I don't remember when I first heard that Joyce DiDonato was planning a Handel CD. I do know that it was a very, very long time ago, and that I have been waiting for it ever since. This sort of anticipation cuts both ways. Theoretically, the reward is sweetened by its having been so long withheld but there is a risk, too, in such a long wait. Time to wait means time to dream, and time to dream means time for hopes to be built up beyond all proportion. By the time the real Furore was in my hand, it had a rival: the imaginary Furore, so long established in my mind.