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RECERCARE XXIX/1-2 2017

Journal for the study and practice of early music directed by Arnaldo Morelli
LIM Editrice [2017]. 278 pp, €30 (€? outside of Italy)
ISBN 978 88 7096 9450 ISSN 1120-5741
recercare@libero.it; lim@lim.it – www.lim.it

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]HE LATEST ISSUE of Recercare is quite large. Only one study is in English, but in addition to the summaries in English and Italian of all the articles, there are entire compositions, appendices, documents, plates and references which are useful in their own right. The journal is dedicated to Italian musical culture, and the papers are presented in chronological order by subject matter. They often include in full the documents used. In fact, ‘Recercare’ means ‘to search out’, and the wealth of new material promotes further research, study by study.

Franco Piperno’s short article has a long title, which, translated, would be Ecclesiastic institutions and music in Italy in the early Modern Era: a historical perspective. Actually every one of these words needs to be defined. Italians consider what followed the ‘Middle Ages’ the ‘Modern Era’. This places the Renaissance in the Modern Era, and most of what survives from before that is from after the Middle Ages, and therefore ‘early modern’. Piperno is concerned with two major trends in Italy, where after the Great Schism there was again the Papal state, along with dukedoms, kingdoms or other political authorities, all with local religious institutions. Who ruled and who had control over the religious functions, and for what purpose, was in flux. Piperno wants musicology and historiography to intersect on this question, and he gives examples of the use of liturgical as well as secular music in the 15th century (important for the rise of polyphony) and going a little beyond. Ecclesiastic music, whether controlled by the papacy or preserved in resistance to the centralized Church, may have served spiritual aims or instead been for the show of power, from “above” (chapels of the highest authorities), from “below” (plebs fidelium), and from “in between” (urban centers mediating with the highest circles through bishops and confraternities). So far, attention has been mainly centered on the complex polyphony of the highest institutional levels. Therefore the historical perspective Piperno reminds us to consider invites the study of other types of compositions. He gives examples of where and when the changing contexts surrounding the ecclesiastical institutions affected how music was used.

The article ‘Et iste erat valde musicus’: Pope Leo X, composer, with its Appendix of all his extant compositions, is by Anthony M. Cummings and Michał Gondko. The fuller citation naming Leo X (Giovanni de’ Medici, 1475-1521) goes on to say that he was very musical and composed a (lost) motet, Quis pro nobis contra nos, si Deus est nobiscum, the title of which is close to that of a keyboard intabulation found in Cracow, which might turn out to be based on it. The study entertains the supposition that Giovanni studied with or received guidance from Heinrich Isaac (1450 ca.-1517), the most esteemed composer active at the Medici court, and adduces the fact that the few compositions known to have been composed by Leo X were of types that Isaac wrote. The appendix (pp. 34-52) is a critical edition of Pope Leo X’s opera omnia of four surviving pieces. The newly discovered Benedictus dominus Deus meus for 4vv is quite lovely – 157 semibreves in length, the two upper and two lower voices alternating in long phrases in more florid two-part counterpoint, between sections à4 (DATB). Cela sa[ns] plus is shorter, only 47 semibreves, à5 (DCTTB), without any textual underlay, and therefore possibly instrumental, as is a 3-voiced canon. Readers will want to look into Leo’s biography to appreciate his interests and his patronage of the arts and music, which are not touched upon in this very specific article. The appendix is obviously of use to musicians, irrespective of language.

Rodolfo Baroncini’s study Dario Castello e la formazione del musico a Venezia: nuovi documenti e nuove prospettive is excellent. Many musicians play the Sonate concertate in stile moderno by Castello (1602-1631) but know almost nothing about his life, family, and place in the musical life of Venice up to his early death from plague. Enjoying his music does not necessarily include realizing what distinguishes it historically, and the article may inspire those who have never heard a Castello sonata to do so.

Baroncini has uncovered documents on Castello’s musical ancestors, especially his grandfather, father and his siblings, and the musical circle in which he moved. What he relates is both specific and general. His analysis of the Sonata decima à3 for two violins or cornetts and bassoon or viol (from the 1629 Libro secondo) gives the reader almost the experience of hearing the work: four long musical excerpts, amounting to seven pages of music, are interspersed with very clear, short, descriptions – well chosen and aptly characterized.

