Gramophone Awards 2004

“René Jacobs always brings new ideas to the operas he conducts, and even to a work as familiar as Figaro he adds something of his own. First of all he offers an orchestral balance quite unlike what we are used to. Those who specially relish a Karajan or a Solti will hardly recognise the work, with its strongly wind-biased orchestral balance: you simply don't hear the violins as the 'main line' of the music. An excellent corrective to a tradition that was untrue to Mozart, to be sure, but possibly the pendulum has swung a little too far.
Jacobs is freer over tempo than most conductors.
The Count's authoritarian pronouncements are given further weight by a faster tempo: it gives them extra decisiveness, though the music then has to slow down. There are other examples of such flexibility, sometimes a shade disconcerting, but always with good dramatic point. The Count's Act 3 duet with Susanna is one example: the little hesitancies enhanced and pointed up, if perhaps with some loss in energy and momentum. Tempos are generally on the quick side of normal, notably in the earlier parts of the Act 2 finale; but Jacobs is willing to hold back, too, for example in the Susanna-Marcellina duet, in the fandango, and in the G major music at the dénouement where the Count begs forgiveness.
The cast is excellent. Véronique Gens offers a beautifully natural, shapely 'Porgi amor' and a passionate and spirited 'Dove sono'. The laughter in Patrizia Ciofi's voice is delightful when she's dressing up Cherubino, and she has space in 'Deh vieni' for a touchingly expressive performance.
Then there's Angelika Kirschlager's Cherubino, alive and urgent in 'Non so più', every little phrase neatly moulded. Lorenzo Regazzo offers a strong Figaro, with a wide range of voice – angry and determined in 'Se vuol ballare', nicely rhythmic with some softer colours in 'Non più andrai', and pain and bitterness in 'Aprite'. The Count of Simon Keenlyside is powerful, menacing, lean and dark in tone. Marie McLaughlin sings Marcellina with unusual distinction.
Strongly cast, imaginatively directed: it's a Figaro well worth hearing.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“René Jacobs conducts one of the refreshing versions of Figaro to be issued in many years...Véronique Gens is one of the most distinguished of Countesses, and Patrizia Ciofi is a sparkling Susanna, while Simon Keenlyside is a superb Count, well contrasted with the strongly acted Figaro of Lorenzo Regazzo.” Penguin Guide, 2010 ****

“This isn't the 'Vivaldi Vespers', or even a reconstruction of a specific event, but a kind of 'sacred concert' in Vespers form, of the sort that Venetian churches in Vivaldi's time would mount in the name of worship.
Whether he ever supplied all the music for any such occasion isn't clear, but he certainly set plenty of Vespers texts, enough at any rate for Rinaldo Alessandrini and scholar Frédéric Delaméa to put together this rich programme.
So this is music for a Vespers for the Feast of the Assumption as it might have been heard in one of Venice's more important churches, made up of Vivaldi's settings of the five Vespers psalms, a Magnificat, a Salve Regina, a solo motet (Ascende in laeta) and a couple of orchestral concertos.
Unmistakably Vivaldian in almost every bar, these pieces nevertheless show considerable variety; the psalms range from the opulence of Dixit Dominus for five soloists, two choirs and two choirs, to the expressive solo settings of Laudate pueri and Nisi Dominus, to the breezily functional choral treatments of Laetatus sum and Lauda Jerusalem; Ascende in laeta is a virtuoso showpiece for soprano, and the Salve Regina a sombre vehicle for contralto. The liturgical thread is supplied by plainchant antiphons, prettily rendered in a fascinating conjectural imitation of the 18th century's 'corrupt' manner, which is to say, with organ accompaniment and unabashed ornamentation.
Alessandrini's reading has an energy which is both forthright and controlled. His solo singers are of high quality; Roberta Invernizzi and Sara Mingardo are from the front rank of Italian Baroque singers, capable of expressive lyricism and thrilling virtuosity, but Gemma Bertagnolli is no less effective. The orchestra plays with inspiriting precision and life, but the choir could be improved on, and is poorly favoured in the recorded balance. Indeed, the recorded sound as a whole is a bit noisy, in places suffering a distant mechanical whir. Still, the overall effect is what counts most in a recording like this: the music has a vital sense of direction, resulting in two and a half hours of invigorating listening.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“The impressive energy conveyed in the choral singing owes much to the set's guiding force, Maestro Alessandrini, whose leadership consistently results in vital, vibrant performances.” Classics Today

