Handel's Acis and Galatea, short and sweet, has been among his most enduringly popular works. Part of its fascination resides in its generic ambiguity: it may be classified as an oratorio (although its choral elements are sparse), a serenade, a masque, a pastoral, or, perhaps most accurately by Handel himself as "a little opera." The story involves a shepherd, Acis, a kind of goddess-nymph, Galatea, and a rude giant, Polyphemus, who is jealous of the love of Acis and Galatea (spoiler: Acis is killed and ends up as a fountain). The music hits the pastoral mood from the very start with the subdominant harmonies and fetching suspensions of the Sinfonia. The work has been expanded in several dimensions, including by Handel himself over the decades and centuries, but the original 1718 version of the work, the one heard here, is perhaps preferable: the mix of fun and light tragedy in the work comes through most clearly. Likewise, although the opera has been done plenty of times by full-on operatic voices, and listeners may fondly remember the version with Peter Pears and Joan Sutherland from the 1950s, the smaller-scale singing of Jeremy Budd and Grace Davidson is attractive indeed, and the one-voice-per-part chorus reflects the circumstances of the work's original performance. Sample Davidson's charmingly injured "Must I my Acis still bemoan." An altogether delightful version of this familiar Handel work. © TiVo

This isn't an opera, strictly speaking; this Acis and Galatea by Handel, most likely dating from 1718, is much more a part of the very English genre of the "masque", or pastoral divertimento. That said, its hour-and-a-half running time is redolent of a lot of operas... It seems that Handel wrote it for a rich private patron, in those politically turbulent days when the Royal Theatre had more bad days than good; James Brydge, the count of Carnarvon, had assembled a little troupe of singers and musicians at his manor, as well as a choir, which allowed him to offer purely private musical entertainments of high quality. Of course, the work is sung in English; the orchestration, which is very original, calls for inter alia a soprano recorder for the songbirds; and it unfurls a number of theatrical "tricks" to highlight the personalities of the various characters. Twenty years later, Handel would revise his work for public performances in London, but this is a recording of the 1718 original. Elegance, sensuality, a strong dose of humour in spite of the often-sombre subject matter: this is the best of Handel, and it should be noted that the composer used almost none of his normal "recycling": apart from an aria, all the music here is original, and was not re-used in any other works. Acis and Galatea was one of Handel's most-performed works in his own lifetime, which rather prevented him from re-using any of the tunes too often, as he might have been able to do with a lesser-known piece. The Early Opera Company conducted by Christian Curnyn proves here that private lyrical enterprises, supported by crowdfunding and generous subscriptions from patrons have got a long and happy future ahead of them still. © SM/Qobuz

The Dunedin Consort, led by John Butt, has moved into the niche of recording original or obscure versions of Baroque choral masterworks using forces as close as possible to those of the original performances. Its 2006 performance of the Dublin version of Messiah is one of the liveliest and refreshingly intimate recordings of the work, and won a Gramophone Award for Best Baroque Vocal Album of the year. Here the group turns its attention to a much earlier Handel work, the 1718 pastoral oratorio Acis & Galatea. Through ingenious musical detective work, Butt has reconstructed the most likely constitution of the ensemble that originally performed the piece while the composer was employed at Cannons House in Middlesex. Acis & Galatea is a work stronger on charm than substance, but its charms are considerable, from its lively and lyrical solos and ensembles to its inventive and clever orchestration. While Handel is not known for comedy, and this piece is in fact a tragedy (a rejected suitor kills his rival, but the heroine transforms her slain lover into a fountain, so things don't turn out too badly), the librettists and composer treat the subject lightly and with genuine wit. The villain is portrayed as a buffoon, and Butt and his singers play up the work's humor. Baritone Matthew Brook is vocally virtuosic and comically convincing as Polyphemus; his arias "O ruddier than the cherry" and "Cease to beauty to be suing" are among the highlights of the recording. As Galatea, soprano Susan Hamilton sings with purity and unmannered grace. Tenor Nicholas Mulroy as Acis has a somewhat covered sound that keeps him from being truly heroic. Thomas Hobbs, in the secondary role of role of Damon, has a light but bright and clarion tenor. The orchestra plays with exquisite finesse and expressiveness. Butt and his exemplary forces make a strong case for this odd little piece and give it a depth and coherence that make their performance stand out among the recorded versions.© TiVo

