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Telemann: Six trio 1718

Les Timbres (Stefanie Trouffes traverso, Antoine Torunczyk oboe, Yoko Kawakubo violin, Myriam Rignol viola da gamba, Julien Wolfs hpscd/org); Harmonia Lenis (Kenichi Mizuuchi recorders, Yukiko Murakami bassoon, Yuki Koike violin, Elena Andreyev violoncello, Akemi Murakami hpscd/org)
78:28
Flora5925

It has been suggested that these elegant trios were inspired by members of the Collegia Musica or indeed by known virtuosi or even gifted amateurs; they do mark a progressive statement from the earlier examples in Telemann’s “self-publishing” enterprise, pushing the scope beyond the Italianate sonata format with added “spice” and dynamics. Rather fittingly, we have two ensembles embracing the wonderful scope of tonal colours offered by the varied instrumentation, from flute and recorder and oboe, alongside violin, to a second violin, and with Trio VI violin with violoncello or bassoon, the latter chosen here (all with continuo). To top off this well-presented disc, we have two of the much later trios from Essercizii Musici (1739-40) with viola da gamba, and the recorder, alongside an obbligato harpsichord part, given a slight variation in selected movements with organ. The two ensembles share the limelight and delight, with some very articulate and fluent playing capturing the essence of these progressive, well-conceived trios with their distinctive (semi-canonic) tonal interplay; heard keenly in the D major with two violins, and violin and bassoon in F featuring some very nimble playing. Perhaps another outing for the oboe might have been considered, the E flat major work from the Essercizii Musici set?

Overall, these pieces hold their unique, engaging charms on this crisp, mellifluent, collaborative recording. Whether inspired by musicians from his immediate circle, or intended for the growing number of customers who subscribed to his published music, they highlight Telemann’s alert understanding of the trio form and his ability to use the spectrum of instrumental colours to hand. The booklet (in English, French and Japanese) has plenty of biographical and incidental quotes. This is a generous offering of Baroquery, for more than just one sitting.

David Bellinger

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Recording

Charpentier: Les Arts Florissants

Dallas Bach Society, directed by James Richman
65:35
Rubicon RCD 1128

The cover illustration of this issue and listing of the New York Baroque Dance Company among the artists enticingly suggests this might be a DVD rather than CD. The impression is enhanced by a passing observation made in his somewhat bizarre notes by Dallas Bach Society director James Richman, but visits to Rubicon’s website and YouTube bring no further suggestion that there is a film. So quite where a Baroque dance company fits into an audio recording must for now remain a mystery.*

Like a number of works such as Racine and Lully’s Idylle sur la paix, Les Arts Florissants (H.487) owes its existence to the Ratisbon Truce of 1684, the signing of which brought an end to war between Louis XIV’s France and the Holy Roman Empire and Spain. It was written for Charpentier’s long-term patron Madam de Guise, and was doubtlessly performed at her hôtel along with another celebratory work, the brief La Couronne de Fleurs (H.486). A charming conceit, Les Arts brings together the various arts to celebrate the king’s victories in their own brief contributions, seconded by a Chorus of Warriors relieved at the cessation of battle. Meanwhile, Discord still clamours for the return of war, a sentiment opposed and overcome by Peace (La Paix). The five scenes are punctuated by dance, as would be expected in a French work of this kind.

It is probably fair to say that Dallas is not the first place you’d associate with French Baroque music, but James Richman here directs an appealing performance particular notable for the contribution of the members of the Dallas Bach Society. In keeping with the original performing circumstances the instrumental forces are small, just pairs of flutes and violins with cello, gamba, theorbo and harpsichord continuo. The playing throughout is of high technical quality, only just missing out on the final degree of idiomatic rhythmic lift. The eight vocalists are also commendable in their grasp of style, but it is unfortunate that a resonant church acoustic has blunted the already poor diction of most of them, an honourable exception being stand-out soprano Haley Sicking, who is also better with ornamentation than her colleagues. Indeed, with her fresh but attractively rounded soprano, Sicking’s La Paix brings constant pleasure.

It would have been good to add the companion La Couronne, as does the larger-scale performance on Versailles Spectacles, but here we have instead a nine-movement Sonata a 8 (H.548) scored for the same forces as those employed in Les Arts Florissants. Not a perfect CD, but one that shows that French Baroque musical art can indeed flourish far from home.

