Jakob Lindberg
81:11
BIS-2202 SACD
Music by Marco dall’Aquila, Alberto da Mantova & Francesco da Milano
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he three Italian virtuosi represented here are Francesco da Milano (1497-1543), Marco dall’ Aquila (c.1480-after 1538), and Alberto da Mantova (c.1500-51), who was also known in France as Albert de Rippe. The CD begins with Francesco’s well-known Fantasia “La Compagna”, played by Jakob Lindberg at quite a fast tempo, with crystal clear notes in the treble supported by the distinctive timbre of gut strings strung in octaves in the bass. The sound of the so-called ‘Pistoy’ bass strings made by Dan Larson soon fades away, but this is actually an advantage: modern synthetic bass strings can ring on too long, muddying melodic lines.‘La Compagna’ is typical Francesco: a polyphonic section develops the opening theme of d”, e” flat, d”, followed by a fast little scale rising from g’. After 49 bars the pace intensifies with those same musical ideas explored in a variety of ways, culminating in a scale shooting up to the 12th fret. The same opening three-note motif recurs in Fantasias 66 and 33 (the fantasy to which Fantasia 34 is the companion). Lindberg’s tone quality is exquisite, but I wonder if the microphone was too sensitive or placed a little too close to him. Particularly in the slower pieces one can hear background squeaks produced by his fingers as they move along the strings, which would not be so noticeable in a live performance. This is evident, for example, in Ricercar 51, which he takes at a slower, more reflective speed (lasting 3’19”, compared with Paul O’Dette’s 2’41”). Other pieces by Francesco include Fantasias 3, 15, 22, 33, 55 and 66, and four intabulations of songs by Arcadelt, Festa, Richafort and Sermisy.
Unfortunately some lutenists today ignore Marco dall’ Aquila, erroneously seeing him as Francesco’s poor relation, yet they overlook some fine compositions, ranging from the short, simply stated Ricercar 30 to the more extended Ricercar 32. In his informative liner notes Lindberg describes Marco dall’ Aquila as an innovator, and draws attention to his use of broken chords in Ricercar 30, which is similar to the brisé style of lutenists 100 years later. Marco’s Saltarello ‘La Traditora’ bustles along nicely, with tasteful divisions now in the treble, now in the inner voice, adding momentum and uplift. His intabulation of Josquin’s Plus nulz regrets is a particularly fine piece of music, with unusual harmonies reminiscent of the 15th century.
The music of Alberto da Mantova is often very difficult to play, and his fantasias are generally quite long. Fantasia 20 is the longest track of the CD, lasting 6’51”. It consists of strict polyphony which occasionally produces some surprising dissonance. Lindberg’s unhurried performance is masterful, as he gently plays off the different voices against each other with carefully shaped phrases. Alberto’s five variations on La Romenesca ground have rather prosaic divisions, and the last is punctuated with predictable little dabs of fast cadential figures. His virtuosity is more evident in his intabulation of Festa’s O passi sparsi, the first of two settings in volume 3 of the CNRS collected works: crotchet and quaver divisions in the treble and bass, extravagant semiquaver flourishes ending with super-quick demisemiquavers, brief excursions into triple time, and false relations (f natural/f sharp, e flat and e natural) adding spice to the harmony.
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Música para tañer a dos vihuelas
Ariel Abramovich, Jacob Heringman
53:21
Arcana A 428
Cabezón, Crequillon, Josquin, da Milano, da Modena, Palero, Vasquez, Verdelot, Willaert & Cancionero de Uppsala
[dropcap]A[/dropcap]riel Abramovich and Jacob Heringman have joined forces to produce an interesting and varied anthology of music from the 15th and 16th centuries arranged by them for two vihuelas. Very little music survives for this combination – a mere 17 pieces arranged by Enríquez de Valderrábano for vihuelas tuned at the unison, or a minor third, a fourth, or a fifth apart – but, as John Griffiths argues in his liner notes, vihuelas were almost certainly played together in a variety of social contexts, and the present CD gives an idea of what this lost repertory may have been like. The players use two vihuelas by Martin Haycock, both tuned to g’, and they take it in turns to play a bass vihuela in d’ by Marcus Wesche. The word “Cifras” in the title, literally means “figures”, and refers to the numbers used in tablature, and by association tablature or music notated in tablature.
