Categories
Recording

Haydn: Stabat Mater Hob. XXbis

Sarah Wegener, Marie Henriette Reinhold, Colin Balzer, Sebastian Noack SATB, Kammerchor Stuttgart, Hofkapelle Stuttgart, Frieder Bernius
59:58
Carus 83.281

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hat there are relatively few musical settings of the 13th-century sequence devoted to the sufferings of the Virgin at the Cross is fairly easily explained. Although famous masters of the Renaissance such as Palestrina and Lassus composed a Stabat Mater, it was not officially admitted into the Roman Catholic liturgy until 1727. But perhaps more importantly, the long text, almost wholly lacking in drama and predominately sombre and penitential, makes considerable challenges to any composer who undertakes a setting. Among those who did so in the earlier part of the 18th century were both Scarlattis and, of course, Pergolesi, whose bitter-sweet Stabat Mater would become his most famous work.

Haydn’s version for solo quartet, choir and orchestra is an early work, completed in 1767 and first given on Good Friday that year at Eisenstadt. The following year it was given in Vienna at the behest of Hasse, to whom he had tentatively sent the score, and who, Haydn recorded in a letter, ‘honoured the work by inexpressible praise’. Subsequently it would become one of the most popular of the composer’s sacred compositions, performed in churches and chapels throughout Austria, south Germany and Bohemia.

Hasse’s appreciation of Haydn’s Stabat Mater is no surprise. Like the versions by Domenico Scarlatti and Pergolesi, the major influence on the work is the Neapolitan style that had dominated sacred music in Catholic countries since the early part of the century, and indeed was the most significant influence on Hasse’s own church music. What is possibly more significant is Haydn’s use of minor keys in nearly half the 13 movements, by no means common in music of the post-Baroque period, their use giving the music a deeply poignant reflective character, enhanced in two movements (‘O quam tristis’ [no.2] and ‘Virgo virginum’ [no.10) by the replacement of oboes with the soulful tones of the cor anglais. Haydn pitches the heart of the work in the movements of supplication from nos. 8 to 10, the first a duet for soprano and tenor, ‘Sancta Mater, istud agas’ (Holy mother, do this for me), followed by a profoundly felt alto solo, ‘Fac me vere tecum flere’ (Make me truly weep for thee) and a solo quartet and chorus, ‘Virgo virginum praeclara’ (O Virgin, peerless among virgins) in which the beautiful madrigalian writing for the four solo voices juxtaposed with the chorus makes for an exceptionally gracious invocation.

The name Frieder Bernius is a virtual guarantee of sensitive, idiomatic direction and he doesn’t disappoint here. Bernius takes the long sequence of slow to moderately paced movements – we have to wait for an allegro until the bass solo no. 11 (‘Flammis orci’ [Inflamed and burning]) – in an unhurried manner that admits to no extremes in the way Trevor Pinnock took some movements very slowly in his 1989 recording (Archiv). Is there perhaps the feeling that it is all a little too much on one level? Arguably…, and certainly his exceptionally capable soloists, chorus and orchestra do little to probe more deeply. But in this music far better that than mannered affection or the temptation to introduce greater contrast simply for the sake of it. This is a thoroughly musical and respectful performance of a deeply thoughtful and poignant work. As such it offers much solace and satisfaction.

Brian Robins

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=GB&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=infocentral-21&marketplace=amazon&region=GB&placement=B0791XK5PR&asins=B0791XK5PR&linkId=844bff7386327b2bd75f0ebbfe439a58&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=DE&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-21&marketplace=amazon&region=DE&placement=B0791XK5PR&asins=B0791XK5PR&linkId=4f256c90fa8a01cccaedf1ddcb346e91&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B0791XK5PR&asins=B0791XK5PR&linkId=2e7cc7c677eb185cf833f9b02746b370&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