What engages in Castello’s music so profoundly and ushers in the new ‘stile moderno’ is not just its sectional form (already common in canzonas and chansons), but its inventively contrasting, developing content – with agogic and dynamic effects, expressive solos, imitations carried over from section to section, and dramatic pacing of tonal harmonies. Some additional short musical examples illustrate other traits. The appendix supplies 32 documents, including the clerical legal investigation to corroborate Dario’s legitimacy in order for him to enter a seminary to complete his musical studies. Others attest to his father’s tragic losses from the plague – that of his second wife, of Dario’s brother and then of Dario, all within a few days. Baroncini makes us feel the loss of a figure we only just came to know something about, since the information he offers is absolutely new.

Orietta Sartori’s article Nomen omen: Giuseppe Polvini Faliconti impresario del Settecento romano, uses a Latin catch phrase to imply that Faliconti (1673 – 1741) was destined by his second surname (that of his mother) to handle the purse strings. ‘Fa li conti’ means ‘[he] does the accounts’, and the impresario ran the four major opera theatres of Rome. At his death a chronicler mistakenly thought this was only nickname that stuck. More respectfully, Metastasio called him ‘the gardener of Parnasso’, his ‘produce’ being poetry, music and good pay to the artists, a compliment he merited. He was greatly respected, though he died deeply in debt, along with his patron, Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni.

Four caricatures of him, drawn by Pier Leone Ghezzi between 1721 and 1730 in the painter’s typically unflattering satirical style, are included and attest to their long friendship. In the numerous productions he organized between 1719 and 1741 he found the librettos, hired performers, arranged sets, directed rehearsals, raised funds and handled marketing. The study follows his career year by year, opera by opera, scene by scene, including events befalling some productions, illustrating in some detail a chapter in the history of opera in early 18th century Rome.

Paolo Russo takes us into the French philosophical aesthetic debates of the late 18th century, as applied to opera, in Tra declamazione e pantomima: Metastasio riconcepito. Charles-Nicholas Cochin, a painter, engraver and intellectual, an admirer of Metastasio’s drama and of the Comédie Italienne, and strongly against the endless recitatives of Gluck and the attempts to restore ancient lyrical tragedy, was the anonymous author of a 1779 pamphlet, entitled Pantomime dramatique, ou Essai sur un nouveau genre de spectacle. Cochin proposed to take Metastasio’s historical subjects, underline the true psychological passions represented, revising, cutting and translating the original versions in such a way as to produce a coherent spectacle combining mute gestural pantomime, declamation (spoken recitation), sung recitation, and arias. The dramatic pantomime, a proto-language, would express passions and would take the place of huge segments of the original texts; declamation, between spoken and sung, would be useful for dialogues, and could be both realistic and harmonious; recitative would blend into the arias, which would constitute the most important parts of the operas, conserving the parts of the original librettos intended as such. Russo prints six scenes from Metastasio’s Demofoonte marking in bold the drastically few lines that Cochin would make use of. The article touches very briefly on what followed in the decades after the debates, but does cover in some detail how other philosophers (Diderot, Voltaire, Rousseau et al.) approached the questions, with direct quotations only in French.

In ‘Respinto da un impensato vento contrario in alto mare’: Anton Raaff, il Farinelli e la Storia della musica di Giambattista Martini, Elisabetta Pasquini documents, mostly through letters, the tribulations that nearly prevented the publication of the first volume of ‘Padre Martini’s’ monumental, if uncompleted, History of Music. Giovanni Battista Martini (1706-1784) was a composer, musical theorist, critic, musical historian and teacher, visited by composers who flocked to Bologna to study counterpoint with him (the most famous being J.C. Bach, Mozart, Gluck and Jommelli). He amassed a musical library, according to Burney, of some 17,000 items, and through his research he aspired to cover the story of music from Adam to his day in five volumes. The 1st volume – ending with music of the Hebrews before the destruction of the Temple and the second exile – was ready to be printed in 1752, and came out, not in 1757 as the title page says (see https://archive.org/details/storiadellamusic00mart/page/n7), but at the end of 1760; the 2nd and 3rd volumes – on ancient Greek music – in 1770 and 1781; the 4th was intended to cover the early middle ages up to Guido d’Arezzo, some parts of which were written. The three published volumes constitute, in themselves, a milestone in the history of music, achieved by great sacrifice and reliance on persons collaborating to obtain patronage to cover the considerable costs.

