Category: Sheet music

Edited by Barbara Neumeier. iv + 24pp, €24.50.
Carus 27.081.

[dropcap]I[/dropcap] had long been aware that the Gloria a8 wasn’t of obvious Monteverdian origin. The English text uses the term autograph, which in our language usually implies that it was written by the composer, whereas otherwise a term like copyist is used. However, the German term is handschriftlich, which is wider in meaning. What worries me more, however, is that it doesn’t have much relationship with Monteverdi’s music, and the Gloria a8 doesn’t come anywhere near the 1610, 1641 and 1650 Masses. The scoring is for two choirs, each C1 C3 C4 and F4, with three continuo bass parts identical apart from copying slips. It might sound better with a different composer’s name! I’ve edited vast amounts of Monteverdi’s church music, and if anyone had asked me to publish it, I’d have done so as an unknown composer from Naples. There are already two editions, though in larger volumes, and one version I’ve had in my computer for some time.

There are sections with fewer parts, the voices of each choir being of the same range, except for a trio of ATB in choir II for “Domine Deus”: this shoud be described as ATB II. The listing of the rest of the index (p. ii) would be clearer as SATB, SATB than SSAATTBB. The continuo part is very simple, and could have been a useful elementary exercise for those wishing to play from the bass, with simple figuring added.

It is significant that the Kritischer Bericht has no reference to Monteverdi, whereas the editor mentions Monteverdi in general terms in the first paragraph and specifically in the first sentence of the second, and the publisher went too far on the title: the title should surely have been something like ?Monteverdi?. Apologies to Carus, a publisher for whom I have enormous respect.

Clifford Bartlett

Edited by Friedrich Cerha.
Diletto Musicale (DM 1452) Doblinger, 2014.
36pp + five parts, £21.50.

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his volume contains nos. V-X. Nos V & VI are Sopra Rugier and Sopra Romanesca, neither of them strictly ground basses. The other items are merely numbered 7-10. These six items were preceded by a group of 4, due Canti e due Bassi. Frescobaldi took great care as always to produce mostly contrapuntal sections in duple time, but some of the triple sections are chordal. In my earlier days, I enjoyed playing a variety of such pieces on viols in the 1960s, and I probably moved down to continuo playing in the 1970s with violin-family instruments – whichever scoring was played, I enjoyed. My older copies are probably now passed on to Fitzwilliam College, Cambridge, where a lot of my music now resides, though currently they are temporarily in storage. The Bc part is clearly for a chordal realisation, so the score is all that is needed – this isn’t music to be conducted, but there would be some benefit if the continuo part had additional figuring.

No. VII is the only piece demanding two violas. However, the only problem occurs in bars 56-57 and can easily be fixed:

• Part 2: change E minim to crotchet, then return to A at the end of bar 57
• Part 3: change from note 2 to two crotchet rests then take the last note from part 2; bar 56 notes 1-2 similarly, then swap the minim.

Groups using viols will manage without any difficulty.

Clifford Barlett

for four-part instrumental ensemble (Canto, Alto, Tenore e Basso) and Basso continuo, Vol. II: Nos. V-X. Score and Parts.
Edited by Friedrich Cerha. DM 1452.
Doblinger: Diletto Musicale. 36pp +5 parts.

[dropcap]I[/dropcap] reviewed the first volume in December 2014. The six items here complete the final group of the 1634 edition. They are numbered in continuation of Vol. 1. All are notated in SATB except for the first canzon (No. V), Sopra Rugier, which is in high clefs except that the bass is F4: No. VI is Sopra Romanesca, the other four canzonas lack titles. The modern layout, however, is Tr Tr A B, except for no obvious reason No. VII has the second part in alto part as well as the third: the only unplayable violin note is in bar 56: the second part can stay in the treble, but with a footnote suggesting a swap from bar 56 note 2 till bar 58 note 1. The Basso ad Organo is named in V, VI, VIII, the other three are Basso generale: is the difference significant? The editor’s last sentence is “Of course, all triple-time sections ask for a quick tempo”, but doesn’t that usually relate it to the duple time at a quick but proportional tempo – or am I old-fashioned? I probably played the canzonas here as well as in vol. 1 back in the 1960s. If I had a chance to play them again, I’d sit at the organ! The volume is available from Universal Edition, 48 Great Marlborough St, at £21.50.

Clifford Bartlett

Critical edition by Alejandra Béjar Bartolo.
Lucca, LIM: 2015. 256pp.
ISBN: 9788870967777 €30

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his well-researched and well-printed modern critical edition of the 24 surviving printed vocal works of Francesco Antonio Pistocchi (1659-1726) is welcome: he was a more than competent composer, and his music is charming and lyrical. Precocious as a composer, his instrumental Capricci puerili…, were published in 1667 as Op. I, when he was eight. His actual first opus of cantatas, published in Bologna by Silvani in 1698, and lost, was unknown to Estienne Roger when the latter printed the Scherzi musicali as ‘Op. I’ in the same year, in Amsterdam. So despite the composer’s authorisation to call it ‘op. I’, it is now dubbed ‘[Op. II]’. In fact his Duetti e terzetti was published by Silvani in 1707 as Op. III.