Banner, 234x60, ohne Claim, bestellen

Categories
Recording

Stolen Roses

Xavier Díaz-Latorre lute
63:41
passacaille 1030
Music by Bach, Biber, Telemann, Weiss & Westhoff

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his excellent CD of baroque music, most of it “stolen” from violinists, begins with a most extraordinary piece to be played on the lute: The Guardian Angel Passagalia, which completes Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber’s Mystery Sonatas. It was composed for solo violin, and it is interesting to see how Díaz-Latorre uses the lute to enhance Biber’s original work. The descending bass line – G, F, E flat, D – is heard alone at the beginning, with gravitas, two octaves below the pitch of the violin. Then a slowish melody is heard above for two statements of the ground, while the harmony of Biber’s thin two-part texture is enriched by a fuller texture on the lute. Thereafter though, apart from adding numerous ornaments and a run-up to a tasteful cadenza of his own before the notes of the ground return from the top of the texture to the bottom, Díaz-Latorre reproduces Biber’s notes for the most part just as they were. It is a fine performance, with impressive technical skill and clarity of tone, from slow, dignified, chordal passages to exciting sequences of sparkling hemidemisemiquavers racing up to the higher reaches of the lute.

There follows J. S. Bach’s well-known Suite for the Lute in G minor (BWV 995) – “Pièces pour la Luth à Monsieur Schouster” – composed originally for the cello, but re-arranged by Bach. Díaz-Latorre plays a 13-course lute by Grant Tomlinson, and the low A of the 13th course is effective in the opening Präludium. The long Presto proceeds apace, but with nicely shaped phrases, unhurried until the last group of descending semiquavers accelerates to the final cadence. After a highly ornamented Allemande, comes a Courante, which doesn’t quite flow as it could, because Díaz-Latorre keeps switching between égales and inégales quavers. The Suite ends with a fine Gigue, which hops and skips along energetically with nice interplay between treble and bass.

In contrasting style – with less dissonance and fewer diminished sevenths – is Georg Philipp Telemann’s Fantasia 1 in B flat, one of twelve composed for solo violin, and published in Hamburg in 1735. A nicely poised Largo, a super-slick Allegro, a well-sustained Grave, and an exciting Allegro, are most effective in Díaz-Latorre’s arrangement for baroque lute.

Johann Paul von Westhoff (1656-1705) was a violinist at the Hofkapelle in Dresden. His Suite in A minor is one of six for unaccompanied violin, and like the other “stolen roses”, sounds very well on the lute. (A facsimile of the original may be seen on IMSLP, with its curious stave lines split into groups of 3+2+3, white quavers for the Courante, and a Sarabande with three semibreves per bar.) Westhoff’s music has a surprisingly rich texture for an instrument with only four strings – many 3- and 4-note chords and parallel thirds – and Díaz-Latorre tastefully adds extra bass notes and ornaments. The Gigue has a lighter texture, with a chromatic descending opening motif imitated in the bass.

Most impressive is Díaz-Latorre’s performance of Bach’s Ciaccona from the second Partita for solo violin (BWV 1004). The piece consists of many contrasting sections, which Díaz-Latorre transfers well to the lute. He adds ornaments here and there, and where the violin texture is thin, he adds suitable bass notes discreetly and effectively to underpin the harmony. The speed and clarity of his demisemiquavers is breathtaking, and the first arpeggio passage has all the excitement of a flamenco guitar.

The CD ends with a bonus track: Fantasia in C minor by Sylvius Leopold Weiss, the only piece not stolen from other instruments. With this enthralling collection of “stolen roses” Xaxier is in danger of giving theft a good name.

