Interview, David Bates on Handel's 'Unsung Heroes'

Handel's status as a master of composition for the stage (though no less for other contexts) is well-established; his operatic vocal writing gives life to Roman emperors, Tartar warlords, Athenian heroes and more. Yet many of his most enduringly popular arias owe their power not just to the human voice but to the choice of a solo instrument to add colour and enhance the mood. These performers – their names almost entirely lost to history, by contrast with the well-documented star singers of the age – are, in more ways than one, "unsung heroes".

David Bates and his Baroque band La Nuova Musica have put together an album showcasing some of Handel's finest obbligato arias, with the focus on the instrumentalists as much as the vocalists – featuring violinist Thomas Gould, bassonist Joe Qiu and oboist Leo Duarte alongside countertenor Iestyn Davies, mezzo Christine Rice and soprano Lucy Crowe. I spoke to David about this album, and about the role of instrumentalists in Handel's vocal music.

You describe the inspiration for this album as coming from a desire to give instrumentalists their fair share of the limelight that, today at least, generally falls on their vocal counterparts. Was this imbalance in favour of singers similarly the case in Handel’s time?

In Handel’s day the headline singers, ie the Prima Donna or Primo Uomo, were always considered the ‘star’ – look at Farinelli, La Stradina, Senesino, Cuzzoni or Bordoni to name but a few.

Whereas we only have limited details about the key players of the day and the odd name -–for example Castrucio who was a violinist in Handel’s Orchestra – or indeed Archangelo Corelli who was supposedly leader for the premiere of Il Trionfo del Tempo e del Disinganno in 1707 in Rome.

Singing has from time immemorial been one of our primary sources of communication. So it comes as no real surprise that in Handel’s day the singers took centre stage, and it doesn’t look like that will change any time soon. But we would like to start to rebalance this in favour of our wonderful obbligato players – they are just as skilful and their playing is as equally moving, as you will hear on the disc.

By the time Handel was writing these arias, obbligati were evidently a well-established element of composition. But how did this practice first get started? What do we know about the origins of the obbligato aria?

I don’t know that there is a definitive moment, but my mind immediately goes to Possente Spirito from Orfeo by Claudio Monteverdi or to the verses in the Magnificat from Monteverdi's Vespers, well over 100 years previous. In Orfeo Monteverdi alternates the voice of Orfeo with pairs of cornettos, violins and harp, or in the Magnificat, above the measured plainchant we hear the same instruments weave elaborate roulades, by turns, whimsical and exhilarating. These instrumentalists enhance and develop the sung words, and create a wonderful rhetorical language that drives the theatre forward.

In actual fact one could think of all continuo instruments as obbligatos – harps, theorbos, keyboards, bowed basses etc – given they read the bass line and realise the implied harmonies, suitable to the narrative or theatrical moment. One of the joys of working on repertoire from c. 1600 – 1700 is the creative freedom that we have to improvise around the singer, and thereby enhance the sonorities around their line, and to develop the theatrical sound world.

In some Baroque music, there’s a degree of wriggle-room in terms of viable instrumentations. Is there any evidence of obbligato parts written for one instrument being swapped to another in certain contexts?

Yes, absolutely. Take The Plaint from The Fairy Queen for example. Purcell states very clearly in the score that the obbligato line can be played by violin (the usual instrument of choice) or oboe. Also in the Neun Deutsche Arien, Handel suggests instrumentation for each of the arias, but if the flute player was ill on one occasion, the oboe player could easily have covered the missing part. Or it might be the the oboe player was learning the flute, so they wanted to experiment by changing it up. Clearly there will be some obbligatos that can only be played by specific instrument – but life if too short to be too puritanical about such matters in my humble opinion!

Dr Ruth Smith’s notes mention the bassoon as being “synonymous in Baroque music with death” – its inclusion as an obbligato instrument presumably thus portending a grim fate awaiting the singer. How did this specific connotation come about?

I love this idea from Dr Ruth... Not only do you find languorous and lamenting lines from Handel’s bassoons, but the same can be found in Rameau’s writing – his high-lying bassoons also have associations with pain or grief or death – think of Tristes Apprêts from Castor et Pollux. I wish that there had been room on the disc to include the moving duets from Handel’s Theodora, To thee, thou glorious son of worth or Se'l mio duol from Rodelinda. The obbligato bassoon not only adds sonic richness, but shrouds these songs in tragic tones where the association of death is ever-present.

Vivid historical anecdotes about overt mid-concert rivalries between soloists, and players being fined for excessive ornamentation, create a picture of music at risk of being eclipsed by personal ego. Is this a reasonable assessment of the state of things during Handel’s time?

Isn’t this the beauty of any musical or theatrical moment? I mean, the music belongs to us (to both performers and listeners) and it transcends time and place. Now, taste is so subjective, and no two people’s ideas of a classy performance are necessarily the same. I have often been accused of overly ornamenting lines, taking extreme speeds, or making other musical ‘misdemeanours’. However these choices are always deeply felt, and are never made in order to be different simply for the sake of it. I always make decisions based on the theatrical moment and the performers that I am working with. I will always play to my performers’ strengths – after all, Handel’s music belongs to us, and it’s our duty to respond to it with our best talents to the fore.

Such rivalries might be exciting to read about and make for good stories, but what about the reverse – are there any documented notable partnerships or friendships between certain singers and instrumentalists from this time?

The great Faustina Bordoni and composer Hasse were married in 1730. A bit later (1770s-ish) Soprano Francesca Danzi married the oboist Ludwig August Lebrun. Charles Burnley wrote that when she and her husband performed in thirds and sixths it was impossible to discover who was uppermost of the interval. And the wonderful soprano Lucy Crowe is married to Joe Walters who is a first class horn player, playing second horn on Sta nell’ Ircana on this very disc!