Pistocchi, born in Palermo, and whose father was a violinist and a tenor, was in Bologna by the age of two, sang from the age of 11 in S.Petronio (the Bologna cathedral) and had an active operatic career from 1675 to 1695, teaching singing thereafter. This volume gives a detailed biography, only in Italian. He composed operas and oratorios, sacred and instrumental music, and was highly regarded by Torelli, Perti and Tosi.

Op. II contains 12 pieces, all with continuo: three cantatas for soprano, two for contralto, one for bass, two Italian duets (SS and SC), two French solo arias (S and C, emulating Lully), and two German solo arias (C and S, in ‘Italian’ style). They are above all pleasing, relatively undemanding, and short, with good and sometimes bold harmony. Not only are the da capos written out, but Pistocchi tends to repeat phrases and sections as well, which is perhaps more typical on the stage than in cantatas, or perhaps a reason for calling them collectively ‘scherzi musicali‘.

The prints can also be consulted instantly online here (Op. II) and here (Op. III).

This permits me to comment on Béjar Bartolo’s transcription and critical notes. The source itself is very good, but as inevitable in all prints in movable type, manuscript copies will yield some additional details, different lyrics or underlay, innumerable ties, and may confirm or not other questionable readings. So to that extent, this is not really a complete critical edition. The print requires relatively few things to be noted. I found a manuscript viewable online for the first cantata, which Béjar Bartolo does not list, and this makes me assume that many other manuscripts of these diffusely circulated pieces may not be listed!

I was especially eager to find the first cantata (In su la piaggia aprica) because I suspected a mistaken interpretation of the text, a simile that makes no sense as Béjar Bartolo explained it, abetted by an incorrect comma which she inserted. She misinterprets ‘veloci piante‘, the soles of the feet of the fleeing Mirtillo, as ‘pianti‘, or sobs (of spurned Lucinda), thinking that the spelling was compromised to rhyme with amante! No, these piante are Mirtillo’s fleet feet. The point is that Mirtillo wants nothing to do with poor Lucinda, who isn’t quite crying yet, though she will be at the end. In the opening narrated recit, Mirtillo, as the mythical Daphne had to, is running away, in this case from the girl who loves him (‘che a fuggir la sua amante,/ al par di Dafne, ebbe veloci piante.’).

To her credit, Béjar Bartolo has carefully aligned the continuo figures from the Amsterdam print with the music, providing where necessary the editorial accidentals without which a continuo player would be apt to err. Since movable type has no beaming and this print does not tie any continuo notes, it might have been nice to follow the beaming and to include or comment on the omnipresent continuo ties from manuscript versions, and, where differing, any alternative lyrics or underlay. The print sometimes uses black notation for hemiolas, which the editor then indicates silently by adding coloration brackets. I found one wrong vocal note in this first cantata (in Aria 1 bar 38, b’ instead of a’), and several questionable notes in the others. Players and singers should be suspicious enough to double check with the online original. Pistocchi’s audacious chromatic surprises are, however, theoretically acceptable, if at times challenging. His precise tempo indications are also uncommon: abbastanza adagio, adagio assai, andante ma non presto, più andante; and almost all of his interesting recits turn into substantial ariosos, longer than the recits themselves.

Op. III includes ten duets (SC), and two trios (STB and SCT). These are also cantatas in form, with solo or dialoguing recits between the arias. It is not mandatory, but the entire sequence could be performed as a unified work, since the soprano and the contralto are figures complementing one another in their contrasting points of view, and the final madrigalistic trios address those who have ‘sailed the undulating sea of love’ (Ecco il lido, a terra, a terra) and remind them with downward arpeggios (Tramonta il sol e lascia il mondo tutto) of the sunset of ‘beauty which is born and dies in a flash’.

It is slightly inconvenient that the critical apparatus of Op. III was put in the middle of the volume, between the two works, and much more so that a fairly heavy book of 256 pages needs so much manhandling to make it stay open for playing from. The LIM has very moderate prices, and I wonder how much more it would have cost to print Op. II and Op. III in separate bindings, with the critical material, which is not needed when playing and should have been translated into other languages, in a third. Are we ‘supposed’ to resort to photocopying in order to be able to use the music we buy?

