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Sheet music

François Couperin: Pièces d’Orgue

Edited by Jon Baxendale
184 pp (hardback)
Cantando Musikkforlag
ISMN: 979-0-2612-4441-1

It has always frustrated me that past generations of editors have thought it just fine to publish music in non-specialist, mass-distribution editions in a form that is not fully suitable for performance. I am thinking in particular of renaissance music that lacks any indication that a plainchant incipit or insertion is needed and liturgical organ music that gives no hint of the chant that should surround it.

Well, at long last this latter issue has been addressed, at least for Couperin, by this handsome new edition of his two organ masses which may prove to be the most enduring memorial to have been stimulated by the composer’s 350th anniversary year – it has already been used for three recordings. An editorial re-consideration of the masses was long overdue. Their sources are complicated by the fact that the music, though ‘published’ by the composer, was never actually engraved and printed: what you bought was a printed title page but a manuscript copy of the notes themselves. In a spectacular piece of diligent research Jon Baxendale has carefully explored the whole musico-social-historical-commercial context of the surviving copies and their relationship to others that must once have existed and proposed a new and convincing stemma on which to base his work.

Indeed, what this publication contains in addition to the music is at least as important as it is. The lengthy introduction explores Couperin’s early life as an organist and the sources of the music; offers advice on performance style and ornamentation; and explains that this music is in the alternatim tradition, in which organ music replaces portions of the sung liturgical texts. Not only are the necessary chants and texts to complete the mass ordinary provided but there is also a set of propers. Needless to say, all the chant is from appropriate French sources. In addition, there is an explanation of the organs on which the repertoire was originally played, discussion of exactly which stops were used for what, and comments from other contemporary organists/composers – since we have none from Couperin himself – on the general character of each movement style. All these are evaluated and explained further, where this is needed, by the editor. The volume ends with a substantial critical commentary and a valuable bibliography.

As an organist myself, I value the edition’s landscape format, the clarity of the print and its relatively spacious layout which leaves space for the insertion of fingering! I do, however, regret that the margin on the binding edge is not a little more generous in order to provide easier reading of those parts of the pages. However, above all I value Couperin’s music, of which we now have a newly-authoritative edition we can use with re-booted confidence and understanding – an edition underpinned by no little editorial knowledge, skill and sheer love.

I honestly think that this is the publication that those who play the French Baroque organ repertoire have been needing for decades.

David Hansell

I declare an interest in that I did see and comment on an early version of the edition but I did none of – and claim no credit for any of – the research and do not benefit financially from sales!

Categories
Recording

Hellendaal – Violin Sonatas

Antoinette Lohmann violin, Furor Musicus
72:11
Globe GLO 5271

The booklet (English only) offers what may well be the fullest biography of the composer (1721-99) yet published. It is very interesting, to say the least, as is the music, most of which is here recorded for the first time. The composer was born in Rotterdam; perhaps had some contact with Locatelli in Amsterdam; definitely studied with Tartini; was based in London in the 1750s; succeeded Charles Burney, no less, as organist of St Margaret’s, King’s Lynn in 1760; and finallymoved to Cambridge where he continued to be active as a concert violinist whileholding various organist posts. His music very much reflects the mid-centuryItalian style with no real sign of emerging classicism: his English audiences,still besotted with Corelli and Handel, must have loved it.

As did I, even if the final Hornpipe has a whiff of the Proms about it! There are considerable technical challenges in the violin writing, all safely surmounted, and the continuo team offers consistent and unfussy support. Recommended as something new, different and worthwhile.

The CD is a limited edition (1000 copies).

David Hansell

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Recording

Hotteterre: Complete Music for Flute and b.c.

Guillermo Penalver baroque flute, María Alejandro Saturno viola da gamba, Tony Millán harpsichord
137:46 (2 CDs in a jewel case)
Brilliant Classics 95511

Hotteterre’s 1708 publication of flute music was just the second such collection to see the light of day, preceded only by La Barre’s Op.4 and, of course, a basically fine recording is to be welcomed. I especially applaud the decision to decide on a continuo team (in this case harpsichord and gamba) and stick to it: this music is quite strong enough not to need over-dressing with fussy changes of instrumentation. Yet, ultimately I found myself unsettled, frustrated and disappointed by the listening experience because, to my ears it is not quite the right sound. The harpsichord is a Taskin copy – a generation too late for music of 1708, the pitch (415) is too high and the flute itself is a Palanca copy rather than an Hotteterre-style three-piece. But the playing is stylish and affectionate and I’m sure that many will love every note. The booklet is in English only.

