It is inevitable that the Handel anniversary will produce new Messiah recordings. Stephen Cleobury and the Choir of King’s College also celebrate the 800th anniversary of the University of Cambridge and the 80th anniversary of the death of the college’s choirmaster Arthur Henry Mann (who directed an innovative performance of Messiah at King’s in 1894 that restored Handel’s long-neglected original scoring). Cleobury and the choir already recorded an outstanding Messiah in 1994 (with the Brandenburg Consort, issued by Argo). Perhaps it is healthy that this new version, recorded live during two days in April, is not much like it. However, the 1994 soloists (Lynne Dawson, Hilary Summers, John Mark Ainsley and Alastair Miles) were exemplary Handelians at the top of their game, and the present batch is not quite up to the same level. Allan Clayton provides some fine pianissimo singing in “Comfort ye”, and Matthew Rose throws out his arias with bold authority (it is a pity that Cleobury assigns to the powerful bass the version of “But who may abide” recomposed in 1750 for the castrato Guadagni). Alice Coote’s warmly maternal singing is closer to Kathleen Ferrier than the early music voices we have become accustomed to in recent times but it lacks joyfulness in “O thou that tellest”, and her cumbersome trawl through “He was despised” isn’t helped by Cleobury slowing the da capo repeat so much that it loses momentum, sags, and lacks emotive clarity. The AAM does a decent job on its third recording of the oratorio, and David Blackadder’s playing in “The trumpet shall sound” is flawless (Matthew Rose’s open-throated Augustan roar is marvellously direct but fails to invite compassion). The choral contribution is not quite as perfect as it was in 1994 but the concluding “Amen” is one of the strongest versions to feature boy trebles on disc. Cleobury’s conducting is a bit less communicative and more conservative than it seemed 15 years ago. Frieder Bernius provides a probing and refreshing perspective on the oratorio. The brassy choruses concluding Parts 2 and 3 lack the monumental grandeur and punchy splendour one expects but there is something positive to be said for hearing an articulate “Hallelujah” freed from its customary pomposity. A few pregnant pauses between movements should have been better edited but Bernius’s interpretation has irreproachable integrity and displays outstanding musical quality. Interestingly, he avoids the familiar tradition of over-dotting during the Sinfony, thus adhering to the scholarly notion that Handel did not intend it to be played as a French-style overture. The quartet of Anglo-Canadian soloists is near-perfect. Benjamin Hulett’s “Comfort ye” has perfect enunciation (no parsimonious invitations to “Come for tea” here!) and a magically spun long messa di voce. Daniel Taylor sings with sweetly melodic and poetic awareness. Bernius might have conveyed a brighter gleefulness in “O thou that tellest” but “He was despised” is compassionately played without lapsing into over-sentimental dragging, and Taylor’s empathetic singing gently pierces the heart of the listener: his poignant sharing of the words is allied to impeccable application of appoggiaturas and subtle ornamentation. Carolyn Sampson’s coloratura, occasional embellishments and trills in “Rejoice greatly” are marvellous, and she combines with Taylor to heart-rendingly beautiful effect in a gorgeous account of “He shall feed his flock”. Peter Harvey draws the listener into the meaning of the words: in “Why do the nations” he is almost unique among his peers (many of whom simply bellow) because he clearly conveys it as a question, and he shrewdly sings “The trumpet shall sound” as a warm-hearted invitation rather than as a bluff-hearted call to arms; Bernius’s decision to tweak the dotted rhythm of the main motif is a rare miscalculation, but his lilting, dance-like pace enables graceful instrumental gestures, and gives enough space for some imaginative ornamentation from Harvey and trumpeter Robert Farley. The Stuttgart Chamber Choir could almost pass for a native British early music group: the counterpoint is purely blended and the inner parts are shaped with refinement. The choir’s tuning and handling of cadences in “Behold the Lamb of God” is wondrous. The Stuttgart Baroque Orchestra plays with captivating spontaneity while never forcing the issue, and the trumpets in “Glory to God” are ideally distant. There is too much anachronistic use of organ continuo in both of these new versions, but Bernius gets away with the malpractice better than Cleobury does, and the German conductor’s Messiah is characterised by small, tasteful gestures, thoughtfully balanced sonorities and sensitivity to details.