More than most operas Henry Purcell's Dido and Aeneas invites creative input. With the score itself incomplete, and so little is known about its genesis, directors and musicologists are often tempted to touch it up and tinker: it has inspired all manner of dramatic interpretations, from ballet troupes to swimming tanks, and a number of musical innovations.
A timely new recording in Purcell's anniversary year offers a successful revision of the piece with a dream-team of soloists and immaculate accompaniment from the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. Originally conceived by mezzo-soprano Sarah Connolly, a celebrated stage Dido and the lead role here, the project takes a sensitive and scholarly approach to supplementing the score.
Some fleshing out is done with Purcell's own work – a dance number from Bonduca and the melancholic 'Almand' from his G minor keyboard suite are nicely integrated – and improvised music from other sources. Especially exquisite is the early 'Gittars Chacony', inspired by Purcell's contemporary, the virtuoso court guitarist Francesco Corbetta, which begins dreamily and gradually winds into a wild strumming crescendo before segueing into 'To the hills and the vales'.
That it is John Mark Ainsley who sings the sailor cameo is a mark of the fine casting. There are excellent performances from two talented young sopranos: Lucy Crowe deploys her bright and rosy instrument to great effect as Belinda, and Sarah Tynan makes a noteworthy Second Woman. Another comes from mezzo Patricia Bardon, whose Sorceress is rich, pungent and characterful, and, crucially, distinctly different in timbre to Connolly's Dido.
All too often Aeneas sounds lily-livered – the part is sporadic anyway, and Nahum Tate's libretto makes him oddly chaste – but here Gerald Finley sings Virgil's hero with strength and virility. Meanwhile Connolly offers us a supremely elegant Dido. From the start her voice is focused, melancholic, beautiful, and as the drama develops so does the character's vulnerability and gravitas; her magnificent final lament asserts Connolly as the worthy inheritor of Janet Baker's legacy.
The OAE plays, as is increasingly popular with period groups, conductorless (though guided throughout by the direction of lutist Elizabeth Kenny and harpsichordist Steven Devine) but succeeds in achieving that perfect combination of spaciousness and vitality.
This is not a definitive recording – none could make that claim – but it's certainly the most exciting and accomplished of recent years.