[dropcap]D[/dropcap]onizetti might not be the first name you would come up with if asked to name a composer of string quartets. The truth, however, is that these are three accomplished pieces, requiring virtuosity from three of the four players (the poor violist is pretty much a filler-in…), and all in the same four-movement pattern (fast – slow – playful – fast). The young Donizetti had regularly played Mozart and Haydn quartets with his teacher of the time, the opera composer Johann Simon Mayr. Klaus Aringer’s informative note seems to cover the whole of Donizetti’s quartet output, and together with other volumes featuring The Revolutionary Drawing Room, cpo has built up an excellent period instrument monument to Italian chamber music, of which we hear precious little. The Pleyel Quartett Köln (here playing late 18th-or early 19th-century instruments or have strayed from the eponymous composer’s Prussian Quartets to music by Wolf and Gyrowetz for their most recent recordings, and very fine all of those have been. This CD adds another feather to their cap with fine playing from all concerned. The violinists take turns playing the Violin 1 part. I can heartily recommend this recording to all fans of the string quartet.
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his recording has filled me with joy since it arrived. Many years ago, my friends and I sang in a group we called The Legrenzi Consort and, after giving a few well-reviewed concerts in and around Dundee, we were invited to sing at the University’s Graduation Garden Party. Since we liked to explore relatively little-known repertoire, and being slightly disappointed that only a handful of people had turned out to hear us sing Monteverdi, I went looking for something different and chanced upon a volume of Mendelssohn’s partsongs in the St Andrews University Library. Now, we were just four singers having a lot of fun, but the fantastic voices of the Kammerchor Stuttgart under Frieder Bernius are quite another proposition, but I’d like to think that we shared at least one thing – a total love of the music. Singing this repertoire has become slightly old fashioned, but this new CD from Carus will hopefully convince choirs around the world to take up the cause. Mendelssohn writes fabulously well for voices; with the Sing-Akademie zu Berlin at his disposal, he had ample opportunity to hear his output performed, and it is reassuring to read in R. Larry Todd’s illuminating notes that these sets of songs were intended to for outdoor performance! I shall continue to enjoy listening to this excellent recording for a long time to come – each time I do, I feel a little happier than I did before.
Paul Kieffer lute/viola da mano
59:54
Arcana AD105
[dropcap]P[/dropcap]aul Kieffer presents an interesting anthology of Neapolitan music, 24 pieces in all, of which 15 have not been recorded before. Eleven pieces are from the Barbarino manuscript (hence the title of the CD), Kraków, Biblioteka Jagiellońska, Mus. ms. 40032, a manuscript compiled approximately from 1580 to 1611 by a castrated lutenist called Barbarino: a variety of anonymous pieces – Tenore di Napoli, Pavana de España, Volta, Folias en primer tono, Toccata, and Matachin con sus diferencias – and music by named composers – Fantasia by Luis Maymón (d. before 1601), Fuga and Canto llano y contrapunto by Francesco Cardone (d. before 1601), Fantasia by Fabrizio Dentice (c.1530-1581), and an intabulation by Giulio Severino (d. 1583) of Palestrina’s “Da poi che vidi vostra falsa fede”. I deduce from the Palestrina intabulation that Kieffer’s lute (an 8-course in F by Grant Tomlinson) is fretted in some kind of meantone temperament – maybe sixth-comma – because the chord of C major (a2 + a3 + b4 + c5) has a slight sourness arising from that temperament, a price well worth paying for the purity of intonation obtained with other chords. The Tenore di Napoli sounds similar in style to Giovanni Pacoloni (divisions over a slow-moving ground), but with a more interesting chord sequence perhaps based on an old basse danse tenor. This and the other dance pieces on the CD, contrast with the more cerebral Fantasias of Dentice, thoughtfully interpreted by Kieffer in an unhurried performance, with clear voice-leading, savoured dissonance, and nicely shaped phrases. There are four altogether, including three from the Sienna lute book; one of these (track 4) starts with a slow-moving theme which is developed in some quite surprising ways before breaking into a more homophonic passage, and finishing with faster-moving intricate polyphonic lines. Kieffer plays three