Dido & Aeneas: Chandos

Henry Purcell’s tragic chamber opera about doomed love has been the subject of numerous recordings, with no less than images/stories/dido aeneas chandos.jpg Flagstad, Baker, Norman and Hunt Lieberson all offering up their interpretations of the noble Carthaginian Queen. It comes therefore as no surprise that today’s reigning Dido, Sarah Connolly, would wish to record her interpretation for posterity. In short, hers is a magnificent assumption, which in the opinion of this reviewer, sets a new benchmark for excellence in a field already hotly contested by some of the greatest singers of the past century.

As an opera, Dido & Aeneas lends itself well to recording; performed here in just under seventy minutes, it is a beautifully integrated work, with haunting melodies and exquisite ensembles all underscored by Nahum Tate’s deft adaptation of book IV of Virgil’s Aeneid. Its simplicity removes all barriers between the listener and the tragedy; you should experience it raw with emotion. In the right hands Dido’s suffering can be almost too much to bear. Her suicide is so very personal, even as a spectator or a listener you feel as if you are intruding in a place where you have no right to be. This is exactly how Connolly leaves you feeling. Her Queen is not merely stately and regal, like Flagstad’s (albeit of sovereign voice), nor as cool as that of Baker’s. She is surprisingly real, utterly human, vulnerable and devastated by her perceived rejection. Death is “a welcome friend” and she greets him or her willingly. She imbues the musical line in her famous lament with the weariness of one who is soon to depart this world. The result of which is that the words seems to fall from her mouth with such profundity and meaning, producing a sense of complete spontaneity that elevates her interpretation still further, and far beyond that of any other recorded Dido. Connolly does not ornament the line as such, but instead introduces melismatic inflections designed to echo the longing and disappointment of her fragile soul. I defy anyone with an ear for great singing to not be moved by this assumption.

By raising the funds for this recording, Connolly clearly played an important role in choosing the right cast to work alongside her. In every respect she has chosen extremely well, surrounding herself with some of today’s most exciting talent, principally from the baroque and early music movements. Baritone Gerald Finley is an ideal Aeneas. The role has always appeared to me to be somewhat one dimensional; a shadow in the intensity of Dido’s suffering. Finley is however, his usual stylish and polished self, making more of his character than one usually encounters, with virility underscoring his interpretation. Lucy Crowe is fast proving herself to be one of today’s leading baroque singers, with a bright-edged light lyric soprano that delivers Belinda’s music with real poignancy.

Of the smaller roles, Patricia Bardon stands out for her sinister interpretation of the Sorceress. Her dark almost contralto-like timbre provides a wonderful contrast to Connolly's achingly beautiful mezzo and Crowe’s white-toned soprano. It is a voice of some power, thrillingly intense and very rich in texture. Her “wayward sisters” are well taken by Carys Lane and Rebecca Outram, whilst Sarah Tynan as the Second Woman and John Mark Ainsley as the Sailor, give this recording a taste of luxury casting. William Purefoy as the Spirit is a singer I have not encountered before this recording, but his pure, bright, ethereal counter-tenor, suggests he has an assured future.

The rapport between the singers and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, under the superb direction of continuo players, Elizabeth Kenny and Steven Devine, is evident throughout this recording. Connolly alludes to her extensive working relationship with this orchestra, in the very informative booklet which accompanies the recording. The Choir of the Enlightenment are equally impressive; setting a seal on what is, all things considered, the benchmark recording of Dido & Aeneas.

If there was only one negative to introduce into my review of this otherwise extraordinary recording, it would be regarding the questionable selection of material used to plug the gaps in the score. I highly commend musicologist Bruce Wood’s re-composition of the lost chorus “Then since our charms have sped”, filling well an infamous lacuna at the end of Act II. But I am less convinced by the interminable guitar improvisations in Acts I and II. Cumulatively they lasted little over five and a half minutes, yet felt so much longer. They seemed to add nothing to the spirit of the piece, but their soporific qualities did succeed in temporarily derailing the drama. It is however, a minor irritant in the face of so much that is overwhelmingly positive. It is the disc of the year and should be chosen over its eminent predecessors, if only for Connolly’s majestic, yet all too human Dido.