David Hansell

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Recording

Purcell: Symphony while the swans come forward

Johannette Zomer soprano, La Sfera Armoniosa, Mike Fentross
78:57
Challenge Classics 72783

This live recording offers selections from Dioclesian, The Indian Queen, King Arthur and The Fairy Queen. The orchestra uses trumpets without fingerholes and bass violins with no 16’ sound. Unfortunately, they also use a lot of instruments of a percussive nature not specified by Purcell and, for me, this made for difficult listening. Other features best summed up as ‘arranging’might also raise at least the eyebrows if not actually the hackles of EMR readers. The singing also will not be to all tastes. I found the portamento, the vibrato and the over-inflection so that light syllables sometimes disappeared quite challenging at times. The booklet is in English only and does not include the sung texts.

David Hansell

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Recording

Bach: The Brandenburg Concertos

Concerto Copenhagen, Lars Ulrik Mortensen
94:26 (2 SACDs in a single jewel case)
cpo 555 158-2

The arrival of two new sets of Brandenburgs at virtually the same time is an exciting moment. Both are very good, and I find myself comparing them not only with each other but also against what is for me the benchmark recording of recent years, the set by the Dunedin Consort under John Butt recorded in 2012, and with Cecilia Bernardini playing the violin, as she does in Zephiro’s recording, directed by Alfredo Bernardini, her father.

Some basic impressions first.  Zefiro’s set, like the Dunedin’s, is at low pitch – though at 398, rather than the conventional 392, though I find the difference in pitch barely distinguishable – and their very slightly faster tempi adds a sense of cheerful rumbustiousness, which given that Bernardini is himself a wind-player you might expect. The sound is wholehearted – a useful table on p. 28 of the booklet shows exactly who plays which instrument in which movement, and the cembalo continuo a little too plonky at times, perhaps a downside of being miked very close, so that strings are nearest. The Copenhagen set is pitched conventionally at 415, and has the effortlessly elegant playing of Lars Ulrik Mortensen holding the ensemble together. He draws a sensuous web-like string sound from his players – less energy maybe than Bernardini, but more elegance and always single strings. And pretty perfect balance – no competing egos here, and a better recording technique.

Many people will go straight to Brandenburg II to see if the trumpet player is up to it. Robert Farley in the Copenhagen set certainly is: this is playing of a very skilled virtuoso: very well balanced with his violin, oboe and recorder-playing colleagues. And the rhythmical, dancing playing of the group is underlined by the use of an 8’ violone in this concerto as in Concerto VI. Perhaps one of the reasons that I warm to the harpsichord playing here is that Mortensen seems to be playing a longer-bodied, more Italian style instrument (to judge from the photographs in the booklet); yet this seems to serve admirably in the more exposed parts of Concerto V, where the balance between the flute, violin and harpsichord and the rest of the (one-to-a-part) strings seems nigh perfect.

Brandenburg II from Zefiro is more full blooded, with ripieno string parts, and the third movement taken at what seems to me to be an unmusically fast tempo.  I have a question here for both groups: given the key of F, and Haussmann’s well-known painting of Bach’s star trumpeter in Leipzig, Gottfried Reiche, holding what appears to be a tromba da caccia, are none of our trumpeters at the top of their game pursuing the reconstructions of this instrument which was the subject of an experimental foray in the 1930s and was briefly pursued by Friedbert Syhre of Leipzig in the 1970s? The photo of Gabriele Cassone in Bernardini’s booklet shows him playing what looks like a straight trumpet, described in the notes as a trumpet in F ‘modelled after different original instruments of the 18th century’.  Concerto Copenhagen’s booklet has no detail of instruments, pitch or temperaments. I know that there are no models to copy, but where has research got to in this shadow-land between the visual and the pragmatic? There is a Youtube video of BWV 109 by Rudolf Lutz and the J. S. Bach Stiftung at St Gallen where the tromba is clearly a slide trumpet with a curly Reicha-type tromba da caccia attached.

