• “The reasons for Britten Sinfonia’s incremental rise in the past 20 years are various, but among them are a commitment to interesting programmes and the assiduous building of relationships”

  Financial Times

• “The playing was marked by the kind of luminous and infectious beauty that only comes from a true marriage of mastery and love”

  The Guardian

• “The UK’s most consistently dynamic chamber ensemble”

  The New Statesman

• “I haven’t heard a chamber orchestra performing with such extrovert character and unflagging energy for years.”

  The Times

• “But as always with this orchestra there was more to savour than just stellar perfomance. The programme was ingeniously shaped.”

  The Daily Telegraph, Ivan Hewett

Handel - Messiah

International Record Review
Gramophone
BBC Music Magazine
Otto’s Baroque Musik blog

International Record Review
John T Hughes
1st November 2009

Many people, seeing this recording of Messiah in a shop or reading a review, will think ‘Nt another one’, for Handel’s oratorio has received so many performances on disc. If the work were, say, Tosca, there would be no difference in the music on each recording but in Messiah one hears variations between one set and the next. The size of chorus or orchestra can vary greatly. Here, the Britten Sinfonia numbers 24, with 31 voices (9-7-9-8) constituting Polyphony, which may not appeal to listeners who like large forces. In his note, Anthony Hiccks writes that a slightly modified form of the 1750 version (that given at the Foundling Hospital) is used by Stephen Layton, ‘with variants close to those of 1752’.

We cannot know how Susannah Cibber and her colleagues sounded at the work’s première, in Dublin in 1742, or the alto castrato Gaetano Guadagni, for whom Handel wrote ‘But who may abide’ and ‘Thou art gone up on high’, in 1750. On record we can hear a wide range of sounds, even within each vocal category. Among sopranos alone one has the ‘grand’ voice of Joan Sutherland or Eileen Farrell and the more ‘reserved’ tones of Isobel Baillie or Emma Kirkby. One danger that can emanate from the lesser voiced, though not from those two ladies, is a certain vocal equivalent of dainty mannerisms (like holding a cucumber sandwich, minus crusts with one’s little finger crooked.) One example would be a bête noire of mine, the unattractive, unmusical and unnatural rolled ‘r’, especially immediately after a consonant. It is not the natural spoken ‘r’ of Scots or Lancastrians but a prissy, even poncy, device presumably to produce clear enunciation. It doesn’t.

In some recent broadcasts, such as one from London’s Cadogan Hall in September, Iestyn Davies has indulged in this affectation, thus marring smoothness of delivery. Although some instances occur here they are less in evidence, showing how much better a singer he is when not crossing every ‘t’ (or rolling every ‘r’). His tone falls attractively on my ears. It is on the lightish side, less full than some, but in no way squawky, pliant enough to encompass divisions without hint of aspirating. One of the pleasures of this performance of Messiah is the employment of appoggiaturas and da capo variants. Davies manages the little turns very neatly. Anybody wanting a dark contralto voice for ‘He was despised’ will find one elsewhere; others, if not allergic to countertenors, should be well satisfied with Davies’s singing.

This is my introduction to Julia Doyle’s voice. She overstresses the ‘r’ and in the words, ‘the angel’ in recitative she pushes slightly on the first syllable of ‘angel’, this creating a tiny jerk rather than smoothly eliding the words. The quality of her voice, shining, is fine, and ‘Rejoice greatly’ finds her full of exultant expectancy at the thought of the Saviour’s coming. The orchestra accompanies her with a springing step. ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth’ would have benefited from more legato. She reminds me somewhat of the professional singer who told me that he was cathedral-trained and was having to unlearn the affectations and exaggerations that were taught to him. Doyle possesses many good points.

Allan Clayton is an intelligent singer who uses his voice in accordance with the text. Note the poignancy in his delivery of ‘Thy rebuke hath broken his heart’ and the following aria ‘Behold and see’. Contrariwise, his clear production of notes in ‘Every valley’ is welcome, and he has the vigour for ‘Thou shalt break them’.

The most natural singing and enunciation come from Andrew Foster-Williams. He releases a flow of sound on fine breath support, unimpeded by exaggerated consonants. One hears every syllable clearly, with his musical line smooth. He and Layton take ‘Why do the nations’ swiftly, leaving no doubts about the furious raging: all done without ungainly huffing and puffing. Doyle could listen to his natural singing of ‘The trumpet shall sound’ with benefit. Interestingly, he seems to be the only soloist not to have been a choral scholar. If he was, he has got over it.

Fresh sound comes from the chorus, but again consonants are sometimes overdone:

‘great was the company’ is unpleasantly jarring; ‘d’ and ‘t’ (that tallest good tidings’) are plosives and should not be sibilant.

Nevertheless, choral lightness and Layton’s airy tempos convey the general feeling of good news.

The conductor’s approach rejects turgidity and heaviness: not for him the massed choirs of Huddersfield, Hull, Hemsworth and Halifax. (My first recording was Malcolm Sargent’s second version: Morison, Thomas, Lewis, Walker, so my Messiah collection started with a ‘big sound’ interpretation. Whether one agrees or disagrees with my reservations, this performance, in very fine sound, offers much and its total outweighs my strictures. It is a worthy addition to the discography, but those nominating a best Messiah are deceiving themselves. 


