George Frideric Handel (1685-1759)
Israel in Egypt, HWV 54 (1739)
Myriam LeBlanc (soprano), Lucie Edel (soprano), Lena Sutor-Wernich (contralto), Laurence Kilsby (tenor), Andreas Wolf (bass-baritone), Alexandre Baldo (bass-baritone)
Le Concert Spirituel / Hervé Niquet
rec. 2023, Arsenal de Metz, Metz, France
English text and French translation included
Alpha Classics 1176 [70]

Israel in Egypt is one of Handel’s greatest choral works. In particular, it contains a stream of exciting and varied choruses; indeed, unusually for a Handelian oratorio, the soloists have relatively little to do as the choir assumes the principal responsibility for narrating as well as commenting on the story of the deliverance of the Israelites from the Egyptians. When I saw the announcement of a new recording by Hervé Niquet, I was very keen to review it. I must admit, though, that when the recording arrived, I was amazed to find that the performance comfortably fits onto a single CD, playing for 70:17. By comparison, for years my go-to version of the work has been the 1990 Philips recording by Sir John Eliot Gardiner with the Monteverdi Choir and English Baroque Soloists. That performance, in which, like Niquet’s, Parts II and III of the oratorio are performed, plays for 87 minutes. There are no cuts in Niquet’s performance; the timing difference is accounted for entirely by pacing of the music.

As David Vickers points out in his helpful booklet essay, Handel composed Israel in Egypt using a tripartite structure. Part I was in fact his substantial anthem, The Ways of Zion do Mourn, which Handel had composed for the funeral of Queen Caroline in December 1737; for the oratorio it was repurposed with a parody text, ‘The sons of Zion do mourn’.  Though the oratorio was premiered in that form it seems that only Parts II and III, ‘Exodus’ and ‘Moses’ Song’ were published as Israel in Egypt and it’s relatively rare, I believe, for the three-part score to be performed. (When Sir John Eliot Gardiner made his first recording of the work, for Erato in 1978, The Ways of Zion do Mourn was included, using the original words, but it was placed as an appendix, after the oratorio itself and, indeed, the anthem was set down at different sessions. Gardiner’s 1990 recording only offered Parts II and III.)  Incidentally, I was intrigued to learn from a short note in the booklet by Hervé Niquet that the origins of this present recording lie in an invitation he received to conduct Israel in Egypt as part of the 2021 Berlioz Festival. What is the link between Berlioz and Handel’s oratorio? Apparently, Berlioz, who only knew Parts II and II of the work, was greatly impressed by Handel’s choral writing in this work.

In considering Niquet’s recording my principal comparisons will be with the 1990 Gardiner recording. However, I ought to own up to what might qualify in these HIP times as a ‘guilty pleasure’ in the shape of Sir Charles Mackerras’s 1970 DG Archiv recording. (I remember that when this came out, DG’s full-page advert in Gramophone carried a witty strapline which, if memory serves me correctly, was something to the effect ‘If it weren’t for DG Archiv, the Israelites would still be in the desert’.) Mackerras used the English Chamber Orchestra, playing on modern instruments, and, crucially, he also used a substantial choir, the Leeds Festival Chorus. Recorded in the spacious acoustic of Leeds Town Hall, the choir makes a big sound but it is by no means unwieldy – their chorus master Donald Hunt had trained them well – and when they’re in full cry the chorus is imposing and exciting. Mackerras, no mean Handel stylist, brings out the majesty and drama in Handel’s music. He also has an excellent team of soloists, including Heather Harper, Paul Esswood and Alexander Young. Recordings such as these have gone out of fashion but, at their best, still have much to offer. It’s a shame that so far as I know this recording is no longer available; the centenary of the conductor’s birth would have been a great opportunity to reissue it.     

The Niquet and Gardiner recordings are, of course, on a much more modest scale, using a small choir and period instrument bands. Niquet has 26 singers in total: each of the two choirs comprises 4/3/3/3. I’m unsure how Gardiner divides his singers as between choirs 1 and 2 – evenly, I suspect – but the Monteverdi choir totals 28 (10/6/6/6). All of Gardiner’s altos are male, whereas Niquet has a mix of male and female singers.