In Brandenburg III, the contrasts are not so immediate but equally striking: by contrast with Copenhagen’s feeling for the form of the two movements, the vigorous Zefiro version stresses the rustic energy – like an unending and uninhibited village dance as glimpsed by Breughel, where one gyrating couple spins off another.

In IV and V, many of the same patterns persist. Slightly faster tempi and a more robust approach to their bowing give Zefiro a more playful energy, while elegance and poise, and a better-balanced recording, give Copenhagen tremendous clarity and the slight edge for me. What may determine your preference in IV is the quite lovely playing of Cecilia Bernardini for Zefiro, emerging as a real leader of the band, and drawing the full-toned recorder players into her rhapsodicfreedom. This is very good music-making indeed.

V with its trio sections and exposed clavier part offers different challenges. Reducing the string doubling to single strings gives Zefiro a new clarity in V (and IV, too), while their ‘after Mietke’ harpsichord blooms into life. Their French-style flute is a good contrast to Bernardini’s Italian violin, and incontrast here the Copenhagens sound almost restrained, though I personally lovethe tone Katie Bircher produces from her sustained flute line.

In VI, the contrast in style is less marked, partly because the participants are identical, including Zefiro using a G violone for the first time. The music seems to calm them down, and we hear some of the most introspective playing we have heard. There is not quite the same intensity as Copenhagen brings, however, and theslow movement is almost over-indulgently luxurious.

Another difference is that time is found is Zefiro’s recording to squeeze in the Fourth Suite on the second CD, having fitted 1-4 on the first. Elegantly played, and with no extreme tempi, which they failed to include in an earlier CD of the other Ouvertures.

So while I can recommend both new recordings wholeheartedly, even though Copenhagen are disappointingly light on information concerning the instruments, temperament, etc., I urge potential buyers to consider – and listen to specimen tracks on Spotify or somesuch – whether or not they prefer either of the new recordings over the excellent version produced by John Butt with the Dunedin Consort in2012 at A=392, and which is available on LINN CKD 430.

DavidStancliffe

Categories
Recording

The 48 on piano

Bach: The Well-Tempered Clavier (Complete)
Cédric Pescia piano
263:18 (4 CDs in a card box)
LDV38.1

Bach: The Well-Tempered Clavier
Alexandra Papastefanou piano
263:11 (4 CDs)
FHR65J

Of these two versions of The Well-Tempered Clavier played on a modern grand piano, that by Cédric Pescia seems to me the more interesting. His background includes studying harpsichord and clavichord, spending a year in the company of the Bach Cantatas, and while deciding to play the 48 on a Steinway D of the 1980s, used also by Andreas Schiff, he has had it prepared in unequal temperament – even if we are not told exactly which.

In the extended interview with Pescia that comprises the booklet (and is in French, English, Japanese and German) he declared that it is the piano above all thatmakes this music sing and dance, two qualities he counts as essential forunderstanding Bach.

This is a thoughtful and well-prepared account, in comparison with which Papastefanou suffers. Her playing is more in the tradition of those who constantly feel theneed to ‘bring out’ the fugue subject whenever it occurs in case we should failto notice it. I find it rather wearisome. But all Bach, however played and onwhatever played, is a treat.

And would any reader of the EMR be interested in a set of the 48 played on a piano? Well, they might well be – and if so they should listen to Pescia as well as some of the better-known performers. They would be in for a welcome surprise. I found his playing attentive, engaging and musical.

David Stancliffe

Categories
Recording

Melancholia

madrigals and motets around 1600
Les Cris de Paris, Geoffroy Jourdain
67:11
harmonia mundi musique HMM 902298
Byrd, Gesualdo, Gibbons, Luzzaschi, Marenzio, Nenna, Tudino & Wilbye

The challenge in writing this review is in striking a balance between commending aspects of this recording, and warning about other aspects of it. First, it is, and is not, a programme of enjoyably miserable music. It can be listened to in the former vein, but upon reading the booklet’s notes, it becomes clear that the performers aspire to something more … philosophical. It is arguably a strength of this recording that a listener can be happy wallowing in some sumptuously unhappy music, or can engage with a narrative about the nature of melancholia. Throughout the programme, there are what the director describes in these accompanying notes as “instrumental recurrences which punctuate the pieces on this programme”: excerpts in varying instrumental combinations from two other originally vocal pieces, both by Byrd, interspersed throughout the recording.

