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Telemann and his subscribers
Tabea Debus recorders, Claudia Norz & Henry Tong violins, Jordan Brown viola, Jonathan Rees violincello & viola da gamba, Tom Foster harpsichord
TT= 66:34
TYXart CD TXA18107

This is a very cleverly conceived recording which has several threads woven into it. The interspersing of works by G. P. Telemann within the time frame of 1728-9, using a selection of Handel’s and Telemann’s operatic arias to compile instrumental Sonatas, (Tracks 5-9, 13-16) a Blavet-Telemann Suite (Tracks 17-22) and some familiar Bach Sinfonias (BWV35, 156) whilst acknowledging the known self-publishing impetus of one of the baroque’s most prolific composers, with two Sonatas from Der getreue Music-Meister. Equally, it links the music to his esteemed and numerous subscribers. There’s also a most salient Bach link to BWV156/1056! Often overlooked!

Telemann took over as impresario of Hamburg’s Gänsemarkt opera house in 1722, right up until its fading appeal and final decline in 1738. The actual number of operas written during his Hamburg, Frankfurt and Leipzig years is still being defined, especially the “Etliche und Zwanzig” 20 odd for Leipzig! During his Hamburg years, there were often performances of his long-standing creative friend Handel’s operas, often a mere year or two after their London premieres. In some cases, the Hamburg “arrangements” were tailoured for the local tastes, with German arias and recitatives at selected moments. Occasionally, a few comic characters were added for a “Buffa” effect. The opera house was in full swing by 1727 through to 1729, with Telemann’s own works appearing, alongside these re-workings of Handel’s original: the original Riccardo Primo Re d’Inghilterra HWV23 (London 1727) became Der mißlungene Brautwechsel/Richardus I König von England (Hamburg 1729), TWV22:8(The thwarted mix-up of brides).

It should be noted that Track 5 ought to read HWV23, for ALL the Italian Arias in the 1729 Hamburg version are lifted from Handel! The 1729 opera Flavius Bertaridus TWV21:27, defined as Telemann’s sole opera seria, did have Italian arias of various contrasting nuances (times martial, times regal) with usual emotive content. Bracketing these instrumental versions of operatic arias, we have two fairly well-known recorder works from Der Getreue Music-Meister (1728-9), the serial publication of multifarious musical pieces, including some of Telemann’s own operatic arias. Perhaps a missed opportunity on this CD to have played the apt “Introduzione” Trio (Suite) a due Flauti, from the same publication?

The playing itself, is alert and crisp. Just occasionally the recorder comes across a tad blasé, sometimes over- strident, yet never without articulation, revealing some quite fascinating insights into these life-long musical friends within a “quid pro quo” of exchanged transformative ideas of the time, devoid of any plagiarism, moreover of happy fusions, hybrids and pasticcios.

Finally, to the Bach and Blavet chosen here, the former being perhaps the least operatic, back to the church style, but not without its salient link to Telemann! Professors I. Payne* (Severinus Press**) and S. Zohn* thrashed out the extremely detailed analysis of Bach’s borrowings from the family friend, with some inescapable conclusions! One being that the original motif found in Bach’s BWV156/1056 actually stems from the opening “Andante” of TWV51:G2, an oboe (or flute) concerto (SUTE 95**).

( * In The Journal of the Riemenschneider Bach Institute, Baldwin-Wallace College, Vol.XXX. No1., Spring-Summer 1999)

Blavet’s Le jaloux corrige (1752) offers a pertinent French connection in a musical confection or Assemblage compiled by Tabea Debus, with a dusting of extracts from Flavius Bertaridus TWV21:27 of 1729.

This recordings draws interesting connections to the influential and respected maestro and cantor, who ran a most successful “self-publishing” service, disseminating music to all those who were openly receptive to it, far and wide.