Though I will express some reservations about aspects of the Niquet performance, these are mainly interpretative. Both the choral singing and the orchestral playing are extremely accomplished, as you’d expect. Niquet is also well served by his soloists. Gardiner’s recording is equally fine in all these respects. There are a couple of textural differences. The very first chorus ‘And the children of Israel sigh’d’ begins with a solo alto from Choir 1. Gardiner presents the opening this way – as does Mackerras – but Niquet has all the altos of Choir 1 singing the line; I wonder why? A more puzzling discrepancy arises near the end. The very last chorus is introduced by two short declamatory solos sung by a soprano, who represents Miriam, the prophetess (as the tenor recitative announces her). For some reason Niquet has his two soprano soloists singing this in unison. Why he does this I can’t imagine since either of these ladies would clearly have the vocal heft. Gardiner uses one of his sopranos, while Mackerras has Heather Harper, imperiously filling Leeds Town Hall with sound.

My main concerns with Niquet’s performance lie in the question of pacing, though. I like much of what he does but there are times when I feel he’s just too brisk. The aforementioned first chorus is taken quite swiftly, so much so that when Handel writes in crochets, as he frequently does, the music seems rather rushed. Gardiner is steadier – to the music’s benefit. I must record, though, that this chorus gives immediate confirmation that in Niquet’s performance the double-choir choruses will make a splendid effect. A little later, I really liked Niquet’s account of the chorus which describes the visitation on the Egyptians of plagues of flies and locusts; if you’ll forgive the pun, this chorus really buzzes. ‘He gave them hailstones’ is thrillingly articulated in the Niquet performance – the timpani really make their mark – though I don’t think the overall effect quite matches Gardiner’s electrifying rendition.

Part III opens with a jubilant – and swift – account of ‘Moses and the children of Israel’; here, the vocal athleticism of Niquet’s double choir is terrific. A little later, I wasn’t really convinced by Niquet’s pacing of ‘The depths have covered them’. The marking in my Novello vocal score is Largo and that’s definitely not what I hear from Niquet; he is probably using a different edition of the score, of course. Gardiner’s slower tempo is much more satisfactory, I feel. ‘The people shall hear’ is surely taken far too swiftly by Niquet. My score has the marking Largo e staccato; we certainly get staccato from Niquet but he takes the music at such a lick that everything sounds jerky and hasty. Gardiner takes 7:35 over this chorus, Niquet an amazing 3:15; I’m in no doubt which approach I prefer. Towards the end we hear twice ‘The Lord shall reign for ever and ever’. A key textural component is the running bass line; Niquet has this played legato, an effect I’ve never experienced before. Gardiner (and Mackerras too) have the bass line played staccato and the result is far more energy in the music – Gardiner’s choir and orchestra really blaze in these two passages.

I said that Niquet is well served by his soloists. The two sopranos do well. The alto Lena Sutor-Wernich sings well but I can’t help feeling that the timbre of a male alto is better suited to this music. Michael Chance proves this point in the wonderful aria ‘Thou shalt bring them in’, where Gardiner’s more relaxed tempo is also better suited to the music than is the case with Niquet. Paul Esswood’s singing of this aria is outstanding on the Mackerras set. Laurence Kilsby sings his recitatives vividly and he articulates very convincingly the aria ‘The enemy said’, which Niquet rightly takes at a cracking pace. In ‘The Lord is a man of war’, bass-baritones Andreas Wolf and Alexandre Baldo not only sing very well indeed but also their voices are extremely well matched. Both of them sing the English text with a slight accent but it matters not; marginally, I prefer them to Gardiner’s pair of basses.

So, there’s a lot going for this recording of Israel in Egypt but despite the very good solo singing and the excellence of the choral and orchestral contributions I can’t get past the significant reservations I have about many aspects of Hervé Niquet’s way with the music. For all the virtues of this performance Niquet doesn’t begin to shake my allegiance to Gardiner’s superb set.

Niquet has not only been well served by his musicians but also by his engineers. The recording was made in the Arsenal de Metz. There are actually two concert halls, placed side by side, in this building and I presume the larger hall was used. It’s a wonderful hall where, thirty years ago, I once had the privilege of taking part in a choral concert. I recall that the acoustics of this very well-appointed modern hall were very good indeed so I’m not surprised that this recording has come out so well. The sound has great presence and the distinction between the two choirs in the double-chorus movements has been realistically achieved. Alpha’s booklet, which is in French, English and German, is very good.

John Quinn

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