Handel gave a series of different works entirely in English for the first time in Oxford in July 1733; his new Oxonian oratorio Athalia was several notches up in dramatic quality from his previously tentative achievements in English oratorio. Athalia eventually received its first London performances at Covent Garden on April 1, 1735, when Handel provided substantial modifications, most of them Italian arias for the castrato Carestini; other revisions for this curious revival seem to have been voluntary, such as a new overture and the replacement of the final chorus with an organ concerto (HWV292), its final movement adapted into an impressive choral “Alleluia”.

This recording of the revised 1735 version represents the first time anyone has recorded one of Handel’s weird bilingual versions of an English oratorio, so all involved deserve praise for helping us to understand how the composer took practical decisions in order to make a masterpiece performable in less than ideal circumstances. Regrettably, Sony’s documentation and presentation is flawed and unsatisfying: the covers neglect to mention that this presents the bilingual 1735 revision (a sticker hardly suffices) and only three of the six singers/characters are listed on the outer packaging (Charles Daniels and David Wilson-Johnson deserve greater respect, and their characters are not insignificant). Worst of all, the sources, purpose and context of Handel’s bilingual Athalia are misrepresented and under-explained in an inadequate booklet-note that fails to get to grips with this scholarly puzzle. At least Sony includes the libretto in the booklet, even if they do not see fit to include English translations of the Italian music.

The Basle Chamber Orchestra play Handel’s new overture with delicious elegance. The Vocalconsort Berlin’s English pronunciation is heavy-handed but the athletic leanness of the choral contributions is impressive (such as the magnificent double chorus “The might pow’r” that opens Part 2). Geraldine McGreevy sings the tyrannical queen Athalia with vividness, whereas the lighter timbre of Nuria Rial makes her a suitably chaste Josabeth; her lightly attractive phrasing is delightful in Handel’s new setting of “Through the land so lovely blooming” (based on Ruggiero’s “Bramo di trionfar”, discarded from the compositional draft of Alcina). Lawrence Zazzo copes with the fiendish mezzo-soprano coloratura in the lengthy set-piece “Bianco giglio”, and performs the languid “Cor fedele” beautifully (Handel adapted both of these from his motet Silete venti); Joad’s few English-text contributions include the new solemn aria and chorus “O Lord, whom we adore”, which takes its thematic hooks from Ottone’s powerful soliloquy “Voi che udite” in Agrippina. Charles Daniels’s high tenor is mellifluous in Mathan’s rapturous aria “Gentle airs, melodious strains” (which has lovely cello obbligato from Christoph Dangel); he also gets around the tricky coloratura in a short fast aria Handel added in 1735 for the emerging star tenor John Beard (“The gods, who chosen blessings shed”), and conveys an irritable bite in “My vengeance awakes me” (transferred in 1735 from the wicked Athalia to her apostate henchman). Goodwin’s eye for detail and pacing are usually spot-on but intrepid Handelians should first become closely acquainted with the wonderful Oxford original masterpiece (versions by Hogwood or Neumann) before dipping into this fascinating alternative.