Telemann, Vivaldi, Handel, and Purcell: Nicholas McGegan, cond., David Daniels, Seattle Symphony, Benaroya Hall, Seattle, 28.10.2006 (BJ)

 

To conduct the latest offering in its “Basically Baroque” series, the Seattle Symphony brought in an accredited specialist in the field, Nicholas McGegan, who presided over a delightful evening of spirited music-making; featured also was the local debut of one of today’s finest counter-tenors, David Daniels.

The program began and ended with suites by Telemann and Purcell: the former’s Don Quichotte, and a nicely varied selection of numbers from the latter’s King Arthur. Prefacing both works with spoken introductions that made clear he could easily have a successful career as a stand-up comic, McGegan provided plenty of wit and sparkle in the actual performances he led, which demonstrated again as he has done on other occasions in the past that a modern symphony orchestra is fully capable of achieving what are known as “historically informed” performances so long as it has a sufficiently knowledgeable – and of course technically adept – conductor at the helm.

Between those two works, David Daniels sang Vivaldi’s Stabat Mater and a group of Handel arias, again well differentiated in character. He is indeed a splendid artist, possessed of an exceptionally rich and fluently produced alto voice, and capable of deeply affecting expression in such wonderful arias as Bertarido’s Dove sei, from Rodelinda. It does, however, seem to me that excessive claims in the biographies printed in concert programs run the risk of provoking negative reactions. On this occasion, a quotation from the New York Times made good enough sense when it called Daniels “the most acclaimed counter-tenor of the day.” But the next phrase–“perhaps the best ever”–raised my eyebrows. I do not think this is only because I grew up in London at the time when Alfred Deller was reestablishing a formerly neglected voice-category on the concert stage. Even leaving Deller out of account, along with such other subsequent practitioners as Michael Chance and Richard Levitt (not to mention Henry Purcell himself, whom I imagine not many present-day listeners can claim to have heard), a current crop that includes singers as wonderful  as Andreas Scholl, Daniel Taylor, Robin Blaze, Bejun Mehta, and Yoshikazu Mera surely renders any “best ever” judgement highly speculative.

Well, let me not go on too long about this. Yes, Daniels sang superbly. If I may speak for a regrettably less than full but obviously enthusiastic house, he moved us all in Vivaldi’s rather fulsome piece, and in Dove sei. In Va tacito e nascosto, from Giulio Cesare, propelled on the thrillingly stealthy beat set up by McGegan, principal horn John Cerminaro matched Daniels flourish for glorious flourish, his stunning obbligato earning him a warm ovation. A very different aria in Handel’s spitfire mode, Fammi combattere from Orlando, presented the singer with a quite other range of demands, and though he coped well with its hurtling bravura, I fancy such rapid passage-work is not among his greatest strengths–the main notes were all hit squarely and well, but the intervening ones seemed to be only vaguely sketched in. In any case, the audience’s response drew an encore in the shape of that touching air, O Lord, whose mercies numberless, from Saul. And here, beautifully as Daniels shaped his line, he did not quite equal the awesome clarity and sheer perfection of phrasing I have heard Andreas Scholl bring to this supremely eloquent music.

Forgive all these tiresome reservations. So long as we can leave provocative “best ever” statements to the world of sports, where they are more fitting than in music’s exalted realm, I am more than happy to say that this was an evening of performances that consistently offered beauty, style, and emotional fulfillment, and rose at moments even to greatness.

 

Bernard Jacobson