Stewart McCoy

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=GB&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=infocentral-21&marketplace=amazon&region=GB&placement=B072K3QH4H&asins=B072K3QH4H&linkId=59f31b7ca392051c12c555f25104235f&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=DE&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-21&marketplace=amazon&region=DE&placement=B072K3QH4H&asins=B072K3QH4H&linkId=23e633fc0708dca661b22f81b462d78c&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B072K3QH4H&asins=B072K3QH4H&linkId=a92d37463743578c2d9bfeacaed704c9&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

Banner, 234x60, ohne Claim, bestellen

Categories
Recording

Delight in Musicke

English songs and instrumental music of the 16th and 17th century
Klaartje van Veldhoven soprano, Seldome Sene recorder quintet
53:29
Brilliant Classics 95654
Music by Baldwine, Bennet, Byrd, Dowland, Gibbons, att. Nicholson, Purcell, Tye, Weelkes & anon

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t’s a Beautiful Day … Soft Machine … Ten Years After … Spinal Tap. The 1960s pioneered the creative name among rock groups, and fifty years later Seldom Sene are mining the same vein as an ensemble performing Tudor and Stuart music. So, like their predecessors, do they … rock?

As on the previous recording that I reviewed recently in EMR (William Byrd: Consort Music and Songs  performed by B-Five – another edgy name – and Sunhae Im) a soprano is pitted against an accompaniment of recorders on several of the tracks. Of the 21 tracks here, slightly under half are songs. So how, in this instance, does the timbre of the singer fare in consort with the recorders, given the usual expectation that the accompaniment would be for viols? Perhaps a fraction better than Sunhae Im who, for all her impressive vocal accomplishment, cannot subdue vestiges of a vibrato deriving from her specialism in Baroque opera. Klaartje van Veldhoven’s timbre has less, indeed scarcely any, obtrusive vibrato and she blends more smoothly with her accompaniment. This is best illustrated in a performance of Purcell’s In nomine  of 6 parts in which she sings the plainsong (to the Latin text) with the quintet. The blend is ideal, while the effect is ethereal, almost (and perhaps actually) revelatory. Throughout the disc, the playing of the quintet is clear and precise while committed, with none of the pyrotechnics of B-Five. Indeed, Seldom Sene provide fresh approaches to pieces such as Byrd’s Browning and In nomine of 5 parts no. 5  and Tye’s title track (performed twice, at contrasting pitches) plus Purcell’s In nomine  and his Fantasia 5 parts upon one note  which are well known within their own genre. This provoked me to consider the disc’s unique selling point, or USP. Many in the same market are competing with fine music well performed. Why, apart from their luminous performances of the pieces I have just mentioned, should people purchase this disc? Part of the answer lies in the album’s margins. Alongside the two instrumental pieces, main man Byrd is represented by two songs. The sublime Ah silly soul  follows Dowland’s I shame at mine unworthiness which is impressive enough with its angst and dissonances, yet Byrd’s song seems to plumb even greater emotional depths with much less effort. The other song by Byrd is If women could be fair  which, like Susanna fair  on B-Five’s album, has clanging contemporary resonances to which the female writer of the sleevenotes alludes wryly. But there is a musical issue as well. All the songs in Byrd’s Psalmes, sonets and songs  of 1588 are printed as partsongs. Most have one part labelled as “the first singing part” from their origins as consort songs. This is one of a small number which have no such indication. Nevertheless it is one among three of these unlabelled songs that Joseph Kerman, in his book The Elizabethan madrigal  suggests, on the basis of its musical structure, was originally a consort song. The putative “first singing part” is obvious and, unlike The Consort of Musicke in the only previous recording, Seldom Sene and Klaartje van Veldhoven take Kerman at his word, and it comes off splendidly. The entire ensemble also perform two fine songs by the able but neglected Nathaniel Patrick (both already recorded on Elizabethan Songs and Consort Songs, Naxos 8554284, by Catherine King with the Rose Consort), the relatively popular Venus’ birds  by John Bennet (not anonymous, pace the sleevenotes) and Weelkes’ less recorded The nightingale. And if there is a feeling of familiarity in encountering the two anonymous warhorses Sweet was the song the Virgin sang  and Farewell the bliss  besides three items from Dowland’s Lachrymae  (all understandable inclusions, after all this is a commercial recording) it is good to welcome two quirky instrumentals in What strikes the clocke, complete with concluding chime, by big brother Edward Gibbons, and Cuckoow as I me walked  by Byrd’s scribe and cheerleader John Baldwin.