The first track, Josquin’s Illibata Dei Virgo nutrix, shows how the five voices are distributed between the two vihuelas: Abramovich (vihuela in g’) plays voices I and IV, while Heringman (vihuela in d’) plays voices II, III and V. This is similar to how Valdarrábano distributes voices, and it works well here. (Some other intabulators, for example Phalèse, arranging music for two lutes, have each lute doubling the bass, which creates a fuller texture, but loses clarity of line.) The first six bars are played by Abramovich alone, followed by Heringman alone for the next six. In bars 57-65 there is interplay between pairs of voices: short phrases of four, five and six notes for voices II and V on the bass vihuela, are echoed by similar phrases for voices I and IV on the other instrument. Having two vihuelas enables polyphonic lines to be preserved, for example, in bars 13-14, where voices IV and V cross over each other. If this passage were played on a single instrument, the two melodic lines would be reduced to a meaningless repetition of chords. Other pieces by Josquin are Dulces exuviae, Pater Noster, and Ave Maria, all timeless and sublime. I assume the divisions in these pieces are the players’ own, because they are idiomatic and tasteful, enhance the music, and help maintain forward movement; many 16th-century intabulations have an excess of divisions, which almost become an end in themselves. Although Antonio de Cabezón describes his keyboard music as being “obras de musica para tecla, arpa y vihuela”, it is impossible to play most of it on a single vihuela: the overall range is too wide, and having divisions for both hands on the keyboard creates technical problems for a vihuelist. However, it does fit remarkably well on two vihuelas tuned a fourth apart for Thomas Créquillon’s Un gay bergier, a “Pavana Italiana”, and Claudin de Sermisy’s Dont vient cela. There are two pieces attributed to Juan Vasquez. The first, Dizen a mi que los amores he, is the five-part setting from the Uppsala manuscript. It has quite a few false relations, including a particularly squelchy one at bar 22. The duo have concocted their own ending of fast chords, which I don’t think enhances the overall mood of the piece. The second is the well-known De los álamos vengo, madre, played with invigorating gusto. I enjoyed listening to the CD – they play well together, and capture a variety of moods. The only frustrating thing was trying to navigate my way through the CD on my computer – the track numbers and titles are given in some curious eastern alphabet which is totally incomprehensible to me.
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Colin Tilney harpsichord
62:33
Music & Arts CD-1288
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he steady trickle of new recordings devoted to keyboard music by Byrd continues with this fine selection from the distinguished English musician Colin Tilney who is based in Canada. In this anthology, he investigates Byrd’s copious engagement with polyphony in the varied forms in which he composed for keyboard. On the surface, Tilney surveys dances, variations, fantasias and grounds, but he makes subtle choices, in that Pavana Lachrymae is both dance and variation, Quadran is not only dance but also ground, and in one of its sources The seventh pavan is titled Pavana. Canon. 2. pts in one indicating another aspect of counterpoint within the structure of a dance.
In a selection such as this, with an expressed context, there are always going to be pieces which one might wish that the executant had included. That said, Tilney’s choices from various forms all numerously represented within Byrd’s extensive oeuvre are judicious and in some cases revelatory. For instance, The maiden’s song is one of Byrd’s least recorded works, yet by drawing attention to it in this contrapuntal context, not just as a bunch of diverting variations on a pleasant old tune, Tilney reveals what a magnificent work this is, both in its construction and effect – he rightly and helpfully draws attention in his booklet notes (in which he gives Byrd’s date of birth as 1543 rather than the now accepted 1539/40) to its “most heavenly” ending – enabling the listener to hear a perhaps unfamiliar and certainly neglected work in a new and shining light.
