Linde Brunmayr-Tutz transverse flute, Lars Ulrik Mortensen harpsichord
58:19
fra bernardo fb 1611782
Music by C. P. E. Bach, F. Benda, Kirnberger & Quantz
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is a beautiful CD of 18th-century music for flute and harpsichord by some of its finest exponents, many of them associated with the Prussian court of the celebrated royal flautist Frederick II. The enormous popularity of the transverse flute around the middle of the century along with the related triumph of ‘Empfindsamkeit’ as a general approach to music-making meant that some of the finest composers of the age devoted themselves to composing flute music, and one of them even wrote the definitive guide on how to play it. Johann Joachim Quantz is represented here by a fine sonata and an intriguing Adagio from his ‘Method’, which the performers present according to the recommendations contained in the method. The initial ‘flicks’ to important notes are reminiscent of traditional flute playing and remind us that a close look at historical playing tutors always bears interesting fruit. The music on this CD is of uniformly superb standard as is the playing of the two musicians. Flautist Professor Linde Brunmayr-Tutz is well known from her exemplary playing in a number of prominent period instrument ensembles, and her prominent suffix acknowledges her marriage to Rudolph Tutz who, alongside Rod Cameron, is one of today’s finest makers of Baroque flutes, and indeed made the flute his wife uses in this recital.
Klopstock settings by Telemann & J. H. Rolle
Antje Rux, Susanne Langner, Tobias Hunger, Ingolf Seidel SATB, Leipziger Concert, directed by Siegfried Pank
68:04
Raumklang RK3502
Telemann: Komm Geist des Herrn, extracts from Der Messias
Rolle: David und Jonathan
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]here’s some cutting edge stuff here from both literary and musical aspects. In this context what is particularly extraordinary is that the radical Telemann works on the CD date from his final years, when, nearing 80, the composer was still seeking new forms of expression employing modern texts. The Whitson cantata Komm, Geist des Herrn dates from 1759, in which year it was given in the five main churches of Hamburg. It is laid out in familiar form, with alternating da capo arias, both plain and accompanied recitative, and chorales. What was controversial was the use in the chorales not of Luther’s much-loved hymn ‘Komm, heiliger Geist’ but a parody by the young upcoming poet Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock, a substitution that caused outrage among the more conservative of Hamburg’s ecclesiastics.
Today the doctrinal issues are of course unlikely to detain us long. More importantly the work is revealed as Telemann at his most mature and inspired. Scored for four voices with a resplendent accompaniment consisting of three trumpets, timpani and two oboes in addition to strings and continuo, the joyous opening bass aria employs full scoring, while following the first chorale a splendid extended accompagnato for tenor relates the dramatic events of Pentecost. Here Telemann’s response to the colourful text takes full advantage of the mimetic possibilities offered. There is also a delightful soprano aria, full of grace and playful leaps, rejoicing in the bounties bestowed by God. The final numbers, a duet for alto and tenor, and a chorale admit to a mood of greater ambiguity both texturally and in brief hints of the minor mode. The performance of this irresistible work is outstanding with excellent solo work from all four soloists, who also produce fine ensemble work in the chorales.
