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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

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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

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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

Categories
Recording

1717: Memories of a Journey to Italy

Scaramuccia
62:19
Snakewood SCD201801
Works by Albinoni, Fanfani, Montanari, Valentini and Pisendel/Vivaldi

In the 17th and 18th centuries if you were a musician wanting to keep up with the latest musical trends your social networking involved rather more than going to your computer or smart phone. It meant a physical trip to the musical centre of the world: Italy. It is, of course, what Handel and many others did. Among their number was the violinist Johann Georg Pisendel of the Dresden Court Orchestra, whose trip to Italy took place in 1717 as one of a number court musicians (including Zelenka) accompanying the opera-mad Prince-Elector of Saxony. During a trip that took in Venice, Rome and Florence, Pisendel, already one of the greatest violinists of the age, made contact with many leading musical figures. Principal among them were Albinoni and Vivaldi (with whom Pisendel established a lasting friendship) in Venice, Antonio Montanari (another great violinist, who became the successor to Corelli as leader of the famous Rome orchestra) and Giuseppe Valentini in Rome, and Giuseppe Maria Fanfani in Florence.

All the above are represented on this fascinating CD of sonatas for violin and continuo in which Scaramuccia chart Pisendel’s Italian journey, the works chosen either having a direct or close relationship with the German virtuoso. Thus Albinoni’s four-movement Sonata in Bb not only bears a dedication to Pisendel, but, as Scaramuccia’s violinist Lupiáñez points out in his scholarly notes, also includes unusual features such as triple-stopping that suggest that Albinoni may well have composed the sonata with Pisendel’s virtuosity in mind. Most fascinating of all in this respect is Vivaldi’s Sonata in G, RV 25. Also dedicated to ‘Maestro Pisendel’, Vivaldi left the slow movement for his new friend to fill in, which he did with a lovely serene Grave movement for violin and harpsichord (rather than continuo). This hugely entertaining sonata opens with a bucolic Allegro and includes a number of dances, ending with a Menuetto with variations left open to improvisation, here splendidly fulfilled by Scaramuccia.

It is this sense of the performers being constantly engaged with making music a spontaneous act that makes these performances so rewarding and engaging. There is throughout an evocation of a world of fantasy and bizzarie that feels absolutely right for music intended to dazzle the hearer. Listen for example to Valentini’s Sonata in A (dedicated to Montanari), composed more in the style of a suite. Here a free, extravagant, arabesque-laden opening Preludio, is succeeded by an Allemanda founded on odd glissando-like gestures, a gentle cantabileLargo for the violinist over a rippling arpeggiated accompaniment, a good-humoured Giga and a vigorous concluding Minué more redolent of countryside than court. Quite apart from the captivating inventiveness of the performances, they are technically outstanding and balanced with rare sensitivity. The odd small intonation problem apart, Lupiáñez proves himself master not only of the more virtuosic demands of the music but of also producing a warm, expressive cantabile, while he receives splendid support from Inés Salinas (cello) and Patricia Vintém (harpsichord).

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

The door to Paradise: Music from The Eton Choirbook

The Choir of Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, conducted by Stephen Darlington
Avie AV2395
5 CDs in a box

The last three decades have seen three remarkable recording projects, each consisting of five discs, devoted to English sacred music from either side of 1500. First, beginning in 1991, came The Sixteen featuring music from the Eton Choirbook. From the USA, starting in 2010, came Blue Heron, with revelatory works from the lesser known and later Peterhouse Partbooks. And beginning a year earlier, 2009, came Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford under the college’s Organist and Tutor in Music, Stephen Darlington, who also selected their material from the ample acres of the Eton Choirbook. Their final disc was released in 2017 and, as with the other two projects, once all five discs had been issued, they have been reissued as a boxed set this year, to coincide with Professor Darlington’s retirement after 33 years in post.

Across the five discs there are several works, such as Walter Lambe’s Magnificat (also to be found in the Carver Choirbook in Scotland) on disc I, which receive their recorded premieres. There are also a few works which are new to compact disc, but which have appeared on LPs that have never since been reissued in the newer format. One such work, also on disc I, is John Fawkyner’s Ave rosa sine spina. (Confusingly he turns up on disc III as Richard – he is indeed John in Timothy Day’s A discography of Tudor church music, 1989, but is Richard in Grove online dated 2001.) This was performed as part of a project which was a forerunner of The Sixteen and, particularly, Christ Church: a pair of LPs featuring music from the Eton Choirbook sung by the boys from the now defunct choir school of All Saints, Margaret Street, London, with the men of the Purcell Consort, conducted by Grayston Burgess. These two discs set the bar very high with an outstanding treble line and men both comfortable and capable singing early music; while this music brings the best out of The Sixteen, there is an added frisson in listening to it being sung by a choir similar in modern terms to the ensemble at Eton and elsewhere for which it was originally composed. It should be hard not to be inspired by it, and Christ Church, over the five discs, successfully emulate the achievement of their predecessors at All Saints, Margaret Street. It was a great loss when All Saints’ choir school was closed in 1968 after 125 years, but the loss is at least partially alleviated by the continuing excellence of a choir such as Christ Church, especially when it takes up some challenging repertory associated with All Saints.