Tilney’s trick is to balance unhurried tempi with an intense response to each piece, so that there are no gratuitous pyrotechnics, yet the fire in his interpretations is intense. This is particularly true in another relatively neglected work, the intimidating Quadran pavan and galliard with its jagged dissonances and rhythms which are all of a piece with Byrd’s contrapuntal vision, not one which doggedly pursues counterpoint for its own sake, but in which these harmonic and rhythmic implications are developed to produce a musical narrative or travelogue to enthral and enlighten both the player and the listener.
The two fantasias could not be better chosen to illustrate Byrd’s contrapuntal genius and Tilney’s enlightening response to it. The Fantasia in d is a work of the composer’s maturity, confident in its structure and in the distribution of melodies, rhythms and other devices among the dazzlingly moving parts of the whole. It is slightly surprising that in his booklet Tilney does not mention the possible reference to the plainsong Salve regina thought by many (but perhaps not CT!) to shape the opening of the Fantasia in d. The Fantasia in a is an early work, Byrd’s (and arguably Europe’s) first keyboard masterpiece, and here as in some of his other fantasias for keyboards and for viols, the raging torrent of ideas and polyphonic techniques has no right at all to come together so compellingly in such a convincing whole. Tilney eschews the repeat at bars 58-61 which is also ignored by Francis Tregian in the Fitzwilliam virginal book, but is given, presumably with some authority as a pupil of Byrd, by Tomkins in the work’s other source. He also makes what feels like the longest pause on disc (there have been many recordings of this challenging tour de force) at the change of tempo in bar 129, but this seems consistent with Tilney’s vision of Byrd’s vision. Which leads to the conclusion that in their respective ways, Colin Tilney and William Byrd are both visionaries.
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Yale Schola Cantorum, David Hill
70:24
hyperion CDA68210
+Benedicta sit sancta Trinitas,* Confitebor tibi Domine, Introduxit me rex,* Loquebantur variis linguis,* Magnificat primi toni & Ricercar del quinto tuono* (*played by Bruce Dickey cornett, and Liuwe Tamminga organ); Ricercar del sesto tuono (organ solo)
[dropcap]I[/dropcap] can still remember being stunned by the 1996 Dorian CD (DIS 80146) of polychoral music by Victoria sung by Saint Clement’s Choir, Philadelphia – I had no idea that American choirs could and did sound so good. We ignore the American choral scene at our peril, as it is a sophisticated and well-financed sector which produces excellent results. Under the direction of David Hill, Yale Schola Cantorum produce a truly beautiful performance of the ordinary of Palestrina’s double-choir Missa Confitebor tibi Domine, preceded by the motet he based it on, the eight-part Magnificat primi toni and various instrumental goodies. The instrumental works are played by the legendary Bruce Dickey on the cornett and Liuwe Tammingo on the organ, the latter also contributing a solo organ Ricercar. These instrumental tracks were recorded in Bologna, allowing Tammingo access to what sounds like an appropriate period instrument although no details are given, whereas the choral music was recorded in the lavish acoustic of Christ Church, New Haven, Connecticut. Built upon a clearly very dynamic church music tradition at Yale, the Schola Cantorum produce a beautifully refined sound and with David Hill at the helm give an intelligent and thoroughly musical account of Palestrina’s music. Add to this admirable package a cogent and very readable note by the authoritative Noel O’Reagan and the result is extremely impressive in every respect.
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The Cardinall’s Musick, Andrew Carwood
77:39
hyperion CDA68250
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his piledriver of a disc consists of the six votive antiphons – mighty works, most of which clock in at well over ten minutes – extracted from the Tallis Edition which The Cardinall’s Musick, aka TCM, recorded on five discs between 2005 and 2016, as a successor to the thirteen discs of their prizewinning Byrd Edition. Also present is the ubiquitous and incongruously tiny hymn O nata lux. This was included presumably as a reassuring lure to buyers well disposed to Tallis but unfamiliar with the longest works on the album, or perhaps simply because there was room for such a short item; in any event, I wish that the less familiar but equally fine Euge caeli porta had been given the nod.