The other Klopstock setting by Telemann is of two extracts from the epic poem Der Messias, a huge undertaking on which the poet was occupied between 1748 and 1773 and which ultimately ran to 20 cantos. In the late 1750s Telemann set extracts from three cantos, one now lost. The other two recorded here are culled from cantos 1 and 10, the first a highly subjective reflection and contemplation on the Crucifixion, the second a song of lamentation for the crucified Christ by the Old Testament singers Miriam and Deborah, a setting that would become extremely popular in the latter half of the 18th century. Der Messias was highly controversial in its day, in part to due to its very personal sensitivities, in part for its unusual use of hexameters, a form that makes it a problem for composers to set in the customary division of recitative and aria. Telemann’s answer, following Klopstock’s own desire for greater naturalism, was to set the text as a near continuous succession of accompanied recitative and arioso divided between four soloists, the narrative broken only by an occasional short orchestral interlude. His desire to echo the qualities of Empfindsamkeit inherent in the text led to him littering the score with expressive instructions, ‘with pathos’, ‘defiantly’, ‘magnificently’ and so forth. While both extracts are of exceptional musical interest and quality, it is not difficult to understand why ‘The Song of Miriam’ (as it became known) attained such a special place, the poetry’s pathetic lyricism and powerful rhetoric underscored by Telemann’s sensitive and vivid response. Moments such as the upsurge of orchestral violence at the promise of retribution awaiting Jerusalem are quite unforgettable. Again both singing and orchestral playing are exceptional, with Antje Rux and Susanne Langner intensely sympathetic in ‘The Song of Miriam’.
The Magdeburg organist Johann Heinrich Rolle (1716-1785) had his eye on becoming Telemann’s successor at Hamburg, but lost out to C. P. E. Bach (by one vote!). His setting of David und Jonathan takes an episode from Klopstock’s tragedy Salamo (1764). It consists of a dialogue between David and his slain friend Jonathan, the son of King Saul. Rolle clearly seems to have had Telemann’s Messias in his mind, setting the piece for tenor and soprano soloist in similar declamatory style. If it is less striking and imaginative than its model that says more about Telemann than it is intended as criticism of Rolle.
This is a disc of high musical quality, both as to works involved, the performances and the excellent sound. It is a pity therefore that it is marred by the lack of an English translation of the German texts, which are here of unusual interest. There is however an excellent introduction in English. It’s perhaps worth noting that the Telemann works are available in fine if slightly less persuasive versions by Ludger Rémy (cpo 777 064-2 & cpo 999 847-2), where you will get translations.
Haydn Sinfonietta Wien, Manfred Huss
67:20
BIS-2218 CD
[dropcap]M[/dropcap]y experience with this disc is a cautionary tale. I first listened to K 199 in G (No. 27) and K 338 in C (No 34) in relaxed mood rather than critical mode late one evening, finding my overall impression of the performances was not particularly sympathetic. There appeared to be an overall lack of charm and affection, with quicker tempos often sounding too hard driven. Listening critically in the cold light of day with scores to hand produced quite a different impression. Yes, there are times when I still find a movement over pressed – the last movement of K 134 in A (No. 21) is a case in point – but overall there are positives that for me certainly cast the performances in a new light.
Before investigating these positive qualities, a few observations regarding the works. The earliest, K 134 dates from the summer of 1772, is scored for a pairs of flutes and horns, and strings. As befits its key, the flute-inflected music bathes in the warm glow of a pastoral dawn or in its Minuet a bucolic country-dance. K 199 was written in the spring of the following year and has the same scoring but quite a different character. At is heart is a deliciously delicate Andantino grazioso, the scoring for muted violins, pizzicato violas and bass creating a soft bed that allows the flutes to weave nocturnal magic. K 338, the last symphony Mozart wrote before leaving Salzburg for Vienna, is conceived on a different scale altogether. Composed in 1780, it features the full festive scoring including trumpets and timpani associated with the key of C. As is often the case, the missing minuet is replaced with the Minuetto, K 409, which Manfred Huss’ note argues might have been Mozart’s intention, though Neal Zaslaw (in his book on the symphonies) argues against the theory, convincingly in my view given that the Minuetto calls for two flutes, not included in the symphony’s scoring. It is perhaps worth noting at this point that Huss observes every repeat and that he employs a fortepiano continuo in the C-major Symphony. I could not detect any continuo in the two earlier symphonies and the use of fortepiano (rather than harpsichord) in K 338 seems to me highly questionable.
