Categories
Recording

Haydn: ‘Sun’ Quartets op. 20 nos. 4-6

Chiaroscuro Quartet
75:08
BIS-2168 SACD

[dropcap]I[/dropcap] reviewed this outstanding young quartet’s CD of the first three of Haydn’s innovative op 20 String Quartets some 14 months ago (https://earlymusicreview.com/haydn-sun-quartet-op-20-nos-1-3/), at the time expressing the hope that the set would be completed in the not too distant future. Well, here is the completion and unsurprisingly it maintains the high level of performance I noted with the earlier CD.

Reviewing the earlier disc, I drew attention to the sense one gets in the op 20 quartets of Haydn’s ever growing confidence in his handling of the medium he did so much to create; it is the string quartet that Haydn is the true father of, not the symphony. Yes, there are things here that would develop further, the most obvious being greater democracy between the four instruments. Here the first violin still has the lion’s share of the goodies that Haydn hands out, and one of the joys of the Chiaroscuro’s performances is the exquisite finesse of Alina Ibragimova’s playing, which throughout is not only technically outstanding in meeting the athletic demands of Haydn’s at times virtuoso writing, but in more lyrical writing displays a purity of line and tonal sensuality that takes on an almost feline allure. Take for example the Adagio of the A-major Quartet (No.6), this is one of those movements where Haydn takes us into the opera house, the first violin singing a nocturnal aria of love, complete with added ornamental passages and cadential fermatas, and here transformed by Ibragimova into moments of rare, unforgettable pleasure.

It would, however, be wrong and unfair to her excellent colleagues to place too great a stress on Ibragimova’s playing. The balance achieved by the quartet is excellent and nowhere more so than in the two fugal finales, those of No.5 in F minor and the A-major Quartet. Here the counterpoint is laid out with luminescent clarity, each part essayed to telling effect. And again these fugal movements demonstrate the wonderful fertility of the young Haydn’s mind, since they are tellingly contrasted. That of No. 5 is an old-fashioned, austere fugue thoroughly demonstrating how well Haydn had assimilated his lessons in counterpoint, while No. 6’s is a three-part fugue with a much more modern feel, the light textures and fleet progress reminding us that the Classical era would find new purpose to such displays of contrapuntal wizardry. Elsewhere one notes Haydn trying out new ideas as to texture, as for example the Minuetto of No. 4, an extraordinary ‘alla zingarese’ in which the earthy gypsy writing takes on almost orchestral textures. In the slow movement of the same quartet the sad little theme is treated in the first of a set of variations to disconcerting fragmentation and sparseness.

There are many other joys to experience (or discover) in this truly inventive set of quartets, just as there are in the near-flawless performances of the Chiaroscuro Quartet. Some may find the dynamic contrasts or freedom taken with such effects as rubato worrying, but, as noted with the first disc, I feel invariably that these stem from the players’ engagement with the music, not affectation. Taken together as a traversal of op. 20, this is as revelatory a pair of Haydn string quartet CDs as I know of.

Brian Robins

[ED: The video is about the first of the pair of recordings, but insightful nonetheless…]

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Categories
Recording

Re-releases from harmonia mundi

[dropcap]W[/dropcap]ith all the fabulous recordings in the harmonia mundi archives, it is hardly surprising that – while continuing to release even more delights – they fairly regularly re-visit some gems from the past. The last round of re-releases belong to two series: there are four HIP issues branded as Musique d’abord (with the CDs taking on the appearance of mini LPs) and six from the hmGold set (which come in sturdy cardboard cases).

