Christophe Rousset and his Les Talens Lyriques continue their exploration of the operas of Jean-Baptiste Lully for the Aparte label with 1675's Thésée ("Theseus"), the composer's third "tragédie en musique" with librettist by Philippe Quinault. Commissioned by King Louis XIV, the libretto recounts some early-life exploits of the titular character from Ovid's Metamorphoses. It was immensely popular for more than a century before finding itself in less demand than later, more compact versions of Quinault's text, which were set by composers such as Handel (Teseo, 1712). What is there for a king and his court not to like when the Prologue declares the king a god and sings the praises of king and kingdom? Rousset has his Les Talens Lyriques in fine form, and the ensemble plays crisply and concisely throughout. Rousset, conducting from the harpsichord, keeps the action moving in this colossal and dramatic work. The soloists, especially mezzo-soprano Karine Deshayes as Médée ("Medea") and tenor Mathias Vidal as the titular Thésée, display clear expertise in the realm of early French opera. This work is a major vehicle for mezzos in the role of the jealous sorceress Médée, and Deshayes is splendid. The Prologue has some awkward, almost hesitant singing from the chorus, but as the work progresses, the Chœur de chambre de Namur becomes stronger and, in the end, proves to be an asset to the whole (consider their turn as the inhabitants of the underworld with Deshayes on "Sortez, ombres, sortez de la nuit éternelle" from Act Two). This is a worthy addition of a lesser-known opera to the growing Lully collection from Les Talens Lyriques.© Keith Finke /TiVo

While the German soprano follows in the footsteps of Cecilia Bartoli, her virtuoso voice separates her fans from the purists who prefer a less fanciful vocal-line. This long-awaited new album from Simone Kermes shows off her masterful voice in almost every register and there is no sign of the excessiveness for which she has previously been criticised. Typically referred to as a “Ba-rock” star, some people are irritated by her gestures and extreme theatrics during her concerts, but those mannerisms are long forgotten here in the absence of any images. The title of the album, “Mio caro Händel”, says a lot about the affinity Simone Kermes feels with the Saxon composer. She has selected his most popular pieces, such as Ombra mai fù(Largo of Love), Piangeró la sorte mia(I will lament my fate) and Lascia ch’io pianga(Let me weep), along with some much less well-known pieces, which are some of the most wonderful revelations and rare musical gems on the album. The singer recorded this testimony of love to Händel in Berlin’s famous Jesus-Christus-Kirche in 2018 accompanied by Amici Veneziani, an ensemble put together especially for her which mostly comprises of German musicians and is led by Russian violinist Boris Begelman. As a great traveller who went all over Europe, this captures Händel’s European spirit perfectly. © François Hudry/Qobuz

Christophe Rousset and the Talens Lyriques bring us to the stage of the Royal Academy of Music where Pygmalion, an act of ballet by Jean-Philippe Rameau inspired by an episode of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, was created in 1748. Love, showing empathy for Pygmalion’s despair of loving a statue, invigorates the sculpted woman who immediately falls in love with her creator. Very suggestive, the music of this tender and mischievous ballet deploys the grace of 18th century dances. Like Ovid’s Love, Christophe Rousset instils life in this score, one of Rameau’s greatest successes in his day, and offers us, thanks to his sense of drama and his impeccable leadership, a new and essential reading of this ballet. © Aparté

The French-Cypriot soprano Sarah Aristidou joins Alpha and here presents her very first album. Twice named "Best Newcomer" by Opernwelt for two contemporary creations, she is a favourite interpreter of Jörg Widmann who has already written two works for her, and has sung under the direction of Daniel Barenboim, Sir Simon Rattle and François-Xavier Roth. Barenboim opened the doors of Berlin to her and the Orchester des Wandels, a group of musicians from several German orchestras, including the Staatskapelle Berlin, who have set themselves the objective of practising their art in a way that protects the planet: limiting the carbon footprint in all their activities, including this album. The packaging of the physical version is plastic-free and printed with organic ink. Alpha also supports the reforestation programme in Madagascar initiated by the orchestra. In addition to the encounter between the young singer and the unique orchestra, this project is also the result of Sarah’s passion for Iceland (the land of Aether par excellence?). Along with the director and photographer Weronika Izdebska, she has created a film exalting the natural world which will be shown in Berlin in November 2021 as part of an installation presenting the entire programme. © Alpha Classics