So what changed my mind about the performances? I think above all it is Huss’ obviously superb ear for balance and texture, enabling a clear distinction between first and second violins, and giving unusual clarity to the viola line. In addition I would add the acute observation of dynamics and accent markings that allows, for example, the difference between Mozart’s wedge and dotted accents to be heard. I’ve already mentioned the entrancing sound world of the Andantino of K134, its spell unquestionably in part created by the exquisite balance achieved by Huss, aided it must be added by splendid playing, an encomium that also serves for the remainder of the CD. Also impressive is the way in which the conductor leaves us in no doubt that with K 344 Mozart was leaving behind the Italianate galant style of so many of the early symphonies. From the outset this is a big, bold performance, the grandeur and scale of the opening coming as quite a shock after the earlier symphonies. It’s a performance full of strength and a muscular energy that reminds us that the rich grandeur of Idomeneo was only months ahead. The recording, made in two different locations, enhances the benefits of Huss’ fine ear with sound of forensic clarity.
Raquel Andueza soprano, Xavier Sabata countertenor, La Galania
67:31
Anima Corpo AEC 006
Duets & Arias from La Calisto, Elena, L’Egisto, Eliogabalo, ’Erismena, Giasone, Gli amori d’Apollo di Dafne, LL’Ormindo, Pompeo magno & La Rosinda
[dropcap]R[/dropcap]ecitals devoted to extracts from Cavalli operas are comparative rarities, and I can call only one other recent example to mind, a Glossa CD with La Venexiana. It is significant and a measure of the rich diversity to be found in Cavalli’s substantial body of operas – there are 33 – that there is no overlapping of repertoire with this new disc featuring Spanish artists. However, as we will see, there are similarities between the two in other respects.
As anyone who has seen any Cavalli opera knows full well, whatever the background story they are dominated by one topic – love, ‘miracolo d’amore’. Or perhaps we might more pithily say, sex, exploited by Venetian 17th-century opera in general and by Cavalli in particular with an unashamed abandon that it would take the 20th century to emulate, but then usually in a far less subtle manner. So among these duets and arias we find love with all disparate variants: lustful desire (‘O mio cor’ from act 1 of Giasone, 1649), the lament for lost love (‘Misero, così va’, set over a ground bass, from the violent and never-performed Eliogabalo, 1667), playful love (‘Amante, sperate’ from L’Egisto, 1643) and so forth. The lion’s share of extracts are taken from Giasone, rightly described by Lorenzo Bianconi in his notes for the complete Jacobs recording as ‘the most highly acclaimed, the most reviled opera of the Italian 17th century’, the most acclaimed because it was revived more often than any other Italian opera, the most reviled because it was a serious mythological story treated, as some literary scholars saw it, in a flippant manner. Long after Cavalli’s death it would be used as a big stick to change the entire course of Italian opera. But that’s another story. Here there are four extracts devoted to the love between Medea and Jason, though Giasone’s ‘Delizie, contenti’ (act 1) is addressed to the joys of love generally rather than the mother of his twins, whose identity at that point in the opera remains unknown to him.
One reason recitals of extracts from Cavalli’s operas are infrequent is that they are far more context-specific in ways that later opera seria is not (think ‘simile aria’). This, too, is an era when words still dominated the music – prima le parole, doppia la musica – and while Cavalli was a wonderful melodist, as is readily apparent here in the irresistible ‘Dolcissimi baci’ from La Calisto, 1651), this is essentially music for actor-singers. In this respect soprano Raquel Andueza is here the superior. She starts with the advantage of a lovely voice that in more intimate, sensual moments takes on that slightly darkened, husky timbre that seems unique to Spanish sopranos. You need hear only the way she sings the words ‘baciata o baciante’ (kissed or kissing) from Medea’s ‘Se dardo pungente’, for example, to be utterly seduced by Andueza. Unfortunately there is a downside and it’s a serious one in that she seems totally oblivious of the need to add any ornamentation. Given that a number of these pieces are in strophic form, it seems extraordinary that neither she nor anyone connected with the recording found it incongruous that she was happy to repeat each verse with no variant. In this respect the countertenor Xavier Sabata is superior, as is amply demonstrated by the final line of ‘Or che l’aurora’, very stylishly ornamented by Sabata, but ignored by Andueza when her turn comes. Indeed Sabata’s singing is beautifully controlled throughout, but as already indicated there’s a fly in the ointment with him too, his vocal acting and concern for text (or lack of it) leaving something to be desired.
