Robert Matthew

Pulitzer Prize- and three-time GRAMMY award-winning composer, Jennifer Higdon, continues to write what the Chicago Sun-Times describes as music “both modern and timeless”. Duo Duel for two pitched percussion instruments and orchestra is a double concerto of scintillating, high-speed virtuosity: “don’t blink – you might miss something!” she advises the listener. Concerto for Orchestra demands the utmost in technical accomplishment from all members of the orchestra. The first movement was written last to give a clearer picture of what was needed to start a work that is both an orchestral celebration and a true virtuoso tour-de-force.

Bruckner’s early Requiem of 1849 and the setting of Psalm 114 (really 116) were composed well before his long period of gruelling technical study with Simon Sechter, during which period he was permitted to compose almost nothing. That was followed by another stretch with Otto Kitzler, less prohibitive so far as creative work was concerned, but still severe; at this time he wrote the Overture in G minor, the ‘study’ symphony in F minor, and a number of choral pieces, including the substantial Psalm 112 (with orchestra) on this record. This period of deliberate creative abstinence has led to the belief that Bruckner was a late starter, that he wrote no music of worth before he was about forty.

Though many know it only in a later arrangement for soloists and choruses, Handel wrote this masque for five singers with a small orchestra. Despite the ending (the giant Polyphemus crushes Acis with a rock), the music suggests springtime and young love. There's humor, too: Polyphemus–so big, so dumb, so pleased with himself– is a comic baritone's dream. George doesn't capture all of the role's humor, but he is vocally well-cast. McFadden sometimes pushes her voice into a wobble, but her Galatea is appealing and sweetly sung. Best are Covey-Crump's graceful Damon (the voice of reason) and Ainsley's youthful, high-spirited Acis. (Ainsley also sings the slight but attractive "Look down.") The ensemble numbers are delightful, and Robert King brings the entire thing off splendidly.

I believe that great art is often the product of great difficulty and tribulation, in many cases for the artist themselves. I also think art borne out of a time of societal turmoil can be even more profound, and can shed light today on what it was like to live and endure through tragedies of the past.

You'll find no stereotypical Biblical characters in The Occasional Oratorio; there are no characters at all. This work is nothing but a blood- and-glory martial celebration Handel hastily threw together to raise London's spirits in a crisis. (The "occasion" was the English counterattack against Bonnie Prince Charlie's rebellion.) Handel composed almost no original music for this work, instead lifting choice bits from Judas Maccabeus, Comus, Athalia, Israel in Egypt–he even closes the work with Zadok the Priest! Handel aficionados will have great fun picking out which numbers originated where. In fact, pretty much everyone will have fun listening to this music (gloriously performed by Robert King and his regulars); it is–as it were–a blast.

Handel's Old Testament oratorios can be difficult to tell apart–tenor Israelite hero, bass enemy or éminence grise, soprano ingenue, and alto priest or youth. What distinguishes Joshua? Real characters: tenor Joshua, confident to the point of conceit; grizzled old general Caleb, wistfully facing retirement; alto Othniel, an excited young warrior/lover fighting battles to win Caleb's giddy daughter, Achsah. Joshua's highlights are the showpiece arias. James Bowman sails through Othniel's impetuous "Let danger surround me"; Emma Kirkby (one of the best ornamenters in the business) charms and fascinates in Achsah's "Oh, had I Jubal's lyre" and "Hark! 'tis the linnet"; George Ainsley is a Joshua both vigorous and graceful, the chorus and the brass are stunning in "Glory to God" as they bring the walls of Jericho tumbling down.

The present recording was accomplished in 2020 by socially distanced musicians, and director Robert King puts things in perspective, observing in his notes that Henry Purcell lived through the London plague of 1665, during which 15 percent of the city's population perished.