Judas Maccabaeus, Handel's most popular oratorio in his lifetime, has been much less in favour over the last few decades. Written in the wake of the Duke of Cumberland's bloody putting down at Culloden of the Jacobites' 1745 rebellion, it was designed to catch the mood of patriotism and relief felt at the time, telling a parallel tale (or so it must have seemed) of military prowess on the part of the Israelites in biblical times with whom the Protestant English seemed ready to identify. It has nothing you could reasonably call a plot, and no sort of characterization—the 'cast' consists of the bold Judas, his brother Simon and a couple of Israelites, with a Priest for the final thanksgivings—and all that happens is that the oppressed Israelites defeat their enemies, suffer a reverse and then defeat them again, and duly give thanks. It supplies occasion for mournful music, for stirring music and for jubilant music, and by and large that is sufficient to draw noble and beautiful ideas from Handel—I say 'by and large' because it does in fact have some dullish moments, but to be honest there are few Handel oratorios that don't.
What it calls for is a conductor who doesn't mind a bit of brashness and tub-thumping: there was a marvellous recording from Charles Mackerras 15 years ago on Archiv (9/77—nla, alas). To be frank, I am not quite convinced that the unfailingly tasteful Robert King is really the man for it. He directs here a performance with many excellent things: I admire the amplitude of his choral lines (unfashionable in Handel these days) and enjoy too his evident appetite for richness of sonority—within the limits, that is, imposed by period instruments, though it seems to me that he stretches those limits, perfectly properly, beyond what we are accustomed to. But basically his style here, as elsewhere, is refined and even a shade understated; and I find his tempos often a little on the slow side (unlike those of most period-instrument conductors). Typical, perhaps, are the firmly sustained manner of ''O Father, whose almighty pow'r'' and the appealing euphony of ''Tune your harps''. ''Fall'n is the foe'', the fine piece opening Act 2, goes pretty well but can, and probably should, be simply more exciting than this. I see the word 'genteel' in my listening notes against the chorus ''Ah! wretched Israel'', which can be passionately elegiac.
It is good to hear Emma Kirkby in the role of the Israelitish Woman; there is some really lovely singing from her, as always—I would mention specially her 'placing' of the voice in ''Oh liberty'' and the thrilling trilling in the ensuing air, ''Come, ever smiling liberty''; also the shapely singing of ''Wise men, flatt'ring'' (not originally composed for Judas, but King perfectly reasonably includes the pieces he wants, just as Handel did, to make up a good entertainment with the singers to hand). King argues in his notes for the use of a decidedly different type of voice for the Israelitish Man, also sung by a woman. The case he makes is good, but the result, to my ears, is uncertain; Catherine Denley's articulation, enunciation and vibrato are so different from Emma Kirkby's that the effect is unsatisfactory in their several duets. It is good singing, as such, to be sure, but the very marked contrast with Kirkby's is bound to raise questions about its stylistic aptitude. They can't both be right! Jamie MacDougall, who comes up on two major sets this month, is a name new to me and I find him an assured and impressive singer, with a clean, forward tone and natural command of style. He does unusually well in the recitatives in his timing and articulation. The verbal enunciation in the lyrical music is not always perfect but the sound is very attractive and the phrasing musical. He sings boldly in the big, stirring numbers and makes a fine effect. Michael George is in superb voice; I have rarely enjoyed the bass arias so much—''Arm, arm ye brave'' comes off splendidly, with a fine swing, and the reflective music (for example ''With pious hearts'') is done with eloquence and some beautifully warm soft singing. James Bowman sings the air for the Priest adequately but without beginning to erase memories of the rapt performance of this number by Dame Janet Baker on the Mackerras set.
The recorded sound is full and warm, less concerned than many modern performances with textural clarity but none the worse for that. The set has many good things and few besides, and Handelians and others wanting the work need not hesitate.'