The accompaniments are on the right scale, with two violins and violone plus a continuo group including archlute, theorbo and, anachronistically, double harp, though surprisingly there is no harpsichord, where one would expect two. The playing is good, though the violin playing belongs to the 18th rather than the 17th century. Curiously I’ve found all the reservations about the present CD correspond exactly to those on the disc mentioned above, where the soprano was Giulia Semenzato and the countertenor the excellent Raffaele Pe. A further black mark for the texts in the booklet, published over photographs that at times render them virtually illegible. Ultimately, then, both CDs provide satisfying collections that with greater care taken over stylistic matters might have been more highly recommendable.
James Gilchrist Evangelista, Stephan Loges Jesus, Hannah Morrison, Zoë Brookshaw, Charlotte Ashley, Reginald Mobley, Eleanor Minney, Hugo Hymas, Ashley Riches, Alex Ashworth, Jonathan Sells SSSASTBBB, Monteverdi Choir, English Baroque Soloists, Trinity Boys Choir, Sir John Eliot Gardiner
161:04 (2 CDs in a hard-covered booklet)
SDG725
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his recording was made at a live performance in the Duomo at Pisa last September, at which I happened to be present, and has been splendidly edited. Gardiner was saying to his musicians that this was going to be his last ever St Matthew, and certainly this was the last performance of a whole series that they had given over the previous months. In some ways this is vintage Gardiner; there are two choirs of 6.3.3.3 – so 30 singers plus the cantus firmus from the Trinity Boys Choir and bands with 3.3.2.2.1 strings – but what makes it such a good performance is that all the singers sang off copy, so the absolute unanimity of the words projected into the space is telling, as was the hieratic way that singers from the different cori moved into position to sing with the different instrumental ensembles.
Apart from the peerless James Gilchrist and the commanding Stephan Loges, all other solo roles were sung by members of the choir, revealing what a talented group of singers Gardiner commands. Among the six sopranos, Hannah Morrison is outstanding for her liquid, floating tone, and Eleanor Minney sings one of the best performances of Erbarme dich I have heard. The clear-voiced tenor of Hugo Hymas seems effortless in the high tessitura of his arias, and Gardiner can choose a more bass bass (Alex Ashworth) for Gebt mir while giving Gerne will ich mich and Komm, süßes Kreuz to the lighter-voiced Ashley Riches, reserving the dark-toned Jonathan Sells for Judas and Am Abend and Mache dich. Singers like this are much better than the old ‘soloists’ at getting inside the music, and understanding the instruments with which they are singing, and Gardiner at least has this right in not dividing his ‘soloists’ from his choir: in Bach, the soloists are the choir, boosted by groups of ripienists, and this unanimity of choral and solo sound make this Matthew especially well integrated.
In a performance like this, in a substantial space, it would be churlish to criticise such a coherent presentation for what it doesn’t claim to be, but I missed hearing the bass voice in coro I who has sung the part of Jesus also singing Komm, süßes Kreuz, and wonder about the constant criss-crossing of singers to sing with the other band that disregards Bach’s division between the cori.
In his notes – substantially drawn from his 2013 book, Music in the Castle of Heaven – Gardiner writes interestingly on Bach’s purpose, drawing on the deeply felt Lutheranism he brought to his writing, and how he sought to convey the drama by gathering his hearers into the sound-world of the liturgical event rather than performing at them, as if in an opera house. In modern performances with large forces, where the audience do not have the chorale melodies in their bones, it is difficult to recapture the electric atmosphere of such a liturgical event. But if you want a large-scale performance that avoids the monumental ‘oratorio-style’ of the past while giving due weight to the music, this would be a good choice.
