Marcel Ponseele, Il Gardellino
133:29 (2 CDs in a darboard wallet)
Accent ACC 24314
TWV 41:g2, g6, a3; 42:c4, d4, Es3, g5; 43:D7; 51:e1, f2, A12; 53:E1
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is a compilation of recordings dating from 1995–2005 and covering the whole gamut of Telemann’s works for solo oboe; sonatas with continuo from various of his published sets, trio sonatas with violin or flute or even obbligato harpsichord, and concertos (including oboe d’more, too). This, of course, is not just any old oboist playing – Ponseele has been recognized as one of the performers on the instrument for many years and these recordings are like a compendium of masterclasses in each of the works involved. Nor are his companions unkown; one the “concerto” disc he is joined by Il Gardellino, while the second disc has Richte van der Meer on cello and Pierre Hantaï on harpsichord, with contributions from Fred Jacobs (in the sonata with obbligato harpsichord and continuo), and Taka Kitazako (oboe) and Per-Olov Lindeke (trumpet) in the rarely heard TWV 43:D7. This is a thoroughly enjoyable set which I have no hesitation in recommending.
Maria Espada, Rachel Redmond, Marta Fumagalli SSA, Ghislieri Choir & Consort, Giulio Prandi
69:59
deutsche harmonia mundi 88985348422 Ah che troppo ineguali, Donna che in ciel, Dixit Dominus
A cracking compilation of three of Handel’s youthful masterpieces, culled from recent live performances in Göttingen, Pavia and Ambronay.
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he little-known cantata ‘Donna, che in ciel’ opens the disc; its unusual structure (formal French overture, three contrasting arias, with one of the intervening recitatives ‘accompagnato’ and a final aria with contrapuntal chorus) is convincingly suggested by Juliana Riepe as a ‘calling card’ marking Handel’s arrival in Rome in early 1707. Handelians will recognise several old friends- the first movement of the overture was recycled in Agrippina, whilst the striking semiquaver “vacillation” motif which opens the first aria reappears in the sinfonia to the final scene of Giulio Cesare. The final chorus has some echoes in the Birthday Ode for Queen Anne, and the block chords and bass runs of a certain well-known Coronation anthem also make an early appearance. It is a splendid piece, and must have created a considerable stir in Roman musical circles.
Maria Espada is fully in control in the demanding vocal writing, and can throw off semiquaver runs seemingly effortlessly; she also has the beauty of tone and phrasing to make the lovely second continuo-accompanied aria glow.
She is similarly splendid in the next work, a recitative and aria possible performed by the castrato Pascalino at a ‘spiritual concert’ organised by Cardinal Ottoboni for the feast of the Annunciation later the same year.
The disc concludes with the well-known and dazzlingly-virtuosic ‘Dixit Dominus’, where the excellent Ghisleri choir get a chance to really show off. Giulio Prandi sets uncompromisingly lively speeds, to spine-tingling effect. Try the superb final chorus- the Gloria Patri begins with two contrasting thematic tags, which thrillingly combine with the proper psalm tone in long notes (appropriately ‘as it was in the beginning’). The final ‘Amen’ is an exhilarating repeated-note fugue, which takes the sopranos to high B flats, and has everyone singing their shirts off; the repeated stretti and the seemingly-endless pedal point at the end bring the work (and disc) to a gloriously contrapuntally-satisfying conclusion. The lovely tone and precise passagework of the Glaswegian soprano Rachel Redmond, in her aria ‘Tecum principium’, is also worth watching out for.
The sleeve note is interesting factually, though perhaps a little wayward in translation from time to time.
New Appreciations in the Twentieth Century
viii+292, 2016.
ISBN 978-1-58046-512-0
University of Rochester Press
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is not, by any means, a full survey of Haydn Reception History in the 20th century. To all intents and purposes the author stops with the 1959 anniversary on the reasonable grounds that the activity since then would require at least one more book. He begins with a scene-setting survey of 19th century attitudes, which could be summed up as ‘audiences like Haydn, but composers/conductors don’t’ (with the possible exception of Brahms, who couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it). This may still be true, at least with regard to conductors (see below).
The first half of the book is then a number of recycled journal articles highlighting the stances of d’Indy, Schoenberg and Schenker towards Haydn – this topic has been a prime interest of the author for 15 years. Now, there’s nothing wrong with this in principle, but such articles do need a bit of a re-think and some less indulgent (or more observant) copy-editing if they are to avoid duplication of material and development of something of the narrative flow that a book needs. On p. 57, for instance, we are introduced to ‘Eusebius Mandyczewski, one of Brahms’s protégés’ and then on p. 115 we meet him again, but as if for the first time – ‘Eusebius Mandyczewski, a Romanian musicologist working in Vienna and a part of Brahms’s circle’. Similarly, p. 186 tells us that ‘Samuel Barber wrote his Fantasie for Two Pianos in the Style of Josef Haydn (1924)’ while on p. 227 ‘Samuel Barber wrote the Fantasie for Two Pianos in the Style of Josef Haydn in 1924’. In addition, references to previous or imminent chapters feel blatantly added, and could do with being page specific, where appropriate.
These might seem small points, but cumulatively this kind of thing does create a lumpy feel to the writing as a whole, interesting though much of it is. I found fascinating – perhaps in its seeming unlikeliness – the surge of Haydn performances in mid-1920s New York. The attempts of various nations (Hungary, Croatia, Germany, Austria) to claim Haydn as their own also make for lively and sometimes sobering reading and, being British, I also enjoyed the investigation of Tovey’s various writings and the observations on Vaughan Williams’s changing attitude towards Haydn and folksong.
