Categories
Recording

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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Recording

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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Recording

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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Recording

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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Recording

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

Categories
Recording

Künstel: Markus Passion

Polyharmonique, L’arpa festante
138:00 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Christophorus CHR 77435

This is an excellent recording of a great new discovery – probably the oldest surviving oratorio passion. Settings of the Passion according to Mark are rare in themselves, and this is a fascinating bridge between the older passion settings in the style of Schütz and the fully developed Passion Oratorios of J. S. Bach.  Künstel (c. 1645–1694) seems to have had his musical formation in the court at Ansbach, but from 1684 was in the service of Duke Albrecht III at Coburg, where his Markuspaßion was frequently performed after his death.  This substantial work (consisting of 99 numbers) was performed over two services on Maundy Thursday and the substantial Good Friday liturgy, including the motet Ecce quomodo moritur Justus by Jacobus Gallus.

The singers of Polyharmonique are headed by Hans-Jörg Mammel, who sings the measured music of the Evangelist accompanied by violoncello, organ and lute. Felix Rumpf, a baritone, sings the music of Jesus with the five-part string band (two violins, two violas and bass.)  The vocal ensemble has two sopranos, two altos, two other tenors, another baritone and two basses who between them sing the character parts and the arias, together with the director, Alexander Schneider, nicely entitled primus inter pares.

What is especially interesting is the way in which the narrative and the character parts merge into arioso passages as well as the more formal choruses. And all of this is woven around Lutheran chorales, often sung by a solo voice and ensemble alternating line by line. It is as if the late style of Carissimi were transported into the German Lutheran world, while at times the instrumental sound is that of Buxtehude’s. The formulaic cadences of the Evangelist belie Künstel’s dramatic characterisation of Peter, Judas and the other parts, where the verses of their arias are interspersed with instrumental ritornelli. Melodic material is partly derived from the chorales, but the whole substantial two-day event breathes its own character.

No-one who is interested in the pre-history of the Bach oratorio passions should miss this. And it is not just a vital link in the historical chain; it is really good and characterful music, admirably performed. Singers do not wobble or need to over-sing; lines are clear and the dramatis personae are well-characterised; balances are excellent and the whole production has a coherence and intensity that I was not expecting.

This is an excellent first recording of this newly-discovered work, and if you learn from it as much as I did, you will be eternally grateful. This is an alpha production and deserves to be widely known and enjoyed.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Jacob Praetorius, Melchior Schildt: Selected Organ Works

Bernard Foccroulle
68:05
Ricercar RIC400

At the heart of this fascinating presentation of two of Sweelinck’s pupils’ organ works by the scholarly Bernard Fouccroule is one of Germany’s more remarkable organs – the Stellwagen organ in its substantially original late gothic case that hangs on the north wall of the Jacobikirche in Lübeck.

Not only is the music beautifully played and presented – the latest in Fouccroule’s anthology of Northern German early Baroque music – but the instrument is splendid for the music.  A Schwalbennestorgel (a swallow’s nest organ) was built here in 1467 and this great Blockwerk organ – a substantial principal chorus of 16’, 8’, 4’ and six ranks of upperwork giving the characteristic full organ sound of the period before perforated sliders were introduced to ‘stop’ some of the ranks of pipes sounding – was restored in 1515 when the main case was provided. Then the organ was enlarged in 1636-37 by the addition of a Rückpositiv, a Brustwerk and a pedal organ by the great organ builder Friedrich Stellwagen, the builder of the magisterial instrument in the Marienkirche in Stralsund along the coast to the East.

By great good fortune, he kept the late gothic Blockwerk with only minor additions, so the organ speaks with the authentic voice of the period when both composers were in their prime. The pedal organ has not survived, but the careful conservation and renovation of 1978 (reversing some of the post-WW II ‘restoration’) has given us a Stellwagen-type pedal organ including reeds at 16’, 8’, 4,’ and 2’ pitches.  Dominique Thomas is credited with the expert tuning of the organ, which is pitched at A=494 Hz (i.e., a whole tone above modern A=440) in Werkmeister III modified where I was expecting something a little more obviously mean-tone, but it sounds splendid and the reeds are perfectly regulated.