Brian Robins

* The answer may lurk somewhere on their website

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Recording

Traetta: Rex Salomon

Suzanne Jerosme, Eleonora Bellocci, Marie-Eve Munger, Grace Durham, Magdalena Pluta SSSmSA, NovoCanto, Theresia, conducted by Christophe Rousset
111:37 (2 CDs)
cpo 555 654-2

We owe the existence of Tommaso Traetta’s oratorio Rex Solomon arcam faederis adoraturus in Templo to a single vote. That was the margin by which the governors of the Ospedaletto dei Derelitti in Venice decided in the spring of 1766 not to adopt a motion calling for the suspension of all musical activities in the institution. As a result, in June Traetta was elected as maestro di capella of the Derelitti, one of four Venetian orphanages for girls, the best known of which is course the Pietà. The oratorio was first given the same year on the occasion of the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary that year (August 15). A decade later, it was again taken up by Traetta shortly after his return from a period of service in Russia with Catherine the Great. It is the score of the revised 1776 version that survives today and is employed in the present recording, which therefore includes the changes made by Traetta to accommodate different singers in a couple of roles.

Sung in Latin, the oratorio is in the customary two parts and is almost entirely without dramatic event, featuring only the visit of the Queen of Sheba (Marie-Eve Munger) to Solomon (Suzanne Jerosme ) and the conversion to Christianity of Adon (another visitor to Solomon’s court and a worshiper of the god Malach) (Magdalena Pluta). Otherwise, there is much in the way of obsequious praise of the wisdom of Solomon, the topic of the opening and closing choruses, which are well sung by NovoCanto, here being for women’s voices only composed of SAB parts, the bass part being sung an octave higher. Arias are of the da capo type, with the main section fully developed but generally a very brief central B section. They are spread evenly between the five singers in each half of the oratorio, it being testimony to the high quality of the tutelage received by the girls of the Derelitti that a number of the arias, in particular those for Solomon and the Queen of Sheba are extremely demanding, requiring coloratura displays. In addition to the choruses and arias, the final number is a duet between Adon and ‘his’ mentor Abiathar (the excellent Eleonora Bellocci), who also gets the most dramatic of several highly effective passages of accompagnato recitative.

The present performance stems from the Innsbruck Festival’s 2023 edition and in particular pays tribute to the festival’s wholly admirable policy of including one production featuring talented young artists. Often, they may have been prize-winners in the festival’s own prestigious Cesti Competition, as is the case here with Suzanne Jerosme and British mezzo Grace Durham (Sadoc). The latter was indeed the winner of the competition in 2019, the year I attended the final (see report) and I’m delighted to say that here she contradicts my prediction that although I appreciated ‘the warm, rounded quality’ of her voice, Durham’s future career was unlikely to involve much early music. Her opening aria, ‘In alto somno’ in particular is sung with affecting dignity, and includes well-managed passaggi, while she does full justice to that in part 2, one of the loveliest in the work.

The most breathtaking bravura displays come from Marie-Eve Munger’s Queen of Sheba aria in part 2, ‘Tuba Sonora in monte’ and Solomon’s ‘In pace respirando’ (part 2). The former is sung with a superb display of confidence and control across a range that requires some chest notes and inspires a cadential high trill as well as stylish and elaborate da capo ornamentation. The Solomon aria is an outburst of overwhelming emotion in contemplation of the love felt for God. Jerosme is the possessor not only of a gleaming soprano but a splendid technique, including a trill, and the ability to communicate text meaningfully.

There are many other moments to cherish in a performance that is not only a joy in itself, introducing a fine work to the catalogue, but also to be cherished for the excellence of the singing by an outstanding, fresh-voiced cast. The experienced hand of Christophe Rousset guides this uplifting rendition unerringly, while obtaining excellent playing from the young players of Theresia, an international period instrument orchestra based in Austria. Potential buyers, who ought to be numerous, should note that although the booklet suggests it includes German and English translations of the text, it doesn’t. For those, you have to go online, from where they can be downloaded.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Northern Light

Echoes from 17th-century Scandinavia
Lucile Richardot mS, Ensemble Correspondances, directed by Sébastien Daucé
81:39
harmonia mundi HMM 905368

The subtitle of this collection introduces us to a rare repertoire of sacred works (plus a short suite of dances by Sebastian Knüpfer (1633-1676), Kantor of the Thomaskirche in Leipzig from 1657). It takes its inspiration from a collection gathered by Gustav Düben, a member of a musical family that had strong connections with the Swedish court for nearly a century. The collection suggests that unlike royal courts with a strongly nationalist repertoire – that of Louis XIV is a prime example – the Stockholm court heard music by an eclectic range of European composers and musicians, including both Germans and Italians. The present CD reflects that variety by featuring music by both, including among the latter motets by Vincenzo Albrici (1631-96), one of an itinerant family of Roman musicians and a member of the court of Queen Christina of Sweden prior to her abdication in 1654 and later in Dresden, where Giuseppe Peranda (1625-1675) also worked under Schütz. The motets of both are laid out as solo verses interspersed with a refrain for a vocal ensemble.