(Addendum)

Track listings: 1-4 TWV41:C2 , 5-9 Sonata of Handel & Telemann’s Arias, 10-12 Sinfonias BWV35 and 156, 13-16 Sonata of Handel & Telemann’s arias, 17-22 M.Blavet/Telemann Suite 23-26= TWV51:F1

Daivd Bellinger

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Henri-Jacques de Croes: La Sonate Égarée

Barrocotout
62:19
Linn CKD 597

The re-evaluation of established composers and repertoire has been an important element in the ‘Early Music Movement’, complemented by the re-discovery of those whom history has elbowed to the fringes. The sonatas recorded here, though published c1740, survive only in a single copy (and among the works by this composer still on the ‘lost’ list are 24 symphonies and a quantity of sacred music.)

I must say that I’m glad that this fast-developing group has brought them to our attention in performances that happily embrace both the graceful galant and the grittier contrapuntal aspects of the music. Sonata VI is especially strong. Tempi are well chosen and I appreciated the natural balance of the ensemble’s recorded sound. Also a relief is their unchanging continuo sonority – no ‘let’s have just the lute on the repeat’ here – though I would like to know if the occasional cello pizzicato is a whim of performer or composer.

The booklet note (in English and French) is just what’s needed in the context, though the English translation is in rather stilted language.

David Hansell

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Lully: Dies iræ, De profundis, Te Deum

[Sophie Junker, Judith Van Wanroij, Matthias Vidal, Cyril Auvity, Thiabut Lenaerts, Alain Buet], Choeur de Chambre de Namur, Millenium Orchestra, Leonardo Gracía Alarcón
82:50
Alpha Classics Alpha 444

This is the kind of repertoire (and the kind of performances) that make it easy to understand why Lully was the favoured royal composer and how his was such an important voice in the development of the grand motet even though he had no involvement with the regular chapel music. There is an interesting and clear explanation in the notes of the musical politics involved. The Dies Irae opens as if it were to be a standard overture but the startling entry of the choir men singing the solemn plainchant rather sets the tone for the dramatic variety to come. The choir and orchestra are both very accomplished and comfortable in the style, though there are a few moments when the former’s crisp rhythms veer too close to clipped for my taste. Other small reservations are a few rather laboured ornaments and some less-than-beautiful tone from one of the male soloists but I still really enjoyed the programme. It was while ‘conducting’ the concluding ebullient Te Deum that Lully sustained (possibly) the most famous injury in the history of music.

David Hansell

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Georg Philipp Telemann: Chameleon

Chamber music in changing colours
New Collegium, directed from the harpsichord by Claudio Ribeiro
73:51
Ramee RAM1904 (Black series)

Examined from a purely discographic point of view, this recording brings just four little premieres to our attention, the menuets from TWV34; the other works comply to a befitting Latin phrase: Non nova sed nove, “nothing new, but told in a new way”! From the most elegant opening Prelude of TWV43:e4, the sixth of the Nouveaux Quatours of 1738 to the final, enchantingly elegiac chaconne from the same work which closes the CD, there’s a charismatic display of incredibly balanced musicianship, a most perfect synergy between polished musical application and skill, and the engaging joy of an enthralling interpretation.

The various members of New Collegium (Formerly Collegium Musicum den Haag) feel totally at ease with the musical polyglot, Telemann’s intentional blend of national colours in these cleverly nuanced ouvrages. The impeccable and quite irresistible élan captured in the “Allegro assai” (Track 5) in TWV42:a4 feels like a dazzling Polish stomp found elsewhere in equally familiar works. From the marvellous sonata TWV42:G7, first heard about ten years ago from Concerto Melante (with members of the Berlin Philharmonic and a couple of the Berliner Barocksolisten) the ravishing cantabile lines in the adagio, sitting in the middle of this work (Track 8), almost certainly an aria in disguise, are played to perfection with just enough melting tenderness. Another fine stand-out moment in miniature, the sublime A minor menuet of just over one minute (Track 19) feels so incredibly French! Before this beguiling little gem, there’s a splendid little composite Suite, comprising cleverly extracted movements from works found in the pages of Der Getreue Music-Meister (1728) running from Track 11-18; perhaps the “Polonaise” TWV41:D4 could have been included, but it’s a real masterful stroke highlighting fine fragments from this accessible and enticing musical journal.