The earliest of the first batch is Alfred Deller: “O Ravishing Delight” (HMA 190216, 66:10), featuring airs by Dowland to Blow, Croft and Humfrey, but not Henry Purcell. As well as lute and harpsichord, some tracks feature recorders (one played by David Munrow). Dating from 1969, this is an important historical recording. René Jacobs directed the RIAS Kammerchor in Bach’s motets (HMA 1901589, 72:35) in 1997. Since then, performance practice may have shifted in favour of smaller groups (even one-to-a-part), but these are excellent chamber choir performances with a distinguished line-up of soloists, strings and winds. Handel: Ombra cara (HMA1902077, 71:46) is the youngest of the batch. Countertenor Bejun Mehta sings arias from Agrippina, Amadigi, Orlando, Radamiso, Riccardo primo, Rodrigo, Sosarme  and Tolomeo, accompanied by the Freiburger Barockorchester, directed by René Jacobs. He is joined on three tracks by Rosemary Joshua. The last of the quartet features Georg Kallweit and Midori Seiler in a programme of concertos by Vivaldi (HMA 1901975, 56:23). Recorded in 2006, there are three double concertos (RV522, 531 & 535), as well as two concerti grossi (RV156 and 574) plus the E major concerto, op. 3 no. 12.

The earliest of the hmGold releases is a broad survey of Sweelinck’s choral output (Psaumes français & Canciones Sacrae, HMG 502033, 61:39) by Capella Amsterdam under Daniel Reuss. It ends with a monumental setting (over 15 minutes!) of the Te Deum. A 2-CD set of selections from two volumes of Jacob Van Eyck’s Der Fluyten Lust-Hof  by Marion Verbruggen (HMG 507350.351, 138:19) shows a different side to this repertoire that I saw at last year’s festival in Utrecht – how things have changed since these recordings were made in 1993 & 1996. Philippe Herreweghe directs Collegium Vocale Gent and Concerto Palatino in Schütz’s Opus ultimum  (HMG 501895.896, 88:49); the nine chunks of Psalm 119 in this 2007 recording are followed by Psalm 100 and Schütz’s German Magnificat. Davitt Moroney’s 1985 recording of Bach’s Die Kunst der Fuge  (HMG501169.70, 98:41) divides this amazing work before the mirror fugues and includes with Moroney’s own completion of the last piece in the collection. Handel’s Concerti Grossi  op. 6 are considered by most experts to be his outstanding instrumental music and here the twelve concertos for strings are given electrifying performances under the leadership of Andrew Manze (HMG 507228.229, 156:27). They are re-ordered for the recording, but no. 12 in B minor still concludes the set. The final recital sees Andreas Staier and Christine Schornsheim playing music by Mozart on the vis-à-vis, an instrument combining harpsichord at one end and fortepiano at the other (HMG 501941, 63:20); if the sounds of the instrument are themselves worth the cost of the disk, the performances are outstanding!

Brian Clark

Categories
Recording

Lonati: Sonate da camera (1701)

Gunar Letzbor, Ars Antiqua Austria
61:42
Pan Classics PC 10363

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his recording features four (of six) sonate da camera  from Lonati’s XII Sonate a violino solo e basso, printed in Salzburg in 1701. As the booklet notes suggest, they were probably written earlier in the virtuoso violinist’s career, and at least some of them look north of the Alps for their inspiration. The first three (nos. 1-3 of the second part of the publication) use a variety of scordatura (a retuning of the strings of the violin to give a different timbre to the sound and allow a different range of chordal possibilities). The final work from the set is simply labelled “Ciaccone” and goodness, what a beast of a movement it is! Variation after variation before the style switches completely for a couple of short movements then off the chaconne goes again, ever more intricate, ever more demanding ‒ either the violinist had a page-turning assistant or his part must have been written out on enormous paper. Letzbor’s lightness of touch and deft bow work bring out all the subtleties in the music, far and away the very best playing I have ever heard from him. The continuo line-up of keyboard, lute and 8’ violone provide an unfussy aural backdrop that throws the always interesting solo line into relief. The scores are readily available online – following them merely underlines Letzbor’s equalling Lonati’s wizardry.