The quality of all the performances is very high, though not entirely consistent. On a few occasions the solo voices in the duets or trios that open these antiphons are, if not actually flat, on the underside of the notes. That said, Andrew Carwood’s interpretations are consistently and unfailingly perceptive. Also these interpretations respond to the acoustic of the recording venue, Fitzalan Chapel, Arundel Castle, so that pacing and balance between the parts is ideal, never so brisk as to obscure individual detail yet maintaining a pulse appropriate to the texture and indeed the texts themselves. There are some formidably fine alternative versions of all these pieces; the USP (unique selling point) of this disc is of course that all six votive antiphons are, so to speak, here under the one roof.
The first surviving reference to Tallis is as organist of Dover Priory in 1531, after which he joined the musical staff of Canterbury Cathedral. One of the earliest pieces on this album is Ave Dei patris filia. David Allinson, from whose Antico edition it is sung, has established that Tallis owes much to Fayrfax’s setting (recorded by TCM on Gaudeamus CD GAU 142) and it required some serious reconstructive surgery by the editor to render it performable. Most alternative versions of these works are by fellow adult chamber choirs, but the most significant comparison for this and the two other earliest works is on Thomas Tallis: the Canterbury Years performed by The Choir of Canterbury Cathedral (Metronome MET CD 1014). This outstanding release also includes Ave rosa sine spinis and Salve intemerata. Here is truly a case where anyone with a penchant for this repertory should definitely possess both recordings. TCM has all the virtues of a specialist and experienced adult chamber choir, as delineated in the previous paragraph. Canterbury take nearly three extra minutes over Ave Dei patris filia, exploiting their cathedral’s generous acoustic, while showcasing their remarkable trebles and expert lay clerks; the delivery by the latter of the first half of the concluding Amen is one of the most memorable and gripping passages of singing in any recording of this repertory. It has been suggested that the relatively shorter Ave rosa sine spinis was composed for the more modest resources at Dover. Yet again Canterbury provide a penetratingly committed and perceptive performance of another slightly rambling master piece (in the old sense of a piece of work presented by a journeyman in order for it to be evaluated as being worthy of a craftsman), as they do the more musically concise but much longer Salve intemerata which they hold together through a combination of passionate commitment and sheer beauty in response to Tallis’s tighter construction, allied again to a sensitive response to the cavernous acoustic in which they are performing. For their part TCM provide an almost forensic response to Tallis’s music, with not an harmonic moment or incident overlooked, but then again, neither do Canterbury miss a trick with their more leisurely though equally purposeful gait. If one were focusing on just the Canterbury works, with the Missa Salve intemerata an added attraction, this luminous recording by Canterbury Cathedral Choir, which seems to exude their pride in having Tallis as one of their predecessors, is an essential consideration.
Another male liturgical choir, that of King’s College, Cambridge under David Willcocks, provides the most interesting comparison with TCM’s rendering of the more compact Sancte Deus for higher voices. Sir David’s recordings of Tallis were revelatory in their day and set the benchmark, either to be emulated or reacted against. In any event, as demonstrated by King’s recording of this antiphon, they possess the timeless virtues of sensitivity to recording location, to the meaning of the text, and to internal balance in relation to overall sound. Meanwhile TCM’s version is as good as it gets when sung by an adult professional chamber choir populated by specialists.
The same can be said about their reading of Gaude gloriosa dei mater, a mature work to set beside Tye’s psalm setting Peccavimus cum patribus or William Mundy’s Vox patris caelestis “for substance” as Thomas Tomkins might have said. Here the most intriguing comparison is with the recent recording by Alamire (Obsidian CD716) directed by David Skinner, co-founder with Andrew Carwood of TCM. Divergent career exigences necessitated his withdrawal from TCM’s Byrd Edition after disc nine of the thirteen, and while Andrew became Master of the Choristers at St Paul’s Cathedral, David fetched up at Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge in the same role, and founded his own choir, Alamire. The USP of the disc on which his recording of Gaude gloriosa appears – Thomas Tallis, Queen Katherine Parr & Songs of Reformation – is that the work appears twice: beginning the disc as a votive antiphon, and concluding it as an English contrafactum with words provided by Henry VIII’s final queen who seems to have commissioned Tallis to set her words to the music of his antiphon. Alamire’s Latin version is 28 seconds shorter than TCM’s, and feels it, while the English contrafactum is a further three seconds shorter but – probably appropriately given the politico-religious agenda behind it – feels even more driven. If Alamire’s version occasionally glosses over some of the internal details that are more audible in TCM’s recording, it is nevertheless still a fine achievement and provides a fascinating insight into an aspect of Tudor history. There is also a recording by a male liturgical choir, that of New College, Oxford, which is perfectly acceptable if one has a preference for such ostensibly more authentic choirs over those consisting of female and male adults (CRD3429). For all that this is a work of Tallis’s maturity, and therefore composed well into what we now call the Renaissance, there is an intriguing suggestion of the mediaeval at the words “quae corpore et anima” sung by a trio of inner parts.
