Author: EMR2015

Sixteenth-century viol music for the richest man in the world
Linarol Consort
67:26
inventa INV1005

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In our own days when the richest men in the world are vying with one another in the realm of space flight, it is nice to recall a time when prestige was measured in the cultivation of the arts. Jacob Fugger, head of the wealthy banking family of Augsburg at the beginning of the 16th century, when he was probably indeed the richest man in the world, was a great sponsor of music, and the manuscript for viols on which the current CD is based was probably compiled for him. I recall a previous CD entitled ‘Music of the Fugger Time’ – I did wonder what this would mean to English-speaking listeners – which celebrated the role of the Fugger family in the cultivation of music, but the present, more tightly focussed CD is a wonderfully evocative tribute to this all-powerful family, financiers to kings and emperors. A roll-call of the composers represented in ms 18810 from the National Library of Austria – Isaac, de la Rue, Josquin, Hofhaimer, Brumel, Senfl and Rener – indicates a very selective approach to music collection, ensuring that music in the Fugger household was of the same superlative standard as every other aspect of their lives. The Linarol Consort, playing four viols by Richard Jones of Powfoot in Dumfries, give us wonderfully idiomatic and vivid performances of this early 16th-century repertoire. And fittingly overseeing it all, Jacob Fugger’s gimlet eye glares out of his portrait by Dürer on the front cover of the CD.

D. James Ross

Francesca Aspromonte (soprano, I Barocchisti, conducted by Diego Fasolis
62:09
Pentatone 5186 867

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Francesca Aspromonte’s first recital CD was a somewhat disparate collection of excerpts from operatic prologues. Here, as related to both topic and musical idiom, she here essays a more cohesive collection. It is based around the two Marys, the Virgin and Mary Magdalene as portrayed in oratorios dating from around the turn of the 18th century, itself one of the more fascinating periods of musical history.  On paper it would be hard to imagine two more contrasted figures than the two Marys, one chosen as the immaculate conceiver of God in the human form of Jesus, the other a woman torn between spiritual and carnal love. Yet there are links between them in their love for Jesus and their sharing of suffering at the Cross, in the case of the Magdalene love and suffering sufficiently ambiguous to inspire in a great novel like Katzantzakis’s The Last Temptation, a novel that enraged the Roman Catholic church.

Here, unsurprisingly for works that owe their existence to the Counter-Reformation, we meet with no such ambiguity. In the case of the Virgin there are texts that summon up the mystery of the Incarnation, as in the aria ‘Ecco qui l’incomprensibile’, provided by the spiritual and highly musical Holy Roman Emperor Leopold I for Antonio Draghi’s Il Crocefisso per Grazia (1691). This is the earliest of the oratorios represented and significantly the only aria in strophic form at a time it was rapidly being superseded by the da capo aria. Another nod back to the fading 17th century can be heard in the highly expressive recitivo cantando from the little-known Giovanni Lulier’s Oratorio à 6 per la Nascità. Probably composed not long before his death in 1700, the extended passage is the Virgin’s lullaby on the fate awaiting the infant who lies under her gaze. Most exceptional of all the music for the Virgin on the disc is the closing sequence from Alessandro Scarlatti’s La Santissima Annunziata composed in Rome in 1700 or 1703 to a text by Cardinal Ottoboni. It opens with an exquisitely lovely aria, ‘Stesa a pie’ prefaced by chromatic orchestral stabs to the heart in which the Virgin’s gaze is now directed to the broken torso of her son. A more animated central section follows in which she evokes ‘redeemed mankind’, a topic expanded upon in the following recitative. The oratorio’s final aria is an animated message in which Mary recognises she will become a symbol of refuge for future generations.

Among those much influenced by Scarlatti was the young Handel, whose Roman sojourn was capped in 1708 by the oratorio La Resurrezione, from which Aspromonte sings two of Mary Magdalene’s arias, the first, ‘Ho un non so che nel cor’ from scene 2 expressive of her hope, but also disquiet, the second Mary’s final aria, ‘Se impassibile, immortale’, a joyously buoyant celebration of the Resurrection. We meet the more vulnerable, penitent side of the Magdalene in two arias from Antonio Caldara’s Maddalena ai piedi di Cristo (c. 1700), an outstanding work recorded complete by René Jacobs in 1995. Of exceptional beauty is the recitative and aria from Part 2, ‘Deh, s’un tempo’ … ‘In lagrime stemprato’, in which a tearful Mary invites Jesus into her heart over a throbbing repeated note pattern in the accompaniment. The music has a dignity that at the same time cannot hide the deeper feelings lying barely beneath the surface.