Barbara Sachs

J.S. Bach: Six Suites for Solo Violoncello transcribed with embellished reprises for keyboard (harpsichord) by Winsome Evans, in three volumes:
Suites I & II PRB No. B059, list price US$30
Suites III & IV PRB No. B060, list price US$35
Suites V & VI PRB No. B061, list price US$35

J.S. Bach: Partita for Solo Flute transcribed with embellished reprises for keyboard (harpsichord) by Winsome Evans
PRB No. B062, list price US$20

[dropcap]A[/dropcap]s we all know, Bach’s music is virtually bomb proof – no matter what you do it to (and let’s face it, there have been some arrangements that are wackier than others!) it seems to survive. In this case, Winsome Evans has devoted hours to adapting Bach’s six cello suites and solo flute partita to the keyboard. On the page the transcriptions look just like Bach’s keyboard music, and for anyone who has played through the extant corpus and is keen for more, Evans has also provided embellished repeats of every movement of every piece. I am in two minds about that approach – while less experienced players might be glad not to have to improvise decorations, others might find (a) that the written-out variants stifle their creativity since one has to concentrate as one plays or risk losing one’s place in the music and (b) that the continual page turning that all the extra music requires becomes tiresome; in short, something of an embarrassment of riches that has practical implications. If that were the end of it, then all would be well. Alas, it is not. After a Preface that goes into far greater detail than really it need do about the relationship between Evans’s transcriptions and the originals (as if this were an Urtext edition of Bach keyboard music, in fact), vol. 1 of cello music has three pages of Editorial Notes that include no fewer than 16 ossias (Bar 23 of the Gigue of Suite 1 is spectular in inspiring four ossias!) I am sure many keyboard players will enjoy playing this “new” music, but I sincerely doubt whether any will have the slightest concern for the minutiae of Winsome Evans’s clever extrapolations. For those who do, surely it would be better simply to refer them either to a good modern edition, or to the two original sources (both of which are available online!) I recommend simply enjoying the beautifully idiomatic realisations of these marvellous pieces, beautifully printed as ever by PRB, and ignore the introductory matter.

Brian Clark

Score, ed. Michael Robertson.
Edition Walhall (EW 904), 2015. xvi + 256pp,
€88.50
Also available: Vocal score (EW 910), Parts (EW 248)

[dropcap]B[/dropcap]ärenreiter published Das Alexander-Fest in 1957, with German text placed above the English original. It is among a group of editions which have generally been considered as inadequate. Serie I Band 1, no. 4001, edited by Konrad Ameln, isn’t quite the first, but several early examples could hardly be thought as scholarly. I bought a copy through my subscription in 1960 (30 shillings. i.e. £1.10s), but my first use was at the Dartington Summer School in 1966, with Jennifer Vivyan, Kenneth Bowen and Neil Howlett (STB) with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields directed by Neville Marriner (who is still conducting in his 90s) and conducted by Louis Halsey – a few years later I shared the BBC Music Library canteen with Louis and Basil Lam. The performance failed to include the harp concerto (op. 4/6), though Act II was introduced by “The Celebrated Concerto in Alexander’s Feast”. Over the years, I became more and more annoyed with the score, but the Novello vocal score by Donald Burrows was, as far as it goes, useful. I never acquired the reprint of the work from Chrysander – one of the few copies I don’t have, though it is available on line via IMSLP – HG 14, 1862. From the same source, but more interesting, is the facsimile of the very early printed edition, though with no specific date.

It is virtually impossible to produce an accurate Urtext. Various changes took place between 1736 to March 1739, and it is likely that some of Handel’s performances were given in his absence. The editor claims that the performing score copied by the elder J. C. Smith (Hamburg Staats- & Universitätsbibliothek, MSM C/263) is the best source in that it clarifies what Handel intended. The most interesting feature of the new edition reviewed here is the inclusion of an independent organ part (British Library R.M. 19.a.1), which was probably written out in Handel’s period of bad health. This is valuable information which can guide players in other non-theatrical works. The organ often plays just in octaves at the pitch levels of cello and bass, with the bottom note F. Modern organs can negotiate that by using 16′, but that’s less plausible for organs of Handel’s time, though they have low Gs.

An asset is the Concerto per la Harpa (op. 4/6). I’m used to it sounding delicate, but it is does seem odd for the harpsichord to be added in brackets as well as having the organ plus the essential harp. The editorial additions are superfluous. The harpsichord disrupts the harp, and the two-stave organ part may well be the scribe copying the harp. Does the octave bass foresee the habits of pianists and play both basses in one hand, in which case the right hand could play the simplified upper parts? On musical grounds, however, there would be more musical sense in using two hands – so does the organist sit opposite the C below middle C! (I’ve never tried it.) I’m puzzled at an editorial [“play’d an 8. lower”] (bar 41), though the range is more-or-less the same as 25-28 with no indication of lowering the octave.