Before winding up, what would be the name equivalent to rock’s satirical Spinal Tap for an early music consort? Spinal Chord?

It remains to say that Seldom Sene perform on the full gamut of recorders, from sopranino to sub-contrabass, with judicious scorings in both the consort music and the songs; and that Klaartje van Veldhoven possesses an ideal voice for this repertory. It would be good to hear her on a disc devoted to Byrd, singing a combination of classics and premieres.

Richard Turbet

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=GB&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=infocentral-21&marketplace=amazon&region=GB&placement=B078Y352G1&asins=B078Y352G1&linkId=fddedfc4e210038af8fdb3ac4e202252&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=DE&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-21&marketplace=amazon&region=DE&placement=B078Y352G1&asins=B078Y352G1&linkId=b39e223afd6bcdad94c3d1ad27d8f2b6&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B078Y352G1&asins=B078Y352G1&linkId=ca1e303337155a4e4b50574d1f3eaaab&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

Banner, 234x60, ohne Claim, bestellen

Categories
Recording

Monteverdi: La dolce vita

Dorothee Mields, Lautten Compagney, Wolfgang Katschner
78:40
deutsche harmonia mundi 88985491572

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]t is difficult to know quite who this weird and not-at-all-wonderful CD is aimed at. Almost certainly not the kind of listener who takes the trouble to visit EMR’s site. Admirers of the singer, maybe? Well, certainly Dorothee Mields is a justly admired soprano with a voice of pure, yet rounded quality and a fine technique that allows her to sing long legato lines with reassuringly secure pitch. Here there are odd moments, particularly in the Lamento d’Arianna, where her singing can be admired without too much reservation. But in general, given that she shows only moderate understanding of the stylistic requirements of the music and her Italian diction is poor, she can be heard to much better effect elsewhere.

The programme itself is an extraordinary mishmash, romping across music culled from the madrigal books, the 1610 Vespers and other sacred collections and not excluding a nod in the direction of opera with part of the duet ‘Sento un certo non so che’ from L’Incoronazione di Poppea. A part of? Oh, yes indeed. And the fact that it is a duet and there is only one singer? No problem. Just run Valetto’s opening stanza without a break into the response of Damigella (not that you’ll know until you read the booklet notes). Then stop. This cavalier approach to the music is the major hallmark of the entire CD. A capella madrigals for five voices? Once again, no problem. Just fill in the missing vocal lines with instruments, changing the orchestration every few bars to make sure listeners don’t get bored. A ground bass, as in Lamento della Ninfa? Ah, that’ll sound better with a nice bit of clickitty-clacketty percussion added. As for those boring men who commiserate with the Nymph? Oh, let’s just forget them; no one will notice. And so on.

The most curious thing about the project is the desperately old-fashioned feel it has. It smacks of the kind of thing people used to do to unknown Baroque composers in the early years of the 20th century. Well, we’ve moved on a hundred years. Monteverdi’s music now lies at the heart of standard early music repertoire, leaving this horribly misbegotten and musically sterile conception no place for anyone but the most undemanding of the singer’s admirers.

Brian Robins

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=GB&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=infocentral-21&marketplace=amazon&region=GB&placement=B075VKHFF8&asins=B075VKHFF8&linkId=bdb68af984c767a2268c7ca0a21aebd5&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B075VKHFF8&asins=B075VKHFF8&linkId=420d455a8e302d4ddc6f84a5eac17b30&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

Banner, 234x60, ohne Claim, bestellen

Categories
Recording

Porpora: L’amato nome

Cantatas Opus 1
Stile Galante, Stefano Aresi
148:48 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Glossa GCD 923513