The repertory is of both sacred and secular music from England and Italy either side of 1600. The performers are ten singers and five instrumentalists (three viols, two winds). The disc begins with a most impressive rendition of Wilbye’s Draw on, sweet night: the emotional temperature perfectly judged (not too histrionic, but nonetheless anguished) and the weighting of the individual parts ideal, with supportive but not rumbling bass, clarity from the middle parts, and firm but not piercing upper voices. This is carried into Byrd’s Tristitia et anxietas so that it is most frustrating that the ensemble does not sing the secunda pars. Three varied Italian works then follow – an instrumental rendering of a madrigal by Tudino, the first of two settings onthe disc by Gesualdo of O vos omnes and the sumptuous La mia doglia s’avanza by Nenno. After the welcome appearance of one of Wilbye’s less familiar madrigals O wretched man there comes the first of the disc’s instrumental recurrences – an excerpt from Byrd’s funeral song Come to me grief forever – thenGibbons’ What is our life with a theatrically peremptory close, a chromatic Crudeleacerba inesorabilmorte by Marenzio … and another recurrence: yet another bleeding chunk, another instrumental combination, another originally vocal pieceby poor old Byrd, his Lullaby. And so ends the first half of the show.

The bulk of the second half consists of works by Italian composers – a tantalizingly mediaeval sounding Quivi sospiri by Luzzaschi (born 1545, however), another chromatic madrigal by Marenzio, and two more sacred settings and a madrigal by Gesualdo, including an earlier and even more gripping Ovos omnes, again interspersed with two more chunks, weeping rather than bleeding, from Byrd’s much put-upon Lullaby. And it is English works that complete the programme: good performances of Weelkes’ O care, wilt thou despatch me and Tomkins’s “finely contrived” (Denis Stevens) homage to his teacher Byrd Too much I once lamented … followed by two more recurrences to complete the disc – increasingly ghostly instrumental reminiscences of, again, Byrd’s Come tome grief and Lullaby.

So, what is the point of these recurrences from two of Byrd’s pieces? Neither work is performed in full. Why? Nowhere are voices used. Why? Well, courtesy of M. Jourdain the director, there is a hifalutin justification. Seemingly these recurrences are used in order to engage the listener with grand theorizing about the nature of melancholy. But these sweeping pronouncements and original truths become obfuscated in the fog of their own verbiage – the booklet’s concluding paragraph climaxing in the proclamation “Melancholia is dead, long live melancholy!” could be a candidate for Pseuds’ Corner in Private Eye -and the gimmick of recurrence, or the recurring gimmick, fails. Furthermore, and rather more practically, it is irritating that two fine, powerful pieces by Byrd (three including the truncated Tristitia) are never performed in full, merely, it would seem, in order to illustrate some contrived and fanciful notions.

Moreover, it cannot be said that the rest of the programme (creditably, full texts are provided) is entirely satisfactory. The individual pieces are wonderful, and the performances do them full justice, but the unrelenting melancholy becomes too much of a good thing, which the recurrences do nothing to alleviate or explain or complement, accumulating until a tipping point during the sequence of the Italian pieces in the second half of the programme. The disc could well be worth obtaining for the quality of the individual pieces and for the performances, but might be best heard in small doses and particular moods, and perhaps with certain (French) red or white beverages close at hand –just the odd glass; and, when reading the booklet, salt – just the odd pinch.

Richard Turbet

Categories
Recording

Telemann: Christmas Oratorios

Monika Mauch, Nicole Pieper, Georg Poplutz, Klaus Mertens SATB, Kölner Akademie directed by Michael Alexander Willens
76:50
cpo 555 254-2
TVWV 1:745, 926, 1251, 1431

The three oratorios recorded here, all recently discovered, date from 1730 or 1731 to cover a church year designated by Telemann to be devoted to oratorios. They were composed for the Hamburg churches for which he was responsible for supplying music, all having librettos by the local poet Albrecht Jacob Zell. The oratorio differed from the cantata and other forms of church music by giving the music to named characters, here allegorical figures that pronounce on various theological and philosophical topics linked to the Nativity. Much ofthe poetry will seem arcane to the modern reader, but it has themerit of providing the composer with opportunities for colourfulcontrast in addition to mimetic writing. It hardly seems necessary toadd that these are opportunities seized upon eagerly by Telemann.