Gramophone
David Vickers
1st November 2009

Polyphony have given annual Christmas performances of Messiah at St John’s, Smith Square, for 15 years. Many of these have been collaborations with the Academy of Ancient Music, but this Hyperion set is based on the most recent 2008 run of performances featuring the Britten Sinfonia. Perhaps some might find the use of modern instruments (rather than period ones) a major talking point. But it isn’t as if hearing generally stylish “traditional” performances of Messiah is rare, and two recent recordings have used modern instruments: John Rutter with the RPO (to decent, if not amazing, effect) and Sir Colin Davis with the LSO (somewhat less satisfyingly). Moreover one can easily point towards several “historically informed” period-instrument recordings that contain all sorts of unhistorical anachronisms and aberrations, or that are fundamentally traditional in tone. Layton observes in his brief note that Messiah can withstand diverse approaches, and fondly recalls impressionable experiences of hearing it as a boy in Sheffield Town Hall played by the Hallé Orchestra “complete with a big pipe organ”, and then a few years later being thrilled by the pioneering L’Oiseau-Lyre recording by Christopher Hogwood. Layton successfully fuses together these paradoxical approaches, for there is plenty of music-making here that has the lightness, textures and vocabulary of period style, but there is also the spiritual grandeur (and interventionist treatment of the score) of the great Northern choral society tradition.

There is a lot to like about this engaging performance. Allan Clayton’s “Comfort ye” conspicuously lacks its “y”, but in all other respects the four soloists are ideal. Julia Doyle is a charismatic Angel/narrator in the pastoral scene, and her embellished recapitulation of the line ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth” is spine-tingling. Andrew Foster-Williams’s singing is marvellous (“Why do the nations” is thrillingly dispatched, and he holds the listener in the palm of his hand as he confides “Behold I tell you a mystery”). The well rounded tone and technical precision of Iestyn Davies’s singing is easy to enjoy, but it is equally significant that his ornamentation in “But who may abide” is masterful for its stylish vocabulary and expressive wisdom (Layton’s dramatic explosion of the strings for the “refiner’s fire” is startling).

There are a few stylistic solecisms that do not improve on Handel’s practices. There is too much churchy organ in recitatives, and the use of solo violin in several arias is not preferable to unison fiddles, although the use of a solitary string bass note as the cue for “Since by man came death” is effective. Layton reverts to the old custom of shortening the upbeat motif of “Behold the Lamb of God”; others may find this comfortable like an old pair of slippers. The first 20 bars of the “Amen” are performed a cappella, which is lovely but ignores the effort Handel expended in writing out a tasto solo organ accompaniment including detailed figured bass. Proceedings are occasionally a shade over-conducted , too sculpted and self-conscious, but Layton’s affection for the oratorio is frequently discernible, not least in the technical and communicative qualities of Polyphony’s exceptional singing of the choruses. In particular the singers avoid forcing out everything loudly, which shrewdly prevents the splendour of Handel’s music from peaking too often: “And with his stripes” is surprisingly gentle; “Surely he hath borne our griefs” in passages both loud and soft, possesses a rare religious conviction. Tempi are generally swift without feeling rushed, and the Britten Sinfonia’s playing is consistently neat and accomplished. This Messiah is calculated to keep certain questions open, and one doesn’t have to agree with all of the proposed answers in order to find it enjoyable. It certainly has strong musical appeal and a probing nature. It is also worth mentioning Anthony Hick’s superb essay, his first for a Messiah recording since the seminal 1980 Hogwood set. 


BBC Music Magazine
Paul Riley
1st November 2009

Stephen Layton has conducted Messiahs sporting choirs mustering 18 to 2,000 singers (and orchestras ranging from minimalist to well-upholstered). But at the centre of his Handel universe are the annual St John’s Smith Square Christmas performances with Polyphony – a now venerable festive fixture. Last year’s were recorded in readiness for a timely genuflection to Handel year, and while underpinned by the incisive modern instruments of Britten Sinfonia, the new release has both a fine sense of style and is full of refreshing insights despite the regrettably absent tang of period instruments. (Harry Christopher’s recent recording compounded the ‘period’ advantage by adding theorbo to the continuo with seductively illuminating results.)

Tempos – after a slight low key start – are well judged, and the choir, the odd momentary hint of strain aside, sings with an effortless control and well-modulated fluency that takes wing when gustiness is added to the mix. Layton’s crisp, aerated phrasing might turn ‘All we like sheep’ into a lip-smacking statement of carnivorous preference, but the a cappella introduction of the final Amen is a masterstroke – as Old Testament ‘antico’ counterpoint is finally gilded with the trumpets and drums glister of New Testament Baroquerie. Less defined, perhaps, is the absorbing narrative coherence and sense of ‘whole’ to be found in Harry Christopher’s set, but with, some strong solo singing (particularly from Iestyn Davies), Polyphony’s new Messiah gives the daughters of Zion cause to ‘Rejoice Greatley’.

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