Hubert Parry's Scenes from Shelley's Prometheus Unbound, from 1880, here receives its world-recorded premiere. Perhaps recording companies thought there wouldn't be much of a market for a heavy 19th century choral work with, it must be said, a ponderous text by Percy Bysshe Shelley (Prometheus was a play intended to be read, not performed, just to give an idea). How wrong they were. This release made classical best-seller lists in the summer of 2023, and it is altogether enjoyable. At the time, Parry was under the spell of Wagner, whom he traveled to Bayreuth to meet. That influence certainly shows up in Scenes from Shelley's Prometheus Unbound, with its basically declamatory text, partly through-composed music, wind-and-brass-heavy orchestration, and splashes of chromaticism. Yet what is remarkable is that the music does not come off as an imitation of Wagner at all. Rather, it uses elements of his style to match a specific kind of English literary text. The work gradually disappeared, but it would be surprising if Elgar, whom it clearly prefigures, did not know it well. The performances here are luminous, with William Vann using the lighter-than-expected London Mozart Players to create transparent textures against which he can set the substantial voices of Sarah Fox, Sarah Connolly, and other soloists. Parry did write some shorter pieces that remain in the repertory; one of these, Blest Pair of Sirens, is included here as a finale. However, the Scenes from Shelley's Prometheus Unbound are the main news here, and this performance, showing how this kind of thing should be done, may generate a new life for the work. © James Manheim /TiVo

The discovery of Artaxerxes by Thomas Arne was a nice surprise for Joseph Haydn, who was unaware that such operas existed in England. Performed practically without interruption in London from 1762 to 1830, it was probably also seen by the young Mozart. At any rate, this is a likelihood suggested by the conductor Ian Page, a great connoisseur of British musical life in the eighteenth century, who has released this album with his ensemble The Mozartists.Adapted into English from the libretto of Metastasio's Artaserse, which was probably written by the composer himself, this 'opera seria' premiered at Covent Garden in 1762 to great acclaim before falling into obscurity until it was revived two hundred years later at the St Pancras Festival. The work is bursting with virtuoso arias, some of which have remained in circulation among singers.This recording was made in 2009 following a series of performances to mark the three-hundredth anniversary of the birth of Thomas Arne, at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden where Artaxerxes was created. It was selected as record of the year by Audiophile Audition and BBC Radio 3's CD review, and was named record of the month by the UK magazine Opera. Thomas Arne wrote around 30 operas, and is seen as a representative of the "gallant style" that extended throughout Europe. His fame was somewhat overshadowed by the ubiquitous output of the "bulldozer" Handel, whose genius reigned over English opera for more than fifty years. © François Hudry/Qobuz

There's no shortage of Handel aria recitals these days, especially in Britain, but this one by bass baritone Christopher Purves stands out from the crowd in several respects. First of all, it is rare in collecting arias for bass voice, which was, in Handel's time as it was later on, generally associated with a few fixed and generally negative character types (tyrants, rogues, repressive patriarchs). Second, it's a very pleasantly varied collection of tunes, including displays of brilliant passagework, out-of-the-norm writing in service of characterization (Fra l'ombre e gl'orrori, from Aci, Galatea e Polifemo, track 4), and high climactic drama (the big, three-part Revenge, Timotheus cries, from Alexander's Feast, track 19, is a familiar example). Finally, Purves unearths some rarely heard pieces and programs them intelligently. When did anyone last year anything from Muzio Scevola, or Riccardo Primo, rè d'Inghilterra, which must have pleased London audiences in 1727 despite its Italian-language text. Purves does not have the biggest voice in the bass baritone universe, and there could be a bit more sound in the very low notes. But the dimensions of the music are right for the period. He's pleasingly accurate in the passagework, and he's a real actor who makes these potentially stilted characters come alive. Listeners will want to hear Purves in a small production of one of these operas after hearing this album, preferably accompanied by the strong historical-instrument group Arcangelo under Jonathan Cohen, as he is here.© TiVo

