George Frideric Handel (1685–1759)
Te Deum in D major, HWV 283 “Dettingen” [38:17]
Te Deum in A major, HWV 282 [15:52]
The subtle intake of breath before the pianist’s attack.
Dorothee Mields (soprano), Ulrike Andersen (alto), Mark Wilde (tenor), Chris Dixon (bass)
Alsfelder Vokalensemble, Concerto Polacco
Wolfgang Helbich, director
Recorded: Maria Magdalenen Kirche, Templin, Germany, 12–16 August 1999
Naxos 8.554753 [54:08]
Some music carries history in its bones, and Handel’s Te Deum for the Battle of Dettingen is one such piece—part jubilee, part royal fanfare, part baroque billboard proclaiming victory with trumpets and drums. This Naxos release mixes it with a lesser-known companion in A major, offering a fascinating glimpse into Handel’s devotional writing outside the familiar oratorio canon. Wolfgang Helbich, at the helm of the Alsfelder Vokalensemble, teams up with Concerto Polacco for period-flavored authenticity—an alliance that yields both sparkle and occasional rough edges.
The Dettingen Te Deum—HWV 283—was penned for King George II’s triumphant battle march in 1743, and Helbich’s reading understandably leans into its festive character with buoyant tempos and crisp articulation. The choir, around thirty strong, sounds sprightly and well-merged, though one senses a youthful core beneath the blend—voices not yet weathered but eager, bright rather than burnished. The precision of intonation mostly holds, with only fleeting lapses in the tighter contrapuntal passages.
Their diction is generally clear, which is vital here; Handel’s text craves clarity, especially in the more declamatory sections like “To Thee all angels cry aloud.”
But there’s more nuance tucked inside this setting than sheer martial bravado. The reflective chorus, “Make them to be numbered with Thy saints,” offers a moment of introspection, and Helbich catches this shift adeptly, slowing the pace enough to let the solemnity breathe without losing momentum entirely. The continuo section, modest but alert, anchors the ensemble with supple, nimble keyboard figures, while Concerto Polacco’s strings and winds provide a lively yet slightly unruly texture.
The ensemble’s string playing, while spirited, lacks the polish of top-tier baroque specialists—bow strokes — occasionally uneven, ensemble lines sometimes loose—but it’s not enough to derail the overall energetic thrust. The soloists present a mixed bag. Chris Dixon’s bass is a clear standout—forthright, well projected, every syllable crisply enunciated, and above all, possessing a resonant timbre that suits Handel’s often declamatory bass lines.
Dorothee Mields, the soprano, is poised and elegant, especially in “To Thee all angels cry aloud,” where her tone floats effortlessly over the ensemble. However, she indulges in a habit of swelling sustained notes—little volume rises that don’t always feel stylistically justified and slightly interrupt the line’s flow. Mark Wilde’s tenor sings commendably, though his tone sometimes feels a touch thin for the demands of Handelian expressivity.
Ulrike Andersen’s alto solo, by contrast, is less convincing: her timbre is somewhat veiled and her English pronunciation falters, detracting from the text’s clarity. Turning to the Te Deum in A major, HWV 282, we step into a more intimate sound world. This earlier work, dating from 1726 and derived from a B-flat setting for the Earl of Carnarvon (later Duke of Chandos), operates on a smaller chapel scale.
Handel’s scoring here—strings, keyboard, plus bassoon, oboe, and flute—adds a tender palette of colors, with the flute’s mellow timbre lending a pastoral warmth in movements like the opening fanfares and softer “We praise Thee, O God.” The players’s playing in this portion is more assured, the smaller forces better managed, and the winds particularly well integrated, at their best in the lilting solo lines that punctuate the choral textures. Still, neither Te Deum ranks among Handel’s masterpieces. These are occasional gems—appealing, yes, but lacking the sweeping dramatic arcs and intense contrasts one finds in the composer’s oratorios or Coronation Anthems.
Yet that’s no small thing; these works reveal Handel’s skill in setting liturgical text with both — grandeur and intimacy, and this Naxos issue fills a gap often overlooked by more mainstream catalogues. The recorded sound is serviceable—clean — reasonably balanced, though not quite enveloping. The acoustic of Maria Magdalenen Kirche provides a pleasant reverberation that suits the sacred genre but occasionally masks finer instrumental details.
While the occasional rough edges in ensemble cohesion and solo execution keep this from being a definitive disc, the spirited performances, clear documentation, and sheer musical vitality make it a worthy addition for those intrigued by Handel’s ceremonial music. In the end — this release is—above all—an enterprising one. It invites us into the celebratory and contemplative worlds Handel could inhabit outside his better-known works.
Helbich and company approach the music with evident regard and energy, even if the execution stops short of the very highest baroque standards. For listeners seeking Handel’s festive baroque grandeur with accessible solo and choral forces, this Naxos package offers genuine pleasure—and at a price that demands attention. Recommended, especially for collectors and — well — enthusiasts hungry for Handel’s less-traveled repertory.
