Judas Maccabaeus was Handel’s most popular oratorio during his lifetime. It was meant to celebrate the victory of the Duke of Cumberland over the Jacobites’ rebellion; the English public identified with the subjugated Israelites who fight their Syrian enemies and win, are then defeated, and eventually win again, giving thanks to the Lord. That, in fact, is the plot–and the Syrians have no music to sing at all. We hear about everything from the Israelites’ point of view. Only two characters have names–Judas and his brother Simon; other characters are “An Israelite Woman”, “An Israelite Man”, “Priest”, etc.
The work seems to have lost its popularity in the last half-century; it is rarely recorded. Perhaps it is the lack of specific dramatic situations, but that having been said, re-hearing it anew, as I did listening and re-listening to this new recording (and comparing it with others), it has plenty of superb moments of rousing music, celebratory music, and sorrowful music and enough good arias and duets for it to warrant a new recording. And this one is very exciting.
To get its major problem out of the way–and this may not be a problem for many–none of the soloists or the chorus are native English speakers and the accents might irritate some listeners. The number of ways the same vowel can be pronounced by a Japanese tenor, a German baritone, a Spanish soprano, a Polish mezzo, and a French-speaking (Wallonian) chorus is cause for wonderment, but the entire performance, under Argentine conductor Leonardo García Alarcón, has such vigor and is so energetically conceived that linguistic complaints quickly fade. At least they did for me.
The 20-voice chorus and 31 instrumentalists are not shy; the performance was recorded live and has an air of urgency that is most welcome. While historically informed (there’s nothing Romantic about Alarcón’s approach), there’s no mincing, and a voice like Emma Kirkby’s (under Robert King on Hyperion) would be wildly out of place here. Perhaps to make up for their accents, these singers perform with great emphasis, refusing to believe that this isn’t a particularly dramatic work.
Soprano Maria Soledad de la Rosa (Israelite Woman) immediately catches the ear with her opening recit, a strongly stated outpouring of grief; she impresses throughout with clear, clean tone. “O liberty” is delicately sung, although in the recit that precedes it she pronounces the homeland “Is-ree-al”. As I said, the diction is a hump, but one worth overcoming. Her “From mighty kings” in Part 2 is a delight, with trills and other ornaments in place and exquisitely integrated into the line, and high notes bright and ringing. And all of the soloists have similar approaches; they know their Baroque style, but they sing out.
The bright-voiced Makoto Sakurada as Judas handles the coloratura handsomely, even at Alarcón’s sometimes wild tempos (“Call forth my pow’rs” is thrilling if verbally incomprehensible), and the fact that he does not sound like a typical English tenor–Ryland Davies for Mackerras or Jamie MacDougall for King–I find a great plus. Victorious music requires a certain “ping” and Sakurada fills the bill as the Brits tend not to; “How vain is man” is quite a statement in this performance.
Alejandro Meerapfel’s Simon displays a good-sized, agile voice, and though accented, his English always is comprehensible. The voice is placed forward and his arias demand attention. Mariana Reweski (the Israelite Man) is not quite up to the standard of the others; the very center of her voice loses focus and causes pitch issues, particularly in her second-part aria, “So rapid thy course is”. She is somewhat better in her duets with the Israelite Woman–their voices blend nicely. Fabián Schofrin, a male alto, is fine as both the Priest and the Messenger.
The Namur Choeur is an excellent bunch, and this show must have been very well-rehearsed. From their first quick chorus, “O Father whose almighty pow’r”, with fugal section clear and tuning spotless, to the more mournful, tender choruses, they sing with nuance and fine control over dynamics. As suggested above, Alarcón’s tempos are fast–the fastest on disc–but his chorus and band, Les Agrémens, are up to the challenge, and indeed seem to revel in their virtuosity. Alarcón adds two instrumental bits from Joshua and an aria from Athalia that he gives to the Priest. (Just for the record, Robert King adds several non-Judas pieces.)
The recorded sound is very forward and at a high level; I love its clarity, but it lacks gentleness for the most introspective moments. Nonetheless, I recommend it highly. In the long run the Robert King strikes me as both too slow and overly elegiac; Charles Mackerras gets it absolutely right. But this new one, for all its linguistic issues, has a presence that is both urgent and valid.
