Anne Schumann viola d’amore, viola da braccio, Klaus Voigt viola da spalla, Sebastian Knebel harpsichord
66:03
Cornetto COR10047
[dropcap]A[/dropcap]lways the bridesmaid, never the bride – only rarely does the viola emerge from the orchestra to take centre stage in the 18th century. This CD tries to rectify that situation by presenting obscure repertoire (even by my standards!) and performing it in remarkable spaces on an array of precious instruments. Anne Schumann opens the disc with two lengthy anonymous suites of dances and arias with a mixture of French and Italian titles for viola d’amore on an original Bohemian instrument, then switches to a copy of a Wenger from 1718. She then switches to the most enormous viola I think I have ever seen; made by the Amati brothers, it is thought that this very instrument may have come to Dresden as part of an order made by Schütz on one of his Venetian trips for a consort of instruments from Cremona. As Anne Schumann points out, the instrument surely was not designed for virtuoso display (it is better suited to playing the tenor parts in string band music), yet she makes a gallant effort to overcome the technical problems set by the chosen repertoire (including a rather taxing test piece for violists wishing to join the royal band in Lisbon!) The bass line (and in the Trio by Johann Daniel Grimm the added obbligato voice!) is provided by Klaus Voigt on the increasingly popular viola da spalla; the notes draw attention to the fact that it is shorter in length than the Amati viola, yet what deep tones it produces – occasionally it buzzed a little like the growl in my childhood teddy, but that rather endeared it to me. Sebastian Knebel accompanies nicely on a Gräbner harpsichord; his instruments were known from Hasse’s time to Mozart’s – in fact, he directed the opening night of Don Giovanni from one. The viola and the harpsichord belong to the Museum of Decorative Arts section of the Dresden State Art Collection, so it is a real privilege to have the opportunity to hear them played.
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.
Concertos for 2 harpsichords
Pierre Hantaï, Aapo Häkkinen, Helsinki Baroque Orchestra
62:42
Aeolus AE-10087
+ W. F. Bach: Concerto in F, Fk 10
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hese are among my favourite pieces of Bach; although I know two of them in their “other” versions (and, if I’m totally honest, prefer them that way…), I have enjoyed previous keyboard performances of them, and this addition to the catalogue is as persuasive as any that has gone before. The two instruments have enough difference of tone (copies by the same maker, Jürgen Ammer – to whose memory the recording is dedicated – of a Harraß from around 1710 and a Hildebrandt of c.1740) to allow their distinct voices to be heard in dialogue. The accompaniment is nicely provided by single strings and the recording has a nice resonance to it. The outstanding soloists particularly enjoy the slow movements, where they have increased freedom to employ rubato. The programme is completed a little-known concerto for two harpsichords without accompaniment by Bach’s oldest son, Wilhelm Friedemann, dating from the early 1730s and was clearly known by Vater Bach, since he wrote out the two keyboard parts; it is clearly in a different style, yet it was clearly written by someone thoroughly schooled in both keyboard technique and counterpoint. In fact, hearing it made me wonder why we hear so little of his music – a quick check revealed an extensive list of works, so there is clearly no shortage of material; but then, he was born into that lost generation between the Class of 1685 and Mozart/Haydn. Surely their time must come soon? And not just their orchestral music, either!
Hélène Schmitt violin, François Guerrier claviorgan, Massimo Moscardo archlute/theorbo, Francisco Mañalich viola da gamba, Jan Krigovsky violone
145:38 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Aeolus AE-10256
[dropcap]R[/dropcap]egular readers will know that I am an admirer of Hélène Schmitt’s violin playing. Here, using only two violins for the entire cycle of five joyful, sorrowful and glorious mysteries and the peerless final Passacaglia, she lives up to everything I expect of her; a ringing clear tone (where the torturous scordatura permits), deliberate bow strokes that manage to make the strings sing out without delivering that sharp rasp that can mark some less subtle performances of this repertoire, and above all a great sense of where the music is going. The temptation in recording this set is to over-egg the continuo contribution; why the ever-changing timbre of the violin should not be enough puzzles me. I find this set satisfying in this respect because, although the colour of the accompaniment does change, it does so within distinct sections. It still does not quite accord with the fact that, in all the years I have been editing 17th-century music, I have yet to come upon a set of performing material with four copies of the continuo part. Yet, I do understand performers’ concerns that two full CDs of this music may be harder listening if the sound palette is restricted. Personally, I could listen to Hélène Schmitt playing these wonderful pieces even without accompaniment for hours. As well as an excellent essay by Peter Wollny on the historical background to the survival of Biber’s masterpiece, the booklet also includes a personal reflection on playing it by Schmitt herself. It is well worth reading.