Brian Clark

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Categories
Concert-Live performance

Salieri – The School of Jealousy (La scuola de’ gelosi)

Bampton Classical Opera Salieri The School of Jealousy Act 2 Quintet, l to r Rhiannon Llewellyn (Countess), Alessandro Fisher (Count), Thomas Herford (Lieutenant), Nathalie Chalkley (Ernestina), Matthew Sprange (Blasio)
Bampton Classical Opera Salieri The School of Jealousy Act 2 Quintet, l to r Rhiannon Llewellyn (Countess), Alessandro Fisher (Count), Thomas Herford (Lieutenant), Nathalie Chalkley (Ernestina), Matthew Sprange (Blasio)

Bampton Classical Opera, Westonbirt School (Gloucs), 28 August

[dropcap]O[/dropcap]ver the past quarter of a century Bampton Classical Opera (BCO) has established an unrivalled record for the revival of later 18th century operas, including a number of UK first performances. Among these is Salieri’s Falstaff, today recognised as one the composer’s finest operas. For its 2017 production, given at Bampton, Westonbirt School and St John’s Smith Square, BCO turned to an earlier Salieri opera, La scuola de’ gelosi, first performed at the Teatro San Moise in Venice in 1778 and revived with some new music five years later at the Burgtheater in Vienna to inaugurate the new Italian opera company. Thereafter it became one of Salieri’s most popular operas, with performances not only throughout Italy, but also in Germany, London and St Petersburg.

A dramma giocoso  in two acts, La scuola  has a libretto by Caterino Mazzolà (later to achieve lasting fame as the adaptor of Metastasio’s La clemenza di Tito  for Mozart’s final opera) owing much to the comedies of Goldoni. Like many of them, it introduces three distinct social classes: a Count and Countess – the latter a mezzo carattere  role that includes a superb seria accompaganato  and aria ‘Or ei con Ernestina’ … ‘Ah sia già de miei sospiri’ – a merchant and his wife, and a male and female servant. The cast is completed by the Lieutenant, the Don Alfonso-like manipulator of the goings-on that form a storyline revolving around the efforts of the Count, a small-time predator like Figaro’s Almaviva rather than a Don Giovanni, to seduce the merchant Blasio’s wife, Ernestina, thus invoking the jealousy of the Countess and Blasio. The Lieutenant advises them to turn the tables and make their spouses jealous. After a series of farcical events the ploy works, the lessons learned in the ‘school of jealousy’ bring reunion and happiness to all. The richly varied score is remarkable perhaps above all for its ensembles, in particular the act 1 trio for the Countess, Count and Lieutenant, and the act 2 quintet that broke new ground in 1778 by being the largest ensemble piece to be introduced into the middle of an act.

As is customary with BCO, the opera was given in an English translation that amused the Westonbirt audience with its introduction of such topical terms as ‘fake news’. The set design, costumes and production (by Jeremy Gray) itself were unexceptionably traditional, with folding panels that could with ease change the rooms from the rich blue of the Count’s salon to the more bourgeois surroundings of Blasio’s house. The costumes were slightly post-dated to Biedermeier (Blasio resembled an older Schubert).

The performance in the Orangery Terrace at Westonbirt School on 28 August was my first experience of BCO. For a company that specialises in later 18th opera there were several surprising elements. The first was the use of modern instruments rather than period instruments, which I understand are used because BCO’s main performances at their home in Bampton are open air, always a problem for period strings. It did not work at Westonbirt, being not only too loud for the space but played with a lack of finesse only enhanced by the rigid four-square rhythms of Anthony Kraus’ direction. Matthew Sprange’s Blasio dominated the cast, his richly rounded and well-focussed baritone a source of pleasure throughout the evening. None of the rest of the cast came up to this level, although Nathalie Chalkley brought a lively personality if at times shrill voice to the role of Ernestina. I derived little pleasure from Rhiannon Llewellyn’s singing of the Countess, finding her tone too insecure in the upper range, though I suspect the acoustic was not very kind to her voice. The tenor parts of the Count (Alessandro Fisher) and Lieutenant (Thomas Herford) were decently sung, though the weak lower range of the latter resulted in him being frequently overpowered by the orchestra. The other major surprise, again bearing in mind this is a company specialising in this repertoire, was the lack of appoggiaturas and absence of cadential flourishes and ornamentation. It all served to give the performance a curiously old-fashioned feel. But I don’t want to end on a negative note. Although greater attention to style would make its achievements even more significant, Bampton Classical Opera is doing a sterling job in a still undervalued repertoire

