Recording of the Week, Handel's Messiah from John Nelson

It was with a particularly keen sense of anticipation that I bundled myself into a freezing Coventry Cathedral last December to enjoy my first live Messiah in three years: like so many musicians and music-lovers, the piece has featured heavily in my Christmas schedule since my early teens, and it felt rather special to return to it with fresh ears after the hiatus caused by lockdown-restrictions (2020) and a COVID infection (2021).

A couple of additional factors contributed to my excitement: an especially stellar line-up of soloists played its part, as did the prospect of hearing material which Handel either scrapped before the Dublin premiere or composed for subsequent performances to suit the talents at hand. (Those of us who didn’t have to rush for the last train were invited to stay and hear these being recorded after the final blazing 'Amen' had died away).

But the main draw was the prospect of hearing how veteran American conductor John Nelson would approach the score: with the same sort of epic sweep and theatrical flair which he brings to his beloved Berlioz, or from a more inward-looking, devotional perspective informed by his own strong Christian faith? (The child of Protestant missionaries, Nelson is Artistic Director of the non-profit organisation Soli Deo Gloria – no relation to the record-label of the same name founded by a rather less genial conductor of similar vintage).

In the event, he struck a felicitous balance between the two approaches, with devotion and drama working hand-in-glove. Nelson’s every interpretative decision seems to be rooted in his deep emotional engagement with these familiar texts, coupled with a reluctance to impose his own personality on the score for its own sake: strong gestures like the violent whip-cracks in the strings during the ‘scourging’ section of ‘He was despised’ or the sheer ferocity of the chorus’s baying ‘He trusted in God’ register all the more potently because Nelson deploys overt theatricality so sparingly in the grand scheme of things.

The overall impression was akin to hearing the Bach Passions or Mozart Requiem performed liturgically rather than ‘in concert’, something which comes across just as potently on disc as it did on location. The clarity of the sound, too, is quite exceptional: Nelson and his recording-team are no strangers to working with difficult acoustics, having tackled Berlioz’s Grande Messe des Morts in St Paul’s Cathedral a few years ago, and there’s not so much as a hint of soupiness or blurred lines across the whole three hours.

The crisp but unmannered diction of the excellent English Concert choir helps, as do Nelson’s astute tempo-choices: an unusually stately opening section of the Overture had me suspecting that we might be in for a long evening, but thereafter things flow along nicely, with nothing seeming either too laboured or too pushed.

The four soloists match Nelson’s emotional investment to the hilt, with Michael Spyres’s radiant ‘Comfort ye…Ev’ry valley’ a particular highlight: don’t expect any interpolated pyrotechnics here (hie thee to his astonishing Contra-tenor album for that), just a sincere, consoling presence that will touch even the most jaded heart. Lucy Crowe brings heartfelt exuberance (and pin-point coloratura) to ‘Rejoice greatly’ and the ecstatic narrative of the Angel’s appearance to the shepherds, Alex Potter’s clean, unfussy countertenor hits real expressive heights in ‘He was despised’, and Matthew Brook and Mark Bennett’s beautiful phrasing and superb legato make ‘The trumpet shall sound’ one for the ages.

Whilst the recording acknowledges Messiah’s complicated textual history, there’s little in the complete performance that will jolt anyone familiar with the standard Novello performing edition - the notable exception being the brief countertenor duet version of ‘How beautiful are the feet’, which segues into the rarely-performed chorus ‘Break forth into joy’. Alternative arias are instead included as an appendix: one can’t help thinking that Handel was right to replace the rather pedestrian arioso recounting the Angel’s appearance and to turn up the heat of the refiner’s fire when the great castrato Guadagni arrived in town in 1750, but there’s much to enjoy in the different versions of ‘How beautiful are the feet’ and ‘Thou art gone up on high’.

Very much a Messiah for all seasons, then – Hallelujah indeed.