The most immediately striking of these works is Schmecket und sehet, composed for the 1st Day of Christmas, not least because it is composed for eight soloists (SSAATTBB) and features a large orchestra including trumpets and drums. Here the soloists take the parts of Love, Prayer, Faith, Hope, Joy, Reverence, Fidelity and Prudence, their parts doubled in the choruses. At its heart lie three dialogues, the first an extended da capo aria between Joy – the ever-dependable bass Klaus Mertens – and a ‘Choir of Joyful Souls’, cast in the favouriteBaroque form of questions and answers in which Telemann makes effective use of contrasting the florid passaggi for bass soloist with the terse questioning of the chorus. The last is an elaborate 8-part aria in which the two SATB groups are again starkly contrasted, the first SATB group soft legato (‘So rest gently’) dynamically contrasted with the trumpets and drums reply (‘God awakens, so I may rest!). The other notable number is for alto (Prayer), ‘Mein Herze wallet’, a delicate, flute-inflected area sensitively sung by Nicola Pieper, a real discovery among the soloists. This is a lovely, warmly-rounded voice, evenly produced across its range and Pieper’s technique is excellent, with finely articulated ornaments; the ornamentation of the da capo repeat is a model of style.

The second oratorio, Im hellen Glanz, scored for SATB and lightly orchestrated, seems to me less interesting, with the exception of the opening aria, well delivered by Georg Poplutz’s pleasing light tenor, in which Telemann imitates the ‘snow melts, running off’ with descending scalic figuration. The work seems to engage the performers less, too, conveying less conviction than elsewhere. Herr Gott, dich loben wir, for New Years’s Day, on the other hand, is an engaging piece with SATB parts for Trust (sop), Holy Longing (alt), Contemplation (ten) and Knowledge (bs), with a ‘Choir of Observing Souls’. As the names suggest, the overall mood here is more reflective. There is another question and answer dialogue between the bass and choir, the solo part accompanied by an obbligato bassoon and fine arias for tenor and alto, the former including touches of tonal ambiguity and further mimetic writing. The choruses of both this and the preceding oratorio sound to me to have been clearly intended as one-voice-per-part, the ornamental turns in the B section of thefinal aria sounding uncomfortable when doubled up, as here.

Willens does employ single voices for the final work, Und das Wort, a cantata describes here as Kirchenmusik (Church Music), a term Bach used to describe many of his church cantatas. Composed for the 3rd Day of Christmas, it is a small-scale work, scored for SAB only and a small string ensemble. Its theme is one of the central mysteries of the Nativity, St John’s ‘And the word was made flesh’, which opens a modulating contrapuntal chorus on the whole text. There are areas for only the soprano and alto, the former surprisingly Italianate, separated by a chorale based on ‘In dulci jubilo’. The repeat of the opening chorus at the end gives the cantata a satisfyinglycyclical shape.

The performances are throughout thoroughly idiomatic, with fine singing from all the soloists and tidy, accomplished orchestral playing under Willens. Listening to the CD a week before Christmas proved a highly agreeable way of embracing the true spirit of the season, but I have little doubt that it will make for rewarding listening at any time of theyear.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

J. S. Bach: The Well-tempered Clavier Book One

Colin Booth harpsichord
121:43 (2 CDs)
Soundboard SBCD218

Colin Booth is an exceptional musician: he has been making harpsichords for at least 45 years; he has written an indispensible book Did Bach Really Mean That? investigating the unwritten assumptions on which much performance practice depends, together with a number of scholarly articles; and he has made a number of recordings including the Goldberg Variations, a fine CD of Byrd (reviewed recently by Richard Turbet in EMR), Mattheson Harmony’s Monument, Buxtehude, Croft, Purcell and Couperin amongst others.

As is right the bulk of the 22 page stiff covered booklet which forms the excellent case for the two CDs is taken up by a well-argued essay on what Wohltemperierte means in the context of the 48, of which volume one was already in circulation amongst pupils and practitioners by 1722 while the second part seems not to have been available till about two decades later. What temperament will retain the sense of differentiation between the keys, which making them tolerably playable? In the end, he settles for Kirnberger III, and certainly the results seem to justify that choice. This is a wonderful example of what a serious booklet can be, and I hope it has wide circulation.

