Les Talens Lyriques / Christophe Rousset ANTONIO SALIERI Les Horaces

Les Talens Lyriques are a major french classical music ensemble, recognized on the international scale for both its musicological work and editorial choices. Created twenty years ago by french harpsichordist and conductor Christophe Rousset. The ensemble has a large lyrical and instrumental repertoire ranging from Baroque to Early Romanticism.

Following the release of Les Danaïdes in 2015, Les Talens Lyriques present the first world recording of Antonio Salieri’s Les Horaces, which they recreated at Versailles in 2016. To bring this score back to life, Christophe Rousset gathered a vocal cast in which tenor Cyrille Dubois, Judith van Wanroij, Julien Dran or Jean-Sebastien Bou embody the fate of the characters inspired by the fratricidal struggle of Horatius and Curiatius in Ancient Rome, dramatically revived by an already romantic Salieri in his musical boldness. Fights, vows and great crowd scenes, the tears of heroine Camilla, the Curiatius’ dilemma, or the implacable determination of old Horatius offer intense and original drama.

Early Opera Company / Christian Curnyn HANDEL Partenope

Partenope was not a highly regarded work in its day, though it subsequently enjoyed the distinction of being among the first Handel operas to receive a decent recording with period instruments. That was Sigiswald Kuijken’s in 1979, with La Petite Bande and a cast that included Krisztina Laki, René Jacobs and Helge Müller-Molinari, and its quality and many wisdoms were sufficient in themselves to attract attention at a time when the Handel opera revival was yet to get under way. The work has not been recorded again until now, when greater general familiarity with Handel’s output renders it not only less of an exotic stranger but also reveals it to be one of its composer’s more interesting dramatic creations.

Handel composed it for the 1730 London season, less than a year into the so-called ‘Second Academy’ period in which he enjoyed increased artistic control over his productions. Partenope was a subject he had long coveted and with a new troupe of singers, less starry than before, he seems to have relished the chance to tone down the rattling virtuosity in favour of a more ‘company’ feel, and with it a more genuine and subtle mode of expression. He was helped by a strong libretto which is well set-out, humane with a touch of gentle humour, and features characters who are lifelike and credible. Partenope, Queen of Naples, is wooed by three suitors – the overly proud enemy general Emilio, the mopy but deserving Armindo, and her own favourite, Arsace. Arsace, however, is tormented by the woman he left behind, Rosmira, who is hanging around and making mischief disguised as a man. Eventually, and after much soul-searching, Arsace forces her to reveal her identity by challenging her to a bare-chest duel (which she declines). The couple are reunited, Partenope settles for Armindo, and Emilio accepts his rejection philosophically.

Christian Curnyn conducts a highly competent performance thoroughly in the groove of modern Handelian style, with a cast that has no vocal weaknesses and many dramatic virtues: Rosemary Joshua as Partenope and Hilary Summers as Rosmira have the most technically demanding music, but Joshua’s brightly confident singing also effortlessly suggests a woman both regal and desirable, while the dark-voiced Summers sounds like someone not to be messed with. Lawrence Zazzo conveys well the deepening suffering of Arsace, Stephen Wallace shows us the emerging nobility of Armindo, and if Kurt Streit sounds rather like a tenor stepping out of his usual Mozartian realm, then as the pompous Emilio he does need to be a little out of step with the others and his voice and Italian diction are both irresistibly splendid. In general the singing has a warmth to it that the (by no means redundant) Kuijken version does not always find, and although there are times when the recitatives could make room for more dramatic flexibility and conviction, this is nevertheless a thoroughly recommendable release for Baroque opera fans. (Lindsay Kemp / Gramophone)

Early Opera Company / Christian Curnyn HANDEL Alceste

After a century of neglect, many of Handel’s once sensationally popular operas are now an established part of the operatic mainstream. But here is something of a rarity: the incomplete ‘incidental music’ for Alceste.

Conceived as a hugely lavish production, it was possibly Alceste’s overreaching ambition that led to its downfall. A team of top talent was assembled for its creation: Scottish-born playwright Tobias Smollett, impresario John Rich, celebrated set-designer Giovanni Servandoni, Handel's librettist Thomas Morell and, of course, the towering genius composer of the opera world himself. Intended for performance at Covent Garden, the production collapsed soon after rehearsals had begun in 1749. Quite why remains a mystery – but it seems likely that the involvement of too many temperamental cooks spoilt the proverbial broth.

Smollett's play disappeared and remains lost; but, fortunately, Handel's music survives. Indeed, much of it will be familiar to anyone acquainted with the subsequent works into which Handel pragmatically recycled its material – The Choice of Hercules, Belshazzar and Alexander Balus. This new Chandos release offers a welcome chance to appreciate the music of Alceste in its original, never realised, guise.

