Those
of us of a certain age remember when this recording, along
with the roughly contemporaneous productions by Colin Davis
(Philips) and Charles Mackerras (EMI), was hailed for breaking
new ground in Messiah performance practice. These conductors
were not the first moderns to use Handel's original orchestration:
Boult and Klemperer made a point of doing so in their recordings,
for Decca and EMI respectively. But Shaw, Davis, and Mackerras
scored points by restoring Handel's original sense of scale,
leading chamber-sized orchestras and choirs rather than the
symphonic string bodies preferred by the older generation.
Their brisker pacing and rhythmic snap, stressing the score's
lightness and transparency, and the use of ornaments and appoggiaturas,
underlining similarities to the composer's secular operatic
style, also felt more recognizably Handelian than did the ponderous,
large-scale "devotional" approach of yore.
Of
course, while this way of playing Messiah fits the musicologists'
prescriptions, active musicians still found it very new; and
on this recording Shaw begins tentatively, as if he's not quite
convinced. The overture's straight (undoubled) dotting sits
uneasily on a chamber orchestra, which isn't equipped to produce
the weight suggested by this rhythm. Richard Lewis's tight,
gummy enunciation in the first few numbers hasn't held up terribly
well, and his Ev'ry valley is conservatively paced.
So is The people that walked in darkness, which here
sounds interminable.
But
the conductor relaxes into his performance as it progresses,
with his treatment of detail reflecting the music's mood. Launching But
who may abide immediately from Thus saith the Lord, attacca,
is a nice touch - marred somewhat by the audible splice at
Florence Kopleff's entry; a similar direct connection between Rejoice
greatly and Then shall the eyes maintains the dramatic
momentum. Of course, the conductor is most comfortable in the
choral movements. Behold the Lamb of God, its dotted
rhythms played straight as in the overture, better conveys
the intended grandeur. Conversely, double-dotting in the meditative
coda of All we like sheep and in Let all the angels
of God gives each number just the right sort of lift. The
bracing pace of the more dramatic choruses, like He trusted
in God, adds a riveting edge recalling the crowd choruses
in the Bach Passions. If a quick, almost casual Hallelujah! lacks
majesty, a similarly paced Amen chorus makes for a jubilant
finish.
The
chorus is presumably an ad hoc group rather than a standing
ensemble; its sound, nonetheless, is beautifully blended, the
runs expert and accurate. Choral singers will recognize the
use of semi-aspirated articulation; everyone else can simply
admire the clarity. Nor do the chorus serve up mere unvaried
tonal beauty: Shaw takes care to shape the lines of All
we like sheep, for example, as one rarely hears. If the
conductor's handling of the orchestra occasionally seems less
assured - Shaw came to orchestral technique relatively late
in the game - the touch of vibrato on the low strings still
reminds us, in an age where "period" practitioners
have taken over this repertoire, how nice it is to hear modern
instruments play the music.
Shaw
makes some "different" textual choices - different,
that is, from the Schirmer vocal score familiar to generations
of amateur choristers. He breaks up Part II's long tenor sequence
between tenor (Thy rebuke and Behold, and see)
and soprano (He was cut off and But Thou didst not
leave), as per Handel's own practice, providing some needed
variety. On the other hand, I've never understood the point
of the short version of the Pifa - which hardly has
sufficient time to set the pastoral mood - and this Why
do the nations, with a recitative replacing two-thirds
of the aria (including the entire B section), sounds abruptly
truncated.
Among
the soloists, Kopleff's performance offers the most pleasure.
She isn't the traditional Earth-mother, Clara Butt-type alto:
her bright, straightish tone sometimes suggests a counter-tenor.
But she sings firmly and evenly, relishing her cadenzas and
embellishments, even making the normally stodgy Thou art
gone up on high sound buoyant and airborne. Lewis, my reservations
notwithstanding, is musical and authoritative, sensitively
filling in the open intervals of Behold, and see. Judith
Raskin disappoints. She sounds ill at ease in Rejoice greatly -
odd, given her deft Exsultate, jubilate on Sony - and
nags below pitch in How beautiful are the feet; her I
know that my Redeemer liveth rarely floats. Her best moments,
unexpectedly, are in But Thou didst not leave - normally
taken by the tenor! - which she sings with weight and feeling.
Thomas Paul provides a solid, sonorous bass with somewhat muffled
vowels.
Digital
processing, alas, spoils the overall effect - not because the
processing is bad, but because it exposes flaws passed and
shortcuts taken in the original production. Sonic inconsistencies
- similar to those on other CD reissues of 1960s RCA recordings
- are especially noticeable in the arias. As early as Ev'ry
valley, the focus on Lewis's voice, and on the orchestral
image, turns clearer and fuzzier from bar to bar. The effect
is what you might get if you patched the numbers together from
short bits of tape that deteriorated at different rates. And
it took the engineers a while to figure out how to record the
chorus, forwardly balanced in And the glory of the Lord,
and apparently crammed into a space about two feet deep. Fortunately,
a more natural perspective in the subsequent numbers allows
a full appreciation of Shaw's distinctive choral blend.
This is a performance that deserves a hearing and rewards study.
But it's probably not the performance to have if you're having
only one. For that, I'd still suggest the Colin Davis version I
cited earlier, available as a Philips Duo. Avoid his Bavarian
Radio remake, which ossifies the same musical gestures and suffers
Hanna Schwarz's dispiriting alto.
If,
unlike me, you must have period instruments, Christopher Hogwood
on L'Oiseau-Lyre offers Emma Kirkby's gripping performance
- I am not joking - of the Guadagni arias in the soprano transpositions.
Stephen Francis Vasta
Judith Raskin
(soprano) 