[dropcap]A[/dropcap]t the end of a note on performance practice, Stefano Aresi warns that we should not attempt to listen to all twelve of the chamber cantatas that comprise Nicola Porpora’s op. 1 in one go. ‘Rather’, he winningly continues, ‘to enjoy the precious colours and flavours of this music, a slow approach, as to the appreciation of twelve glasses of different fine wines, is recommended. These works give of their best taken one by one, with plenty of time between for discussion, reading, and appreciating the joys of life’. And he is of course quite right, though sadly I doubt many people listen to their CDs in that way. One might also add that such is the diversity of form and style, and, on this recording the use of four different singers, that it is perfectly possible to listen without musical inebriation to all the cantatas in succession, as I did on one of the occasions I listened to them.

The cantatas were published in 1735, a period when Porpora was working in London at the invitation of Handel’s rivals, the Opera of the Nobility. They bear a dedication to Frederick Louis, Prince of Wales and the leading supporter of the Nobility. Work on them possibly started before Porpora arrived in England, but the set was almost certainly largely composed in London, several cello obbligato cello parts suggesting due attention to Prince Frederick’s interest in that instrument. Six of the cantatas are for soprano, six for alto, which originally almost certainly meant male castrati, and all have texts on Arcadian topics by Metastasio. Following publication they became immensely popular, achieving a fame that highly unusually endured well into the following century, as is testified by a pupil of Porpora’s, who wrote of them that, ‘even nowadays, after 70 or more years […] they are still sung and admired, and learned masters give them to their pupils to study’. A new edition was published in Paris as late as 1820.

Such rare success is not hard to understand. The settings are notable for the gracious melodic fluency that has become increasingly familiar the more we come to know the composer’s operas. There is no formulaic approach, each text bearing evidence of having been carefully considered in the light of its particular poetic qualities. Recitatives, sometimes, as in the highly expressive narrative that lies at the heart of Cantata VII, are not infrequently lengthy. While adhering to the standard alternation of aria and recitative, the changes are constantly rung, opening now with an aria, now with recitative, while cantata VIII starts by reverting to earlier practice by enclosing recitative between a seamless opening and closing arioso. Cantata XII, the most seriously dramatic of the set, includes a striking passage in the style of accompanied recitative. Porpora even varies the style of accompaniment, the marvellous Cantata IX having an obbligato keyboard part rather than continuo.

Although superficially the texts speak of an idealised Arcadian world of nymphs and shepherds, we smile indulgently on them at the risk of self-mockery. A more thoughtful reading reveals that Metastasio is putting into words emotions that speak of a timeless truth: the suspicion of infidelity incorporated in the overwhelming longing for the absent loved one (Cantata III), a light-hearted but nonetheless sincere apology for being unable to return love (Cantata X), and so forth. It is a measure of the success of the performances that we are constantly drawn into the beauty of the texts as well as that of the music, an achievement almost certainly made possible not only by the use of Italian singers, Francesca Cassinari and Emanuela Galli (sopranos), and Giuseppina Bridelli and Marina De Liso (altos), but the involvement of two(!) language coaches. The technique of all four singers is excellent, displaying a firm command of the demands made by the sometimes florid writing and attempting trills with varying degrees of success (Cassinari is particularly good). But above all it is the intelligent musical approach to these splendid cantatas as refined and sophisticated chamber works rather than some kind of mini-opera that makes these performances such unalloyed pleasure throughout. The singers are given excellent support by cellist Agnieszka Oszańka and Andrea Friggi (harpsichord), and I was grateful to note that Aresi’s notes dismiss any other possibility (such as the inclusion of theorbo) as alien to the aesthetic of the music. My only slight criticism of this near-unfailingly rewarding set is the sense that one or two of the slower arias might have been given more forward momentum.