Probably the latest of Tallis’s votive antiphons is Suscipe quaeso in which all of his compositional expertise – including the manipulation of textures, strong melodies, striking harmonies, rhetorical use of homophony within a mainly polyphonic framework – is encapsulated within a work half the length of the longest of his earliest attempts in this form, and is illustrated in microcosm by his setting of the word “peccavi” towards the end of the first section. Although no recordings by male liturgical choirs are currently available, there are some varied approaches from the adult chamber choirs. Again there is an alternative version by Alamire on their recording of the complete Cantiones sacrae published by Tallis and Byrd in 1575 (Obsidian CD706) here sung, perhaps a little too briskly to the occasional detriment of the audibility of inner parts, by single voices where TCM employ two per part. Another fine version, different in character from Alamire in being more sinewy, is provided on Thomas Tallis’s Secret Garden by Ensemble europeen William Byrd directed by Graham O’Reilly (Passacaille 963) who also include both Gaude gloriosa and Salve intemerata. The most radical version is by Clare Wilkinson and the Rose Consort of Viols on Four Gentlemen of the Chapel Royal (Deux-Elles DXL1129) which, given artistes of this outstanding quality, works well: one soon forgets that one is listening to a single voice (singing the superius part) and six viols rather than seven vocal parts.
It remains to say that TCM’s version of the ubiquitous O nata lux is the best and most satisfying (that final cadence … twice …!) that this reviewer has heard since when, as a schoolboy, he first heard it on the first of those two famous recordings of Tallis, mentioned above, by King’s College, Cambridge under David Willcocks. No doubt TCM will be happy to be mentioned in the same sentence as King’s in this context, and suffice to say (tongue now removed from cheek) that the compliment is sincere.
Whether one purchases this disc depends on the purchaser’s attitude to Tallis, Tudor music, owning duplicates, time, and money. Personally I own multiple versions of all these pieces, many of which I have had the pleasure of playing while researching and writing this review. I would not wish to be without any of those that I have mentioned, and if, in the tradition of Desert Island Discs, I had to make do with only one such recording, it would be the wonderfully atmospheric Canterbury disc containing the three earliest antiphons. If you already own recordings of all these pieces, you would still encounter fresh approaches to, and insights into, each one on TCM’s disc. If you own some of the works, it is worth purchasing this disc for those that you are missing. And if you have none of these pieces yet on disc (or the equivalent) do not hesitate to purchase it.
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Les Joueurs de Traverse
56:37
Son an ero 09
Music by Certon, Crécquillon, Gallus, Gombert, Hofhaimer, Le Jeune, Josquin, Lemlin, Lupi, de Manchicourt, Ortiz, Passereau, Senfl, de Sermisy, Stoltzer, Susato, Verdelot & Wolff
[dropcap]A[/dropcap]ll too often people imagine that the transverse flute arrived on the scene fully formed towards the end of the 17th century in time to sweep away the recorder and poised ready to play the great flute music of the Baroque, but of course the flute’s history goes right back to the middle ages and far beyond. How lovely, then, to hear for a change Renaissance music played on a consort of appropriate flutes. Les Joueurs de Traverse range far and wide through much-loved Renaissance repertoire, and I found myself frequently singing along with a familiar chanson or madrigal. It is remarkable how different the sound of a flute consort is from a recorder consort, and the players exploit fully the enhanced dynamic range of the flute, which would lead it eventually to be preferred over the recorder. The consort has a fine sense of ensemble and achieves a lovely blended sound, while the unequal temperament produces some wonderfully pure chords. This is a beautiful package, visually and musically, and delightful to see the programme notes in French, English – and Breton.