The ‘official’ 1757 date of dedication of the first volume is still the one generally given, if only because the actual date and the mystery of the need to fake it, which Pasquini has unraveled, persist. It is not a spoiler to say that for economic reasons a royal sponsor had to be found to produce and market in sufficient quantity such a precious, illustrated work (hundreds of pages, with incisions and musical examples, tables, indices, even errata corrige). Lengthy negotiations were undertaken by loyal friends of Padre Martini in Spain, including Carlo Boschi, the famous castrato a.k.a. ‘il Farinelli’ (1705-1782), and the German tenor Anton Raaff (1714-1797). Farinelli was at the court of Maria Barbara of Braganza, Portugal, Queen Consort of Spain (1711-1758) and Ferdinand VI, for decades, up to 1759. (She, of course, was taught by Domenico Scarlatti and received manuscript copies of almost all of his sonatas, later preserved by Farinelli.) Their mission, however, was not successful until the end of 1760, after both Maria Barbara and Ferdinand VI had died. Padre Martini could not have published the eagerly awaited first volume at all without their patronage, so in the end it had to appear to have come out before Maria Barbara’s death. The account is followed by a 32-page appendix of the relevant, critically edited, correspondence to and from Padre Martini, from 1750 to 1773. Pasquini sustains the suspense – others had to intercede, success was uncertain – and the reader shares what must have been an agonizing situation, above all, for Padre Martini himself. For this paper and others by her see also https://unibo.academia.edu/ElisabettaPasquini.

In the New books and Music section of this issue Arnaldo Morelli, Chief Editor of Recercare, writes a long review of all the acts of a convention in Rome in 2015: La Comedia nueva e le scene italiane nel Seicento. Trame, drammaturgie, contesti a confronto, edited by Fausta Antonucci and Anna Tedesco, published by Olschki (2016).

Barbara M. Sachs

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Recording

Les maîtres du motet: Brossard & Bouteiller

Les Arts Florissants, directed by Paul Agnew
67:05
harmonia mundi HAF 8905300

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he concentration on Paris as the hub of musical life has tended to obscure the work of French 17th- and 18th-century composers active in the provinces. The disc to hand includes music by two such composers, who if not totally neglected – both major works on the CD have received previous recordings – are not exactly household names. The better known is Sébastian de Brossard, but even he is today probably more famous as an indefatigable collector and historian who published the first French dictionary of music than as a composer. An aristocratic cleric, Brossard spent most of his life at the cathedral at Strasbourg, to where in 1687 he was one of those sent by Louis XIV to restore Catholicism after the re-capture of Alsace. In 1698 he went to Paris, hoping to be appointed maître de musique at Sainte Chapelle, but the post went to Charpentier. Brossard’s final post was at the cathedral in Meaux, where he died in 1730.

It is to Brossard that we owe the survival of the known sacred music of Pierre Bouteiller, who was born around 1655. A shadowy figure, he is first heard of as director of music at Troyes Cathedral in 1687. Following a period in the equivalent post at Châlons-en-Champagne, Bouteiller returned to Troyes, remaining there until 1698, when he moved to Paris. There he established himself as a performer on the viola da gamba ‘and other instruments’. Other than a commissioned Te Deum no record of Bouteiller’s being active as a composer in Paris exists, although he apparently remained in the city until his death, which occurred around 1717.