At the time of the accession of King Charles XI in 1675, Düben led a court ensemble of 16 singers and musicians of varied nationality. Most of the music included on the present disc is reminiscent if not the equal of the smaller scale works of Schütz and features primarily works for an alto soloist with accompaniment for strings and continuo. The most ambitious piece is a birthday motet for the king ‘Jubilate et exultate’, a celebratory work adapted from an Advent motet by Franz Tunder originally in German. It seems the adaptation of works was common practice among Düben and his associates, another being ‘Ack Herre, låt dina helga änglar’, a Swedish-language adaptation of another work of Tunder’s. It is a reflection on joining Christ in death of sombre beauty, as is the lamentation on the death of Charles in 1697. It is by Johann Fischer (1646-1716 or 17), whose original music is lost but the poetry of which is here fitted to another lament by the composer.

Many of the works included are simple strophic settings, but one that is strikingly original is ‘Es war aber an der Stätte’ by Christian Geist (c1650-1711), a north German singer and organist that worked in the Danish and Swedish courts during the 1670s. Scored for solo alto, the first part is a narrative about the entombment of Christ. That is followed by a deeply felt and bitter lamentation in four strophic verses laced with a falling chromatic figure that serves to accentuate the agony. It is worth adding that the one work here that will be known to many is also the best, Johann Christoph Bach’s tear-drenched lament ‘Ach, dass ich Wasser’s g’nug hätte’.

All this music, much of it deeply devotional, is performed by Lucile Richardot and the peerless Ensemble Correspondances with a quiet authority that all but defies criticism. Richardot is not only the possessor of a richly burnished mezzo with a particularly distinctive contralto range and superbly controlled delivery but, and perhaps more importantly, she is one of the most expressive singers of Baroque repertoire currently active, as anyone that has heard her magisterial Penelope in Monteverdi’s Il ritorno d’Ulisse can testify. Add to that a technique that includes an ability to turn ornaments with clean precision and you have a set of performances to cherish. The several items that require a vocal ensemble in addition to Richardot can boast the participation of such fine singers as soprano Caroline Weynants and the outstandingly talented young tenor Antonin Rondepierre.

There are some recordings that are difficult to describe because they are so ordinary. Then there are those hard to do justice to because their apparent ordinariness and lack of sensationalism cloaks attributes more elusive but no less valuable. This is one of those. There’s no great music here, just supreme art concealing art.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Legrenzi: Balletti e Correnti, op. 16

Il Trattimento Armonico, directed by Nicola Reniero
42:27
Brilliant Classics 97496

The nine Balletto-Corrente pairs that make up this set were published posthumously by the composer’s nephew. They are scored for five-part strings, for which the present performers chose two violins, an alto viola, a tenor viola and a cello, with the director playing harpsichord continuo.

I have known the set for decades (I published the sixth pair in 1990 with what was King’s Music!) but have never heard them in actual performance. Legrenzi’s music has always struck me as a fusion of Italian and French ideas – his harmonic palette is much richer than many of his countrymen’s, and his voice-leading much more masterful. As I listened to the disc again and again (it’s short enough for that not to be an issue!), I was reminded again and again particularly of another 17th-century composer: Henry Purcell. Many of these dances could easily fit into one of the latter’s theatre works. One musical idea that caught my ear more than once was something I had only previously heard in one of the sonatas Legrenzi devoted to the Holy Roman Emperor (presumably in the hope of getting a job in Vienna!), where he juxtaposed triplets and duplets; it is a surprisingly striking device.

As for the recording itself, I have to say that the performances (for the most part) deserve better; a richer acoustic might have taken the sharpness off the violin tone, and better microphone positioning might have given the continuo part less prominence. There is a real elegance to some of the playing, but there are also brief passages where the ensemble doesn’t speak with a single voice. This is especially noticeable in the two five-part sonatas (La Marinona and La Fugazza, both of which I edited years ago) that “fill out” the disc; there is plenty of room for some of the many trio and quartet sonatas that are rarely recorded.

Brian Clark

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If the fates allow

Helen Charlston mS, Sounds Baroque
58:46
BIS-2734

If the title of this outstanding CD gives little away, its appendage is rather more forthcoming – ‘Music by Purcell and his contemporaries’. Even so and although there are several staples from the Purcell recital repertoire (‘O Solitude’, ‘I attempt from love’s sickness’), there are some rather more unexpected inclusions; ‘If music be the food of love’ is included in two of the three settings made by Purcell, but neither is the well-known one (Z. 379b).