D. James Ross
Visit the group’s website (seulement en français…) for more information: click here.
Napolitane, balli e fantasie
Pino de Vittorio, La Lyra – Bor Zuljan
56:48
Arcana A450
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he music of the blind Renaissance composer Giacomo Gorzanis has evidently long been known in his native Italy due to availability in modern editions of his villanelle and lute music, but this is the first period-instrument CD devoted exclusively to his work. The lute Recercars and Fantasias are delicate fare, whereas his songs have a rustic folky quality, enhanced by the rather naïve vocal style of Pino de Vittorio. Gorzanis was active in the north east of Italy, and to my ear his songs share features with the contemporary music of nearby Venice. I found that Pino de Vittorio’s rather breathy and couthie vocal production wore a bit thin after a while, and I wondered how a different approach would change the tone of some of the songs, but on the whole this was an entertaining CD of catchy music by a composer I had hitherto never heard of.
The Marian Consort, Rory McCleery
63:19
Delphian DCD34215
Music by Allegri, Palestrina, [Jackson & MacMillan]
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his CD mixes modern and Renaissance music, which shares a melancholy mood. At the centre stands the ubiquitous Allegri Miserere, a work presented in the now fairly thoroughly discredited early 20th-century version. The programme notes rather disingenuously side-step the controversy by asserting that any version of the Allegri is simply one improvisation chosen over another – mmm. The performance, with the semi-chorus hidden somewhere in the bowels of Merton College chapel, is pleasant enough, although as both choirs are singing one to a part, the contrast between the two sections is not as marked as usual. The rest of the ‘early’ music is by Palestrina : his Super flumina Babylonis, Stabat Mater and Ave Maria. The Marian Consort’s singing is never less than polished and beautifully crafted, but the choice of ‘early’ repertoire is entirely conventional bordering on the bland, and is clearly aimed at the easy-listening end of the market. Think of the less familiar but deeply affecting Renaissance music the group could have sung to illustrate Sorrow’s Footsteps. James Macmillan’s setting of the Miserere makes a nice foil for the Allegri, while the opening account of Gabriel Jackson’s declamatory Stabat Mater was enough to make this Renaissance-attuned reviewer spill his coffee. A pity the rest of the CD wasn’t more startling. And how did no-one at Delphian notice the typo on the actual CD? – ‘Sorrow’s Footseps’ sounds like an alarming form of foot fungus…
The Choir of Girton College Cambridge, Historic Brass of the Royal Academy of Music, Gareth Wilson
77:51
Toccata Classics TOCC 0476
+de Brito, Magalhaes, Morago & anon
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his disc represents a fruitful collaboration between the choir of Girton College, directed by Gareth Wilson, and the historic brass players of the Royal Academy of Music under the tutelage of Jeremy West. They show a welcome commitment to the music of Manuel Cardoso and his Portuguese contemporaries, having toured with this programme to Evora and other cathedrals associated with these composers before recording it. Much of the music is recorded here for the first time, particularly Cardoso’s Missa Secondi Toni and two of his alternatim Magnificats, as well as two anonymous Portuguese organ pieces, played by Lucy Morrell; one is a delightfully sprightly Passo de Segundo Tom. The Cardoso Mass displays all the features familiar to us from other works by this fine composer while individual pieces by De Brito, Magalhães and Morago confirm the high standard of Portuguese music in this late Renaissance-early Baroque period. The choir sings with commitment and mostly rises to the challenge, though the vocal sound is perhaps a bit restrained and some more articulation of the words would have been welcome. The balance, when accompanied by the brass, is not always to the choir’s advantage – it is, of course, difficult to make this work on a recording when light young voices in groups have to balance with penetrating solo instruments. When playing on their own in three pieces, the instrumentalists show a real flair for stile antico polyphony, particularly in Morago’s Commissa mea pavesco where some very expressive playing brings out the subtleties of the suspensions and other contrapuntal devices. The two Magnificats are particularly effective: they are well orchestrated between voices and instruments, and the verses flow steadily between chant and polyphony. Booklet notes are excellent and the whole enterprise represents a very successful presentation of some beautiful music.
