Category: Recording

Anne Schumann violin, Sebastian Knebel Rommel organ (Kaltenlengsfeld)
45:10
Querstand VKJK 1506
Sonatas 6-10, Pachelbel: Ciacona ex d

Anne Schumann violin, Sebastian Knebel Trost organ (Waltershausen)
63:09
Querstand VKJK 1506
Sonatas 11-16, Buxtehude: Ciacona in e, BuxWV160

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hese two recordings conclude Anne Schumann’s exploration of Biber’s marvellous sonatas for scordatura violin in which the continuo part is realised solely on church organs of the period. The “direct and almost unrelenting sound” of Kaltenlangsfeld’s Rommel organ was thought most suitable for the sorrowful mysteries on disc 2, while the glorious mysteries are accompanied on the Trost organ in Waltershausen. In both cases the recording balance favours the keyboard instrument, but not to the same extent as I experienced with the first release of the set. If Anne Schumann sounds distant in the solo Passagalia, it is because she played it in one of the loftier boxes to tie in with the composer’s dedicating it to a guardian angel. This is a performance of real strength and depth: I have never heard the rapid chains of octaves played so clearly – like bells pealing. Elsewhere there were moments of genuine discovery (as I believe there always should be when artists record repertoire that is so well know) – the martial intrada of Sonata XII with its bare harmonies and strident colours raised the hairs on the back of my neck. In the booklet note to volume 3, Anne Schumann reveals that she used three violins for the project to accommodate the testing scordatura settings (especially difficult at high pitch); when she wrote down which ones she had used for which set of sonatas, she discovered the same pattern in 12321 for the first two sets of mysteries, then a different one for the third (223311) – something for number symbolists to get excited about. Like the first volume, these two discs being with the church bells.

Brian Clark

Matthew Brook Anacréon, Anna Dennis Chloé, Agustin Prunell-Friend Batile, Choir and Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment, Jonathan Williams
50:19
Signum Records SIGCD 402

[dropcap]W[/dropcap]ith a libretto by Cahusac, this acte de ballet is not to be confused with the identically titled 1757 Anacréon with libretto by Bernard (see Graham Sadler’s excellent and already indispensable Rameau Compendium, pub. Boydell 2014). The score has been reconstructed by the conductor from material prepared for revivals in 1766 and 1771 – a labour of love well worth undertaking. Amazingly, the first (partial) revival in ‘modern’ times was conducted by Debussy in 1909! Even by Rameau’s standards it is a colourful score with braying horns, chirruping piccolos and much variety in the string and oboe writing, conveyed by OAE with their usual attention to detail. The ‘plot’ is a sweet love story (though not without a few hitches) which must have charmed the first audiences much as it did me. Of the three singers, Matthew Brook in the title role and Anna Dennis have a strong core to their tone which prevents the dreaded v-word from becoming an issue. There are times when this is not so true of Agustin Prunell-Friend, but this is still a very enjoyable and valuable world première recording. The booklet offers the text in French and English, though the various essays are in English only.

David Hansell

Ensemble Marguerite Louise, Gaétan Jarry organ/director
67:00
encelade ECL1403
H 163, 186, 196, 232, 329, 330, 523 + organ music by Boyvin

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he English translations on the cover and in the booklet are so awful that I had to force myself to listen to the music! The writer seems to have little understanding of either the original or the target language, or the music, come to that. And the cover illustration belongs on a bonkbuster novel. Moving swiftly on, the programme is full of musical interest, offering vocal pieces by M-AC in alternation with organ music by his near-contemporary Jacques Boyvin played on a modern instrument in French Classical style. This is a good and effective programming idea though the solo organ sounds rather distant. On the other hand the vocal music, while very clear, could perhaps use a little more sense of the space in the sound, which is unusually dead for an ecclesiastical venue. The performers stand up well to this close scrutiny and their relaxed approach keeps the v-word at bay and allows us to enjoy their excellent tuning of the rich harmony. I just wish that directors of this music could resist the temptation to overscore it. The bassoon sounds a most unlikely bass when there are no reeds on top. But it is good to hear the specified bass recorder in H196.

David Hansell

Ensemble Correspondances, Sébastien Daucé
[T153:00 (2 CDs)
harmonia mundi HMC 952223.24

[dropcap]I[/dropcap]f I had to sum up this release in one word that word would be ‘lavish’. The two discs lurk in the end papers of a 190-page glossy book that offers multiple colour illustrations and a variety of essays in multiple languages, but, I find myself asking, to what end? At the heart of it all is the famous occasion on which the young Louis XIV appeared as the sun at the climax of the Ballet Royal de la Nuit. The music for this has been painstakingly re-composed – often from just a surviving melodic line – for the typical five-part ensemble of the time and 51 of the original 77 dances appear here. They have been ‘fleshed out’ for modern concert and recording purposes with music from Rossi’s Orfeo and Cavalli’s Ercole amante which have plot links with the ballet. In addition, a number of airs popular at the time, especially by Boesset, have been inserted. We are asked to imagine an occasion at which an older Louis was presented with a lavish entertainment which re-visited delights from his youth. Thus, to put it less kindly, we have a speculative re-construction of an event that never took place. The Ballet Royal has become a Concert Royal.