The classical drama tells of Alceste's self-sacrifice to save her dying husband, King Admetus, and of Hercules' journey to Hades to bring Alceste back to the world of the living. Smollett assigned the principal roles to actors; Handel's arias are sung by secondary characters. Pick of the bunch is the ravishing ‘Gentle Morpheus, son of night’, in which Calliope (goddess of poetry) consoles Admetus, sung with affecting tenderness here by Lucy Crowe to sumptuously lilting accompaniment from the Early Opera Company orchestra under conductor Christian Curnyn.

Occasionally he doesn't get the mood quite right – the wedding celebration chorus ‘O bless, ye pow'rs above’ needs greater rhythmic spring. But, generally, Curnyn's lively and sensitive approach makes a strong case for this little-known score. (Graham Rogers / BBC Music)

Early Opera Company / Christian Curnyn HANDEL Flavio

Premiered at the King’s Theatre in May 1723, Flavio is one of those Handel operas – Serse and Partenope are others – that takes a wryly amused view of the power struggles, bulging egos and heroic posturing endemic to opera seria. With its pungent mix of comedy, ironic detachment and near-tragedy, it now seems one the composer’s most endearing stage works. Handel’s aristocratic audiences, though, evidently preferred operas of a loftier cast. Despite the presence of the two biggest stars of the day, Cuzzoni and Senesino, Flavio ran for just eight performances (Giulio Cesare, its immediate successor, netted 13), and was revived just once in Handel’s lifetime.

Set in a legendary Dark Ages when Britain was supposedly ruled by Lombardy, the plot hinges on the whims of the oversexed, cynically manipulative King Flavio, whose lust for the beautiful – and far from innocent – Teodata threatens to wreak havoc on everyone around him. Opening with a delectable nocturnal love duet for Teodata and her secret lover Vitige, Act 1 is light in tone, with a succession of arias in graceful and/or jaunty dance rhythms. Then, as the plot takes a darker, potentially tragic turn, Handel responds with some of his most piercing arias, above all for the heroine Emilia (the Cuzzoni role), whose father Lotario has been killed in a duel by her fiancé Guido. Lotario’s death apart, all ends well, of course, with Emilia and Guido reconciled and reunited after she has feared him dead, and the ever-capricious Flavio “punishing” Vitige by granting him the hand of Teodata.

Christian Curnyn and his spruce period band finely catch the tone and tinta of this delectable opera. Tempi – mobile but never frenetic – are aptly chosen, rhythms buoyant. Yet Curnyn gives due weight to the opera’s graver moments, whether in Emilia’s haunting siciliano aria that closes Act 2, cleaving mournfully to the minor key virtually throughout, or Guido’s desolate final aria, in the rare, “extreme” key of B flat minor. The singers, many of them Curnyn regulars, dispatch their arias with fine Handelian style and spirit, and, crucially, bring real theatrical vitality to their recitative exchanges. Handel curiously cast the part of Teodata (written for the deep contralto Anastasia Robinson) for a lower voice than that of her lover Vitige. But while her timbre more naturally suggests gravity than levity, Hilary Summers catches Teodata’s teasing, flirtatious nature through inflection and phrasing. As her lover Vitige, Croatian mezzo Renata Pokupic´ sings with grace, verve and (not least in Vitige’s jealous outburst in Act 3) an exciting flame in the tone; and Thomas Walker and the sonorous bass Andrew Foster-Williams excel in the blustering, mock-heroic coloratura arias for the squabbling councillors Ugone and Lotario.

As Flavio, Tim Mead sings smoothly and mellifluously without always catching to the full the mingled charm, absurdity and menace of the king’s character. Iestyn Davies, in the Senesino role of Guido, has slightly more “bite” to his countertenor, and rises impressively both to the anguished fury of his Act 2 aria “Rompo i lacci” and the profound pathos of his final aria. Always a lovely Handel singer, Rosemary Joshua brings to Emilia’s glorious music a pure, lucent tone and a vivid sense of character, growing from initial blitheness, through her aching farewell to Guido – one of those ravishing, timeless Handelian moments – to the grieving intensity of her siciliano lament for her father. The sole rival Flavio, directed by René Jacobs (Harmonia Mundi, 7/90), has been rightly praised. But on balance I’d recommend this beautifully recorded new version of Handel’s flavoursome tragicomedy, for its (on the whole) superior cast and orchestral playing and for Curnyn’s direction, stylish, lively and unaffected where Jacobs can be irritatingly interventionist. (Richard Wigmore / Gramophone)