Brossard recounts a meeting with Bouteiller in Châlons, at which time the latter gave the collector manuscripts of 13 ‘excellent’ petits motets, and a ‘very good Mass for the Dead’ in exchange for Brossard’s recently published first book of motets. Brossard took great care of the manuscript, which he considered to be ‘one of the best I have’, the works included in it remaining all that is extant of Bouteiller’s output of sacred music. The present disc includes the Missa pro defunctis (Requiem), which is scored in five parts with continuo accompaniment. Many hearing it in this wonderful performance will likely consider Brossard’s description to be an exceptional example of masterly understatement. Anyone who regularly reads my reviews will know I’m not prone to hyperbole, but my verdict be that the work is a sublime masterpiece, a largely polyphonic setting in stile antico that throughout demonstrates Bouteiller’s mastery of contrapuntal technique and manipulation of varied textures, including telling touches of affective chromaticism. Especially lovely is the in alternatim setting of the Kyrie, the plainchant set off to great effect by the polyphony. Equally as impressive is Bouteiller’s response to his text, which concentrates on the consolatory and even uplifting, the latter exemplified by the buoyant, confident setting of a verse from Psalm 23 in the Graduel (‘Though I walk’ etc). Yet the overall impression left by this exquisitely lovely work is of heart-easing transcendence.

The major work of Brossard’s here is his Stabat Mater, a large-scale 8-part setting. Divided into 17 sections, it is richly diverse, ranging from grand motet passages like the opening to the chamber-like ‘O quam tristis’ a grief-filled setting of the utmost beauty for solo quartet. The final sections, at first deeply penitential then increasingly ecstatic, culminate in an animated radiance that brings this splendid work to a deeply satisfying peroration. In addition there are two further works by Brossard, a Miserere mei Deus in which two soprano soloists alternate verses with the choir, made especially effective by the recessed placing of the latter, and a 5-part a capella setting of Ave verum corpus, a tiny gem that the brings the disc to an ineffably satisfying close.

As already suggested the performances are outstanding, with beautifully balanced choral singing in the more fully-scored passages and unfailingly sensitive solo work from the seven soloists selected by Paul Agnew from within Les Arts Florissants. This is not only the most deeply affecting CD I’ve heard in some time but also unquestionably one of my records of the year.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Joseph Schuster: String Quartets

Quartetto “Joseph Joachim”
59:30
Pan Classics PC 0379

THESE SIX QUARTETS include four which were, until relatively recently, thought to be Mozart – the correct identification of a set of parts in Padua, which featured on both composers’ travelling itineraries in the 1770s helped clear up the confusion and allow the music to be correctly attributed. Schuster was eight years Mozart’s senior and a celebrated violinist himself. On this re-release of a 2001 recording, the Joseph Joachim quartet – on period instruments – give first-class performances of these six fine works, all but one in three movements; the exception, no. 4 in A, consists of an Allegro assai and an Andantino con cinque variazioni. The recorded sounds is very crisp with lots of detail without any of the breathing noises one typically hears in recordings of string quartets.
Brian Clark

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Recording

Beethoven: Piano Trios, Op. 1

Trio Goya
96:07 (2 CDs)
Chandos Chaconne 0822 (2)

Composed during the early 1790s, the three pianos trios that would come to be published in 1795 as his opus 1 bore a dedication to Beethoven’s patron Prince Carl Lichnowsky, who probably helped fund the enterprise. In at least one sense they make a clear statement of intent, since all three are large-scale works in four movements that set out a far more grandiose stall than the modest three-movement trios of Haydn and Mozart. Yet despite their obvious ambitious scale, in other ways they largely conform to the image of Beethoven as the darling of the Viennese salons. With the possible exception of the gruffly uncompromising opening theme of the final movement of the final C minor trio – and it is surely significant that Beethoven makes little of it in the development – there is little here of the barnstorming young Beethoven of some of the early piano sonatas. Rather the general impression given is of an often exuberant good humour juxtaposed with romantic leanings of the kind found in the innocent yearnings of the Adagio cantabile of the E flat Trio (No. 1).