Brian Robins

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=GB&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=infocentral-21&marketplace=amazon&region=GB&placement=B07894WLVY&asins=B07894WLVY&linkId=8db5339fa9b8fcb0e8fe5096e4d6870b&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe src=”http://www.jpc-partner.de/link.php?partner=ngr&artnum=8097299&bg=ffffff&tc=000000&lc=e5671d&s=120&t=1&i=1&b=1″ width=”120″ height=”214″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B07894WLVY&asins=B07894WLVY&linkId=4ee337e4ef0f8893ac7ec91fdc8ad4a5&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

Categories
Recording

Gypsy Baroque

Il suonar parlante orchestra, Vittorio Ghielmi
58:58
Alpha Classics Alpha 392

[dropcap]B[/dropcap]ehind the almost film poster of a booklet cover with galloping horse feet across the dusty plains, we encounter an assortment of works, some extracted from their familiar Baroque settings, and re-cast in an arranged gypsy mode, some pieces as arrangements of more traditional themes. It is rather like taking a whistle-stop tour through Transylvania and beyond whilst looking through a shifting musical kaleidoscope at this earthy, spirited, often rustic, stomping music. There are moments of captivating beauty too; the two guest musicians provide extra colour Dorothee Oberlinger’s sopranino recorder in one piece, and Shalev Ad El in the F. Benda work dazzle with their dextrous ease. The great gusto  and joie de vivre  of many of the other works shine through with the various soloists and a leader on great form. We pass through the foothills, the taverns, and country dances with the odd traditional song along the way. The front cover might have led to Telemann’s “Les courreurs” (TWV55:Es1 or TWV55:B5) or even “Les Scaramouches” (third movement of “La Changeante” TWV55:g2). The second Telemann extraction and arrangement, Track 7 on this CD, has gone for a bagpipe effect on the gamba, when the French clearly implies “Vielle” i.e. “hurdy-gurdy” or Lyra mendicorm, which in the original suite is couched between Menuets I/II and a Sicilienne avec Cadenze, and has real rustic impact! Here the drone dominates, and the snappier rustic tempo wanes. This recording offers more of the trend towards “Gypsyfication”, taking us from the polite salons of formal Baroque concerts into the middle and Eastern European fields, crossing almost into Istambul. Some of the violin playing reminded me of the great Stéphane Grappelli with lashings of improvisatory zeal. I wasn’t entirely won over by the Vivaldi, a tad more with the Mozart; the Benda was superb! Not to everyone’s taste, but a colourful tour nonetheless.

David Bellinger

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-eu.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=GB&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=infocentral-21&marketplace=amazon&region=GB&placement=B07894H9X5&asins=B07894H9X5&linkId=9a263c9e76e73654fd35981fc7f04fe7&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

[iframe src=”http://www.jpc-partner.de/link.php?partner=ngr&artnum=8107079&bg=ffffff&tc=000000&lc=e5671d&s=120&t=1&i=1&b=1″ width=”120″ height=”214″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″]

[iframe style=”width:120px;height:240px;” marginwidth=”0″ marginheight=”0″ scrolling=”no” frameborder=”0″ src=”//ws-na.amazon-adsystem.com/widgets/q?ServiceVersion=20070822&OneJS=1&Operation=GetAdHtml&MarketPlace=US&source=ss&ref=as_ss_li_til&ad_type=product_link&tracking_id=earlymusicrev-20&marketplace=amazon&region=US&placement=B07894H9X5&asins=B07894H9X5&linkId=7ef3fdbb08b5d96ef4fa3e8f738c4c30&show_border=true&link_opens_in_new_window=true”]

Categories
Sheet music

Anthology of Spanish Renaissance Music for Guitar

Works by Milán, Narváez, Mudarra, Valderrábano, Pisador, Fuenllana, Daça, Ortiz
Transcribed by Paolo Cherici
Bologna: Ut Orpheus, 2017 CH273

