PURCELL Dido and Aeneas (Emelyanychev)
Joyce DiDonato, Michael Spyres, Fatma Said
Il Pomo d’Oro / Maxim Emelyanychev
Joyce DiDonato again makes a magical pairing with Michael Spyers as in John Nelson’s 2017 recording of Berlioz’s Ley Toyens, the famous Didon and Énée are now Dido & Aeneas! It’s an exciting partnership and one with which Il Pomo d’Oro and Maxim Emelyanychev are perfectly in tune, the results carry a ‘thrillingly theatrical’ air similar to David Bates and La Nuove Musiche (Awards issue 2023) as it leans into high- and low-brow contrasts to spin a dramatically convincing arc. Joyce DiDonato mines the character development in Dido, exploring all her emotions with relish: from angry Queen of Carthage to enraged, abandoned and finally resigned lover, she is gipping throughout. There’s even a hint of rage in her line about crocodile tears that I find enormously moving, thus it ever was! In stark contrast, Michael Spyres, surely one of our most charismatic current singers, plays Aeneas as a tepid, persuadable character to match his slim musical pickings, and the result is more Tom Conti in ‘Shirley Valentine’ than the distant hero some have tried to make him. This is a clever move: less sympathetic, more pathetic; this opera tells Dido’s side of the story after all.
Taking a brooding, dark tone from the start, the instrumentalists are on excellent form, they lean into the chromaticisms and the thrum and thwack of the continuo lends both percussive depth and forwards momentum to the second part of the overture. Later, in that most Frenchified of dances ‘Fear no danger’ the strumming and percussion bring toe-tapping joy, and there’s also a stately swagger from the percussion in The Triumphing Dance. Lots of vivid colours.
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It was hugely fashionable to have enchantresses, spiritual machinations and a bit of stage machinery in English theatres at the turn of the 18th century, so the cackling of the witches is spot-on as the “ha ha ha” chorus (no “ho ho ho” on this recording) my only misgiving here is the freestyle-cackling over the chorus, this works the second time but not the first. You can have too much of a good thing. All of the echoes are handled brilliantly, and the underlying sense of dance never quite leaves this act. There's even a lovely detail, a lively percussion ring at the end of the dance that opens act two scene two, and I love the little pocket of brilliance that is Carlotta Colombo’s (second woman/attendant) aria "oft she visits" is wonderfully atmospheric, underpinned by carefully etched gamba playing that again teeters on the brink of dance.
There’s exciting drama in fleeing the storm as everyone gets breathless with haste leading to a true sense of interruption by Hugh Cutting’s spirit, cleverly accompanied by the organ (for an essential touch of otherworldliness) and a moment of hilarity when Laurence Kilsby’s hearty sailor shouts “fellow sailors” (to introduce the Sailor’s chorus) easily misheard as "hello sailor!" Ending that dance on the swaggering low bass is a nice touch. From comedy to tragedy, Emelyanychev allows for a lot of space in the final lament, DiDonato floats high notes so that just hang in the air, and I loved the way her final high G "Remember me" which lingers beautifully into the instrumental play-out. The final chorus "with drooping wings" has a refreshing waft to the tempo, life goes on, it seems to suggest, but with that stunning lament, I’m happy for the misery to last a little longer.
To read the full text of this review please visit Gramophone.co.uk (October 2025)
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