Anh. (Appendix) TWV42:A1 (related to the work with flute, TWV43:A7, heard at the Boston Early Music Festival some years ago) takes us back to one of Reinhard Goebel’s very first outings on LP then CD, 1979 and 1987 respectively. The two scordatura violins make this work feel very much akin to the works of Biber, and possibly Schmelzer, yet there’s an individual style present.

Besides the trip through “Les gouts reunis” from this neat selection of Telemann works, we have “Les talents reunis” of New Collegium in dynamic musical interplay that could easily enchant and captivate veteran Telemannophiles and many new converts…speaking to us in compelling, chameleonesque new ways through these mostly known works.

David Bellinger

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Schubert: Sonatas & Impromptus

András Schiff (Brodman c. 1820)
124:21
ECM 2535/36 (2 CDs in a card wallet)
D899, 946, 958 & 959

Schubert’s final two years before his tragically early death in November 1828 were marked by a fecundity that would have been extraordinary for a man in his prime. For a man in failing health they were miraculous. These were the years of not only Der Winterreise, the two Piano Trios (opp 99 & 100) and the sublime C major String Quintet, but the piano works included on these CDs: the four Impromptus, D 899 (1827), the Drei Klavierstücke, D946 and the two big sonatas, the C minor, D 958, and A major, D 959, all composed in the year of the composer’s death.

Riches indeed and riches enhanced not only by the superb performances of Andras Schiff, one of the great Schubertians of our day, but also his choice of instrument, a remarkable Viennese fortepiano built by Franz Brodmann around 1820. Among its features are no fewer than four pedals: soft pedal, bassoon, moderator and a sustaining pedal. It is the judicious and highly effective use of these pedals that allows Schiff to bring to these works a kaleidoscopic gamut of aural colour, from the delicacy of the soft cimbalom-like sounds in the top register to the rich, nut-brown chocolaty timbres in the middle to lower register, where at the bottom of the compass the sounds take on a bell-tolling profundity. At times, as in the heavy peasant stomping of the third of the pieces of D 946, the instrument becomes capable of an almost orchestral depth and richness of sonority.

Schiff’s mastery and understanding of this remarkable instrument is apparent from the opening chord of the first piece on the programme, the C-minor Impromptu, where the dying away of the overtones is judged to perfection. The listener’s attention is thus immediately fully engaged and prepared for the perfectly articulated opening theme, a melody of infinite sadness, of longing for some idealized, long lost world. One notes almost immediately, too, the rich resonance of the bass and the perfect balance of weight between hands. The latter is very much a feature of these performances in general, an important point because it enables the part writing to be revealed with a natural clarity that never has to be highlighted or forced.

There are wonders to be experienced throughout these performances, but the great A major Sonata, perhaps deserves special mention for the manner in which Schiff captures its multifaceted character. In the big opening Allegro the strong imposing chords of the opening give way to watery cascading rippling. When the contrasting second idea arrives after an entrancingly muted introduction – exquisite use of the soft pedal, which is quite different to that of a modern piano – it has in Schiff’s hands all the innocent vernal freshness of a spring day. In the Andantino, a sad, limping waltz, the pianist also manages to convey a kind of inner repose, while in the strange, stormy central section he conjures up strangely harsh, disconcerting chords. Nothing could be more contrasted than the playfully capricious Scherzo that follows, tellingly set off against the more reflective central Trio. The Rondo finale has for its main theme one of those timeless, heavenly melodies that could have been written by no one other than Schubert, any temptation to sentimentality adroitly avoided by Schiff.