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his well-chosen anthology comprises solo music for the vihuela transcribed into staff notation for the modern guitar, and music for the viola da gamba with SATB grounds arranged for two guitars. For the vihuela pieces the guitar must have the third string tuned a semitone lower to bring it into line with vihuela tuning. Paolo Cherici selects a wide variety of pieces from all seven printed sources of vihuela music, including well-known favourites and pieces which are not too difficult. From Luis Milán’s El Maestro  (1536), there are ten Fantasias (nos 1-5, 8, 10, 11, 12 and 14), all six of the popular Pavanas, and a long prelude-like Tentos (the only piece in the anthology which has a page-turn). Milán’s information preceding each piece has been included in Spanish with the music, and a translation into Italian and English is helpfully provided in Cherici’s Preface. Editorial changes are given as footnotes, and missing notes are supplied in brackets. In Fantasia 2 I would have let Milán’s accidentals stand in bars 30 and 31, but I like the inclusion of a’ in bar 57, which maintains imitation amongst the voices. A footnote for Fantasia 4 offers an alternative transcription of six bars, which is no different from the main text. I guess the editor meant one version to have a strict three-voice texture and the other not, but somehow the two versions have accidentally ended up the same. From Luys de Narváez’s Los seys libros del Delphin  (1538) come four Fantasias (including the delightful Fantasia 2, which found its way into the Willoughby lute book in Nottingham), variations on Conde Claros, his evergreen variations on Guardame las vacas, and La Cancion del Emperador (which is an intabulation of Josquin’s Mille regretz). There are 13 pieces from Alonso Mudarra’s Tres Libros de Musica en Cifras para Vihuela  (1546). I suppose it is inevitable that Cherici should choose the old war-horse, Fantasia che contrahaze la harpa en la manera de Ludovico. Where else does a renaissance composer advise the player that the “wrong” notes towards the end of the piece are deliberate, and won’t seem so bad if you play them well? In bars 115 and 117 Cherici reproduces the notes as Mudarra had them, but I wonder if there is a case for changing them to match the rest of the sequence from bars 111 to 122, if only in a footnote. In three of the Fantasias by Mudarra the player is required to use the “dedillo” technique – using the index finger to play up and down like a plectrum. Of the nine pieces from Enriquez Valderrábano’s Silva de Sirenas (1547), three are marked “Primero grado”, i.e. easiest to play. Diego Pisador is less well known than the other vihuelists, perhaps because his Libro de musica de vihuela  (1552) contains pages and pages of intabulations of sacred music by Josquin and others. However, there are some small-scale attractive pieces of which Cherici picks five including a simple setting of La Gamba called Pavana muy llana para tañer. The eight pieces from Miguel de Fuenllana’s Orphenica Lyra  (1554) include Juan Vasquez’s well-known De los alamos. Estaban Daça is represented by two Fantasias from his El Parnasso  (1576), the second designed to “desemvolver las manos”. Cherici completes his anthology with eight Recercadas and Quinta pars from Diego Ortiz’s Tratado de glosas  (1553), which he has arranged for two guitars. Guitar 2 plays a simple ground – Passamezzo Antico, La Gamba, etc. – arranged for four voices, while Guitar 1 plays Ortiz’s entertaining divisions, noodling around the other voices up and down the fingerboard. To maintain a range similar to the bass viol (with a top string tuned to d’) for a guitar (with a top string e’) Cherici raises the pitch by a tone for Recercadas 4, 6, 7 and 8, but for the other pieces the music is transposed down a third for Guitar 2, and up a sixth for Guitar 1. This is sensible, since the original keys of G minor and F major, which are somewhat awkward to play on the guitar, are now transposed to a more comfortable E minor and A major. Lowering the third string of the guitars by a semitone to match the tuning of the vihuelas is not essential for the Ortiz pieces, but it would make life easier for Guitar 2, particularly for chords of B major and some chords of D major.

All in all this is an excellent anthology, with lots of useful information in the Preface, and I wish I had a copy when I used to play Spanish renaissance music on my classical guitar years ago.

Stewart McCoy