The music from both composers is dominated by the Lutheran chorale, with sets of variations as well as chorale fantasias using Sweelinck’s chromaticism and echo effects as well as plenty of verses where the chorale moves in slower notes in the pedal.  The booklet, in English, French and German, has an essay by Fouccroule and not only detailed information about the history of the organ and its specification but importantly detailed registration of every piece, including stop changes. This is surely a must for every significant recording on a historic instrument such as this, where interest in the instrument and its presentation will be of equal significance to the cognoscenti who might buy the CD – as I would encourage them all to do.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Handel: Judas Maccabæus

Tarver, Breiwick, Harmsen, Fernandes, Willetts, NDR Chor, FestspielOrchester Göttingen, Laurence Cummings
137:00 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Accent ACC 26410

Handel’s Judas Maccabæus, dating from 1747, was second only to Messiah in popularity in Handel’s lifetime. Here Laurence Cummings puts out a spirited version, recorded live last May at the Stadthalle Göttingen, where Cummings has been director of the Handel Festival since 2012. His orchestra, regularly assembled for this festival, is 6.6.4.4.2 strings with all the wind and brass you could need and sound not only proficient, but gracious. The string playing is particularly fine, and the occasional sounds of the wind – like the flutes in the final duet O lovely peace – offer lovely glimpses back to an earlier world before the ‘orchestra’ was essentially a string band.

The chorus, sharp and punchy when required but capable of a mellow and sustained gloom when called for, is the North German Radio Choir, their regular partners in this festival, and the text (and programme notes) are in both German and English.

Followers of the Festival’s productions will not be disappointed – the standards in every department are high. The main questions I have are about the size and scale of the performance.

Directors have to choose in presenting large-scale Handel – and even more so in Bach – between the stricter demands of period performance, which might call for voices especially of less developed power, and what will fill a venue and make the whole project financially viable. The solo singers here are admirable, but undoubtedly use more modern techniques of projection. They only rarely out-sing their accompanying band, and, of course, the oratorio is a heroic tale, but it was given first in the relatively small Theatre Royal in London.

The bass, Joäo Fernandes, is quite excellent in the very exposed The Lord worketh wonders, and Judas, Kenneth Tarver, is suitably heroic in Sound an alarm, where the silver trumpets eventually make their appearance to introduce the chorus, praising the abstract virtues of laws, religion and liberty, for much of the actual action takes place off stage making the work for all its political overtones in the wake of the Duke of Cumberland’s victory over the Stuart Pretender’s rebellion at Culloden so much more of an oratorio than an opera.

The opening of Act III marks Handel at his tuneful best in Father of Heav’n where the instrumental lines with their overlapping counterpoint suggest the all-encompassing divine favour. The March has cheerful bumpy jollity, and the unanimity of the chorus following, introduced by single voices, is a splendid advertisement for the about 21 strong NDR Chor, as is David Staff’s trumpet obligato in With honour let desert be crown’d, Judas’ surprisingly reflective final aria in A minor.

At the end of the brief final chorus, the burst of applause reminds us that this is a live take, and after such a seemingly effortless performance it is well deserved.  Nothing is amiss, tempi are beautifully judged and if the scale of the performance calls for more modern vocal techniques than I would ideally have liked, then many people will enjoy this cracking good version.

David Stancliffe

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Book

The Well-Travelled Musician

John Sigismond Cousser and Musical Exchange in Baroque Europe
Samantha Owens
xvi+385pp. £60 (hardback), £19.99 (eBook).
Boydell Press, 2017. ISBN 978-1-78327-234-1

Apologies to both the author and the publisher of this extraordinarily detailed book – convinced that I had already published a review, it has lain on my bookshelves for months since… Only when I came to file it away did I realise that, although I had jotted down some notes, I had never sat down at the computer to commit them to public scrutiny.

The first 180 pages of the book are taken up with nine chapters devoted to aspects and/or phases of the composer’s 67-year-long life, each of them oozing the volume of minutiae that in the hands of a lesser writer would have caused brain numbing. Somehow Owens always finds just the right combination of words to maintain enough interest to make the reader want to know more. And there is plenty to learn!

This is nowhere more evident than in her summary of the composer/musician/copyist/impresario’s commonplace book, in her transcription of his Address Book (complete with identifications of almost everyone mentioned!), and in another transcription, this time of notes made on a journey he made in 1716. The latter is little more than a tantalising list of people, music and places but it is just this kind of diplomatic transcription being published that makes other music historians’ jobs easier – somewhere in amongst the seemingly meaningless, someone will find a link that is a crucial part of their puzzle. For this, if nothing else, the world of research into Baroque music owes both Owens and Boydell a huge vote of thanks. Of course, there is much else to absorb and enjoy – the book itself is a thing of beauty.

As the HIP scene in Dublin takes off, Cousser’s music will become more widely known, so get hold of this excellent volume and immerse yourself in his world.

Brian Clark

Click here to visit the publisher’s website.