Porpora, Monn, Haydn: Cello Concertos
Adriano Maria Fazio cello, Soloists of Cappella Neapolitana
64:51
Brilliant Classics 95570
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he “invisible is the tangible sign of our emotions,” writes the cellist inside the back cover of the booklet. I’m not quite sure what to make of that, and I’m equally at a loss as to what lies behind the recording of three concertos in such minimalist circumstances. There is no denying that Adriano Maria Fazio is a gifted cellist, or that the group formerly known as the “Cappella della Pietà de’ Turchini” has years of experience in HIP music-making of the highest order; so why strip away all but the bare essentials of the Haydn concerto (all three works are accompanied by only a string quartet with double bass and harpsichord)? While it may be true that dispensing with the horns and oboes is really just a simplification of the colour scheme, those were the sounds the composer chose (and surely Count Esterházy would have expected to hear from the orchestra he paid to maintain). I can’t find any reasonable explanation in the booklet and I leave it to readers to discover for themselves whether the approach works.
La Stagione Frankfurt, Michael Schneider
62:02
cpo 777 993-2
[dropcap]D[/dropcap]ifficult as it is to believe, it is nearly 25 years since I first heard Michael Schneider direct La Stagione in performances of symphonies by Abel. Then it was op. 10, while now we have the slightly earlier op. 7. This set’s “claim to fame” is the misattribution of the final work in the set to Mozart, since the young prodigy had made a copy during his 1764 London visit. Needless to say, the uplifting, exuberant playing of the previous release is a feature of the present performances. Re-ordered from the original print (3, 2, 1, 6, 4, 5), each has three movements and Schneider draws attention (rightly, I think) to the fact that the stand-out feature of each is the middle movement; none of Abel’s symphonies is in a minor key and, although the sonata form of the first and the dance character of the faster ones almost require passing references to minor keys, it is in the slow movements that he more deeply probes them. Graciously crafted inner voices and more than a hint of romanticism give these movements a forward-looking character that looks to Mozart (who, as we have heard, was acquainted with Abel’s music) and even brooding qualities of the Sturm und Drang movement. But there is little time for the listener to be overwhelmed by such thoughts, for along comes a boisterous final movement to wake us from our daydreams and fill us with verve and excitement.
[dropcap]H[/dropcap]uge apologies to all concerned for the tardy review of this recording; it was prematurely transferred to my “definitely keep this CD” pile! Featuring music by two important composers who get precious little exposure, Adam Krieger (1634-66) and Johann Wilhelm Furchheim (c. 1645-82); the former is represented by four arias lasting from two to a little over four minutes, while we hear a trio sonata and the six ensemble sonatas from the latter’s Musicalische Taffel-Bedienung (literally “musical table service”). Both composers worked in senior positions within the Dresden Hofkapelle and the high level of virtuosity required of the violinists gives some indication of the standard of playing at Johann Georg II’s court. On Krieger’s premature death, efforts were made to complete a series of arias which he had published in groups of ten; none other than Furchheim composed the five-part ritornelli, and three of the four arias which the gifted tenor, Tobias Hunger, sings are from that posthumous set. The texts are given in German only; my favourite is the last one (and was the last of those published in 1657 while the composer was still alive): “Wer froh sein will, liebt Bier und Wein” (He who wants to be happy loves beer and wine”)! Ensemble Fürsten-Musik (two violins, two violas, cello, theorbo and keyboards) play neatly and with energy and excitement; there is real fire and a sense of harmless competition between the violinists in the trio sonatas (playing in the way that one might imagine Furchheim and his colleagues Walther and Westhoff doing). Great music, beautifully performed.
