In 1951, at Bernard Miles’s little Mermaid Theatre in St John’s Wood, the most famous Wagner soprano in the world sang Dido. Kirsten Flagstad had agreed to sing, according to the contract she signed, in return for her keep and two pints of stout a day. The recording that followed, with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf as Belinda, is huge, slow and magnificent, and sounds today like a message from another planet. Purcell as grand opera.
Twenty years later, the early-music movement turned all that upside down. Gut strings, period trumpets and smaller choirs; faster tempos, dancing rhythms, lighter voices. Some critics hated it. Most listeners were won over, and today the period-instrument sound is the norm for Purcell. The good news is that both traditions have left superb records. Here is where to start.
Dido and Aeneas
Janet Baker, Anthony Lewis, English Chamber Orchestra (1961). Still the version many people love most, because of Baker’s Lament. It is not historically informed in any modern sense, and that hardly matters.
Emma Kirkby, Andrew Parrott, Taverner Players (Chandos). The classic period-instrument Dido: small forces, quick tempos, Kirkby’s pure, straight soprano. It sounds like chamber music, which is roughly what the Chelsea audience heard.
Sarah Connolly, Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment (Chandos). A modern period recording with a rich, dramatic Dido from one of the finest British mezzos.
Kirsten Flagstad, Geraint Jones (EMI). For the historical curiosity, and for the sheer size of the voice.
King Arthur
John Eliot Gardiner, Monteverdi Choir, English Baroque Soloists (Erato). Sharp, theatrical, with a superb Frost Scene.
Trevor Pinnock, The English Concert (Archiv). Polished, elegant and beautifully sung.
William Christie, Les Arts Florissants (Erato). Christie brings a French theatrical flair to the whole score.
The Fairy Queen
William Christie, Les Arts Florissants (Harmonia Mundi). Lush, colourful and full of wit. Christie also led a celebrated 2009 Glyndebourne staging, available on DVD, that captures the show’s extravagance.
John Eliot Gardiner, Monteverdi Choir, English Baroque Soloists (Archiv). A brisk, bright alternative.
Church music and odes
Robert King, The King’s Consort (Hyperion). King recorded all of Purcell’s sacred music and all of his odes and welcome songs, in two long series. They are the place to explore, and individual volumes are good introductions.
Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary: John Eliot Gardiner, Monteverdi Choir (Erato). Austere and powerful, with period brass.
Songs
Alfred Deller. The countertenor who revived the voice in the twentieth century recorded many Purcell songs, and his Music for a While is a classic of the genre, dated in style but full of character.
Emma Kirkby has recorded Purcell songs throughout her career, often with the lutenist Anthony Rooley. Many modern countertenors and sopranos have made fine Purcell recitals too; it is worth sampling several.
Instrumental music
Fantazias for viols: Fretwork (Virgin) or Jordi Savall, Hespèrion XXI (Alia Vox). Two contrasting takes on Purcell’s most intellectually demanding music.
Theatre music: Christopher Hogwood, Academy of Ancient Music (L’Oiseau-Lyre). A large set covering the incidental music for the plays, including Abdelazer.
Beyond the classical shelves
Wendy Carlos, A Clockwork Orange (1971): the Queen Mary march on Moog synthesiser. Klaus Nomi, The Cold Song (1981). Michael Nyman, The Draughtsman’s Contract (1982): Nyman built the score of Peter Greenaway’s film on Purcell ground basses. Sting, Cold Song (2009). None replaces the originals. All of them show how modern Purcell can sound.
A last word of advice. Purcell on record is often packaged as background music, “Baroque for relaxing.” Resist it. This is theatre music and court music written for an audience that wanted to be thrilled. Turn it up.