Jean-Baptiste Lully's Cadmus & Hermione of 1673 was arguably the first true French opera, telling a tragic story (Lully and his librettist Philippe Quinault called it a tragédie en lyrique), employing Italian-style recitatives, and collecting the varied music and dance forms of Louis XIV's opulent court into a coherent narrative that at once celebrated Louis (he is conflated with Cadmus of Thebes) and moved beyond the ceremonial nature of earlier French dramatic music. It's a sprawling work, with five acts, an overture, and a sizable Prologue with its own overture; highlights include a dragon that eats Africans, a monster snake, and a full complement of Greek gods and goddesses. Realization of the work has, until now, been beyond the means of early music performance groups, and this is the world premiere recording of the opera, made in 2019 and based on a 2008 performance at Versailles Palace by some of the same performers. The leader is Vincent Dumestre, conducting the Le Poème Harmonique orchestra and the vocal ensembles Aedes. The forces are large enough to capture the splendor of the music (thankfully, no one-voice-per-part techniques here), and Dumestre is alert to the huge variety of musical devices Lully brings to bear on his story; there are dances, big choruses, bagpipes, and much more. Cadmus & Hermione may be a difficult work to bring to life for modern audiences, but Dumestre keeps things moving along and probably comes as close as anyone could. Of course, anyone interested in the life of the French court in the 17th century will find this an essential acquisition that will keep giving and giving. © TiVo

From the beginning of this album which kicks off with great fanfare, it’s clear that the latest recording from Simone Kerles is a joyful carnival that shouldn’t be taken too seriously. The tone is established even before listening, with the kitsch cover that appears to suggest Kermes is the Lady Gaga of baroque music, a star who is in fact indirectly present on the album, alongside… Udo Jurgens. You could wonder what Erbame dich, mein Gott from the St. Matthew’s Passion is doing in this light-hearted romp. Allow Simone Kermes to explain: this album is a political act which questions whether humility and temperance still have a rightful place in this world stained by climate change, mass extinction, terrorist attacks and megalomania. The result fourteen pieces cover four centuries and touch on the seven cardinal sins as well as the seven Christian virtues by means of music by Leonardo Vinci (not Da Vinci!), Handel and several Italian and German baroque composers with detours via present day jazz and rock musicians: the aforementioned Lady Gaga, Jimmy Page and Sting. A cheeky and invigorating way of taking a closer look at all of society’s many foibles and paradoxes that we’re living through today. © François Hudry/Qobuz

André Cardinal Destouches (1672-1749) is virtually unknown today, but he was the preeminent composer of French opera in the half century between the end of Lully's career and the beginning of Rameau's. On the basis of this fine recording of Callirhoé, considered one of his most important operas, the neglect is difficult to understand. Its strength lies not so much in its originality -- it basically develops the conventions established by Lully -- but in the music's ability to illuminate the drama. Destouches was clearly a master of music for the theater; his scenes build with power and inexorability, and his dramatic confrontations, in particular, are vividly expressed. The conclusion of the second act, for example, depicting the priests of Bacchus going on a rampage, has a wildness and energy one usually associates not so much with the Baroque as with the heat of the Romantic era. The starkness of the opera's finale, which abruptly ends with a character's suicide, is brilliant theater, but entirely out of character with the conventions of the time, which would have required a tidy denouement, and most likely, the intervention of a deity. The first, 1712 version of Callirhoé, in fact, had just such an ending, but the composer revised the opera extensively for revivals in 1731 and 1743, and wisely rethought the finale, hugely increasing its effectiveness. Destouches' vocal writing is expressive and gratifyingly lyrical, and even his recitatives have emotional power. His orchestration is notably varied and colorful. The recording is the result of the commitment and passion of Hervé Niquet, director of Le Concert Spirituel, which he leads in this outstanding performance. The orchestra and chorus perform with energy and finesse, and the climaxes are thrillingly urgent. The soloists, none of whom are international stars, sound like they ought to be, singing with unfailing purity, idiomatic security, and dramatic intensity. Glossa's exemplary sound is full, warm, and spacious, with excellent balance. Callirhoé should be of strong interest to any fan of Baroque opera, and a reminder of the wealth of strong repertoire that has yet to achieve broad exposure. © TiVo