There is much else that might be said about such stellar playing, but in truth these are performances to be experienced, not subjected to the inadequacies of the written word. I would fervently urge everyone to hear them.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Caccini: Le Nuove Musiche

Riccardo Pisani tenor, Ricercare Antico
66:41
Brilliant Classics 95794

Giulio Caccini’s Le Nuove Musiche, the first volume of which appeared in 1602, is for the most part better known by name than in performance. As every student of music history knows, it is a collection of solo songs composed over some two decades. It owes its name and existence to the experimentation and theories of the Count Bardi’s Florentine Camerata, an academic gathering of which Caccini was a member. Although not quite as ground-breaking as its composer suggested, this ‘new music’ played a fundamental role in the birth of a form that emerged at much the same time as publication of Le Nuove Musiche and which to this day plays a major role in musical life – opera.

Presciently, as if its author was unconsciously aware of its epoch-making importance, the volume was preceded by a lengthy forward that is part manifesto, part singing tutor that is essential study for any singer aspiring to sing the vocal music of the 17th century. Basically the songs fall into one of two forms: strophic songs with a number of verses, often punctuated by an intervening ritornello, and freer structures, sometimes in several sections responding to the verse. The former are generally of a lighter character, often dance-like and incorporating hemiola (syncopated) rhythms – what Caccini terms ‘airy musics’ – while the latter are used for more serious topics. Anyone familiar with Monteverdi’s Orfeo will realise that it includes examples of both.

Caccini’s prime prerequisites for the performance of these songs are recognition of the importance of the text and its communication to the listener. In the Preface he lays stress on realising the emotions, which may change rapidly and which, in Caccini’s words, require an ‘increasing and abating’ of the voice. He also has much to say on ornamentation, in particular the trill, repeated note decoration, and gruppo, which more closely resembles the later Baroque trill.

So how do these performances by the Italian tenor Riccardo Pisani measure up to such tutoring? Not too well, I’m afraid. On the credit side he has obviously taken the trouble to think about the text, while he also articulates and projects words well. But though the voice itself is agreeable enough it lacks the colour and personality to make enough of this music, even the most famous of the songs, ‘Amarilli’ failing to beguile as it should. In short, there is little in the way of responding to Caccini’s ‘increasing and abating’ of the voice. Technically, too, although Pisani shows a reasonable grasp of the style, the voice is not always evenly produced, there is a surfeit of vibrato and the singer’s handling of those all-important ornaments lacks confidence. Too often the need for decoration is passed over and embellishment that is attempted often sounds sketchy. It is sobering to recall that Nigel Rogers was singing this kind of repertoire with far greater style and grasp of the correct ornamentation nearly 50 years ago. Pisani is not helped by the over- elaborate and at times intrusive continuo contribution of Ricercare Antico (violin, harp, archlute and theorbo, violone and (sigh) Baroque guitar), who also intersperse rather more satisfying instrumental performances of items by Filippo Nicoletti, Frescobaldi and Stefano Landi, the last named rather curiously described in the notes as ‘a specialist in instrumental music’.

As is customary with Brilliant Classics you will have to go their website for the Italian/English texts, but be warned that if you print them off (as I did) you will get some odd spacing results.

Brian Robins

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Haydn: String quartets

Jubilee Quartet
65:41
Rubicon RCD 1039
op. 20/2, 54/2, 64/4

Although this is the debut recording of the Jubilee Quartet the sparse booklet gives no biographical details, so I’ll fill in the gap to save you going to their website. The ensemble was originally formed by students from the Royal Academy of Music in 2006, though it seems only first violinist Tereza Privraiska remains from its founding membership. Although they have chosen Haydn for their debut recording, the Jubilee is not a period instrument group, their collective sound having a noticeable edginess to ears more accustomed to period strings. Nevertheless, they bring a fine general sense of style to Haydn, the notes by second violinist Julia Loucks making clear they have thought deeply about the music.

