Baroque Opera, With an Ear for the Modern

With a voice of angelic purity, halo of frizzy hair and girlish sweet smile, Emma Kirkby has been a kind of fairy princess of the early music movement since she first dropped in on it in the early ‘80s. Her tone unblemished by vibrato, her crystal-clear articulation of words and her exquisite ornamentations of vocal lines have made her a model singer. The English soprano not only revealed how Renaissance and Baroque music theoretically should sound but also how it best communicates to a modern audience. Listening to her, you might experience the miracle of time travel and the recognition of something modern.

Attitudes, however, evolve, including our attitudes toward old music. Though there can be no doubt that Kirkby, who has made more than 100 recordings, has influenced a generation of singers, many young disciples have found a new way to restore some of the weight and emotional richness she removed from the Baroque style while still maintaining the flexibility. And that updated early music practice, allied with contemporary dramatic principles, has fueled the revival of Handel opera.

Thus, Kirkby, who appeared Sunday at the First Baptist Church of Los Angeles to sing arias from Handel’s “Julius Caesar” and “Rinaldo,” seemed at first something of a throwback, just the way she had once made other singers seem. Reading from scores, she made little effort at theatricality. And it took her longer than it once had to warm up.

But this singer is not to be underestimated. Her voice has not become heavier or less stable with age (although it is slightly thinner). Her tone is as pure, her agility as effortless-sounding, as ever.

And once a listener adapted to what now seems an unusually light and demure approach to some of Handel’s best-known arias, she also proved as persuasive as ever.

Nor was she the only pleasure of this concert, which was part of the Chamber Music in Historic Sites series put on by Mount St. Mary’s College and which included the first Los Angeles appearance of the Freiburg Baroque Orchestra. This ensemble has become familiar from its participation in opera recordings over the past decade under the direction of guest conductors. But it has more recently been making a name for itself playing as it did Sunday, under its first violin, Gottfried von der Goltz.

Most of the 18 players for this concert seemed too young and eager to have been with the orchestra from its founding. One of the things that distinguishes young period practice players from their mentors in the movement is the removal of reverence. The Freiburg violins and violas play standing up. And Von der Goltz, who is also the artistic director, does not conduct so much as egg on, turning to fellow players and jamming with them. They all seem to be having the time of their lives.

The instrumental portion of the all-Handel program included two concerto grossi (Opus 3, No. 4 and Opus 6, No. 6) along with the rarely heard incidental music to Ben Johnson’s “The Alchymist.” The playing in all cases was bright and enthusiastic, rhythmically aggressive and complex in its ornamentation and expressive use of swell. Although the strings are relieved only by two oboes, a bassoon, theorbo and harpsichord (here all but inaudible), the Freiburgers have a vivid sense of instrumental color and rich textures.

Accompanying Kirkby, the orchestra changed character and became more subdued, vigilantly following her lighter lead. Kirkby’s singing, the tone so white and open, may be on the virginal side for Cleopatra. But she brought an impressive amount of passion, nonetheless, to “Se pieta?” in which the Egyptian queen vacillates between despair and rage.

And Kirkby still has the ability to surprise. One of Handel’s most famous arias, “Lascia ch’io pianga,” a heartbreakingly beautiful lament from “Rinaldo,” is commonly sung slow and laden with mournful emotion. Kirkby, however, explained that she feels the character, Almira, who is preparing to die, may hope that a hint of coquettishness could save her.

Lightly decorated, tripping off her tongue, the aria took on new character, less funereal and all the lovelier for being slightly seductive. Perhaps Kirkby still has a thing or two to reveal to us about Baroque opera--and herself--after all.