But it is the playing that counts. And I was bowled over. First, the sound. Colin Booth plays on an instrument that he made in 2016. ‘With an extension of the compass it is based on the design of an original instrument signed Nicholas Celini 1661, purchased and restored by Colin during 2013.’ It seems to have been built by aprovincial Italian maker, working in Narbonne. Strung in brass, it has a beautiful singing tone and gives great clarity to the part-writing. He only uses the 8’ ranks (there is a 4’ on the lower keyboard) but alone and in combination these provide both a sonorous richness and weight while allowing a degree of finesse to shine through.

His fingerwork is elegant, ornaments well-considered and never obtrusive, and the absence of that percussive brittle clatter we so often experience makes the whole experience of listening to two CDs straight through a real pleasure. Listen to how he articulates the subject in the B-flat fugue (2.18) where there is a studied ambivalence in how he shapes the grouping of the semi-quavers, or the final B minor fugue, where the wandering subject introduces us to the continuingly unfolding shifts in the tonality: here each phrase in this monumental construction builds upon what has gone before but you are sure that the performer will guide you home. I have no hesitation in saying that this is the most congenial playing I have heard of this remarkable set of pieces. The next volume is due for release this coming year. You will need to order from ColinBooth direct via his website – easily accessible at www.colinbooth.co.uk, where you will find a Christmas offer of three for the price of two.

David Stancliffe

Categories
Recording

Johann Sebastian Bach: Weihnachtsoratorium

MusicaFiorita, Daniela Dolci

Gunta Smirnova, Flavio Ferri-Benedetti, Hans Jörg Mammel (Evangelist), Raitis Grigalis SATBar, Musica Fiorita, Daniela Dolci
142:00 (2 CDs)
PAN CLASSICS PC 10393

This is a splendid performance: beautifully balanced and recorded, with a plausible number of singers – 14, and a comparable group of players – 2.2.2.1.1 strings, admirable woodwind and the peerless Jean-François Madeuf and his cronies playing brass. The continuo includes organ, baroque guitar and theorbo (effective for example in IV.i with the pizzicato bass line), and harpsichord, played by the director, Daniela Dolci, herself a continuo specialist, but used sparingly.

The group is based in Basel, but is broadly European and both singing and playing are of a high standard. Most exciting is the ringing clarity of the tuning, following the natural harmonics of the brass players, who eschew corrective finger holes –  listen to VI.i for true harmonics. But the chief glory is the sense of ensemble singing in the 12-voice choruses. Not quite all those who sing the arias also sing in the choruses. The tenor is the excellent Hans Jörg Mammel with beautifully paced narrative and magical high notes fading into the ether; the soprano is Gunta Smirnova, whose voice is a treat – clean, clear and bell-like: she is clearly an accomplished ensemble singer and could well have sung in the chorus where she would blend perfectly. The alto, Flavio Ferri-Benedetti stunning in II.x, and the bass, Raitis Grigalis –wonderfully baritonish in V.v, both sing in the choruses.

Both in the choruses and in arias every part is crystal clear with a perfect balance between voice and instruments. Before they recorded the cantatas they performed them liturgically in sequence over last Christmas period, and the pacing and flow could scarcely be bettered with a completely integrated sound-world between chorus and soloists. Although the tempi are sometimes fast, as in the opening (I.i), the performances are almost always well in control – only in V.i do I sense that a slightly breathless haste can destabilise the singers when the director’s hands are on the harpsichord.

I have a query about the prominent sound of the fagotto in IV.iv Flößt, mein Heiland. With the pizzicato violoncello and the theorbo, it seems a bit much. Although we have got used to hearing it in the bass wherever oboes are used (especially in multiple oboe numbers), Bach actually specified it only in Part I. It doesn’t work for me in IV.iv, especially where there is a single oboe here. And the theorbo? I am not wholly convinced by the organ/theorbo bass line in Bach as if it were Monteverdi. And the organ? It looks in the booklet pictures and on the Youtube video like an instrument made by Gyula Vági in Budapest and certainly has a fuller sound than the small stopped flute chamber organs of a decade ago, but it was unconvincing in the decorative improvisations between the lines in II.3 which surely would have been played on a more substantial instrument.

These small cavils apart, this version must be at the top of any current or future recording of the Weihnachtsoratorium; this is a dramatic and effective performance and deserves to be bought and played in every household over the days of Christmas this year and for many to come.

David Stancliffe