The three works chosen cover much of Haydn’s career as a composer of the string quartet, from the second of the epoch-making op. 20 set dating from 1772 to the extraordinary C major, op 54/2 (1787) and the congenial op 64/4 in G (1790). It is now some time since the great Haydn scholar H. C. Robbins Landon rightly noted that it was with op 20 that the Classical string quartet reached full maturity, not – as so often suggested – those of op 33 (1781). All six quartets of op 20 almost explode with originality and invention, constantly breaching new boundaries, none more so than the C major included here. Among many innovatory features, we might note the Capriccio: Adagio (ii), cast in the form of an accompanied recitative in which the cello has the ‘vocal’ line followed by a heartfelt aria in which the first violin becomes the ‘singer’. Later elements of both are thrown together to create a disconcerting, fragmentary tapestry. The strong contrasts are well conveyed in the playing of the Jubilee, now gruffly dramatic, now tenderly soulful.

For Robbins Landon, Op 54/2 is one of Haydn’s ‘most original [quartet] constructions’, with an opening Vivace that has a feel of the epic, a brief sustained Adagio of extreme inward concentration – well caught by the Jubilees – and a fairly conventional minuet made memorable by its unexpectedly tense C minor trio section, its cries of pain searing themselves on the memory. Most striking of all is the final movement, which opens with a surprise, a dignified Adagio leading to a beautiful cantabile shared in dialogue between the first violin and cello. The expected quicker music (marked Presto) arrives to disrupt the conversation before the movement ends with distant memories of the cantabile, the rapt codetta played with real sensitivity.

Op 64/4 in G is a more relaxed work, with a warmly welcoming opening Allegro con brio in which the most interesting development takes place, not in the central section, but the recapitulation. The prize here is the slow movement (iii), marked Adagio – Cantabile e sostenuto, a ravishingly lovely movement of great inner serenity, the inner heart of which is again penetrated satisfyingly by the performers, who have the imagination to introduce some pleasing touches of portamento.

As suggested above these are agreeable and musical performances, with well-judged tempos and good balance between the instruments. The playing is technically capable, if perhaps without the final degree of finesse; some of the demanding high-lying writing for the first violin could be more finished. More importantly, the performances have a winning integrity of the kind that cannot be gainsaid.

Brian Robins

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Monteverdi: Salve morale e spirituale

La Venexiana, Claudio Cavina
208:44 (3 CDs in a card triptych)
Glossa GCD920943

Claudio Cavina’s La Venexiana has hit on a good way of presenting the Selva morale e spirituale, Monteverdi’s late collection of music (largely) for the church, which they seem to have recorded way back in 2005, in the week-long festival of Church Music in Cuenca in Spain, but have only released in this form this year.

The music is divided between three CDs, the first two cast in the form of extended settings of Vespers and the third as a Missa Solemnis. This enables them to use almost all the religious music in the great compendium. I say ‘almost’ advisedly. For example, the seven-voice Gloria is substituted for that in the Missa for four voices, and the Credo has the fuller scored Crucifixus, Et Resurrexit and Et iterum substituted for those parts. The third Confitebor finds a place as the Offertorium in this third CD and Memento Domine David (Psalm CXXXI – 132 in the Coverdale scheme) is squeezed in as a kind of Post Communion, with a couple of Marian pieces – the extended Salve Regina – Audi cœlum verba mea and then the Pianto della Madonna doing duty for the Angelic salutation at the end of mass. There is no space for two of the hymns or Ab æterno but everything else religious is there in the three CDs that total 210 minutes.

La Venexiana in those days comprised three soprani and an alto (Cavina) with two tenori and two bassi, with SAATTB ripieni; two violini, four tromboni, violone, organ and two chitarroni complete the band.

Like Monteverdi’s better-known 1610 publication, the later collection exhibits Monteverdi’s dazzling ability to write in a wide variety of styles, to use parody techniques, and to provide music for virtually every kind of occasion. Selva is less coherent as a collection than 1610, but Cavina’s shaping of the material shows how versatile and useful his late assemblage proves to be. For the most part, his ‘scoring’ is exemplary, even if some of the voices – especially the soprani, with a pretty dramatic and so at times rather vibrato-laden tone – are probably not what everyone would choose 14 years later. If you were brought up – as I was – on Andrew Parrott’s Reflex/EMI recording of some of the Selva material in Vespers format with Emma Kirkby singing, nothing will quite replace the clarity and vivacity of that ground-breaking 1980s disc.