In over-all terms, this is the best of Gardiner’s Matthew Passions. The balance between voices and instruments, not always perfect in that big acoustic in the flesh, has been beautifully captured by the recording editor. The tempi are ideal, with no racing through ‘just because we can’. This is a strong and mature performance, and – should it indeed be the last – will be a fine testimony to Gardiner’s style and intentions in the Matthew Passion.
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hese sonatas for violin and continuo were the composer’s first published set, dedicated to Prince Johann Ernst of Saxe-Weimar, known to music history as a composer (Bach arranged his music for keyboard) who died, aged only 18, in the same year (1715).
Valerio Losito believes that each of the six sonatas reflects a different aspect of the prince’s character, as listed in the dedication, and this informs his performances of the music. His renditions are certainly lively, and Del Sordo’s accompaniments are similarly committed, but I wonder if the microphones were simply too close to the violin, since some of the bow strokes are overly edgy; rarely are both notes at either ends of wide leaps equally audible (even allowing for one being stronger than the other as part of an interpretation); sometimes the accompaniment clouds the solo line (the end of track 7 is a case in point). It is very impressive how the harpsichord fills the accompaniment role (and how odd his absence seems in track 9, as if the violinist has gone off on a folk turn…) There are a few nice ideas here (from the performers, as well as the composer) but I found the whole experience hard work (and the over-emphasized low notes in track 10 tedious…) Dare I suggest the performers have over-interpreted at the music’s expense?
[dropcap[]I[/dropcap] had known the Belgium-based group Vox Luminis as a very carefully balanced small choral group who specialised primarily in the repertoire of the seventeenth century. And now, following CDs of Schütz and Scheidt, the older Bachs, Fux, Kerll and Scarlatti, they are tackling Bach Cantatas. This CD is of four early cantatas with a gradated increase in scoring from the two recorders and viola da gambas of BWV 106, with four single voices and organ, through to the more recognisably ‘Italian’ style of BWV 12, with its distinct choruses, recitatives and arias that uses a full complement of strings with two viola parts, and has not only an oboe and bassoon, but a trumpet as well. With a more substantial score goes an increase in the number of singers from four in 106 to eight in parts of 150, and divided into solo and tutti very sensitively and effectively in 131 and using that full complement again in the distinct opening chorus and concluding chorale of 12.
With the increase in vocal scoring goes a fuller registration on the quite substantial organ, built for the church in Bornem in Belgium (where the recording took place in 2013) by Dominique Thomas after the style of Gottfried Silbermann. The organ continuo is based on a Principal chorus rather than a stopped flute, and this gives a clarity and firmness to the bass line. In 106 no 8’ string bass is employed, let alone a 16’. If a 16’ was used by Bach in the pre-Leipzig cantatas, I suspect it was most likely supplied by the organ, as here – rather sparingly but effectively – in the closing bars of 131, for example. The sound of the final chorale in 12, Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan, where the descant line is entrusted to the slide trumpet and the first violin and a full chorus to mixture with a 16’ pedal are employed on the organ provides a thrilling climax to the recording. This organ is a fine instrument by an excellent builder (I have played a number of his instruments and rate him highly) and plays at 440 rather than the 460+ of the Chorton in Weimar, so there are some complexities in matching wind instruments to the pitch of the organ and strings. For example, the recorders of 106 must be playing in F on A=392hz instruments, and the oboe and bassoon in 131 must play in A at 392 as well. But how does the bassoon play so beautifully in 150? Bach wrote the fagotto part in D, but the strings play in B at 440; does the bassoonist play a 415 French-style instrument in C – it certainly sounds a fine bottom B! And what do they do in 12? There is no information on the instruments and pitches other than the (full) documentation of the organ, and liner-notes really should give us these basic and important – to practitioners – details. There are full texts and French and English translations, and the essay by Gilles Cantagrel, like for the A Nocte Temporis CD reviewed in December, is engaging for its insights on the interplay between theology, musicology and performance practice.
