NEW YORK — Listeners were promised a salacious journey into the world of questionable sex, secret marriage, and multiple prison sentences in the picaresque, 18th-century milieu of Giusto Ferdinando Tenducci (1735-1790), the superstar Dublin-based castrato who was a magnet for trouble. But this concert event in the Music Before 1800 series turned into something far better on March 15 at Corpus Christi Church.
Performed by the Irish Baroque Orchestra, The Trials of Tenducci was a might-have-been program of early-classical-period repertoire (J.C. Bach, Gluck, and early Mozart) that established this orchestra and countertenor Hugh Cutting as masters in the early-music field. In short, the concert was a knockout.
Founded in 1996, the Dublin-based orchestra (not to be confused with the Irish Chamber Orchestra) has flourished — as our Irish friends tell us — as Western classical music was freed of anti-England hostilities and traditional folk-based music became more a fixture of the countryside. The orchestra’s evolution under Peter Whelan (appointed in 2018) is such that the group’s 2021 Trials of Tenducci recording reflects how the group has morphed from being the regional to the cosmopolitan. The common point of reference, of course, is castrato Tenducci: Though his iconography shows a boyish, amiable fellow, his secret marriage to an under-age girl and other adventures landed him in jails, though he was incongruously released on one occasion to sing a benefit concert.
Whelan’s 2021 version featured the Irish mezzo-soprano Tara Erraught, a noted Octavian in Der Rosenkavalier at Glyndebourne, whose Tanducci repertoire included some folk-based curios alongside Mozart’s Exultate, Jubilate, sung with accomplished, charming coloratura. In the re-programmed 2026 edition, the more specialized British countertenor Cutting brought period-performance authority to repertoire assembled around his strengths. Together, Cutting and Whelan performed with speedy, reckless freedom, often sounding as though they had written the music.
Amid instrumental-only portions, Mozart’s Symphonies No. 1 and 4 had muscular readings by this historically informed ensemble that made all previous outings I’ve heard sound like obligatory run-throughs. A few of the movements have a runt-like brevity, as if Mozart ran out of paper. But the symphonies came out sounding remarkably viable. A key element was counterpoint: One always heard the strings in contrast to the ever-present but never obtrusive double bassist Malachy Robinson. The rich-toned oboe d’amore (Emma Black in Johann Christian Fischer’s “Gramachree Molly,” an oboe concerto structured as variations on a folk tune) and secure horn playing (Anneke Scott and Joseph Walters) added more pronounced layers of texture. With extra animation in all sections, the orchestra sounded larger than its 16 players (plus Whelan on continuo).
More early Mozart revelations came from Cutting, who showed how typical, even formulaic music can be electrifying, starting with the 11-minute scene “Gia dagli occhi” (from the 1770 opera Mitridate). Its fiery opening recitative gives way to long-spun vocal lines that speak of atoning for “vile passion” (with which Tanducci may have identified). More fire set in during the other Mitridate aria, the intricate “Venga pur,” which can make even the best coloratura singers sound like they’re chasing a runaway train. Cutting led the train, and with a large, lush sound. One didn’t miss the sharper vocal edge of Philippe Jaroussky or the aristocratic poise (and darker voice) of Andreas Scholl.
Cutting kept the listener’s ears riveted in the moment, never predicting what was next and being happily surprised with what lay around the coloratura corner. Athleticism and artistic expression fused into a single entity. The final aria — “Vo solcando un mar crudele” from J.C. Bach’s Artaserse — was the ultimate collaboration among singer, conductor, and orchestra, with the vocal lines sailing over a stormy, emphatically punctuated orchestral landscape. The evening didn’t pass without Cuttung making a heartfelt spoken tribute to the castrati of centuries past — who made such music possible but at such a personal cost. He thanked them for “their sacrifice.”