It is just these qualities that are to the fore in these performances by the experienced members of the Trio Goya, Kati Debretzeni (violin), Sebastian Comberti (cello) and Maggie Cole (piano). At first I found the performances a little understated and indeed the opening of the E flat Trio is rather subdued, especially given the rather dry acoustic and lower than normal level of sound. Only a slight volume boost revealed that these are in fact exceptionally satisfying and highly musical interpretations. The balance, so much easier to obtain with an instrument of the period (a copy by Paul McNulty of an Anton Walter (c. 1795), is exemplary throughout, revealing contrapuntal passages such as the development of the opening movement of the G major Trio (No. 2) in crystalline yet never purely academic detail. For an example of sheer exuberance and wit it is necessary to point no further than the Presto finale of the same Trio, which sets off like a steeplechase with wonderfully fleet playing and barely contained excitement. Later the splendid modulatory transition back to the recapitulation is given an air of breathless expectancy, while the final coda brings just one example of exquisite pianissimo playing. There is, too, a poise about the slow movements, perhaps best exemplified by the hymn-like subject of the G major’s Largo con espressione, first heard on the piano then taken up by the cello and continued with a magically beguiling concentration that captivates the listener.

Incidentally, William Drabkin’s somewhat academic notes make the surprising point that the writing for the cello in opus 1 is ‘modest’, surprising since in fact there are a number of particularly felicitous passages for the instrument, such as the beautifully played cantabile melody at the outset of the E flat Trio’s Adagio Cantabile. I was amused to find that Maynard Solomon’s fine monograph on the composer draws precisely the opposite conclusion, drawing attention to the ‘independent and occasionally florid writing for the cello’ that abounds in the trios.

This now joins the Castle Trio (Virgin Classics) as a firm recommendation for a period instrument recording of these engaging trios.
Brian Robins

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Recording

C. P. E. Bach „für mich”

Ensemble Klangschmelze
64:49
ambitus amb 96 957

THIS BEAUTIFUL RECORDING arrived only a few days ago and it has hardly been out of my player since then. Bach’s Clavierfantasie in F sharp minor Wq. 67 and Duett for flute and violin Wq. 140 are sandwiched between three of my favourite pieces by “the Berlin Bach”, his quartets [sic] for keyboard, flute and viola Wq. 93-95. I remember long ago (yes, I know I’m still a relatively young thing!) hearing them on an LP (yes, OK!) with Christopher Hogwood at the keyboard on the amazing Decca L’oiseau lyre label and being astonished by mercurial music of which I had never heard the likes, and feeling drawn into what can only be described as Bach’s fantasy world; as the insightful booklet notes note, his “trademark” is rather a lack of form. I’ve often read that it is difficult to get over one’s first impression of a piece of music; I sincerely doubt, for sure, that anyone will ever surpass Emma Kirkby’s portrayal of Dido in the Taverner Consort recording… Yet the present performers have taken music I thought I really knew and led me even further into realms of electrifying excitement; by subtly pausing on this note or that, or having the audacity to decorate an already ornate line, they keep us guessing where the composer (and they) will take us next. The engineers have done Ensemble Klangschmelze proud with a bright, lively sound world and, all in all, this is a CD that I am sure I shall continue to savour for months and years to come. Bravo!
Brian Clark

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Recording

Mayr: Psalms from Sacri Concentus 1681

Ars Antiqua Austria, Gunar Letzbor
59:13
Challenge Classics CC72759

OFTEN THESE DAYS groups attempt some sort of liturgical reconstruction when they perform and record selections of Vespers music. Not so here. Even though there is plenty of room for another psalm and a Magnificat, Letzbor (whose booklet note spend six pages talking about the training of choir boys before devoting two to the little that is known with much certainty about Rupert Ignaz Mayr) is forced by restricting himself to a single publication to give us four psalms performed by four different singers with four-part string accompaniment and a similarly scored hymn setting. Boy treble Fabian Winkelmaier sings Laudate pueri, tenor Markus Miesenberger Confitebor tibi Domine, alto Markus Foster Beati omnes, bass Gerd Kenda Nisi Dominus and male soprano Alois Mühlbacher Venite gentes. These are what Letzbor calls “honest” recordings with no extra engineering to “nicefy” the sound, so the sound is quite dry which pays dividends at the ends of phrases where the decay is fairly rapid. I am disappointed that at least one more piece from the 1681 publication was not included – there are some really nice moments on this recording!
Brian Clark

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Recording

Jenkins: Complete four-part consort music

Fretwork
83:02 (2 CDs in a single jewel case)