The performances, with a good deal of vocal OVPP singing, are stylish, if slightly dated. The broken voices blend well, and balance – including contrasts between florid solo singing and more substantial homophonic writing – are carefully worked out and executed. It is good to have (almost) the whole of the Selva available in a coherent form – I have reviewed other partial collections in the past few years – but this doesn’t quite set me on fire as I had hoped.

Partly it is the acoustic, which make much of the music sound too distant or just a bit foggy – it may well reflect the reality of Venice in the 1630s and 40s, but it is nowhere near as good as the continuing series of Schütz, for example, published by Carus to coincide with their new complete edition. Partly it is the feeling of sameness, which characterises the very different styles. Seconda prattica and various older styles rub shoulders and I was expecting a greater degree of differentiation.

But with these small reservations, I welcome this undertaking. I just wish that Andrew Parrott would gather today’s equivalent of his 1980s, and give us the rest!

David Stancliffe

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Bach: Goldberg Variations

Arundo Quartet
53:31
Supraphon SU 4261-2
+ Suite in C, BWV 1066

This is scarcely likely to be on the wishlist of readers of the EMR, but this arrangement of the Goldberg Variations by the bassoonist in this Prague-based wind quartet (oboe, clarinet, basset horn and bassoon) shows that you can do almost anything with Bach’s music and enjoy it, as these wind players certainly do. Also on this CD is his arrangement of the First Suite in C major (BWV 1066).

It must be tough being a clarinettist and having not a note of Bach to play – though I remember going to a Matthew Passion conducted by Vaughan Williams in the Dorking Halls in the early 1950s, and hearing clarinets play the oboe da caccia parts and the continuo realised on a grand piano! No wonder this quartet has two members of the clarinet family in it.

What surprised me on a casual listening was how dull and samey the overall sound was compared to the variety I have grown used to from an experienced harpsichord player with nuances of fingering, and some changes of registration.

David Stancliffe

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Buxtehude: Membra Jesu nostri

La Maîtrise de Garçons de Colmar, La Chapelle Rhénane, Benoît Haller
60:35
Christophorus CHR 77436

This is a recent re-issue of a live recording made in October 2007. It is made with single strings, six single voices (one soprano – Tanya Aspelmeier – only sings in cantata 6), a very large basso continuo section including harp, theorbo, organ, harpsichord, bassoon and violones in both G and D. In addition it has a choir, La Maîtrise de Garçons de Colmar, employed largely to give weight to the biblical texts in some numbers.  This is a possibility suggested by Gilles Cantagrel, an excerpt from whose biography of Buxtehude published in 2006 in French forms the essay in the liner notes, and is translated into German and English. The text in Latin is translated into German and English as well.

I find the contrast between the sections with single voices and those that use the whole choir unconvincing. The single voices of Stéphanie Révidat, Salomé Haller, the haute-contre Rolf Ehlers, Julian Prégardien (T) and Benoît Arnould (B) are well blended, and are capable of fine expressive singing, occasionally marred in the sopranos by vibrato on the weak notes. The lower parts are cleaner on the whole – 12 years later, standards have changed vocally more than instrumentally. The playing is splendid, and the key progression from C minor to E flat major, G minor to D minor to A minor to E minor and then to C minor to finish give a fine series of distinct tunings (though details of instruments, pitch and temperament are not given).

The final Amen is light and bright, and has more of the vocal quality I would have liked in some of the sections with single voices. The recording balances the different vocal and instrumental lines well, though the Maîtrise is toned down till the final Amen. Who is this choir of youngsters and their director Arlette Steyer? There is nothing about them (or indeed anyone else!) in the notes.

David Stancliffe