But, in conclusion, I would say that the Haydn revival post-1959 (even post-2009) is still ‘work in progress’ in terms of regular performances. Although all the symphonies are now available on CD played on period instruments they still make a minimal impact on concert programming and not one ranks in the ‘top 20 symphonies of all time’ in a recent BBC Music Magazine survey (of conductors’ views). However, in the South Bank 2016/17 season they outnumber Mozart by five to one (though nine to one for Wolfie when it comes to concertos) which is verging on the encouraging. I still think that Haydn is the most under-rated of the canonically ‘Great Composers’.
Bertali, Schmelzer, Biber: Church sonatas
Cappella Murensis, Les Cornets Noirs
71:36
audite 97.539
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is the third recording of Muffat’s only surviving liturigcal work that I know of; Cantus Cölln (the first) filled their disc with Biber’s setting of the Litany for St Joseph and sonatas by Biber and Bertali, then Gunar Letzbor used boys for the upper parts and saw no need to pad out the recording. The present version has women sopranos but is a disc of two halves – the added sonatas (by Biber, Bertali and Schmelzer) are performed in an arch-like sequence after the mass. Audite’s recordings are always of exceptional quality and the principle interest of this recording will be for audio geeks who will be thrilled by the positioning of the five “choirs” in different parts of the abbey in Muri where the sessions were held.
[Video in German, subtitled in English]
Surround sound is available as an HD download. For me, though, the whole thing is slightly phoney since Muffat’s contemporaries can never have heard it in such perfection; quite apart from the fact that the resonance must have been affected by the presence of a congregation and the assembled clergy and royalty (although I don’t think the author quite wants to believe what he is writing, the booklet notes give convincing reasons why the piece was more likely written for Passau than Salzburg; though someone should have checked the date Haydn’s death…), the mass was never intended to be an unbroken sequence, and there would have been other music in the service. That said, these are outstanding performances with the trumpets, cornetti and sackbutts, string band and two vocal choirs resounding splendidly in the space. The sonatas – which, incidentally, illustrate perfectly that Biber’s music did not just happen in a vacuum; he learned a thing or two from both the other composers! – show Les Cornets Noirs at their glorious best.
Weser-Renaissance, Manfred Cordes
68:26
cpo 555 010-2
Förtsch: Ich vergesse was dahinten ist, Unser Leben währet siebenzig Jahr
Michael Österreich: Ich habe einen guten Kampf gekämpfet
Georg Österreich: Plötzlich müssen die Leute sterben, Unser keiner lebet ihn selber
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is the fourth CD that Manfred Cordes and his excellent team has devoted to music in Gottorf. Alongside music by two of the composers already featured there is a very fine work by the more famous Georg Österreich’s older brother, Michael. The opening piece is Förtsch’s lavish “Unser Leben währet siebenzig Jahr” with seven voice parts, four violins, two violas, four gambas, bassoon and continuo! The fact that it survives only in a copy might explain the rather odd passages in some verses of the central aria where the duetting alto and bass occasionally sing in octaves (a fact that the otherwise informative booklet notes fail to mention).
It is followed by the older Österreich’s setting for more modest forces of one of “the standard” funeral texts, “I have fought a good fight”, which reveals the former Thomaner’s considerable skill. The final work – the longest on the disc at over 19 minutes! – adds a pair of oboes to the ensemble. It ends with a “tremolo”-accompanied setting of a verse from “Herzlich tut mich Verlangen” (known to English speakers as “the Passion chorale”). Throughout the singing and playing as excellent, the balance between individual voices and vocal and instrumental groups is well managed, and the sound quality is very high. All in all, another success for this typically enterprising cpo series.
Emmanuelle Guigues viola da gamba
63:00
L’Encelade ECL1404
Schenck, Telemann and J. S. Bach
[dropcap]M[/dropcap]usic for unaccompanied bass viol by Schenck, Telemann, and J. S. Bach is played on a 6-string bass viol, dating from the end of the 17th century, attributed to Edward Lewis, of London. It apparently travelled to America early in its life, and was recently restored in New York by William Monical. It’s worth mentioning all this because the instrument itself has a gorgeous sound, very mellow, and even across its registers. It is played at a= 405, and recorded in an ancient church in the Dordogne. The recording sounds close-miked, albeit in a generous acoustic, but her technique is so clean and her articulation so secure that no extraneous sounds of shifting or too-fast bow-stroke is heard at all.
Further, the repertoire she chooses is particularly demanding – the unaccompanied bass viol is an unforgiving instrument in that any false stroke, any fudged fingering is immediately apparent. As for the music, that of Schenck requires a virtuoso technique, of that there is no doubt, but it needs a care-free approach as well. The two delightful sonatas for unaccompanied viol, Opus IX, L’Echo du Danube, published in his native Amsterdam around 1700, are Italianate in their construction, perhaps owing something to Corelli, but the chordal technique is very similar to that of Christopher Simpson and Marin Marais. Their melodic charm allied to the possibilities offered by the bass viol make them compelling listening, particularly when played as beautifully as she does.
Telemann’s sonata in D major (TWV40:1) is well known and widely recorded, but nowhere better than here. The sonorous acoustic is generous, but the close-miking means that her playing has to be completely clean – there is no concealment in the texture, and it is a superb performance of a very charming and ingenious work.
The Bach 5th suite, transposed to D minor, and played without its prelude, is the final work. She plays it with great insight, and although her approach is literal, she gives a particular flavour to each movement, none more so than the dreamy quality of the final gigue.
This is the third recording of hers that I have heard, and she is undoubtedly an outstanding artist, with a commanding technique, and no need to resort to gimmicky mannerism. Her own excellent notes in the booklet, somewhat awkwardly translated into English, give an enlightening historical context for this repertoire. Highly recommended.