Ricercars by Francesco da Milano (1497-1543), not that Francesco is thought to have visited Naples, but because some of his music was published there in 1536 in Intavolatura de Viola o vero Lavto … Libro Primo [and Libro Secondo] della Fortuna. Tracks 13, 14 and 20 are Ness nos 11, 10 and 8 respectively. Kieffer’s restrained speeds allow the music to breathe, and we can enjoy all the tied notes in Ness No 8. Interestingly Kieffer’s 2’33 is only four seconds slower than Paul O’Dette’s 2’29 – both players clearly like to take their time with this Ricercar. The “viola” given in the title of the book as an alternative to the lute, is the viola da mano, a guitar (more or less)-shaped instrument with the same tuning as the lute. Kieffer plays the three Francesco ricercars on a 6-course viola da mano in G built by Peter Biffin. It has a bright, sweet sound, although notes on the sixth course sound a little plunky, which is inevitable with gut strings. One can tell from the final chord of Ricercar 8, that the lowest four courses are tuned in octaves: the F major chord d2+d3+e4+f5 would sound f’+c’+a+f with unison stringing, but one can clearly hear the note a’ sounding as the highest note of the chord, produced by the upper octave of the fourth course. Also included in the CD are two very fine fantasias by Perino Fiorentino (1523-1552) taken from Intabolatura de Lauto (Rome, 1566), a reprint of an earlier edition published in 1547 in Venice. Fiorentino is described on the title page as a disciple of Francesco, and indeed these fantasias sound like good Francesco, aided and abetted by the delicate sound of the viola da mano and Kieffer’s sensitive and tasteful performance.
Ann Hallenberg, il pomo d’oro, Stefano Montanari
129:56 [recte: 98:40!] (2 CDs in a cardboard box)
Pentatone PTC 5186 678
Music by Albinoni, Gaicomelli, Leo, Orlandini, Porpora & Vinci
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he early music world has now become accustomed to the concept operatic recital, often designed around the repertoire of one of the great singers of the 18th century. This 2-disc set, devised by Helger Schmitt-Hallenberg, the musicologist husband of mezzo Ann Hallenberg, takes a rather different approach, concentrating on the repertoire given in Venice in the Carnival season of 1728/9. The choice could hardly have been shrewder. It was an extraordinary season that not only featured new works by some of the leading opera composers of the day – names such as Leonardo Leo, Geminiano Giacomelli, Tomaso Albinoni, Giuseppe Maria Orlandini, Nicola Porpora and Leonardo Vinci – but a glittering array of star singers including Faustina Bordini and the castratos Senesino, Farinelli and Nicolini, Handel’s first Rinaldo. It is impossible to think of any festival today that could start to match such a line up.
The operas included that winter provide the Hallenbergs with a bountiful choice, it being noteworthy that despite the inclusion of composers who today are virtually unknown the musical quality is remarkably high throughout. Indeed, in the case of the extracts from an opera such as Leo’s Catone in Utica I suspect strongly that we are looking at a work that demands revival. The excerpts from Orlandini’s Adelaide also suggest an opera that would warrant further attention, though the eponymous heroine’s ‘Non sempre invendicata’, a Bordoni aria, is lifted from being a fairly conventional aria di furia by Hallenberg’s dazzling coloratura virtuosity and powerful chest notes.
The bar for the whole recital is set high from the first aria, ‘Mi par sentir’ from Gianguir by Giacomelli, a some-time pupil of Alessandro Scarlatti who apparently shared his master’s reputation for writing ‘difficult’ music. But there is nothing remotely difficult about this exquisitely lovely aria, which features an obbligato oboe (played here with a sensitivity that does not avoid the odd moment of sourness) and pizzicato strings. Hallenberg’s singing of it is a master-class in Baroque performance practice, with elegantly shaped phrasing and precise articulation of passaggi, along with an acute attention to text that should be studied by all aspiring singers of this repertoire. The variation of vocal colouring and subtlety of expression is also something to be wondered at; one need only listen to the different accentuation brought to ‘caro’, the final word of the A section, to be aware of an artist who has thought deeply about her performances. Here as elsewhere the ornamentation of the da capo is also an object lesson, with decoration that never steps beyond the bounds of taste to distort the melodic line.
