a concert of arias from Jephtha 
                            and Tamerlano, sung by the leading Handel tenor 
                            John Mark Ainsley on April 24th, a fascinating 
                            evening of music for trumpet and voice based around 
                            the life of John Grano, Handel’s trumpeter, ending 
                            with ‘Or la Tromba’ on May 10th, and a 
                            full staging of Tolomeo at the RCM on May 15th, 
                            17th and 18th. Most of the events 
                            take place in the glorious setting of St George’s, 
                            Hanover Square, where Handel worshipped, just around 
                            the corner from the house where he lived – and if 
                            the standard is anything like that achieved in this 
                            evening’s performance, audiences are in for a real 
                            treat.
                            
                            Judas 
                            Maccabeus 
                            was even more popular than Messiah during the 
                            composer’s lifetime: first heard at Covent Garden 
                            in 1747, its eponymous hero and various Israelites, 
                            by turns exquisitely lyrical and swaggeringly martial, 
                            tell the story of the rebellion of the Maccabees against 
                            the Seleucids, incidentally supplying suitably triumphal 
                            music to accompany the patriotic feelings engendered 
                            by the Duke of Cumberland’s victory over the Jacobites. 
                            This version was given in the German translation by 
                            the poet Johann Joachim Eschenberg, as used in the 
                            score owned by the Halifax Choral Society and incorporating 
                            additional wind accompaniments attributed to Mozart: 
                            it’s a finely poetic one which turns the original’s 
                            frequent oddities of phrase into far more elegant 
                            expression, with substitutions such as ‘Fromme Tränen’ 
                            for ‘Pious orgies’. Whether or not the additions to 
                            the scoring are by Mozart, they do have some of the 
                            flavour of his version of Messiah, although 
                            there are times when one wonders if some of the substitutions 
                            really work, as in the aria ‘With honour let desert 
                            be crown’d’ where Handel’s trumpet is replaced by 
                            the oboe.
                            
                            There were 
                            very few negative aspects to this performance, although 
                            the choral singing sagged a little here and there 
                            and there were one or two ragged patches in the orchestra. 
                            Laurence Cummings shaped the music with loving skill, 
                            allowing the singers room to shape their lines and 
                            deliver their characterizations with confidence. The 
                            part of Judas is one of the pinnacles of the tenor 
                            repertoire: this is a role which the likes of Fritz 
                            Wünderlich and Ernst Haefliger have made their own 
                            on disc, and Andrew Kennedy is very young to be singing 
                            it – at present there are times when his interpretation 
                            tends towards the intimacy of Lieder rather than the 
                            more public art of oratorio, but his singing is fluent 
                            and confident, and he displays a truly heartening 
                            sense of genuine Handelian style. ‘Bewaffne dich mit 
                            Muth, mein Arm’ (‘Call forth thy powers, my soul) 
                            began quite reticently but by the repeat he had found 
                            his tone and went on to give striking renditions of 
                            ‘Wie eitel ist’ (‘How vain is man’) and ‘Süss ist 
                            das Lied’ (‘Sweet flow the strains’).  His singing 
                            of ‘Blast die Trommet!’ (Sound an alarm!) might not 
                            wake the dead as Haefliger does, but it certainly 
                            summons up the blood with its incisive diction, its 
                            fluent passagework and its heroic ring. Another notable 
                            performance by this fine young singer.
                            
                            Fflur Wyn 
                            and Catherine Denley both sang beautifully as the 
                            Israelitish Woman and Man: the soprano shaped the 
                            lovely lines of ‘Fromme Tränen’ with skill and gave 
                            a very fine account of the wonderful but difficult 
                            ‘Dann tönt der laut’ und Harfe klang’ (‘So shall the 
                            Lute and Harp awake’) Denley was standing in for Rebecca 
                            Outram at short notice, and she managed to sound as 
                            though the part had been hers from the start – I have 
                            long admired her even, warm tone and musical phrasing, 
                            so it was lovely to hear her sing ‘O Freiheit!’ Colin 
                            Campbell was another late substitution, for Christopher 
                            Sheldrake, but he was less successful, mainly because 
                            his fairly fine-grained bass does not have quite the 
                            ring of authority or the sonorous quality needed for 
                            some of Simon’s music, though he made a noble attempt 
                            at ‘Auf! Heer des Herrn’ (‘Arm, arm, ye brave’).
                            
                            One of the 
                            most memorable moments of the evening came when the 
                            counter-tenor Timothy Travers-Brown sang the Israelitish 
                            Priest’s aria ‘Jehovah, sieh’ (‘Father of Heav’n’) 
                            from the pulpit, the ‘candle’ he held aloft seeming 
                            to echo the lines’ reference to the ‘Festival of Lights.’ 
                            He sang it gracefully and touchingly, with a real 
                            sense of the import of the words. That so relatively 
                            small a part could be so finely sung is indicative 
                            of the standards to be expected from the London Handel 
                            Festival, and I warmly recommend the events of the 
                            coming weeks: such a combination of glorious music, 
                            fine soloists and a setting that has few equals for 
                            its evocative atmosphere (check out the gold-embossed 
                            list of every Churchwarden the place has had since 
                            its dedication in 1724, and ponder on where Handel 
                            himself sat at prayer) ought to make London music 
                            lovers proud. 
                           
                           
                          
                            
                            Melanie Eskenazi