But it is the firm, robust and yet flexible sound of the singers, especially when singing together, that characterises these performances. For once, singers are approaching Bach cantatas with a sense of understanding where they have come from, what is the hinterland behind the cantatas and the performance style required. Often we hear Bach cantatas performed by singers who have reached back behind their 21st-century formation as singers and have more or less learned to discard some of their singing teachers’ conception of what solo singers ought to sound like. When this happens, the results are more or less successful as singers try to make a living and adapt to singing in a historically informed way as well as doing what most conductors still expect of a ‘soloist’. I valued the fine recordings of these early cantatas by the Purcell Quartet with Emma Kirkby, Michael Chance, Charles Daniels and Peter Harvey greatly when they came out in the early 2000s, but that was still a coro made up of four distinct ‘solo’ voices, that has remained the one-to-a-part standard in this country.
But Vox Luminis have approached these early Bach cantatas from the style of ensemble singing they have created for Bach’s 17th-century predecessors. This means that the ensemble sound, like that of the organ, is robust, but open voiced rather than ‘produced’. Not everyone will like it, but (to me) it offers an unrivalled blend and clarity. You can get a glimpse of how it is achieved on the useful Youtube video that Lionel Meunier has produced to accompany this venture.
This style of intimate attention to each others voice production as well as to the phrasing and diction is well illustrated, and makes for a style of music-making that has more in common with a viol consort playing to each other.
Some of the individual singers offer moments of great insight too: Vox Luminis have drawn in Reinoud van Mechelen, the singer/director of A Nocte Temporis (CD Alpha 252, reviewed in December) to sing with them in 131 and 12, and that sets a new standard for Vox Luminis’ solo contributions, which are always musical, clear as a bell and beautifully phrased. I particularly like the alto as well, Daniel Elgersma, who has the particularly strong lower notes of a true haute-contre, which you rarely get with an English cathedral-style male alto. For me, as so often the only vocal query I have is with the soprano line. Excellent though the singers of Vox Luminis are, they do not have quite the edge of boy trebles like Leopold Lampelsdorfer singing in Eichorn’s Weihnachtsoratorium I – III (VKJK 1238) or Jonty Ward in Higginbottom’s Mozart Requiem (NCR 1383), for example.
You can tell that in spite of the lack of some basic information in the liner notes, I rate the approach of Vox Luminis both vocally and instrumentally highly. This is great music-making, and the ease with which the sensible tempi changes are managed without any overt conducting as well as the cohesion and coherence of the style that make the texts the focus of the performances sets a new benchmark in the way we are learning to approach Bach Cantatas.
Nicholas Phan Evangelist, Jesse Blumberg Jesus, Jeffrey Strauss Pilate, Amanda Forsythe, Terry Wey, Christian Immler ScTBar, Apollo’s Singers, Apollo’s Fire, Jeannette Sorrell
107:42 (2 CDs)
AV2369
[dropcap]J[/dropcap]eanette Sorrell performed the John Passion repeatedly in Passiontide 2016 in the Cleveland area of the USA, and this recording captures her style. Described as a dramatic presentation in the notes, some videos are being released on the Apollo’s Fire website which help this reviewer at least understand where Sorrell is coming from.
She conducts the performance, plays the continuo (with the narrative at least) and directs the staged dialogue, which took place on a well-lit platform among the players in the live performances. All members of the ‘cast’ seem to be drawn from the excellently prepared coro; but this is emphatically not an SATB quartet plus ripienists, but chorus of some twenty-something voices, who apparently stepped – or some of them – into the audience to perform some of the turba interjections. All the ‘characters’ sing off-copy with gesture, and the dialogue is so fast and furious that it sometimes seems a bit of a scramble. It also has the curious effect of making the Evangelist – at his best I think in the more reflective arias, which he also sings – over-dramatize some pretty unimportant passages like, Pilate said unto him, which should surely be delivered pretty sotto voce. It also has the downside of not really valuing the subtle pacing and changes in tonality in Bach’s setting of the text of John 18 & 19 when you follow the text pretty deliberately.