Brian Robins

Categories
Festival-conference

D James Ross at the Edinburgh International Festival 2017

The Full Monteverdi and More

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he 450th anniversary of Claudio Monteverdi’s birth has seen a blossoming in performances of his music, and the Edinburgh International Festival played its part by hosting a number of Monteverdi 450 events, clustered round a major presentation of his three surviving operas directed by Sir John Eliot Gardiner. The cycle, semi-staged in Edinburgh’s magnificent Usher Hall, opened with Orfeo, Monteverdi’s earliest surviving foray into the genre and one of the earliest of all full operas.

One of the chief advantages of this mode of presentation is that the full orchestra is onstage with the singers, allowing the subtleties and full-colour range of the various period instruments to permeate the texture. In the case of Orfeo, these include a full string section, a generous complement of cornetti and sackbuts, recorders, dulcian and a plethora of continuo instruments including Baroque guitars, chitarroni, harpsichords, organs, harp and viol. The full richness of Monteverdi’s carefully nuanced sound-world was allowed to develop before our eyes as well as our ears, while the instrumentalists were also able fully to interact with the singers.

The various soloists and chorus singers used the whole stage area including the organ loft at the back to dramatise the powerful story of the demi-god musician Orpheus and his doomed quest to retrieve his wife Euridice from Hades. The demanding part of Orfeo was taken by a silky-voiced Krystian Adam, whose beautifully expressive tenor voice, deft vocal ornamentation and convincing dramatic presence made him the perfect protagonist. His account of the famous show aria “Possente spirto”, a vehicle for the vocal virtuosity of the creator of the role, Francesco Rasi, was mesmerising. Also both vocally and dramatically impressive was Gianluca Buratto, whose characterisation of Caronte the boatman of the underworld was utterly convincing. The proceedings had opened with the fresh voice of Hana Blažiková in the role of Musica, who in addition to engaging the audience in the story accompanied herself at one point on the harp, an instrument which Orfeo surprisingly made no recourse to in spite of the references to a lyre in his recitatives. Ms Blažiková also proved a haunting Euridice, while the brief role of the Messaggera who imparts the tragic news of Euridice’s demise, was lent wonderful gravitas by the superb voice of Lucile Richardot, who would be an unforgettable Penelope the following night in Il Ritorno d’Ulisse in Patria.

Impressive as all the guest soloists were, also dovetailing perfectly with the chorus when necessary, it was the ensemble singing and solo contributions of The Monteverdi Choir, which constituted the highlight for me of this remarkable performance. They are to my mind simply one of the finest vocal ensembles in the world, and showed their astonishing versatility by morphing into a dream opera chorus with pinpoint vocal precision and their customary gleaming tone. Under the inspired direction of Eliot Gardiner, one of the leading exponents of Monteverdi’s music, this minimalist performance on which he had collaborated with Elsa Rooke, Isabella Gardiner and Rick Fisher, had an iconically definitive quality.

