I’ve ‘sat’ on this recording for far too long in a fruitless attempt
to know how to classify the work – is it a semi-opera, a masque,
a divertissement or just a musical entertainment? Technically,
it’s a serenata, but entertaining it most certainly is,
so I’ll settle for calling it just that and get on with the task
of recommending it, which I’m very pleased to do. In fact, I’ve
decided to make it Recording of the Month in recognition of Hyperion’s
enterprise in bringing the work to our attention in such a splendid
performance. Above all, it’s very good to see that The King’s
Consort is on such fine form under its new director.
With some justification, Hyperion advertise this
premiere recording of Handel’s only full-fledged celebratory
serenata as their major Autumn release. The music, composed
for the marriage of Princess Anne and William of Orange in 1734,
certainly deserves to be heard much more frequently, yet it
isn’t even mentioned in the article on Handel in the Oxford
Companion to Music. As for Hyperion’s other claim that the
music is presented in a dazzling performance by an exceptional
group of musicians, I readily concede it.
To set Parnasso in the context of his better-known
works: Orlando dates from 1733 and Alcina from
1735, so this was a very creative period for Handel. While it
may not be quite in the same league as those masterpieces, its
neglect is hard to understand in an age when we have good recordings
of his similarly-themed early Italian works Aci, Polifemo
e Galatea (1708) and Apollo e Dafne (1709-10). I’m
not implying that these aren’t very well worth recording – they
certainly are – but Parnasso is surely at least their
equal.
A word of warning to those for whom such things
matter – if you’re well acquainted with Athalia, you’ll
find that Handel rehashed much of the music here, together with
some music from Apollo e Dafne. It was a common enough
practice for Handel, Bach and many of their contemporaries –
after all, no-one in London was likely to have heard Apollo
and modern listeners are equally unlikely to be troubled by
‘borrowings’ which fit their new context so well. If we let
such considerations worry us too much, we’d lose large chunks
of Messiah and Bach’s Passions and Christmas Oratorio.
The performers’ names almost guarantee the success
of the operation, especially now that the King’s Consort has
survived the traumas of the recent past and settled down under
the direction of Matthew Halls. Though there are, of course,
no other versions to compare, I can’t imagine the music receiving
a better performance.
A sprightly account of the Overture gets the enterprise
off to a good start and demonstrates that all is as well as
ever in the orchestral department, as is confirmed in the brief
Sinfonia which opens Part 3 (CD2, track 14).
Carolyn Sampson, the first soloist here, also features
on another recent Handel recording, that of Messiah with
The Sixteen (Coro COR16062); I find myself disagreeing with
one reviewer of that recording, who suggests that her voice
is too small for the work. Even that reviewer admits that she
probably sounds better in other contexts, with different singers,
so he might well agree with me in finding her excellent as Clio
in Parnasso. In any case, I react very favourably to
her voice and find it just right for the part as she summons
the virgins to Apollo (CD1, track 2).
The choir may not sound particularly virginal in
their response, but they sing well here (CD1, tr.3) and elsewhere.
Handel probably employed his soloists as the chorus, but the
King’s Consort Choir very ably provide the support here.
Diana Moore as Apollo sounds suitably imperious
in outlining the purpose of their assembly (CD1, tr.5). Her
voice, too, is just right for the part, with very little of
the plumminess of tone which sometimes afflicts even the best
mezzos and she blends well with the choir as they interweave
in Deh! cantate un bell’amor and the ensuing recitative
(CD1, tracks 5-9). Her second, brief, role, as Euterpe in Part
3, is equally well sung (CD2, tr.26-7).
Lucy Crowe as Orfeo also comes into play in the
middle of this section (track 7) in an ethereal performance
of Spira al sen’ celeste ardore. References to the legend
of Orpheus recur throughout the work, with recits and arias
on CD2, tr.7-8 and 17-18, all equally well sung. The other female
soloists are also very accomplished.
The one male soloist, Peter Harvey as Marte, also
makes an excellent fist of his part, suitably imperious but
with a happy lightness to his voice, too, here (Del nume
Lieo, CD1, tr.18) and when he reappears in Part 3 to pay
his tribute to the happy couple, Io che degli avi accelsi
(track 15).
Every aspect of the presentation is first-class.
It was a nice touch to use a contemporary English version (Oldmixon,
1734). Unfortunately, though I’m no great fan of Pope, the name
Oldmixon reminds me that he was parodied in the Dunciad
as wondering ‘Ah why, ye Gods! should two and two make four?’
and for being one of those ‘Who but to sink the deeper, rose
the higher.’ (II. 286, 290). Whatever his contemporary reputation
– largely ruined by Pope – his translation of Parnasso
is more than acceptable.
As usual, the notes are excellent, including the
brief synopsis – despite the inclusion of a libretto, you’ll
probably find this useful. So packed with information is the
booklet that I couldn’t get it back inside the case without
tearing it. Some companies have taken to using the round-cornered
SACD cases for 2-CD sets; it would probably have been easier
to get the booklet back into such a case, with its different
arrangement for holding the booklet in place. I’m not sure why
it was deemed appropriate to employ for the cover and rear insert
a font which I should have thought more redolent of Wanted posters
from a Western – the nearest font that I can find on my computer
is Rockwell.
Those are just about the only negative comments
that I have; everything else fulfils the promise of the beautiful
painting on the cover, a detail from Hendrik van Balen the Elder’s
Banquet of the Gods. I first played this recording soon
after the less than happy Naxos version of Semele (8.570431-3
– see review
by Robert Hugill, who was also unimpressed), so my initial favourable
impressions may have been due to the contrast with that set, but
my pleasure has been renewed – if anything, augmented – with subsequent
hearings. Excellent recording, too.
Brian
Wilson