The chorus here in the turba sections is wonderful: crisp and bright, while able to give a subtly different character to the changing emotions of the crowd. But I am less sure about the imposed dramatic performance in the outer choruses and the chorales. In the opening chorus, there are substantial rallentandi at the end of each section, and the heavy accentuation of the four beats in a bar make for a plodding start. In the chorales, each line tends to be shaped as a unit on its own, so there is a loss of the liturgical quality of the whole, and the dynamic shading too is often exaggerated. In the final chorus the momentum almost grinds to a halt at the end of each section, and in the last chorale, the ‘dramatic’ pianissimo start – are the instruments playing at all? – builds to a huge fortissimo.
Despite these reservations, the arias are beautifully done, and apparently were performed with singers out front to engage the audience in reflection. Amanda Forsythe has a clear, bell-like voice ideal for this music: her Zerfließe is sublime; and Terry Wey is an experienced singer who makes the most of his rich timbre in the middle section of Es ist vollbracht – every note is beautifully articulated, though I could have done without his Handelian-style cadenza in Von den Stricken . Christian Immler is a wonderful bass (as is Jesse Blumberg, the Jesus), and his Eilt, eilt is perfect – as is the (?semi) SAT chorus. They are joined by excellent obbligato instrumentalists, and the balance and tempi in these arias are as good as it gets.
But Bach’s theological drama is somewhat masked by Sorrell. Her ‘visionary concept of a dramatic production’ divides the work into five ‘scenes’, and this division cuts across Bach own palindromic central section, which places the chorale Durch dein Gefängnis at the centre. And the imposition of her own characterization of the voice parts, means that she misses the theological point that it is the same leading bass voice who sings the words of Jesus who immediately after his death also sings the lilting 12/8 Mein teurer Heiland in the key of D major – a key associated with the trumpets of resurrection!
I am sure that the live performances were thrilling, and certainly the musicians – both instrumental and vocal – are really well prepared, and were carefully chosen; but people hoping that this performance will give them greater insights into how Bach understood the Passion according to St John might do better to stick with John Butt’s Dunedin performance or Pierre Pierlot’s with Ricercar.
But the quality of the recording is superb, and for those who need a modern dramatic take to get into Bach, this performance would be a serious contender.
Nuria Rial soprano, Valer Sabadus countertenor, Kammerorchester Basel
60:24
Sony Classical 88985323612
Music by: A. Scarlatti, Pasquini, Colonna, D. Gabrielli, Bononcini, Torelli, Lotti, Caldara, Porpora
[dropcap]D[/dropcap]uring a recent discussion on the diction of singers with a friend, I raised in particular the question as to why that of great singers of popular music and jazz – people like Ella Fitzgerald, Peggy Lee and Frank Sinatra – was in general so much better than that of classically trained singers. Obviously there are some answers that come from the differences in the music itself, popular songs being usually more declamatory and syllabic and therefore easier to enunciate. But that doesn’t explain everything and here as if to underscore the point is a CD that could not provide a better illustration of just how bad the diction of classically trained singers can be.
