Graun L'orfeo Or, Plust, Lunn, Brummelstroete Ralf Popken, Ak. Für Alte Musik Berlin (2002)

The year 2012 marks the tercentenary of the birth of Frederick the Great, whose political and military glory has often relegated his musical talent to the status of a mere hobby. But Frederick II was not only the key personality of Berlin musical life for the whole of the 18th century – as is shown by the works of the composers presented on this CD, all of whom worked at his court at some point in their careers – but also an excellent flautist who left posterity a number of fine flute sonatas from his own pen.

With the belief that “No opera loses so much as Die Zauberflöte if one strips it of its drama and that means, above all, the spoken dialogue,” René Jacobs’ agenda in Die Zauberflöte is to rehabilitate the reputation of Schikaneder’s libretto. At the heart of his reassesment is the idea that Schikaneder and Mozart’s Masonic message is deeper and more carefully presented than we have thought. He suggests that seemingly silly or inconsistent aspects of the story are put there as intentional false paths as the audience, not only the prince and the bird catcher, undergoes its own trials of initiation. The opera’s symbolism and structure are explained in convincing detail in an essay in the booklet by the Egyptologist and Mozart researcher Jan Assman.

This is the first authoritative recording of Alessandro Scarlatti's Griselda, rendered with exquisite beauty by René Jacobs, the Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin, and an outstanding cast led by Dorothea Röschmann in the title role. Warming to the story of Griselda (originally by Boccaccio) – the low-born woman who endures a string of indignities as the king, Gualtiero, tests her suitability to be the mother of his heir – is not easy. But the added humanity of Apostolo Zeno's libretto, which invests Griselda with more backbone, and Gualtiero with more sympathy, than they had in Boccaccio's original, and the emotional immediacy of the performances, Röschmann's in particular, make this recording go down smoothly. It is also an abundantly melodic and beautifully orchestrated score, representing Scarlatti at the height of his powers.

Conductor Daniel Reuss' splendid new recording of Handel's Solomon expands the extraordinarily broad range of music, including works by Bach, Mozart, Berlioz, Elgar, Ligeti, Stefan Wolpe, and the Bang on a Can composers, in which he has shown his mastery. His 2006 recording of Martin's Le vin herbé was one of the highlights of the year. Handel scored the oratorio for unusually large choral and orchestral forces, and the sound of this performance, with the RIAS-Kammerchor and Akademie für Alte Musik, Berlin, is warmly humanistic, beautifully paced, and tonally sumptuous, and is sung and played with stylistic assurance and lively dramatic passion.

Bach's second son didn't write a great many symphonies, but all of them are good, and well worth hearing. As a composer, CPE has fallen between the cracks of musical history. Neither baroque nor fully classical, he's seen as a "transitional" figure, which is, musically speaking, like telling someone that they are "a little pregnant." The implication is that his style is somehow unformed or impure, when in truth it's both highly developed and utterly personal. As you can clearly hear in these excellent performances, CPE had his own things to say and a unique way to say them, and the fact that he wasn't Haydn or Mozart doesn't make his music one bit less interesting or enjoyable.

Jephtha, first performed in 1752, was Handel’s last major work, written while he was struggling with poor health and failing eyesight. Yet the score contains some of his most powerful and moving music, notably the chorus’s bleak paean to blind faith, ‘How dark, O Lord, are Thy decrees!’ Jephtha is also one of his more operatic oratorios and, if many Baroque operas require the suspension of disbelief, this libretto (by Thomas Morell) may need modern listeners to suspend their distaste at the perversities of its 18th-century pietism. Handel’s wonderfully humane music cuts through all such sanctimony, however, as if – as the Handel scholar Winton Dean has argued – in highlighting the themes of personal suffering and capricious fate, Handel implicitly ‘makes Jehovah the villain of the piece’.

The slaying of Abel by his brother Cain was one of the favourite subjects of the 18th century Italians, at the time when the oratorio was having a phenomenal success in Rome and Venice. It was most probably in one of the palaces of the “Serenissima”, and not a church, that Scarlatti first performed this astonishing “sacred entertainment”, worthy of a “verismo” opera, in 1707… God and Lucifer confront each other in the very soul of Cain, his brother’s voice is heard from heaven, and the “spatial” treatment of the tonal levels all contribute to the effectiveness of what is almost expressionistic music – there is nothing left out of this incredible Baroque Biblical “thriller”!

In 1727, having just become a naturalised British subject, Handel was commissioned to write a set of anthems for the coronation of George II. Since he could hardly have expected ever to see a more majestic occasion, the composer took full advantage of it to put on a musical firework display of unprecedented splendour. The RIAS Kammerchor and the Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin give thrilling accounts of these flamboyant works – some of which are still used today at each new coronation!

Many fine recordings over the years have taught me that they know Bach in Leipzig, so I expected a lot from this recording, and wasn’t disappointed. These are possibly the best, or at least equal to the best, performances of these frequently performed works I’ve ever heard. They are very fast, but there is no sense of the music being rushed; it simply erupts at this tempo as if it couldn’t help itself, as if this were the only way it could possibly be played. Having just finished reading and reviewing a book on the origins of our ideas of original performance practice, this recording is a perfect example of what it was all about, Bach’s music pretty much the way he played it and heard it himself.