Recording of the Week, Farewells from Jakub Józef Orliński & Michał Biel

Back in October, I had the pleasure of occupying a front-row seat at Wigmore Hall’s first capacity concert since March 2020, where the celebratory mood was heightened by the sunny enthusiasm with which Jakub Józef Orliński greeted his full house – a natural showman with an outgoing, relaxed platform-manner, the Polish countertenor launched proceedings in fine style with a selection of the baroque repertoire which featured on his first two Warner Classics recordings.

But it was in the second half that the real magic kicked in: after delivering a touching speech about his affection for the music of his native country and for his long-term recital-partner Michał Biel (who was alongside him that night), Orliński brought the house down with a selection of songs by Mieczysław Karłowicz and Stanisław Moniuszko, and his announcement of an imminent recording met with a roar of approbation from the enraptured audience.

That album has landed today, and I’m happy to report that the spell which the pair cast that evening translates just as readily without the visuals. Orliński’s striking looks, heavy social media-presence and much-documented extracurricular activities as a model and break-dancer have generated breathless adulation and sceptical eye-rolling in pretty much equal measure - but this beautifully programmed and executed recital cuts through all the noise to reveal an artist of real integrity and imagination, allied to a technique which has solidified significantly since his last-minute jump-in as Rinaldo at Glyndebourne a couple of years ago.

Correction: Farewells reveals two such artists. A major driving-force behind this project was Orliński’s friend Biel, a passionate advocate for Polish song who suggested much of the repertoire and makes an astonishing recording debut here – his exquisitely-shaped introductions and postludes are worth the price of the album in themselves, and his easy synergy with Orliński is writ large in every phrase.

They open with a cycle of Pushkin settings by Henryk Czyż (1923-2003) which gives the album its title, the dense piano-writing and sweeping, ardent vocal lines sounding as if they could have sprung from the pen of Rachmaninov. Many of the qualities which make this an album to treasure are revealed within the first minute: Orliński’s evident relish of the Polish language (particularly the expressive possibilities of the many ‘sz’ sounds), the unforced power of his lower register, and the pair’s instinctive awareness of when to step on the gas and when to let the music breathe.

It's a close call, but the set of Shakespeare sonnets (Nos. 23, 91, 56 and 97) by Tadeusz Baird which follows may well be my personal highlight: Biel’s handling of Baird’s quasi-baroque writing made me itch to hear him in Bach’s solo keyboard music (though I suspect that’s an unlikely prospect given his focus on collaborative projects and under-represented repertoire), and Orliński’s unmannered but infinitely subtle colouring of texts which he clearly adores is a joy. (The opening sonnet, with its metaphor about an ‘imperfect actor’ who realises that performance-anxiety is hampering his ability to communicate real emotion, is especially affecting – on this evidence, Orliński himself has obviously surmounted that particular obstacle).

We have Biel’s quiet persistence to thank for the inclusion of four of Szymanowski’s Kurpian Songs, which are next on the menu: Orliński told me recently that he was initially unconvinced that they would sit well in the mouth of a countertenor, but the straight, almost raw tone which he employs here only serves to highlight the folk roots of this music, and in the two rather dark songs about female sexual consent he taps into the gender-fluid qualities of his voice to great effect, creating a real sense of dialogue between the aggressively lustful Jacek and the wary object of his desire in No. 4.

The second half of the programme is given over to a generous selection of songs by Karłowicz (some barely a minute long) and two absolute gems by Moniuszko, all of which give Orliński ample opportunity to demonstrate just how well this sort of full-blooded Romanticism can play out with a voice-type not usually associated with this repertoire. Moniuszko’s exuberant spinning-song – surely set to be a calling-card encore for the pair – rounds off a programme which is likely to win new fans for both the countertenor voice and for Polish song in general. Wonderful stuff.