White Blood Cells may have been a reaction to the amount of fame the White Stripes had received up to the point of its release, but, paradoxically, it made full-fledged rock stars out of Jack and Meg White and sold over half a million copies in the process. Despite the White Stripes' ambivalence, fame nevertheless seems to suit them: They just become more accomplished as the attention paid to them increases. Elephant captures this contradiction within the Stripes and their music; it's the first album they've recorded for a major label, and it sounds even more pissed-off, paranoid, and stunning than its predecessor. Darker and more difficult than White Blood Cells, the album offers nothing as immediately crowd-pleasing or sweet as "Fell in Love With a Girl" or "We're Going to Be Friends," but it's more consistent, exploring disillusionment and rejection with razor-sharp focus. Chip-on-the-shoulder anthems like the breathtaking opener, "Seven Nation Army," which is driven by Meg White's explosively minimal drumming, and "The Hardest Button to Button," in which Jack White snarls "Now we're a family!" -- one of the best oblique threats since Black Francis sneered "It's educational!" all those years ago -- deliver some of the fiercest blues-punk of the White Stripes' career. "There's No Home for You Here" sets a girl's walking papers to a melody reminiscent of "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground" (though the result is more sequel than rehash), driving the point home with a wall of layered, Queen-ly harmonies and piercing guitars, while the inspired version of "I Just Don't Know What to Do With Myself" goes from plaintive to angry in just over a minute, though the charging guitars at the end sound perversely triumphant. At its bruised heart, Elephant portrays love as a power struggle, with chivalry and innocence usually losing out to the power of seduction. "I Want to Be the Boy" tries, unsuccessfully, to charm a girl's mother; "You've Got Her in Your Pocket," a deceptively gentle ballad, reveals the darker side of the Stripes' vulnerability, blurring the line between caring for someone and owning them with some fittingly fluid songwriting. The battle for control reaches a fever pitch on the "Fell in Love With a Girl"-esque "Hypnotize," which suggests some slightly underhanded ways of winning a girl over before settling for just holding her hand, and on the show-stopping "Ball and Biscuit," seven flat-out seductive minutes of preening, boasting, and amazing guitar prowess that ranks as one the band's most traditionally bluesy (not to mention sexy) songs. Interestingly, Meg's star turn, "In the Cold, Cold Night," is the closest Elephant comes to a truce in this struggle, her kitten-ish voice balancing the song's slinky words and music. While the album is often dark, it's never despairing; moments of wry humor pop up throughout, particularly toward the end. "Little Acorns" begins with a sound clip of Detroit newscaster Mort Crim's Second Thoughts radio show, adding an authentic, if unusual, Motor City feel. It also suggests that Jack White is one of the few vocalists who could make a lyric like "Be like the squirrel" sound cool and even inspiring. Likewise, the showy "Girl, You Have No Faith in Medicine" -- on which White resembles a garage rock snake-oil salesman -- is probably the only song featuring the word "acetaminophen" in its chorus. "It's True That We Love One Another," which features vocals from Holly Golightly as well as Meg White, continues the Stripes' tradition of closing their albums on a lighthearted note. Almost as much fun to analyze as it is to listen to, Elephant overflows with quality -- it's full of tight songwriting, sharp, witty lyrics, and judiciously used basses and tumbling keyboard melodies that enhance the band's powerful simplicity (and the excellent "The Air Near My Fingers" features all of these). Crucially, the White Stripes know the difference between fame and success; while they may not be entirely comfortable with their fame, they've succeeded at mixing blues, punk, and garage rock in an electrifying and unique way ever since they were strictly a Detroit phenomenon. On these terms, Elephant is a phenomenal success.© Heather Phares /TiVo