THERE ARE 17 four-part fantasies by the English composer John Jenkins (1592-1678) and they really ought to be far better known! On the international stage, England is really all about Purcell, Elgar and Benjamin Britten… this is so unfair to a large number of composers whose music deserves recognition; Jenkins, “a very gentle and well bred gentleman” according to the writer Nigel North (with whose family he lived for eight years), is one such. There is a charm and an ease about these fantasies, a fluidity of texture and effortless of counterpoint which means one can listen for long periods of time without even being aware that one piece has ended and another begun; the four voices interact in a way that is at once inevitable and deeply satisfying. In the hands of performers of the quality of Fretwork, it is a relaxing and purifying experience; no one voice dominates the others, especially in the two four-part pavans which complete the programme. The recordings, which were made in 2016, are accompanied by an informative booklet and will surely prove popular with fans of Fretwork and John Jenkins – I sincerely hope, though, that they will also draw new admirers to this sublime music.
Brian Clark

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The Battle, the Bethel & the Ball

(Music by Heinrich Biber)
Acronym
68:15
Olde Focus Recordings

ONE MIGHT WORRY that five of the seven works on a CD are only attributed to the composer whose name it bears, but when the attribution is sanctioned by an expert like Charles Brewer, one need have little real anxiety. While Biber was far from being the only “crazy” composer of his day (Schmelzer wrote music in 5/4 time, Valentini’s harmonic shifts are sometimes reminiscent of Prokoviev, to name but two!), the works in question do bear too many of his signature traits for there to be any serious doubt. The programme is bookended by a remarkable Sonata Jucunda a5 which pushes 17th-century harmony to the limits and the composer’s Battalia with its renowned combination of folk songs in different keys. Sandwiched in between are solo motets for soprano and baritone with distuned violin, solos for gamba and violin with continuo (the latter is the longer version of the increasingly popular Ciacona) and another attribution, this time a set of dances for two instrumental groups, which plays very cleverly with the imitative possibilities of the music. As with their previous recordings, ACRONYM (aka Anachronistic Cooperative Realizing Obscure Nuanced Yesteryear’s Masterpieces!) absolutely throw themselves into this wild world and relish every note – soprano Molly Quinn and baritone Jesse Blumberg need no introduction to regular readers of these pages, and their contribution matches the instrumentalists perfectly. The recording is beautifully clear – try the opening of track 2 (O Dulcis Jesu), where the string bass, organ and theorbo are all distinctly audible, while Molly Quinn’s voice floats effortlessly across the top. The booklet notes are brief but pertinent and translations are given of both of the sung texts. I hope I don’t have to wait too long for ACRONYM’s next release!
Brian Clark

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Recording

Quer Bach 2

SLIXS
47:44
Hey! Classics LC 29640

CROSSOVER IS NOT really our thing, but these Bach arrangements for a cappella voices reminiscent of The Swingle Singers are actually quite revelatory in the way in which the original lines are vocalised to different sounds, meaning not only the timbres of the individual voices but also the vowels and consonants they choose, and how they are sometimes shared between voices to cover the wide ranges. For me, it was frustrating to have so many bleeding chunks – two of three movements of the A minor violin concerto, for example, are separated by the theme and seven of the Goldberg Variations and the slow movement of the D minor concerto for two violins. While I found the theme a little languorous, the first half of Variation 1 (especially with two voices sometimes singing the “top” line to give added colour) babbled along, though parts of the verbal exchanges of the second half were a little too “hard” for my ears. This was not always a problem, as the “Fuga Canonica in Epidiapente” from The Musical Offering really gained from the same treatment – the complex counterpoint became so clear! Not one for purists, I fear, but possibly something to put on during a dinner party to see if anyone can guess what it is.
Brian Clark

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Book

Fasch und die Konfessionen

Bericht über die Internationale Wissenschaftliche Konferenz am 21. Und 22. April 2017 im Rahmen der 14. Internationalen Fasch-Festtage in Zerbst/Anhalt
Fasch-Studien 14
Ortus Verlag om243. 432pp. €40.50
ISBN 978-3-937788-58-6

2017 MARKED THE 500TH ANNIVERSARY of the beginning of the Reformation. Martin Luther, whose Wittenberg Theses set the whole thing in motion and who, to a very large part single-handedly, established the liturgy (including its music) of the church which still bears his name, had very close connections with Zerbst, so it was thought appropriate to theme the conference that took place there during the Fasch Festival that year against a religious background. At various points in his life, the composer was employed by Catholic and Protestant nobles, and struggled with his own Pietist beliefs which were considered heresy by the Anhalt court censors. The present volume includes the texts of the 13 papers given, a comprehensive index and biographies of the authors.