If you can swallow this conceit – which is not too hard – you will then be confronted with Christie-esque performance practice which means added elaborate percussion parts rather too often for my taste and recorders at unlikely pitches (both of these within the first half minute). So, purely musically, I did not enjoy this, though I can still imagine it winning awards. The real star is the book which, as well as telling you what you need to know in order to understand what’s going on, also includes a lot of fascinating contextual information. As so often, you pay your money…

David Hansell

[wp-review]

Lia Serafini soprano, Chiara Balasso soprano, Matteo Pigato countertenor, I musicali affetti, Fabio Missaggia
59:00
fra bernardo fb1505643

[dropcap]M[/dropcap]y only previous experience of Lulier’s music was in the days when BBC Radio 3 actively sought out “new” old music; I seem to remember it being a Christmas cantata in which an angel had to sing rather a lot of top Ds, and featuring the concerto grosso line-up of instruments à la Stradella. The present work – apparently recounting the downfall of heathen Rome and its replacement by the centre of the Christian world, and intended as praise both to the host of the original performances (Ottoboni of Handel fame) and his esteemed guest, the new Venetian ambassador – is very similar in feel. Directed by the primo violino, the string band (33211) with harpsichord and theorbo are generally good, though the tuning between the solo and tutti groups in Rome’s “Quanto effimero è il contento” (and elsewhere, if I am totally honest) leaves something to be desired. Most of the arias are tuneful with instrument “ritornelli” to end with; others are better than that – Valore’s “Così quel bianco giglio” has the two solo violins duetting over pizzicato accompaniment, and Gloria’s “Se d’Eroi bella Madre” features a transverse flute. Of the three singers (sopranos as Rome and Glory, a countertenor as Bravery) only Rome sounds like she is forcing herself into “early music mode”. On this evidence, Lulier would repay closer investigation. Sadly I was unable to locate an English version of the libretto on the record company’s website.

Brian Clark

Ensemble Polyharmonique, Alexander Schneider
58:20
edition raumklang

[dropcap]F[/dropcap]or many years now, I had planned to “re-discover” Tobias Michael’s music; there are two sets of original part-books in The British Library and, although I only managed to transcribe one piece the last time I was there, I did make a listing of the contents of both, and was impressed, not only that he involved different combinations of instruments with the voices, but that he wrote out ornamentation for the singers. Those are, of course, the two volumes of his Musicalische Seelenlust, published 20 years into the 30 years war and full of the sort of music you would expect from the generation after Schütz and Schein and before Rosenmüller and Schelle – harmonically pointed, emotive settings of richly poetic texts, full of the imagery of loss, hope, tragedy and faith. Only seven of the 18 pieces on the CD come from the second volume; each of the five singers (SSATB) take one solo each, and there are duets for the two sopranos and tenor/alto.

The other works are all for the full ensemble, supported throughout by bass viol, chamber organ and theorbo. The sound is capital “g” gorgeous – the voices individually are beautiful and the balance they achieve in combination is astonishing and ravishing. Time and again I was reminded of anthologies that appeared in the early 17th century that contained German sacred contrafacta of madrigals by composers such as Monteverdi and Rovetta – for emotional power, Michael’s five-part works would not struggle in such esteemed company. As for the more concertato pieces, the five voices of Ensemble Polyharmonique are fairly put through their paces by the technical demands, without ever losing a serene sense of control. It is also unsual to have a CD of 17th-century music where the performers do not feel the need to intersperse the vocal music with instrumental repertoire; I take this to be further endorsement of the quality and variety of these two fine volumes. I hope we will have the remainder of Michael’s output soon!

Brian Clark

Una Tur Bonet, Musica Alchemica
124:52 (2 CDs)
Pan Classics PC 10329

[dropcap]U[/dropcap]nlike Anne Schumann’s take on The Mystery Sonatas, the present recording sees five continuo players (of ten instruments between them!) accompanying the violinist. Some people may enjoy this approach, and occasionally the reedy sound of the regal and the lush harmonics of the lirone did bring something new to the performances, but actually – as HIPsters – should we be encouraging this approach? Did 17th-century musicians really have the time to sit down and plan out in advance who would accompany which passage, and which not? If so, where are all the surviving parts that contain even the slightest of hints? I know some scores are very clear about characters in musical dramas being shadowed by certain instrumental colours, but I’ve never seen a continuo part that specifies a constant to-ing and fro-ing of this sort. I think, like every other sort of “representative” music, these sonatas imitate worldly (and other worldly) sounds through very simple means and using this battery of auditory devices is akin to a voice over. Or there is a fear that the ear will get tired hearing the same texture for 15 whole sonatas. Actually, even if each sonata were accompanied consistently by a different combination of instruments, the overall effect would have been less irksome, and – of course – when it comes to the final Passigalia, there is only one option: unaccompanied violin.

Here, though, Tur Bonet does confirm her qualities as a Biber fiddler; nicely paced, with lots of space around the notes, no showiness. After her opening “mission statement”, the booklet notes contain a sonata by sonata two-page spread sequence of arty photo to the left and discussion of the different scordature on the right, but I found the translations difficult to understand; not that the rather poetic sounding Spanish was easier! I suggest simply listening to the fabulous music and ignoring the booklet.

Brian Clark