The second excerpt from Adelaide brings a long and fine accompagnato to introduce the aria, it being projected with intense dramatic purpose, before moving into a beautiful cantabile aria, ‘Quanto bella’ with violin obbligato, splendidly played by Montanari. Here one notes especially Hallenberg’s superb mezzo voce and her precise articulation of the chain of trills that remind us of the inadequacy of most vocal performances of Baroque music, where one is lucky to hear a trill, let alone a whole sequence of them.
It would be possible, if idle, to subject every track on this peerless set to such commentary. These are performances to hear, not talk about. Suffice it to say there is much more treasure here, ranging from three arias from Porpora’s marvellous Semiramide riconosciuta to a gloriously spun performance of Emilia’s heartbreakingly lovely ‘Ombra cara’ from Leo’s Catone in Utica, where Hallenberg’s splendidly secure upper range comes into its own. Il pomo d’oro provides fine support throughout, with some truly Italianate legatos where appropriate. Finally, don’t take any notice of the timings for the two CDs given on the box, which are wildly inaccurate. The (very short) total timing is that given in my heading. No matter. This is a superlative set that demands to be in every collection of Baroque opera enthusiasts. Were Ann Hallenberg working within the parameters of mainstream opera I have for some while had absolutely no doubt that she would be rated among today’s great singers.
Edited by Barbara Sachs
Peacock Press / Green Man Press Mv 2
£10.50
ISMN 979-0-708105-91-6
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his volume contains not one but two variant settings by Monteverdi of a text which is divided into two sections; the first (set over a ground bass) makes up around two thirds of the piece while the second (marked Adagio in one source, Largo in the other) begins over a descending fourth. In triple time throughout, the principal differences are pitch (they are a tone apart and a range of an octave and a fourth from the B below middle C and the C sharp above it respectively), and the presence of additional continuo-only bars in one and substantial repeated sections in the other. Sachs intelligently includes ossias of the two most divergent passages, allowing performers to create further versions that suit their taste.
The set includes a full score with a green cover and realized continuo, a second score without the cover but with all of the introductory matter and just voice and bass lines, and a continuo part with loose sheets to allow all three pages to be on the stand at once, thus avoiding the issue of impossible page turns. Similar care is taken over the layout of the score, though I would have tried to get bar 25 of the Neapolitan version on the previous line, and probably taken bars 77-78 on to the next line, but these are purely for aesthetic reasons (although arguably, repeats are more easily found at the beginnings of lines).
My only difficulty was that introduction. Of course, given that there are two divergent sources meant it was always going to be a challenge, but I found it confusing, for instance, that the two sources were referred to as Florentine and Neapolitan in one paragraph and then, in the next, being identified by the RISM sigla of the holding libraries (before the sources had been thoroughly – and I mean thoroughly! – discussed). Sachs also includes a nice translation of the text (including the three lines not set by Monteverdi, for the sake of completeness).
[Hana Blažiková, Hiroya Aoki, Charles Daniels, Roderick Williams SCTTB], Bach Collegium Japan, Masaaki Suzuki
70:23
BIS-2231 SACD
BWV206, 215
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hese two secular cantatas are closely linked. Bach was at work on BWV 206, a complex musical commentary on Augustus III’s role as both Elector of Saxony and King of Poland by describing the various claims to supremacy made by the four rivers that thread through his domains for his birthday in October, when it was suddenly announced that Augustus was coming to Leipzig for the Michaelmas fair in 1734 in person. So work on BWV 206 was shelved (it was eventually performed in 1736), and work hastily started on a grand celebratory cantata that must have been completed in about three days – Preise dein Glücke (BWV 215) – that was performed in the open air on October 5th.
