The pleasure of poetry
is in the reading of it or, when set
to music, in the singing of it. Nahum
Tate’s excellent libretto, formed mainly
of rhyming couplets, contains expressive
touches within such a compact frame
as to provide a composer with dramatic
sensibilities ample matter to assist
the drawing an inspired work from his
pen. With that statement must go acknowledgement
that Purcell was such a man – dramatic
in mind, inspired in composition – and
also a man aware of his continental
precursors and contemporaries in terms
of musical style, yet he remained resolutely
English. His music thrived then and
still speaks to us now because of this
mix of ingredients. Dido and Aeneas
remains for many the pinnacle of
English operatic achievement – Benjamin
Britten, no less, often acknowledged
it thus.
This present recording
is not without its element of controversy,
even among recent historically-informed
performances, but more of that later.
Christopher Hogwood
paces the work sensitively throughout,
favouring tempi on the sprightly side,
yet the work never appears overly rushed.
Indeed it benefits from internal variations
of pacing that enable ‘the pastoral,
the heroic, the comic-grotesque and
ultimately the tragic [to be] encompassed
in a brief hour’, as Richard Luckett
puts it in his excellently comprehensive
introductory notes. The AAM’s playing
is remarkable for its overall refinement
and attention to detail, showing just
how much of one mind they are with Hogwood
with regard to performance realisation.
Throughout there is a sense of airiness
that pervades the playing – all to the
good in allowing one to enjoy the playful
spirit at work in Purcell’s musical
conception.
Such aspects are carried
through into the singing. As befits
a work possibly written for and definitely
performed (in 1684) at Josiah Priest’s
Chelsea School for Girls, the female
parts dominate the work. Catherine Bott
and Emma Kirkby contrast with each other
in terms of tone – Bott being slightly
‘creamier’ than Kirkby, who brings her
famed brilliance to proceedings. The
justly final famous lament is suffused
by Bott with meaning missed by other
heavier-voiced exponents of the role.
In doing so she makes one realise just
how much Purcell achieves by hinting
at the consequences of the foregone
plot.
The male roles however
should not be overlooked. John Mark
Ainsley takes the small, though crucial,
role of Aeneas ably in his stride and
with understanding both of style and
dramatic importance. And so to the main
controversy of this set – the assignment
of the Sorceress’s part to a bass, David
Thomas. In his note on performance of
the work Hogwood justifies the move
by citing historical precedents in the
casting of stage witches. He clearly
believes that in Thomas he has a bass
that realises the high tessitura of
the role with confidence. One may carry
modern preconceptions about the casting
of such roles – other recordings (conducted
by Haim, Leppard, etc.) still assign
it to a mezzo – but listening in comparison
reveals that Hogwood’s bold decision
does pay off. I would strongly urge
any doubters to give this a fair hearing.
Thomas’s performance is a delight. It
brings added atmosphere at a crucial
stage in proceedings. His entry immediately
catches the ear, making one sit up and
take note.
Atmosphere, I might
add, is further heightened by the spacious
and imposing use of thunder and lightning
effects at Sweden’s Drottningholm Court
Theatre – the dubbing is expertly handled,
as is the capture of the malevolent
asides by the witches’ chorus. Smaller
roles are well taken. The diction of
all - including chamber sized chorus
- is beautifully clear, rendering the
enclosed libretto redundant, although
it will be useful if one is getting
to know the work.
A very welcome return
for this hugely enjoyable recording
that makes one listen with fresh ears
to Purcell’s music and admire it anew.
What a glorious composer Purcell is,
and this is one recording that I would
not want to be without.
Evan Dickerson