Lute music by John Johnson and Anthony Holborne
Yavor Genov lute
72:36
Brilliant Classics 95551
[dropcap]J[/dropcap]ohn Johnson (c. 1545-1594) was lutenist to Queen Elizabeth I, (a post coveted but never gained by John Dowland,) and he composed some very fine music, which was still being played long after his death. The first track of the CD is Johnson’s Flatt Pavan, and judging by the numerous surviving sources, it was one of Johnson’s most popular pieces. Yavor Genov has chosen the version from the Euing lute book. Where possible, it is important to stick to one source rather than conflate sources to create something which never existed, yet one must distinguish between acceptable variants and unacceptable errors. Genov reproduces what is clearly an error in bar 6 of the manuscript – a nominal C major chord (not very Flatt) instead of C minor. He starts the piece slowly with minim = 38, but reaches minim = 42 by the end of the first section. There is no copy of the Flatt Galliard in the Euing manuscript, so Genov uses the version in Dd.2.11. He opts for a slow speed at minim = 42, which really should be a bit quicker as a contrast to the Pavan.
For Johnson’s Delight Pavan and Galliard Genov turns to the Board lute book, c. 1620. A feature of this late source is the extensive use of ornaments, yet Genov misses most of them out. For example, the first section has 24 ornaments of which Genov plays two. Unlike other sources, the Board manuscript has two six-note chords in bars 2 and 4 of the third section. They are made special, because they have to be spread, since a player does not have six fingers on his right hand. Genov reduces them both to four-note chords, which are not spread, and not special. Most lute music of this period has final bars which involve a broken chord of some kind to sustain the sound. Genov is understandably keen to get quieter through the bar to give the music shape, but he often overdoes it, so that the last note of the bar is scarcely audible. At its most extreme the last note of the second section of the Delight Galliard vanishes altogether both times through.
Johnson’s music has much variety; it has attractive melodies and exciting and sometimes unusual divisions. If we put academic considerations to one side, Genov plays the music quite well. Gathering of Peascods from the Board lute book may be short of ornaments, but Genov instils brightness and jollity. He gives a nicely paced performance of Johnson’s variations on Carman’s Whistle, enlivened with some swift semiquaver divisions, and he produces an upbeat interpretation of Johnson’s Passing measures Pavan, with its quirky broken chords over repeated minim bass notes.
The second half of the CD is devoted to music by Johnson’s contemporary, Anthony Holborne (c. 1545-1602), beginning with the Pavan from 17v of Lbl Add 31392. Genov sustains it well, albeit with rather a lot of rolled chords. However, there seems to be something wrong with the recording halfway through bar 6, where it suddenly skips straight to bar 7 omitting half a bar. Halfway through bar 22, something is not quite right either, which sounds more like badly patched takes rather than bad playing – two extra notes are clumsily inserted, which match the divisions for the repeat in bar 30. The next track, The New Year’s Gift, also suffers from something similar – the first two sections are played without repeats, but the third section has a repeat starting halfway through the second section.
The last two tracks, Muy Linda and As it fell on a holiday, are played at breakneck speed. Muy Linda races on apace, so that there is no way of telling where one section ends and the next begins. The unfortunate exception is when Genov goes back for the repeat of the third section. The last bar has a final flourish involving four semiquavers, which Genov cannot possibly play at the speed he is going. He slows down, as if bringing the piece to an end, to be able to play them at half speed; he then goes back for the repeat a tempo, sounding as if he had forgotten he had a repeat still to play. To avoid all this, he could have re-written the final bar for the first time around, as he does with a similar final bar in As it fell on a holiday, and saved those semiquavers up for a rallentando only at the very end. Alternatively he could have played the piece slower.