As Timothy Symons tells us in his impressive booklet accompanying the discs, “The copying of the Eton Choirbook was completed at the very beginning of the 16th century”. The names of few if any of the composers are common musical knowledge, with the exceptions of Robert Fayrfax and William Cornysh. However, many heroes lived before Agamemnon (Horace, Odes 4.9.25-26) or, in this context, before Byrd. Taking two whom the centuries have treated differently, there are works by John Browne on each of the five discs, whereas only two works by Fawkyner survive. Even amongst composers the standard of whose music is never below high, Browne stands out. His glorious O Maria salvatoris mater comes at the beginning of the Eton Choirbook, and it begins disc II. The only other work in the Choirbook to approach the impact of its stunning and sumptuous opening for full choir in eight parts is Robert Wylkynson’s Salve regina (disc II) in nine. Wylkynson is sparing in using all nine at once, so that their impact is all the greater, and his passages for reduced scoring can be delicate as well as mesmerizing and eloquent. Perhaps the piece from the Choirbook that comes nearest to being a modern repertory piece is Browne’s Stabat mater (disc I), though the sublime Ave Maria by William Cornysh (disc II – by far the shortest piece in this set, and in the entire Choirbook, at 4’07; it is a shame that Christ Church use the editorial sharps for the repeated leading notes in the uppermost – alto – part at the final cadence) also has a claim. The six pieces by Browne in this set are all of the highest standard – the music for ten of his Latin works survives in the Eton Choirbook (its only source) one of which is fragmentary, and five others are listed – whereas, as we have seen, only two pieces by Fawkyner survive, both also outstanding. How is it that a composer can be so good yet so seemingly unproductive? Surely several other works by him, and by other composers represented in the Choirbook by only one or two works, must have been lost (a solution put forward in the accompanying booklet – see below), or just possibly they are lurking in a corner, or in plain sight, perhaps unattributed, waiting to be recognised, rediscovered or attributed.

Apart from the item by Cornysh already mentioned, the works in this set are all timed at over ten minutes, some of them well over, with the longest – Walter Lambe’s O Maria plena gratia the longest piece in the Choirbook – taking a gratifying twenty plus. While maintaining the highest level of performance throughout the five discs, Christ Church Choir sounds subtly different from one disc to the next – usually two years apart. Presumably Stephen Darlington did not have an unchanging ideal sound in his head to which all his singers had always to conform, but rather had an ideal standard of performance and to that end trusted the inevitably changing cast of his choristers, choral scholars and layclerks to achieve this through their natural voices, working with one another under his leadership. It was advantageous that all the recordings were made in the same spacious acoustic of the chapel at Merton College, Oxford. The mind almost boggles at the difficult passages of reduced scoring accomplished by solo trebles, passages in so many of the works which also challenge the adult singers – the opening of Kellyk’s Gaude flore virginali, trios in John Hampton’s Salve regina, duos in Fawkyner’s Gaude virgo salutata and two particularly acrobatic passages in Hacomplaynt’s Salve regina spring to mind. Darlington’s tempi can be deliberate but are never plodding; the priority is to render each part audible while it also blends with its fellows, whether it is a barnstorming full passage for half a dozen voices, or one of the intricate duos and trios. This approach also highlights the precision and accuracy with which the participants sing, whether a solo boy or pair of trebles, or men singing together in the lower reaches of their tenor, baritone or bass ranges, as in Edmund Turges’s Gaude flore virginali in which there are also some wicked harmonic twists which can sidle past the listener almost before they have had time to register!

Another most commendable achievement of this set of recordings is that it highlights music by gifted composers such as Fawkyner, Hampton, William monk of Stratford, Kellyk and Hacomplaynt who are the equivalent of the popular music industry’s one-hit wonders. Other works of theirs have surely been lost (see below), and they are only known to posterity by a work or two in the Eton Choirbook, playing second fiddle to the bigger names such as Browne, Davy, Wylkynson, Fayrfax and Cornysh. While acknowledging that this repertory is challenging to perform, it really should be better known than it is. I have heard many other pieces from the Choirbook besides those in this generously filled boxed set, and have never been other than enthralled by their impact and quality. To those unfamiliar with the idiom, expect glorious sonorities, heart-stopping moments of surprisingly modern and quirky harmonies besides some snappy dissonances, sweeping melodies, pensive passages of reduced scoring, and overwhelming climaxes of five and more voices. The music is nothing like that of its equally but differently gifted European contemporaries; it is quite simply a parallel sonic universe.

The presentation is good in a discreet way. I have a minor quibble with a lack of consistency in the material provided on the backs of the respective sleeves: the first has only timings for the listed pieces, the next two include timings plus the numbers of parts for each piece, and the last two include timings, numbers of parts and actual scorings – this latter would have been welcome throughout. The accompanying booklet contains a short introduction by Stephen Darlington and concise scholarly notes by Timothy Symons about the contents of each disc, though texts are not provided. The notes explain the importance of numerology in these works, with so many numbers being of religious significance: for instance, “The number seven has long been associated with the Virgin Mary through the devotions of her Seven Joys and Seven Sorrows.” These numbers can be applied, by themselves or in combinations, to note values, in order to provide structures for entire sections of these compositions. Also, many compositions have the melody of a particular plainchant as their cantus firmus; it is not always immediately obvious why a certain chant has been chosen by the composer but, once it has been identified, it can provide a clue as to the circumstances for which the work was composed. Seemingly the manuscripts that survive from England in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries represent only about a tenth of those circulating at the time; this would in turn suggest that some shadowy composers who are now represented by only one or two excellent works could have contributed ten times that number to the contemporary sacred choral repertory, a possibility which would explain that otherwise seemingly fleeting excellence.

This project is quite simply a monument within the discography of English music and indeed of Renaissance music. I respectfully urge everyone with any sort of inclination towards the best of Western music – be it Birtwistle, Brahms, Beethoven, Bach or Byrd – to obtain this recording; Browne, for one, is fit to continue the roll-call of these composers.
RICHARD TURBET