It is a mark of the depth of talent in his vocal and instrumental forces that a quick reshuffle of personnel allowed Sir John to stage Il Ritorno d’Ulisse in Patria  the following evening. Hana Blažiková stepped easily into the virtuoso role of Minerva, raining blizzards of vocal ornaments, while Furia Zanasi, whose moving duet with Orfeo as Apollo the previous evening had been memorable, transferred capably to the title role of Ulisse. His wife Penelope, was as I mentioned, sung by Lucile Richardot, to me the vocal discovery of the project and whose wonderfully strong lower register lent her portrayal of the beleaguered queen an overwhelming pathos. Her clamouring suitors were splendidly characterised as were the various interfering gods and goddesses, while the previous night’s Orfeo, Krystian Adam, made for a lively and convincing Telemaco. It would also be unfair not to mention the individual tour de force  by Robert Burt as the comically gormandising Iso. Again the minimalist staging proved ideal, while the idea of Penelope herself forming the shape of the bow which must be bent by the suitors and which is eventually mastered only by Ulysses, was nothing short of brilliant. Perhaps more obscure was the recorder player Rachel Becket abandoning her crotchets for crochet, spending her bars rest weaving and unweaving a woollen web, clearly an allusion to Penelope’s famous stratagem to stall the suitors. Perhaps not many audience members even noticed the recorder player’s industry, and most would have dismissed it as a rather cheeky distraction.

In our lives, only 24 hours had elapsed since Orfeo, but in Monteverdi’s life some thirty years had passed and he was now an old man. His orchestra had become much more of a conventional Baroque orchestra, and he was able to draw on a lifetime of compositional experience to animate the story of Ulysses’ return. This powerful masterpiece of his maturity includes some of his most impassioned writing, and the concluding duet between the eventually reconciled Ulysses and Penelope is both musically prescient and in this performance incomparably moving.

This veritable Monteverdi ‘Ring Cycle’ came to conclusion with the enigmatic L’Incoronazione di Poppea, an opera dating from the last year of the composer’s life. It is a work with a very modern feel to it – not one of the characters is likeable, evil triumphs over justice and ultimately we are asked to join in the celebrations for the coronation by a monstrous Roman emperor of his conniving mistress. I suspect the earliest Venetian audiences would have shared few of our qualms, and would probably easily have identified with the amoral universe presided over by a cynical pantheon of selfish and high-handed gods. In fact, this opera is thrillingly immediate in its amorality, and attention moves from the trivial complications of human relationships to the more sweeping themes of power and desire.

The only remotely sympathetic character, the philosopher Seneca, leant huge dignity and gravitas by Gianlucca Buratto (our Caronte in Orfeo) was disposed of before the mid-point of the opera, the chorus of his imploring friends providing one of the emotional high-points of the first part. The wronged Ottavia, was characterised strongly by Marianna Pizzolato, who cleverly showed the flaws as well as the virtues of Nero’s rejected first wife. Like Ottone, her one-time lover, and his new mistress Drusilla, she survives to be sent into exile. You will note that Monteverdi’s last opera prepares the way for myriad Baroque operas in which the plot complications verge on the impenetrable! As all the characters seem equally despicable, attention moves to the way they express themselves musically, and in this respect Carlo Vistoli’s Ottone, Anna Dennis’s Drusilla and Lucille Richardot’s hilarious nurse Arnalta, counterpointed by Michal Cierniawski’s cross-dressed Nutrice were all memorable.

In the two lead roles, Hana Blažiková, (previously our Musica and Euridice) was superb as the ambitious scheming Poppea, but the voice of the evening for me was the remarkable male soprano voice of Kangmin Justin Kim. Originally a castrato role, the part of Nerone is normally these days sung by a woman, but recent developments in the world of falsetto singing have brought a few male singers into the soprano tessitura. Mr Kim is one such, and the astonishing effect of his penetrating, perfectly pitched and impassioned voice, particular when duetting in the same range with Poppea and wreathed in the tones of cornetti was simply stunning. As with all of the principals, Kim threw himself into his role with enormous energy and commitment, and we were privileged to be given a genuine glimpse of the stellar popularity of the great Baroque virtuoso castrati.

