SEEN AND HEARD INTERNATIONAL

Celebrating the Counter-Tenor,  Bach, Handel,Vivaldi : Andreas Scholl (counter-tenor) James Bowman (presenter) Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, dir. Alison Bury. Royal Festival Hall, London, 11. 6.2008.  (ME)


In his witty, self-effacing introduction to this marvellous concert, James Bowman told the story of how, in 1992, Andreas Scholl had paid him ‘the very great honour’ of requesting him as External Examiner for his final vocal studies at the Basel Conservatoire – ‘And he was just so wonderful, I could not fault him on a single aspect.’ This apparently did not go down well with the august professors, who regarded it as ‘most irregular’ that a student could not be marked down for anything at all. As it is for professors, so it is for critics in this area: we like something to gnaw at, but with Scholl you just have to face the facts – this really is a faultless singer, and no one could describe him better than Quantz, here writing about Senesino – ‘His manner of singing was masterly and his elocution unrivalled. He sang Allegros with great fire, and marked rapid divisions… in an articulate and pleasing manner. To these qualities he joined a majestic figure.’

After the OAE’s sprightly Overture form Bach’s 3^rd Orchestral Suite, Scholl launched into Presti omai l ‘Egizia terra from Giulio Cesare, and if you had to quibble with anything – and you would be searching for minutiae – you might say that the first lines were a little throaty. Beyond that, glory – Handel’s overweening, strutting hero made real in singing of fiery agility, elegant phrasing and cut-glass diction. If this was near perfection, what can one say about the next piece, the recitative Pompe vane di morte and aria ‘Dove sei, amato bene? from Rodelinda, something of a calling-card for Scholl ever since his Glyndebourne debut as Bertarido. The recitative was an object lesson in delivery – restrained indignation as the hero remarks upon the ‘empty trophies of death,’ rage at ‘Pace al cener mio? Astri tiranni!’ and heartbreak at ‘e con gli affanni’ – and then the aria, every line so mellifluously phrased, with superb ornamentation. Bowman once described how an audience ‘went into a trance’ on hearing Scholl sing this, and you could hear why, in singing of such artistry as to reduce the most articulate to speechlessness, the use of that unique mesa di voce not merely there for display but to delineate the king’s desolation, and the tone so sweet and pleading.

Was all this something of an embarrassment of riches? Yes, but just keep those arias coming – the first half still contained three of the most remarkable performances I’ve heard in a long time. ‘O Lord, whose mercies numberless’ was a model of serenity, the long phrases of ‘and heal his wounded soul’ received by the audience in a kind of stunned silence. Vivaldi’s Cum dederit was no less astonishingly virtuosic, but it was Erbarme dich, mein Gott which was the appropriate high point. Bowman said, finely, that he regarded it as the greatest of all arias ever written, and that whenever he sang it he was reminded of what a privilege it is to be a singer. Scholl’s performance could not help but remind us of what a privilege it is to be able to hear him, since this had it all – beauty of tone, seamless legato, moving intonation, refinement yet anguish. No wonder the audience went berserk.

The second half began with a graceful set of dances from Bach’s 3^rd Suite, allowing Alison Bury and the OAE to show off their skills. There was yet more Bach (no complaints from me) in the shape of Ich will dich nicht hören, marvellously sung and played, and the concert proper concluded with Vivi, tiranno. As evidenced from the earlier Dove sei, Handel’s original conception of the role of Bertarido was contemplative and poetic, but for the 1725 revival he added a show-off, martial piece in the shape of Vivi, tiranno, presumably to allow Senesino to display his pyrotechnic vocal skills. This was indeed as fiery as you could wish for, Bertarido’s contempt for the usurper Grimoaldo flung out in rapid coloratura, and the king’s nobility evident in every phrase of the closing stanza.

Naturally the audience went wild again, and were rewarded with two superb encores – Wayfaring Stranger was sung with the most subtle intonation and moving inwardness, so – how could they follow that? I noticed the 1^st ‘cello positioning her bow at a particular angle, and knew at once what was to come – Bowman suddenly stood up, and as he moved forward sang out ‘Sound the trumpet!’ to delighted applause, followed of course by Scholl’s response. I may have heard Purcell’s wonderful duet sung by more evenly matched singers, but I have never heard ‘all, all the instruments of joy / that skilful numbers can employ’ characterized so vividly or so joyfully. A standing ovation followed, to no one’s surprise. This memorable concert was recorded for broadcast on BBC Radio 3 on June 20^th – one to enter in your diary now.

Melanie Eskenazi


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