Another issue that is of interest occurs in The many rend the skies, where two oboes and two bassoons swap between one or two individual lines each or, occasionally, two parts for each. This provides an interesting texture, but the bassoons fall back on a single part from bar 19 and stays thus to the end (bar 137). Ameln makes the score seem much more sensible, with the oboes and bassoons each shown on one stave, though the Walhall edition spreads them onto two each, since it wouldn’t have been possible to leave space for two extra staves for the organ part even if the oboes and bassoons had been single-staved. I’m not sure what “Loud: an octave lower” means since after ten bars the notation is basically from the score and may well be played at pitch, especially if there is figuring, but bars 20-24 imply low octaves, irrespective of what is in the treble. An interesting piece of scoring is Revenge Timotheus cries, where at bar 49 a bassoon doubles each of the two violas, with a third bassoon on the bass line.

I haven’t mentioned Dryden’s text. It is good to have it printed in the original English with a translation by Stefan Gericke. I checked the details of the text which was presented in the style of 1736 as given in Robert Manson Myers’s Handel, Dryden, & Milton… (Bowes & Bowes, 1956). Cecilia volgi un sguardo was placed at the beginning of the work, though headed A Cantata perform’d at the Beginning of the Second Act. In the current edition, it was excluded. Act the Second opens with a Concerto for two Violins, Violoncello, &c (not in the edition, but there is an isolated work in C named “Alexander’s Feast”) and a further Concerto per L’organo before the final chorus: neither of these is added in the edition, and the reference on p. 215 should be referred to p. 236, not 234. I find the 1956 layout of the verse plausible, and retaining capital letters aids singers in the poetic shape. (I periodically complain that the Italian verse of the madrigal period was notated with capitals but is now ignored.) But I suspect that any further 18th-century English is too fussy as underlay.

The price in euros is surprisingly cheap. The English equivalent is around £63.00: I imagine that a new Bärenreiter edition would probably cost something over £200, judging by the larger works running into £400+. The commentary isn’t a thorough survey of all the variants, but significant ones are shown, and the introduction is helpful, especially with regard to avoiding the matters of pseudo-authenticity. There are, of course, places where it is obvious that Handel or his amanuensis start precisely but later simplify the music since the earlier notation will continue. However, that is much more common in opera than oratorio. The opening in the Ouverture in Donald Burrows’ Novello vocal score (1982) was following the editorial practice of its day by adding semiquavers above the quavers to show how they should be played, but there’s none of that here.

Another issue is the length of the chords in secco recits. The editor recommends that the harpsichord sustains no longer than a crotchet. But the very first chord (no. 2) begins on the first beat and needs to sustain until the voice enters on the fourth quaver: it makes it sound like making the voice keep quiet until the chord is stopped! In bar 3 the C can end with the voice’s “son” but the G sharp in bar 4 needs sustaining until the voice enters. It is probably not necessary now to cue a note a tone or a fourth above the closing note of the phrase. It’s up to the harpsichordist to be more flexible. The organ is tacet in secco recits.

Michael Robertson has made an excellent job of this edition: congratulations!

Clifford Bartlett

Osterkantate für Sopran, Violine und Basso Continuo
Ed. Christoph Eglhuber.
“Sacri Concentus Ratisbonenses” XIV, v + 9pp.
Edition Walhall EW962. ISMN: M-50070-962-6

[dropcap]C[/dropcap]alling this piece a cantata is stretching things a little – after a 25 bar Sonata for the scordatura violin and continuo, the soprano sings the opening chunk of text, followed by the violin’s musing on the same material. The third portion starts at Bar 75 with chords in the violin and a true dialogue for the first time. A more elaborately imitative “Alleluia” is followed by the final portion of the chorale text, rejoicing in the glory of the risen Christ.

The publication consists of a score with introduction and critical notes, a separate score without a cover but including the editor’s realisation of the continuo part, a violin part in sounding pitch (unplayable without fudging or simplifying the chords), a scordatura violin part (though with extra accidentals for the bottom two strings rather than a complex key signature) and a figured bass part.

The original is available online so editorial decisions on beaming shorter notes (or not, as the case may be) can be scrutinized by those who are interested in such things. Similarly, where the editor has extrapolated the underlaid text from the symbols used by the copyist. In fact, he has not – as he claims in his introduction – reproduced the source as closely as possible while adhering to modern notational conventions, because he consciously breaks a beam in the violin part after the first notes of Bars 120 and 124 where Bokemeyer does not. In fact, I think a lot of notational decisions were left to Sibelius’s default settings (and the tie symbol was used for several slurs…) I also think Eglhuber missed an error in the violin part at Bar 120, where notes 11 and 12 should surely be one step lower. These are however small details that can easily be fixed in rehearsal or for a second print run.

Brian Clark

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