To meet the tight deadline, Bach re-used as the opening chorus a movement of a name-day cantata from 1732 that was eventually to become the Osanna in the B minor Mass, a couple of arias from existing cantatas for tenor (3) and bass (5), leaving himself the task of composing new recitatives, a soprano aria (7), later re-used in part V of the Christmas Oratorio, and the final chorus (9). Though clearly a great success, the occasion was marred by Bach’s trumpet player, Reiche, suffering a fatal stroke that night, said to have been brought on by inhaling the smoke from the six hundred wax tapers held by the University students.
The three soloists in 215 are all familiars at the top of their game, and the Suzuki machine works its magic, with the brass led by Jean-François Madeuf, so no fingerholes. The recitatives are by no means child’s-play, having decorative figures on pairs of oboes and flutes respectively in the Tenor and Soprano ones (2 and 6), and complex interplay with all three instrumental cori in the final one (8). Composing, copying and rehearsing just these new movements in three days would have been almost unimaginable, let alone re-setting, copying and rehearsing the other movements. This performance is particularly notable for the clarity and balance of the chorus work in the opening eight-part chorus, where each line is doubled and there is a fine central section which didn’t survive in the Osanna.
In Schleicht, spielende Wellen (BWV 206), eventually performed in 1736 at the Café Zimmermann and again in 1740, the music is less generic and so was not subject to re-use in other contexts. This is a pity, as it is superb, and is, in consequence, less well known than its much-parodied companion pieces. Its inventive characterisation of the nationalities through their mighty rivers produces music from Bach unlike any other of his surviving compositions, including the soprano aria (9), which calls for three flutes. I particularly enjoyed the counter-tenor Hiroya Aoki in his aria with a pair of oboes d’amore (7), a complex imitative texture – vintage Bach.
Both these cantatas produce wonderful playing and singing from Suzuki’s forces and are a total delight. I cannot recommend this CD too highly, and am playing it frequently, discovering fresh nuances each time. Buy it at once and let it be your companion all summer long.
I. Dalheim, K. Mulders, P. Bertin, D. Sagastume, V. Sordo, Ll. Vilamajö, D. Hernández, M. Savazza, Ch. Immler, P. Stas, La Capella Reial de Catalunya, Herspèrion XXI, Jordi Savall
76:06
AVSA9922
[dropcap]I[/dropcap] find this disc tiresome. It contains fine music by one of the best composers of his day, performed by capable musicians. Yet if it were a meal, it would come over-seasoned to conceal an underlying blandness. There is too much contrived beauty or animation or suavity at the expense of the music itself – a sort of early music for airports. Bells are so ubiquitous that they become comical in their incongruity. Then to begin dolorous choral works there is the cliché of the funereal drum, beside the rather desperate jollity of some of the instrumental pieces. Sustinuimus is a lovely motet overlarded with an unnecessary accompaniment of assorted winds and strings, bowed and plucked. Innsbruch is downright slushy, with too many different arrangements crammed into the one piece. Worst of all is Quis dabit in which the fussy arrangement distracts from the merits of this fine if doleful work: shades of Glenn Miller from the accompanying instrumental ensemble, irritating percussion, fidgety alternating solo and full vocal passages, and tastefully exaggerated lamenting on the part of the singers. Isaac’s music can stand tall without this overindulgent treatment. The two following tracks are cut from the same cloth: more bells bong in the exquisite and undeserving Sancti spiritus, then Angeli, archangeli rambles on while the sonneur has a field day. And so on, past an achingly, self-consciously beautiful Circumdederunt me to the final track with the full String of Pearls treatment in the accompaniment, further fidgeting between solo and full choral passages, and enough tings and dings from the sonneur to render Evelyn Glennie envious. In all reluctant humility I entirely understand that many people will find a disc of this sort most attractive, and if it is going to draw folk to Isaac’s music, as presumably Sting’s disc drew folk to Dowland, then well and good; there is room for this sort of presentation, so long as there are recordings of Isaac’s music that let it speak, or sing, for itself, rather than as some in the 21st-century wish to attire it. Oh, noisy bells, be dumb.
