#baroque composers

[scourgiez]

Henry Purcell as I practice drawing portraits :")

[mozartbachtoven]

Handel - Chapter 17: Fame, Philanthropy, and the English Stage (1748–1751)

Oratorios at Covent Garden

By the late 1740s, George Frideric Handel had firmly established the oratorio as the cornerstone of English musical life. No longer competing in the operatic sphere, he turned the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden into the central venue for his grand biblical dramas. Year after year, Londoners flocked to hear works that combined sacred themes with theatrical vitality. The choral forces grew in size and strength, and the spectacle of collective voices resonated deeply with an audience hungry for spiritual grandeur as well as entertainment.

Among his major achievements of this period were the monumental Solomon (1748) and the moving Theodora (1750). Solomon, with its radiant orchestration and famous “Arrival of the Queen of Sheba,” celebrated biblical kingship and divine wisdom, a subject that also carried political undertones for a Britain that saw itself as a chosen nation. Theodora, in contrast, told the tragic story of an early Christian martyr and was infused with tenderness and moral seriousness. Though Theodora was not initially popular—Londoners were less receptive to its somber tone—it remained one of Handel’s most personal creations, admired by later generations for its depth and humanity.

The Foundling Hospital and Philanthropy

Handel’s music during these years also intersected with his philanthropic spirit. In 1749, he became a major supporter of the Foundling Hospital, a charitable institution for abandoned and orphaned children in London. Deeply moved by its mission, he offered his services to help raise funds through music. In May 1750, he directed a benefit concert that included his Foundling Hospital Anthem and, crucially, a performance of Messiah.

This event marked the beginning of a powerful tradition: annual Messiah performances in aid of the Hospital, which not only provided financial support for the charity but also linked Handel’s masterpiece forever with public benevolence. For the composer, these benefits enhanced his reputation not merely as an artist but as a man of generosity and civic duty. Audiences recognized that his music could heal, uplift, and serve society, and Handel himself found solace in this new role as musical benefactor.

Fame and Reverence

By 1751, Handel was more than a composer; he was a national figure. His name was synonymous with musical grandeur, philanthropy, and public morality. He had managed to overcome the collapse of Italian opera, personal illness, and financial hardship to reinvent himself as the voice of English religious and patriotic sentiment.

Yet shadows also loomed. During this period, his eyesight began to fail, and the early symptoms of blindness were appearing. Even so, he poured his remaining strength into composition, creating works of nobility and spiritual intensity that reflected both his triumphs and his vulnerabilities.

Lasting Impact of this Period

The years 1748–1751 show Handel at the height of both fame and moral authority. Through Solomon, he offered music of regal magnificence; through Theodora, a meditation on sacrifice and faith; and through his support of the Foundling Hospital, a living connection between music and philanthropy. The annual Messiah benefits became a cornerstone of London’s cultural calendar and ensured that his greatest oratorio would never be forgotten.

In this period, Handel became not only the greatest living composer in Britain but also a cultural institution—a man whose art spoke of national pride, human charity, and transcendent faith.

🎶 Appreciations Alex Rosas Navarro FB@Baroque Composers Group

[thelonesomepianist]

Happy birthday Herr Bach ♡

[mendely]

[deborahdeshoftim5779]

Lina Tur: Nicola Matteis - Joseph Vilsmayr - (scordatura)

Brilliant Spanish Baroque violinist Lina Tur (now Lina Tur Bonet, I believe), playing works by Nicola Matteis and Joseph Vilsmayr. Listening to her precise articulation and lively playing makes me remember why I absolutely love the Baroque era of music, as well as the violin. 

[revolutionarytea]

Wish the people on the radio knew that I don’t care about what songs were popular in 2018. I want to know what was popular in 1718! Let’s rewind to some JS Bach or something

[composer-portraits]

1720 Portrait Of French Composer Michel Blavet (1700-1768) By Artist Henri Millot (?-1756). Private Collection. (MDCCXX)

[passionate-reply]

PETER PRINGLE - “THE COLD SONG”

The history of electronic music is replete with musical instruments that are by and large treated as a joke, or, at best, a mere novelty. Even the most famous and widely-utilized of these pre-Moog innovations, the theremin, is rather quickly stereotyped as that instrument you play without touching which was used in all those 50s B-movie soundtracks. While these facts are, indeed, true, the theremin is an instrument with as much potential for creating affecting and respectable art as any other, and being pigeonholed as a trinket unsuited for serious exploration has done the world of music no favours. I’d even argue that the dismissal of such instruments leads to a more general ghettoization of electronic music itself, even in its more “respectable” forms.

One artist who I truly admire for bringing out the sincere beauty of obscure electronic instruments is the venerable Peter Pringle. When he isn’t working with musical instruments of the ancient world, from hurdy-gurdies to Egyptian lyres, he’s usually showing off his impressive collection of electro-wonders, like on this piece, which he’s adapted for the Haken Continuum. 

“The Cold Song,” also known in traditional operatic conventions by its first line, “What Power Art Thou…?” was written by the 15th Century English composer Henry Purcell, and features in his famous opera King Arthur. (Yes, opera in English...a little uncanny.) Sung by the lord of winter upon being awoken from his icy slumber, it calls for a unique “stuttering” vocal delivery, suggesting the shivers of the snowy spirit. It was originally written for a countertenor, which attracted the late, great Klaus Nomi to cover it on his self-titled debut, and I’d bet a few readers who know their New Wave have heard it there, first. Pringle is no operatic diva, for sure, but his adaptation for the icy, chimelike tones of the Haken Continuum is downright beautiful, instrumentally speaking, and a brilliant statement of the power an electronic instrument can bring to an old favourite.