Michael Maul opened proceedings with an introduction to the development of musical establishments within the Lutheran church; likening the push to educate boys in the art of singing to Germany’s determined efforts to rebuild their football team after a disastrous World Cup competition, he portrayed Luther’s drive as political expedience and a formative influence on the way music held a central place in the new church. Jan Brademann then explained developments in Zerbst where the court remained Lutheran while the town adhered to the Reformed church and the reaction of both to the rise of Pietism (of which Fasch was a proponent) and the consequences for musicians.

An important figure in the early 18th century was Johann Baptist Kuch; Rashid-S. Pegah took over 50 pages to fill out his biography and details of music in Zerbst immediately before and during his tenure as Capell Director. After several readings, I still feel I have not absorbed all the information he gives! Gerhardt Poppe’s paper focuses on Fasch’s settings of the mass for Zerbst. His studies of the Dresden chapel repertoire are well known, but there are clear gaps in his knowledge of the Fasch literature; firstly, [now Dr] Maik Richter was certainly not the first person to recognise the regular use of mass movements in the Zerbst liturgy; secondly, the Latin movements were not replaced by German hymns on the third days of Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun, but by settings of the German mass text (of which there were two settings in the “Zerbster Musikstube”); and thirdly, as I explained to him at the conference, the chronology of the F and G major versions of the mass known as FR 1260 is reversed, so movements he calls “new” in his analysis are actually “old”…

Gottfried Gille surveyed the contents of the surviving editions of the Zerbster Gesangbuch, the bespoke hymn book used in worship throughout the principality, including discussions of local poets whose works are included. My own paper focused on a set of part-books that contained music for an annual cycle of chorales; the fact that the text of the first was by one of the local poets Gille had identified (Johannes Betichius) led me to realise that the chorales were those Fasch used in 1738 to craft two cantata cycles from a single cycle. The only cantata from the cycle that had survived (without the central chorale!) was performed in its 1738 version in the church service that took place in the Bartholmäikirche on the Sunday after the conference.

The next four papers investigated figural music in the court chapel. Nigel Springthorpe’s “Roellig in charge” set out to establish which cycles were performed in which years, and Marc-Roderich Pfau introduced details of a cycle by Christopher Förster. Beate Sorg and Evan Cortens are recognised Graupner specialists: Sorg explored his contributions to the so-called “Dresden Jahrgang”, which Marc-Roderich Pfau had postulated Fasch compiled in advance of his sabbatical in the Saxon capital, and challenges some of Pfau’s conclusions. Cortens sought to demonstrate how the musical origins of Neumeister’s “new” cantata form lay in the opera house, and argued that the crippling financial impact of even attempting to maintain such an institution was alleviated by moving the musical style into the liturgical sphere.

The final three papers concerned music for funerals. Barbara Reul established the format of funerals in Zerbst and produced new evidence about the locations where such things were held. Irmgard Schaller’s focus was on the texts written (and printed) for such events. From a Fasch perspective, perhaps the most important revelation came in Maik Richter’s paper which introduced a series of letters he had found in the Cöthen court records concerning music that he was commissioned to write for a funeral there that (in conjunction with his previous archival research that had established that Fasch was paid for birthday and New Year cantatas) suggest that he was pretty much considered the Kapellmeister for all of the Anhalt lands. Personally, I see no point in speculating which musicians from Zerbst might have taken part in the services in Cöthen. On the other hand, it is invaluable to have the full texts of the three cantatas, and – obviously – to have letters in which the composer explains how he will set about dealing with the texts he had been sent.

Such a fine volume – handsomely printed by ortus verlag – could not have been produced without an enormous amount of editorial work; two former presidents of the Internationale Fasch-Gesellschaft e. V. (Konstanze Musketa and Barbara M. Reul) are to be commended for seeing another fine volume of Fasch-Studien through the press.
Brian Clark