A set that exudes love for the often great music on every page - a modern classic - James Jolly, Gramophone 1000th issue

“This Bax symphony cycle comes under the baton of the composer's doughtiest champion, and superlatives are in order. Even seasoned Baxians will be startled by the propulsive vigour and sinewy strength of these performances.
In its uncompromising thrust and snarling tragedy, Handley's account of the First Symphony packs an almighty punch, but also quarries great detail from Bax's darkly opulent orchestration. In the closing pages the motto theme's sanguine tread is soon snuffed out, as the shredded nerve-ends of this music are exposed as never before.
The wild and brooding Second generates less heady sensuality than either the Thomson or Myer Fredman's pioneering Lyrita version, but there's ample compensation in the chaste beauty and enviable authority of Handley's conception.
Scrupulous attention is paid to thematic unity and the many contrapuntal and harmonic felicities that bind together the progress of this extraordinary canvas. The BBC Philharmonic respond with such eager application that it's easy to forgive some slight loss of composure in the build-up to the cataclysmic pinnacle.
There can be no reservations about the Third, an interpretation that's by far the finest since Barbirolli's 1943-4 world première recording with the Hallé. Bax's iridescent textures shimmer and glow, bass lines stalk with reassuring logic and solidity, and these exemplary artists distil all the poetry and mystery in the ravishing slow movement and epilogue. Deeply moving is Handley's tender, unforced handling of the first movement's Lento moderato secondary material.
Handley's previous recording of the Fourth is comprehensively outflanked by this bracing remake. If you've ever regarded the Fourth as something of a loose-limbed interloper in the Bax canon, this will make you think again, such is the muscular rigour Handley locates in this lovable creation. At the same time, there's playful affection, rhythmic bite and pagan splendour of both outer movements.
Revelations abound, too, in the Fifth. Handley plots a superbly inevitable course through the first movement. At the start of the slow movement the glinting brilliance and sheen of the orchestral playing take the breath away, as does the richness of the lower strings in the first subject.
The finale is stunning, its whirlwind Allegro a veritable bevy of cackling demons.
The bass ostinato that launches the Sixth picks up where the epilogue of the Fifth left off. A taut course is steered through this stormy first movement, though in some ways Norman Del Mar's recording got closer still to the essence of Bax's driven inspiration. The succeeding Lento has a gentle radiance that's very affecting. However, it's in the innovatory finale where Handley pulls ahead of the competition, cannily keeping some power in reserve, and locating a transcendental wonder in the epilogue.
Handley's Seventh is wonderfully wise and characterful music-making, the first movement in particular sounding for all the world as if it was set down in a single take. There's bags of temperament about the performance, as well as an entrancing freedom, flexibility and purposefulness that proclaim an intimate knowledge of and total trust in the composer's intentions. The BBC Philharmonic respond with unflagging spirit and tremendous body of tone.
A majestic Tintagel and rollicking account of the 1936 Rogue's Comedy Overture complete the feast. Disc 5 houses an hour-long conversation about Bax the symphonist between the conductor and Andrew McGregor. Stephen Rinker's engineering does fabulous justice to Bax's imaginative and individual orchestration, particularly towards the lower end of the spectrum.
The set is magnificent; its insights copious.” Gramophone Classical Music Guide, 2010

“Handley is in total sympathy with Bax's music and his direction is authoritative as well as idiomatic. Superb sound from the Chandos and BBC engineers. We would not be without this set.” Penguin Guide, 2011 edition

“However many times he has performed the Grieg, Andsnes retains a freshness and expressiveness that never sounds contrived, always spontaneous..., Andsnes is firmly supported by Jansons and the Berlin Philharmonic, with playing not just refined but dramatic too” Gramophone Magazine, November 2003

“faster, fiercer, yet more freely expressive than his 1990 version.” Classic FM Magazine, February 2012