So expect Graham, who has done plenty of Handel herself (including a spectacular Ariodante for San Francisco Opera in 2008), to fit right in. Her costars — no slouches, either — include William Berger (as Aeneas), Cyndia Sieden (Belinda), and Jill Grove (Sorceress).
McGegan and the orchestra are buoyed, not bowed down, by their specialist knowledge, and undaunted by the technical difficulties of some of the older instruments. They master intricate rhythmic and phrasing details that you don’t normally hear from modern instrument orchestras, yet play them with a conviction and ease that sounds natural. McGegan’s adrenaline-filled gestures transmit his excitement, and the orchestra normally responds by lifting you out of your seat. This is music-making by people who have been to the early-music revolution and come back enriched.
If you don’t remember Dido and Aeneas from that music appreciation class you took in college, you may be surprised to find out that it is a staple of early-music groups, as familiar to them as, say, Handel’s Water Music suites or Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. The most famous bit is Dido’s Lament, the Queen’s famous farewell aria after the Trojan prince Aeneas has loved her and left her. But the show is so tight and full of great tunes that you wouldn’t want to lose a measure.
At only 50 minutes long, Dido is one of the very few world-famous operas that you can program and still have half a concert to fill up. Luckily, Purcell was no one-hit wonder, and his Chacony in G Minor (which Benjamin Britten arranged) is only the tip of the iceberg. His Suite from Abdelazer is also magnificent, one of the composer’s last works. Britten pops up here, too, as he took the Rondeau from the Suite for the main tune of his Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra. And as if that weren’t enough, the Philharmonia Chorus will warm up for its part in Dido by singing a couple of Purcell’s English anthems.
This is a four-course feast from one of England’s greatest composers.