Les passions de l’ame, Meret Lüthi
56:46
deutsche harmonia mundi 88985415492
Music by Biber, Fux, Schmelzer & Walther
[dropcap]O[/dropcap]n the back cover of this recording we read: “Characters from the commedia dell’arte, playful birds, an astonishing virtuosity and a colourful instrumentation – the vivid imagination in late 17th century Austrian-German instrumental music loves to surprise”. Whilst this is true, and the lively performances certainly do the astonishing virtuosity proud, the colourful instrumentation might surprise you a little more than you expect: alongside the strings there are keyboards, guitar or theorbo, dulcimer and a wide selection of percussion. While I am sure the effect of this show live must be extremely entertaining, and I could imagine all sorts of “scene changes” as the scoring changed from trio sonata to ever larger ensemble, as a purely listening experience I think the atmospheric glissando scales on dulcimer, or rat-a-tat of some sort of drum might soon become a little tedious. That said, the playing is full of verve and vitality, with Fux’s reputation for being something of a dry peddler of strict counterpoint shot down in flames by this spirited rendition of his partita a tre, “Les Combattans”. The other three composers’ contributions are similarly exuberant, in a beautifully clear recording. The original approach to presenting the trilingual notes in the richly illustrated booklet also reflects the group’s attempts to shake up our expectations of the music they play; on balance, they are persuasive, even if I must stick to my opening gambit – I’d rather see the production live!
les haulz et les bas
79:24
Christophorus CHE 0213-2 (c 1998)
[dropcap]I[/dropcap]f the sound of shawms, sackbut and bombard floats your boat, then this CD is certainly for you. You will seldom hear these loud outdoor instruments more expertly played and at the same time with enormous flamboyance and yet with pinpoint intonation and balance. Having dabbled with shawm and bombard, I know just how hard it is to play extended dance pieces such as we have here and maintain pitch and unanimity. The brilliant thing about this ensemble is that, should you tire of the ‘alta’ consort, there is a quiet ‘bassa’ ensemble of fiddle, lute and tambourine to provide textural variety. Most of the music here, taken from dance treatises, seems to be by one or other of two 15th-century Italian composers, Domenico da Piacenza and Guglielmo Ebreo da Pesaro and it is presented in forms which would allow it to be danced to. This has involved arranging the music fairly heavily both as regards repeats, but also harmonizing music which survives only as melodies. Véronique Daniels, the group’s dance adviser, makes a cogent case in the notes for adapting the original melodies for mainly four-part ensemble, although this begs the question if the original owners of the treatises would simply have improvised the part music. It seems to me unlikely that they would have come up with such felicitous arrangements as we find here, but that is all to the good. It is lovely to hear this music in extended performances which would have permitted the often complex dances they were written for to be executed, and we have to assume that the advice of a specific dance expert will have ensured realistic tempi. This is a lovely CD, which cleverly and inventively sidesteps the two potential pitfalls that await projects of this sort – the danger of boredom from monochrome textures or very obvious harmonisations, and the stultifying effect of lots of tiny short dance episodes. And, as a bonus, we have some very funky bagpiping from the group’s director, Ian Harrison, and Gesine Bänfer!
Gabriella Di Laccio soprano, James Akers guitar
55:10
Drama Musica DRAMA002
[dropcap]I[/dropcap] approached this CD with high hopes, as I have enjoyed James Akers’ previous explorations of unfamiliar repertoire, and indeed the solo guitar music by Fernando Sor and particularly the Grand Overture by Mauro Giuliani are enjoyable and executed with the finesse and elegance we have come to expect of this fine young guitarist. For me, things get seriously problematic, though, when he is joined by soprano Gabriella de Laccio in the ariettas, seguidillas and cavatinas, which make up the bulk of the CD. Whether through nerves or some other reason, her voice has a distracting quaver to it, but – more importantly – her intonation is regularly inadequate, such that I, personally, was unable to enjoy any of the sung music. This is a pity, as much of it sounded as if it was reasonably interesting repertoire, and the seguidillas by Sor had a distinctive Spanish flavour to them. I persisted in the hope that things might settle down, but, while some of the character pieces were a little more successful, the overall impression was distinctly uncomfortable. I wanted to like this CD so much that I have kept coming back to it and listening to tracks at random, but sadly I have to stick to my original evaluation.
