Indomitable, Inconsolable (Handel cantatas and Corelli sonatas), 28th September 2010 – Abbandonata, artistic director Christopher Suckling (The Georgian Group, Fitzroy Square)
I grew up singing Handel’s Messiah and the Coronation Anthems, and I became bored. I am sorry; the English-Handel rarely excites or moves me. I feel terribly unpatriotic about the whole thing. I was told that we Brits feel the same pride for our adopted Handel as for our home-grown Baroque composers, like Purcell. But I disagreed. And I squirmed with incredulity and embarrassment as audiences proudly stood during the introduction to the Hallelujah chorus. The best bit was when a hapless treble sang one too many amens in Zadok.
Then, in my late teens, I discovered I was wrong about this composer with two personalities, because the Italian-Handel frequently excites and moves me. Handel spent his formative composing-years in Italy before making his way to England, and the Italian-Handel worked contemporaneously with the English-Handel once he arrived.
I lump together the English-Handel’s oratorios, anthems, odes and Te Deums (tediums) in a big avocado-coloured English bath filled with tepid water music. The Italian-Handel composed flamboyant operas, sizzling psalms and antiphons, graceful concertos and vociferous cantatas with such skill and imagination that I wonder if he is the same composer. This confirms two things: I am prone to over-generalisations; I am not a proper musicologist. And Handel was neither English nor Italian.
So, it was with high hopes in Fitzrovia that I skipped up the stone steps of the Georgian Group to experience Abbandonata’s debut concert, showcasing three solo cantatas by the Italian-Handel. It was an odd and intriguing venue, one I had not been to before. I looked it up on the website beforehand and was led to expect something a little lush. What I found was an impenetrable tangle of 50 or so stackable chairs – the kind you find in village halls – tightly arranged in the main front room upstairs. (There were comfy-chairs for the part of the audience listening in the room next door, to make up for being in the room next door.) The room felt more intimate than the size would suggest, like a reverse Tardis. And the mouldings are gorgeous.
Abbandonata is a small band of baroque specialists, notably experienced with the Gabrieli Players who have famously invigorated the music of Handel under the baton of Paul McCreesh. The cellist, Christopher Suckling (a proper musicologist), has set off with this pared-down group as its artistic director, taking with him two violinists and a harpsichordist and capturing two singers en route. His gauche introductions to each piece were just witty and nerdy enough to be appealing.
The concert entitled Indomitable, Inconsolable featured Handel’s heroines in Armida abbandonata and La Lucrezia. My initial reaction was ‘how alluringly alliterative’, and I was pleased to see so many ragged rascals in the audience. These cantatas are not for the faint-hearted. They bristle with fury and wrench with despair. Armida calls upon sea monsters to swallow up her traitorous-lover’s ship; Lucrezia prays the furies and Jove’s thunderbolts will destroy her rapist Tarquinius, before committing suicide to wreak her vengeance from the underworld. Handel responds to these ravings with most disturbing music, demanding virtuosity from players and singer alike.
The heroines were sung powerfully by the soprano, Sarah Gabriel. She came into the room each time smiling and bowing. Then, with great skill, she maddened; quite scarily in fact. The torture of the texts and the frantic music was acted brilliantly. My smattering of Italian was all I needed to comprehend the mayhem, without reverting to the translations provided. Gabriel told her story to every one of the audience personally, unnervingly holding eye contact with those of us who dared (an experience denied to those in the room next door). The furiosos were fast and faultless; the arias were ardent and angry. At the end of each cantata, Gabriel smiled and bowed again, thus relieving the audience of the urge to call an ambulance for her. And she managed separate swanky dresses and hairdos for each cantata.
Given the situation, I wondered: will the countertenor, Oliver Gerrish, match up? He sang Handel’s amorous cantata, Siete rosa ruggiadose. I suspect it was programmed because Suckling recognised the dramatic potential of a work so closely associated with Handel’s steamy and tragic opera, Tamerlano. Sadly, Gerrish did not match up. He sang with beautiful tone and accuracy, but he employed little romantic intent, even while frequently describing his desire to get between his lover’s sweet sighs. During this work I was distracted by bangings and knockings going on in the room above; perhaps it was Gabriel changing her outfit, or putting together some flat-pack furniture for the venue. Or maybe it was Miss Sweetsighs finding intimacy elsewhere.
The no-interval programme was in club-sandwich style, with Handel providing the three slices of cantata-bread, and Corelli two sonata-fillings. The first was a trio sonata (Op. 3 No. 5) that demonstrated how well the players worked together, particularly the violinists Julia Black and Oliver Webber, who balanced their leads and matched each other’s ornamentation. Despite this being their debut performance, Abbandonata have an ease of ensemble, probably gained through recent careful rehearsal and years of shared musicianship with the Gabrielis.
The second filling was a violin sonata (Op. 5 No. 3). Jan Waterfield sat back from the harpsichord, which I think had suffered a technical fault anyway, refusing to change registration. This allowed Suckling to provide cello-only continuo for Webber’s solo. The pair revelled, expanding and developing the work, and, despite the fiendishly complicated playing, never became ostentatious. Suckling’s occasional raised eyebrow indicated his surprise at Webber’s diversions (‘he never did that in rehearsal!’). I suspect Corelli would have described it as sprezzatura. I would have preferred some heavy-handed bow-against-gut, particularly from Webber; it would have matched better the mood of Handel’s wild women.
The buzz after the show was extended with complimentary Prosecco. Although the audience fell over the chairs in order to chat with the performers, the evening ended with no broken hips. This indomitable and inconsolable show sold out well in advance. I hope Suckling finds a marginally bigger and more comfortable venue for his planned 2011 season for Abbandonata, to include Italian-Handel’s Delirio Amoroso. Can you spot a trend?
Drew Hope is a scientist, singer, and composer. His baritone can be heard in London’s church pews and theatre stalls, and his choral compositions are widely appreciated, and narrowly performed.