L’Incoronazione  may probably be deemed the least effective of the three surviving Monteverdi operas, slow to start and prolix in plot, but in this production with this remarkable cast and instrumental forces it rose to a breath-taking climax, which proved a fittingly magnificent climax to a glorious week of Monteverdi. Opera is of course just one facet of the multi-talented Monteverdi, and as part of the Queen’s Hall concert series of the EIF Robert Hollingworth’s early music ensemble I Fagiolini joined forces with the English Cornett and Sackbut Ensemble for a performance of the master’s Vespers music. The 1610 Vespers has become something of a cult classic – ironically since many musicologists would point out that it probably ought not even to be regarded as a unified performance piece – but imaginatively Hollingworth has compiled an ‘alternative’ Vespers drawn mainly from Monteverdi’s 1641 publication Selva Morale e spirituale. In a much tauter, more modern style than the 1610 music, these psalm settings showcase the virtuosity of solo and duetting voices against a backdrop of a pair of virtuoso violins, brass ensemble and continuo. The Monteverdi pieces are interspersed with music by his contemporaries Ludovico Grossi da Viadana, Frescobaldi, Ignazio Donati, and by masters of the previous generation Palestrina and Giovanni Gabrieli.

The charming Monteverdi settings, including the lovely Beatus vir, were beautifully performed, with subtle ornaments, heightened drama and exquisite focus and intonation. Particularly ear-catching were the group’s high tenors Hugo and Benedict Hymas, whose full-voiced accounts of alto lines were stunning. Hollingworth acknowledges his debt to the pioneering work of Andrew Parrott and his Taverner Consort, and this performance was fully the equal of Parrott’s groundbreaking 1980s recording of this material, but taking account of recent musicological developments. There is always a danger when you interleave the music of your chosen composer with the work of unfamiliar masters that it might outshine it, and this was certainly a possibility in the case of Donati’s ravishing setting of Dulcis amor Jesu, while for me the magnificence of Gabrieli’s 14-part Magnificat stole the show. Less effective was the account of Palestrina’s Ave verum corpus, with the top line in a highly ornamented version by Giovanni Bovicelli. This was played on a rather wheezy mute cornetto along with male voices, but as Bovicelli was a singer and presumably wrote his passagi  as a vehicle for himself, it would have been lovely to have heard this sung. That a singer with the necessary skills was available was clearly demonstrated when tenor Matthew Long gave a barnstorming performance of Monteverdi’s Salve O Regina  – cascades of vocal ornaments recalled the operatic fireworks we had enjoyed earlier in the week – bringing this hugely impressive concert to an unforgettable conclusion.

What does a reviewer, sated with a veritable banquet of Monteverdi, seek out to cleanse his musical palate? The Chiaroscuro Quartet seemed the ideal solution, and when their Queen’s Hall recital opened with wonderfully rarified accounts of three of the Contrapuncti from Bach’s Art of Fugue my Monteverdi detox was already underway. If ever the virtues of using period instruments were in doubt, the group’s account of Haydn’s sixth opus 76 quartet provided decisive evidence. The lightness of touch stemming from the use of gut strings and period bows, meant that most of the issues, which can bog down performances of this work, simply didn’t arise. The young musicians, already eminent soloists in their own right, simply flew through the piece in a perfectly poised flurry of brilliance. Their technical assurance allowed the audience to focus on Haydn’s compositional inventiveness and wit – at several points, titters actually rippled round the hall – and their entertaining reading elicited ecstatic applause.

We came back to a different world for the second half of the concert, which featured Schubert’s disturbing Death and the Maiden  Quartet. This time the period instruments lent a raw power to Schubert’s explosive music, and – playing with an almost unbearable intensity – the four musicians brought out the full drama of this unsettling work. The brief passages in the major key seemed oddly and disturbingly shallow, while the darker episodes seemed all the darker for the shadowy ambience of the gut strings. At the end of this impressive performance, I was left considering the many ways in which period instrument and authentic vocal performances have not just consolidated the work of the 1980s and 90s but have brought the presentation of early music to new heights of excellence, and at the same time to a wider audience.