Handel's L'allegro, il penseroso, ed il moderato, HWV 55, is an underrated work. Composed in 1740 as he was beginning to turn decisively toward English-language music, it was based on a pair of contrasting pastoral poems by Milton. Handel mixed these together and had his librettist, Charles Jennens (soon to write the text of Messiah, HWV 56), add a third part, Il Moderato, as a kind of synthesis at the end. It sounds thrown together, but the music is brilliant and has much in common with that of Messiah; the chorus has a lot to do, great care is taken with the accompanied recitatives, and the solos are full of tunes that are, given the chance, just as memorable as that of the famed later oratorio. The durable William Christie, 78 years old when this album appeared in 2023 and vaulted onto classical best-seller lists, generally specializes in French music with his group Les Arts Florissants, but he has been performing this ode in concert, and it is wonderful to find that he has gotten around to recording it. It is a wonderful reading that captures and highlights the dramatic contrasts in the work, which really plays to Christie's strengths in handling a complex score, selecting the right soloists who may not be at the top of the charts, and finding the excitement in unfamiliar Baroque scores. He excels across the board here. Among the soloists are a couple of standouts, soprano Rachel Redmond and boy soprano Leo Jemison. Christie takes brisk tempos, grabbing the listener's attention right at the top with the quick introduction to the recitativo accompagnato "Hence with vain deluding joys." The proportions in everything are just right, with a choir of 20 and an orchestra of 28 deployed so as to reflect vividly the contrasts in the text. Listeners unfamiliar with this work could not ask for a better introduction to it. Harmonia Mundi's sound at the Paris Philharmonie keeps the texts clear, even in densely polyphonic music. © James Manheim /TiVo

I Love Rock-n-Roll, Joan Jett's first record with the Blackhearts, was a tougher, louder album than Bad Reputation, primarily because her new backing band gave her a more coherent sound. That dynamic, hard rock crunch is what made the title track into an international hit, but it also gives the album dimension -- not only can Jett & the Blackhearts tear up heavy glam rockers, but they also pull off the mock psychedelia of Tommy James & the Shondells' "Crimson and Clover" with aplomb. On the whole, I Love Rock-n-Roll doesn't have as many strong songs as its predecessor, but the band's muscular, gritty sound makes the album just as good as Bad Reputation.© Stephen Thomas Erlewine /TiVo

In the year of his 90th birthday (which he would have celebrated on the 23rd of September 2020 had he not died in 2004), Ray Charles is honoured with a new 90-track compilation box set. Just another compilation like all the rest? Yes and no. Ray Charles is undoubtedly one of the most-compiled artists in the history of music. Published by Tangerine, the label that the musician set up at the end of the 50s to keep the rights to his songs, this box set starts out like all the others: with the post-Atlantic hits, Georgia On My Mind, Hit The Road Jack, One Mint Julep, Busted... These are timeless treasures of proto-soul, but there doesn't seem to be much novelty here. The rest is much more interesting, and much rarer: tracks recorded between the second half of the 1960s and the 2000s, many of which were only released on vinyl, never reissued on CD and until now unavailable on digital. This is the first time that Ray Charles' lesser-known years have been given the compilation treatment in this way, and it is a revelation. In the 90s and 2000s, the production of his songs had a synthetic feel, and they did not age too well. These rarer songs are often hidden gems of southern soul, flavoured with country and wrapped in sumptuous symphonic orchestrations. Whether he is singing the Muppets (It's Ain't Easy Being Green) or Gershwin (Summertime, a duet with Cleo Laine), Ray Charles is always deeply moving. Now, the dream is to hear reissues of all these albums in their entirety. © Stéphane Deschamps/Qobuz

Tenor Piotr Beczala is better known for opera than for art song. He has recorded music from his native Poland, but Rachmaninov and Tchaikovsky songs (or Romances, as they were known by the Russians) wouldn't necessarily come to mind for him. However, he is a versatile figure, and here, he succeeds and more. The album came together when Beczala and pianist Helmut Deutsch discovered a mutual enthusiasm for these works. Beczala scales his voice back beautifully to song dimensions, and the album is well recorded at the Markus-Sittiges Hall in Salzburg, but the biggest attraction here is the coordination between singer and accompanist, which is extraordinary. Not only Rachmaninov, who was writing for himself, but also Tchaikovsky puts a lot of the action into the piano and in the songs of the latter, which include the entire Op. 73 set (the last pieces he wrote before the final "Pathétique" symphony), the piano introduces a lot of psychological currents beneath the fairly straightforward texts. The pair's performances of these are haunting; sample the final Again, As Before, Alone, which here seems to speak volumes about Tchaikovsky's state of mind. They're equally good in the Rachmaninov songs, tuneful things mostly written during the composer's youth. A casual listen may find the balance tilted too far in the pianist's favor, but listen again; it is carefully controlled by the performers. A major new entry in the discography for these not-terribly-familiar (except for Tchaikovsky's None But the Lonely Heart) songs. © James Manheim /TiVo