‘Two of the most beautiful baroque voices …’ runs Sony’s blurb on the cover. And indeed they are, though countertenor Valer Sabadus is liable to become a bit blustery in bravura writing. More to the point is the fact that throughout the whole the programme both he and the enchanting Nuria Rial might as well be singing their shopping lists for all the meaning of the text they convey to the listener. Which is a great pity, because this is a fascinating programme of duets and solos (pace the CD’s name) taken from Italian oratorios of the 17th and earlier 18th centuries. The genre is of course very different from the English form, being heavily influenced by the spirit of the counter-Reformation and therefore much indebted to theatricality. So the innocent ear should not be surprised to find here duets that not only have texts that read (and you can read them in the booklet, even if you can’t hear them!) like operatic love duets, but sound like them. Take, for example, the exquisite duet ‘Lascia ch’io veda almeno’ for Justice and Peace from Porpora’s Il Verbo in carne, first given in Naples in 1747/8. This beautifully wrought number with its shapely vocal lines cajoled along by sequential orchestral figuration opens with the words (for Justice), ‘Grant that I may at last see in this kiss, O beloved, the victorious world set aside its bitter pain’. Here, a hundred years after the event, are words and music to transport us back to ecstatic, erotic counter-Reformation world of Bernini’s St Theresa. Much the same applies to another Porpora duet, from his Il martirio di San Giovanni Nepomuceno (Venice, c. 1730). Here an Angel sings to St John at the moment of his martyrdom, ‘O how sweet a victory in heaven I shall see you enjoy’. Again we find the same quasi-erotic tenderness and ecstasy in both music and text. It is worth pointing out in parenthesis that Sony have reversed the track listing for these two numbers, the Il martiro duet being track 15, not 13 and vice versa.
The unavoidably bland overall impression made by the CD is not mitigated by the neat but somewhat anonymous support of the modern-instrument Kammerorchester Basel, who on their own account play Torelli’s Concerto grosso, op. 8/8. The performance is tidy, but lightweight and a few moments of vulgarity in the central Adagio – some mannered rhythmic freedom and unconvincing portamenti – almost come as a relief. Ideal for anyone who likes lovely sounds as background music.
Julian Perkins & Emma Abbate
68:04
resonus RES10172
K358, 381, 521 + J. C. Bach: Sonata in A
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]here is a measure of poignancy attached to this issue since it is the last recording to have been made at Finchcocks before the retirement of Katrina and Richard Burnett and the dispersal of the marvellous keyboard collection built up there. On a personal note, I can recall with the greatest pleasure many visits to Finchcocks over the years, particular during the annual early autumn festival. Both pianos employed here, a Viennese grand by J. P. Fritz of c.1815 (used for the Mozart) and a square piano by Anton Walter and son of c.1805 (J. C. Bach), were part of the collection.
Mozart’s piano duets fall into two groups, the first works for two players at one keyboard, the second pieces for two keyboards. All the works on the present CD fall into the former category, from which K19d and K497 will presumably appear on a second disc along with the two-piano Fugue in C minor and D-major Sonata, K448, probably the finest of the duets.
I have listed the Mozart sonatas in the order in which they are given on both the cover and in the booklet, but listeners who are familiar with the music will be surprised to hear at the outset not K521, but the opening bars of K381. It would seem that the information for these sonatas was inadvertently transposed; I understand that the error has already been corrected on-line and the documentation of the CD will be amended at the first opportunity.
Such matters of course have no bearing on the performances, which are excellent in all respects. The Fritz piano has full and gracious tonal qualities generously exploited by Julian Perkins (who plays primo throughout) and Emma Abbate, who especially relish exploiting the colours produced by the many imitative exchanges Mozart gives the players. Cantabile Mozartian lines are also beautifully drawn; listen for example to Perkins’ playing of the principal theme of the exquisitely lovely Adagio of K358, the kind of writing that would soon be finding its way into the central movements of the piano concertos. Both players are also untroubled by greater technical demands of K521, the big episode of the central Andante opening out to glorious blossom under the hands of Perkins and Abbate. The square piano on which the little J. C. Bach sonata is played is obviously a more modest instrument, but it has an attractively wheezy bass and the two-movement sonata, consisting of an Allegretto in the fashionable sentimental style and a breezy minuet, is ideal for this repertoire.
It is worth adding that all repeats are taken, allowing the performers ample opportunity to add ornamentation, which is always tastefully and not infrequently wittily added. The sound is a little close, but very much in line with what I remember as ‘the Finchcocks sound’. I await volume 2 with considerable anticipation.