It’s a repertoire that suits Aspromonte well. The voice itself is full and rounded, yet hints of vibrato are kept well under control. In the many cantabile arias here, she shapes lines with great musicality and if an occasional suggestion of lack of control in the upper register creeps in it is never a major problem. Passaggi are cleanly articulated, the mostly tasteful ornamentation less so and there is regrettably no sign of a trill. But most importantly Aspromonte sings with excellent diction and real communication skills, projecting the varied emotions of the two Marys with a vivid immediacy.

The experienced Diego Fasolis and his I Barocchisti provide well played support; the lovely cello obbligato in the first of the Caldara arias is especially noteworthy. Just occasionally Fasolis’ old habit of clipping notes comes to the surface but here it is not a serious problem. An outstanding and lengthy booklet essay sets the seal on an issue that is of real value, not only for the quality of the repertoire, some of it rare, but the manner in which it is performed.

Brian Robins

Barbara Strozzi | Eri De Luca
Lise Viricel, Peter de Laurentiis, Le Stelle
74:24
Seuletoile SE 02

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This Seuletoile CD combines music by Barbara Strozzi with poetry by contemporary Italian novelist and poet Eri De Luca. The accounts of Strozzi’s songs by Lise Viricel and the instrumentalists of Le Stelle under her direction are exquisite – unhurried, thoughtful, beautifully expressive and musically delicious. The instruments used include harp, lirone, gamba, organ, violin, cornet, sackbuts and bassoon, which create a wonderfully varied palette of timbres, and occasionally for further variety they give us instrumental renditions of Strozzi’s music. I think it important that the vocalist directs the instrumental ensemble, as Strozzi herself would surely have done, as this leads to a stunning level of integration. I found the subtle contribution of the wind instruments most persuasive – too often they are limited to bombastic music of this period, but the wind players of Le Stelle demonstrate that they can be as expressive and tasteful as viols when accompanying the voice. Peter de Laurentiis’ accounts of De Luca’s poetry, evidently praising the attributes of beautiful women, complement the music perfectly, Italian being such a musical language that he could be reading out the Neapolitan phone book. I say this, as the CD notes and texts appear only in French and Italian, of neither of which can I claim any degree of mastery. Ultimately the main strength of this delightful CD is the voice of Lise Viricel and the wonderfully responsive accompaniment of the musicians of Le Stelle.

D. James Ross

Eighteenth-century love squabbles
A. Scarlatti: Palandran e Zamberlucco
Anon: Selvaggia e Dameta
Cappella Musicale di San Giocaomo Maggiore in Bologna, Roberto Cascio
63:30
Tactus TC 660005

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These two intermezzi, one by Alessandro Scarlatti and one anonymous, consist of comic musical interludes to be inserted into more substantial and serious dramatic works. In Scarlatti’s Palandrana e Zamberlucco a comic dialogue between an old widow and a young blade is set with operatic flair, while the anonymous Selvaggia e Dameta features an old shepherd and his young companion who engage in quarrels and deception. The first of these is accompanied by a chamber ensemble of strings and oboe, while the second, more overtly comical in character and scored for three unspecified instruments and continuo, is performed by three recorders. Heard in the cavernous acoustic of the Palazzo Zabeccari in Bologna, where it was almost certainly performed in the 18th century, I found this lightweight music rather outlived its welcome in spite of the energetic performances. Nothing dates as quickly as comedy, particularly comedy in a foreign language, and perhaps the visual element of an actual performance was needed to bring these pieces fully to life. Or perhaps, by definition, intermezzi written as light relief from more serious matters are always going to sound a little trivial on their own. I was intrigued to hear in the second intermezzo a line from Monteverdi’s Il Combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda – well, from Torquato Tasso – and wondered how much more of the humour was lost to me in an Italian text, of which no translation was provided.   

D. James Ross