Handel & Haydn Society 2025 Review: Spring from The Seasons & Beethoven’s Mass in C

Sometimes it is hard to understand what was going on in the mind of an orchestral manager booking a concert. The last Handel and Haydn Society concert—despite its many musical merits—was an enigma, an afternoon full of conglomerate causes. We all gathered for the sake of Haydn’s “Spring” (from his oratorio “The Seasons”) and Beethoven’s “Mass in C Major.

” When we arrived, we were also informed that the afternoon was a Pride celebration.There is nothing wrong with celebrating Pride—I wish I could celebrate it every day—but why Haydn and Beethoven? If it were only Handel, I could see the connection. The political causes behind the concert are not entirely detached from the music itself.



A concert is a social event; it is not only about listening to music but also about everything surrounding it. Promoting Pride, especially when the term is presented without specifying what we are proud of, seems a bit vague—particularly when followed by an oratorio and a mass. And it is not as if the repertoire lacks queer (or at least queer-ish) pieces.

These reservations aside, musically, the afternoon flowed smoothly.Truth be told, Haydn’s “The Seasons” is one of those oratorios that I sometimes find a bit too long—especially in less skilled hands. Listening to just one of the seasons is enough.

Nothing is more logical than hearing Spring at the dawn of springtime—though it was still cloudy and wintery outside. Let’s promote microdosing Haydn.The orchestra began with its usual percussive sounds.

Violin articulations, especially the tang of bows on strings, are always a difficult effect to achieve with class. Here, Jonathan Cohen aimed to evoke the transition from winter to spring—as was clearly Haydn’s intention. It worked.

The music that followed was extremely elegant, presented in the most Mozartian manner. I am fully aware that Haydn taught the Salzburgian wonder boy, but Cohen’s reading made Haydn sound like the mature Mozart, the one of “Die Zauberflöte.”While soprano Emöke Baráth sang Hanne with that lyrical tonality so cherished by the great Susannas and Paminas, it was hard not to listen to Andrew Haji’s Lukas without wishing he would sing Tamino next week.

It is an odd thing to hear certain music and wish it were something else—but this is not necessarily a flaw in the music itself.Baritone Thomas Bauer has a lovely instrument, but when he began Simon’s aria (“Schon eilet froh der Ackersmann”) he exaggerated the consonants, diminishing the melodic line’s potential.The “Spring” movement lost some of its energy by the time of the Song of Joy (“O wie lieblich ist der Anblick der Gefilde jetzt!”).

The orchestra played well, the singers performed well, but still, Cohen’s interpretation felt less surprising and inspiring than in the first half of the movement. It happens, especially on a chilly Sunday afternoon. Things became more alert—and shinier—with the entrance of the “Ewiger, mächtiger, gütiger Gott” finale.

Cohen’s reading was solemn and radiant, indeed like an angelic chorus—a promise of summer that we long for.While Haydn is a staple of H+H’s repertoire, I was particularly struck by the eloquence of Cohen’s reading of Beethoven’s “Mass in C major.” Some imprudent confessions must be made: the Mass in C is my favorite of Beethoven’s sacred works.

“Missa Solemnis” has its charms, especially when performed by a group unashamed of its Romanticism, but the “Mass in C major” is such a refined work, such an emotional experience. During this Pride celebration, I even reconsidered my thoughts about attending Sunday morning mass.What makes the Mass in C phenomenal is how it reveals an often-overlooked aspect of Beethoven’s musicianship: He can be drastic and visceral in his most celebrated works, but his greatness is perhaps revealed more by the elegance of his calm moments—which point to music’s capacity to foster an emotional education in its audience.

Such an education takes its point of reference from Beethoven’s ever-present grandiloquence, of course, but also from the knowledge the quieter moments display of our most intimate feelings.In Cohen’s interpretation, the vocal parts, though present, blended seamlessly with the orchestra. The soloists—the same as before, plus the gorgeously voiced mezzo-soprano Jennifer Johnson Cano—performed with remarkable homogeneity, understanding their role to make a unified group that stood in musical contrast to the chorus and the superb orchestra.

The performance was as good as one could hope for. Cohen did not shy away from the music’s Romanticism, while the orchestra maintained a distinctive sound—not as affected as the early music groups that dominate the European scene, yet not so Romanticized that the brasses and woodwinds lost their grainy, airy quality. That delicate balance makes all the difference.

While the entire mass was performed beautifully, the “Agnus Dei” stood out as the most extraordinary. The vocalists seemed to pour into the orchestral texture, making the meaning of the music astonishingly clear. The descending cello and violin lines after “tollis peccata mundi” spiraled into my heart, while the clarinet solo by Katherine Spencer just before “dona nobis pacem” was so exquisite it should have been repeated as an encore.

These lavish little musical moments built as the choir progressively became quieter, culminating in the most ethereal brass playing—especially in the horns. Their sound was never fully present, as if we were hearing them from another realm; they were the horns announcing the heavens.The ending of Beethoven’s Mass in C major is subtle, quiet, and classy.

It is uplifting, yet it also feels like a gentle taming of the soul. After such a long emotional journey, what could we do but applaud quietly and walk out without knowing where home was?So intense was my experience that I decided to wander the city. Boston was foggy and charming—my thoughts on the Mass followed me for hours.

Inattentively, I passed by all of the historically wealthy parts of Boston: Copley, Back Bay, the Commons. Gazing at the gas-lit streets of Beacon Hill and watching the fog swallowing building tops and the leafless tress, I could not stop thinking: where are the horns of heaven, proclaiming our peace?The post Handel & Haydn Society 2025 Review: Spring from The Seasons & Beethoven’s Mass in C appeared first on OperaWire..