Der musikalische Garten
67:27
Coviello Classics COV91705
[dropcap]D[/dropcap]er musikalische Garten is an exciting young trio sonata line-up consisting of two violins, cello and harpsichord. For this recording, they have chosen a previously unrecorded set of 12 Concerti à 3 by Giuseppe Antonio Brescianello, which were perhaps written before he moved to Germany, where he worked for most of his professional career as a virtuoso violinist, composer and Kapellmeister to the court in Stuttgart. While each of the six works on this fine CD (there will be a second volume to complete the set) broadly follow the pattern of the sonata da chiesa, the booklet notes are correct in saying that the technical demands placed on the violinists justify the use of the term “concerti”. The present performers have no problems in producing neat, characterful renditions, and the no-nonsense continuo team provides a modest but stylish foundation for their exploits. Brescianello is equally at home writing tuneful slow movements as he is working out proper counterpoint; these are fine works that deserve to be better known – and the equally fine musicians of Der musikalische Garten are leading the way.
Chamber music by Telemann
The Herschel Trio
75:40
Omnibus Classics CC5013
TWV 42: D6, d3, F4, g7, A3, a7, h4
dropcap]<[/dropcap]strong>his is a most beautifully presented CD, with notes by one of the top Telemann experts in the English-speaking world. The Herschel Trio clearly display their alert, intimate and articulate musicianship and the composer’s own prowess in the trio genre. These selected works well suit the ensemble’s sprightly, agile approach; only occasionally did the flute err on the decent side of stridency during a “deep listen” in the headphones! The trios in F major (TWV42: F5) and G minor (TWV42: g7) have been recorded about five and seven times each, strangely matching their classification numbers! The three works chosen from the Six Concerts et six suites (Hamburg 1734) perfectly match the eloquent abilities of the players. The 1734 set offers no less than five variations of instrumentation, which would again seem to espouse the composer’s oft cited adage: “Wer vielen nutzen kan, thut besser, als wer nur fuer wenige was schreibet; Nun dient, was leicht gesetzt, durchgehends jedermann” (“He who writes for the many, does a greater service than he who just writes for the few; thus music easier to play pleases one and all”, from his 1718 autobiography). I’m convinced there are some vocal lines hiding behind some of the movements of the 1734 set (Tempo giusto?). I’d keenly recommend this recording to all who aren’t aware of these works in their flexible musical guises, and others who might collect Telemann trios like rare postage stamps; if nothing else, I’d like to hear the ensemble tackle the remaining suitable works from the 1734 collection… a future project?
[dropcap]R[/dropcap]arely have I been so excited to receive a recording and equally disappointed by it. Let me state from the outset that this has nothing to do with the quality of the performances; as I have written many times before (as a quotation in the booklet neatly illustrates), Collegium 1704 are among my favourite performers of Zelenka’s extraordinary music. There is just one feature of these versions that I found initially distracting, then irksome and finally my ear became so obsessed with it that I had to reject the disc from my player… I have never been a professional continuo player, but I did study the art as part of my degree and I remember quite clearly being told by more than one teacher that I should “stay out of the way” of the more important obbligato lines. Similarly, that part of the function of the realising instrument was to fill out the chords so that the otherwise unheard dissonances and their necessary resolution was a key driving factor behind baroque music. On this recording, neither of these approaches is taken; the registration of the instrument is such that it regularly tinkles around (by which I mean “improvises clever counter-melodies”) above or among the oboes, and some of the chords are so lavishly spread (or hidden in a wild flourish of scales and arpeggios) that the third is so delayed that whatever dissonance there might have been has long since evaporated (as is the instrument’s wont), and (while I’m on a roll) some of the delay is so noticeable that it actually slows progress rather than the reverse. It may also be the case that the miking and/or balance of the recording just was not right, but I would have expected the musicians to have had something to say about that at the editing stage. There are also odd moments in several movements where it has been decided that the we should freeze as if suddenly caught in the middle of a game of musical statues; quite apart from the fact that there is no explanation for this in either Zelenka’s autograph scores or the booklet notes, how could musicians of the time have known from their part when someone else’s music dictated such an action? I am all for finding new things to say about familiar music, if as a result we are excited as if hearing it for the first time, but (sorry!) this just annoyed me, too – when the writing is so expansive, the “novelty” soon outstays its welcome. This is, of course, fabulous music, and these are great musicians; on this occasion, I’m afraid I just didn’t like the final result.
