HANDEL: ITALIAN CANTATAS Magdalena Kozená Les Musiciens du Louvre, Grenoble Marc Minkowski Archiv Produktion 469 065-2 £££ Delirio amoroso (HWV 99); La Lucrezia (HWV 145); ‘Tra le fiamme’ (HWV 170); live recording in association with Radio France, December 1999; TPT 67’37”

Whilst Bach was still in his tenure at Weimar, a more widely-travelled and, arguably, more versatile Handel was experiencing at first hand the delights of Italian music, a style that was to prove to be more than influential in the evolution of the mature composer. Apart from his early operas, a host of other genres assure us of his mastery of the Italian style; in particular, a handful of secular cantatas, of which Kozená and Minkowski’s contributions are but three, demonstrate a versatility in a musical language that is rarely found elsewhere, particularly amongst many of its native Italian composers.

And here we have performances to match Handel’s superb writing: Czech-born Kozená hardly falters in a panorama of technical brilliance and panache, musicianship and dramatic sense. Performances from Minkowski’s Les Musiciens du Louvre are equally tight: intonation and ensemble is excellent and a sheer sense of presence and commitment is evident throughout the recording.

...we are provided with a feat of orchestral excellence, an environment from which Kozená feeds...She is simply stunning.

Speeds are somewhat on the fast side, but only in one place does this go against the intention of the text; instead, we find a kaleidoscope of colour, and a sense of urgency and forward momentum. Nothing is ponderous and an excellent sense of flexibility, achieved through a very subtle use of rubato, helps to maintain the fluidity and dynamicism of the performances. Having said that, there are instances where Minkowski’s direction is a little excessive; the minuet “In queste amene” that closes Delirio amoroso is aggressively fast: whilst our protagonist ponders on the tranquil shores of Elysium, we are treated to a veritable clog-dance and not the stately, dignified accompaniment that Baroque convention dictates. Fortunately, such instances are rare and do little to mar the otherwise fine performances.

Les Musiciens du Louvre is a remarkable band; there is no accompanying going on here: rather a collaboration, a symbiotic partnership that enhances the music, emphasises the text and strengthens its purpose. From Anton Steck’s violin solos, expertly ornamented in the da capo sections of “Un pensiero voli in ciel” (Delirio), and Juan-Manuel Quintana’s nothing short of virtuoso gamba solo in “Voli per l’aria chi può volare” (Tra le fiamme), to the remarkable five-player continuo support, we are provided with a feat of orchestral excellence, an environment from which Kozená feeds.

She is simply stunning – her voice is fresh, clean and controlled. It is uniquely adaptable: her use of vibrato is discreet, a device she uses to add colour and flavour, to warm and enhance the music and text. Added to this is an inimitable sense of the dramatic: “O Numi eterni” (La Lucrezia), in which she storms in a versatile display of histrionics, might be a little too over the top, but remains, nevertheless, a tour de force that cannot fail to move even the coldest hearts.

The quality of recording is quite excellent, although I am somewhat concerned with the slightly high levels in “Lascia omai le brune vele” (Delirio), which appear to have been boosted to ensure that the recorders can be heard with crystal clarity. I am also somewhat at odds with a performance pitch of A 392, which has more in common with French practice than anything. Nevertheless, this is a simply stunning album that you cannot afford to miss. It is a dynamic, well-produced and musically-dazzling CD.

John Woodford