The young Bulgarian soprano Sonya Yoncheva, trying to break out from a pack of singers of Eastern European or Russian origin, here takes on one of the black-belt level assignments: an album of Handel arias. The results draw on Yoncheva's previous experience in Baroque repertory (she was a protégée of conductor William Christie) and validate her signing by the major Sony label. Yoncheva has many things going for her, including an ineffable diva quality that serves her well with these substantial Handel heroines. Some of these roles were written for the powerful voice of the castrato (the opening "Se pietà di me non senti" was first sung by the greatest countertenor of the age, Senesino) and Yoncheva's rather metallic voice doesn't yet have that kind of depth. But her voice is growing, and she has something else to offer here: Handel's women call for dramatic intelligence, and Yoncheva has that in spades. Sample her work in the arioso "Pensieri, voi me tormentate" (Thoughts, you torment me), a torrent of panic and resolution from the fine early opera Agrippina, about the mother of Nero. That's one of two selections from Agrippina, and most of the arias are in pairs, giving Yoncheva the chance to inhabit each character a bit. The arias are mostly in Italian; with those in English you can tell that Yoncheva is not a native speaker, but you can't quite pin down her origin. The final "When I am laid in earth," by Henry Purcell, may seem tacked onto a program of Handel, but the long and the short of it is that Yoncheva's deliberate reading draws you into this aria as few of the hundreds of other recordings of it do. The recording benefits from live-wire sympathetic accompaniment from the Academia Montis Regalis under Alessandro De Marchi, and it fulfills one of the original functions of recordings: it makes you want to pay money to see the star live on-stage.© TiVo

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No opera from Handel is as enigmatic as Silla. This fourth London opera was composed in 1713; and that’s as far as our knowledge goes! The written music scores are incomplete and we have no information about any contemporary performance. The first Handel experts tried to find an explanation and agreed upon the theory that Silla was written for a private show in the household of the Count of Burlington, who was at the time the composer’s patron. Then, in 1969, the discovery of a glossary from June 1713 established a possible date of the first performance. The inclusion of an extravagant work dedicated to the Duke d’Aumont, a recently appointed French ambassador, suggests the possibility of a show organized by or for the Duke. That could explain not only the absence of an English translation in the glossary, which is unique about Handel’s London operas, but also the relative brevity of the work.However, some problems remain unresolved. D’Aumont was a leading figure in the London life, and it seems rather unlikely that such an initiative would be ignored by the London press or forgotten by D’Aumont in his own writings. Was Silla played in 1713? As of yet, we can’t say for sure. There are further questions regarding the opera itself, in particular the choice of subject. This is indeed one of the rare historical operas from Handel concerned with Lucius Cornelius Silla’s end of life related by Plutarch; having seized Rome, this consul-come-tyran had his adversaries killed before retiring in a way as sudden as it was incredible in his country house to focus on his hobbies. It’s hard to imagine that this thread could fit an opera probably thought as a commemorative piece of an event of some sort: experts have been struggling to find answers and some have tried to discover an allegorical context. Apart from the theme, the quality and the meaning of the book have also been vehemently criticized. It’s significantly based on Italian cantatas from the composer’s youth and it’s interesting to notice that, as far as the style is concerned, the music goes back to a certain extent to his previous historical opera, Agrippina.Although the absurdities from its book make it an unlikely candidate to find a place in the great operatic repertoire, Silla contains enough musical beauties. Let’s also remember that Handel was holding his work in enough regard to recycle a considerable part of it into his next opera, Amadigi di Gaula. © SM/Qobuz