Also unusual is the absence of programme notes, foregone in favour of a fascinating conversation between Helen Charlston and Emma Kirkby, in which they express their feelings about Purcell’s songs and what it means to sing them. Naturally, there is much accord, but what is interesting when it comes to performances is just how contrasted the approach is. One need only listen to a little of Emma Kirkby’s wonderful 1983 recital of the songs after this CD to recognise that the objectives of the singers are quite different. Dame Emma’s performances are all about vocal purity, clarity of diction and a near-perfect musical technique, with cleanly articulated ornaments and shaping of phrases. Charlston comes from a new generation, the best of whom – certainly including singers like her and Lucile Richardot – is starting to recognise that there is potentially more to this repertoire than simply singing it perfectly. Take Charlston’s singing of ‘Morpheus thou gentle god’ by Daniel Purcell, Henry’s younger brother. In this at-times fiery text about jealousy by Abel Boyer – the penultimate passage starts ‘I rage, I burn, my soul on fire, Tortured with wild despair and fierce desire’ – the demands on the singer are in stark contrast to the long cantabile of the earlier part, dramatically intense and full of rhetorical gesture. Charlston rises to these demands superbly, bringing the song to a terrifying peroration on the final word ‘destroy’.

This is, of course, an extreme example that takes us into a world of Italianate fervour and intensity, but this attention to the rhetorical detail of all the songs here is one of the striking details of the recital. One is given the impression that Charlston has thought deeply and carefully about every word she sings and never forgetting, or letting us forget, that in Purcell’s day this repertoire was often sung by actor-singers. Rarely, for example, in my experience has the Virgin’s fear in ‘Tell me, some pitying angel’ been so graphically expressed, each ‘Why?’, each ‘How?’ given a marginally different inflection, while the lack of a ‘vision from above’ at the ‘wondrous birth’ brings near panic in the repeated calls of ‘Gabriel, Gabriel’. The result is a compelling mini-drama. In ‘Music for a While’ Dryden’s snakes drop from Alecto’s head with languid perfection. And there are so many more examples to explore. I urge you to discover them for yourself.

Throughout the recital Charlston is supremely well supported by Sounds Baroque (Jonathan Manson, bass viol, William Carter, Baroque guitar and theorbo, and Julian Perkins, harpsichord and chamber organ); on their own account they contribute a set of Divisions by Christopher Simpson and John Blow’s Morlake Ground, the latter played by Perkins on a richly sonorous copy of a two-manual Ruckers Hemsch instrument by Ian Tucker.

At a time when I frequently have cause to compare the state of early music in the UK unfavourably with what is happening in several European countries, France in particular, this is pure manna from heaven. Here are British artists performing English music to as near perfection as one has any right to expect.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Georg Österreich’s resurrected treasures

Musica Gloria, directed by Nele Vertommen oboe, and Beniamino Paganini harpsichord/organ
79:06
Et’cetera KTC 1819

Rather disarmingly, the track listing for this generously filled CD notes at its conclusion, ‘All world-premiere recordings – as far as we know’. Well, here’s one listener happy to take the directors’ word for it, particularly given the meticulous research that has evidently gone into planning this recording. So who was Georg Österreich and what are his ‘resurrected treasures’? Well, for a start he was a very lucky man since he inherited a brewery. More importantly for our present concerns, he was a virtuoso singer born in Magdeburg in 1664. His early career was spent in Leipzig, Hamburg and Wolfenbüttel, but in 1689 Österreich was appointed Kapellmeister at the ducal court of Gottorf, now part of Schleswig-Holstein in northern Germany. There he made an extensive collection of German sacred music before the time of Bach along with Italian secular music. The former, now housed in Berlin and known under the name of Österreich’s pupil and its inheritor, Heinrich Bokemeyer (1679-1751), is the largest collection of north German sacred music in central Europe. The present CD, subtitled ‘North-German Cantatas around 1700’, is the result of intensive research on the collection by Baroque oboist Nele Vertommen.

The selection chosen by Vertommen and Beniamino Paganini, her co-director of the vocal and instrumental ensemble Musica Gloria, reflects the links to Österreich’s circle, including as it does two works by the man himself, one by his elder brother Michael (1658-1709), one by his teacher Johann Theile (1646-1724), one by Bokemeyer, and one by his singing teacher Giulio Giuliani (? – ?), the two last named being Latin settings. Also included is the more modern style of cantata by Johann Philipp Förtsch (1652-1732), one-time resident composer of the Hamburg Opera and later court physician at Gottorf to Duke Christian Albrecht of Schleswig-Holstein and then the Bishop of Lübeck. The works included are particularly notable for the wide variety of instrumentation and vocal forces required, the latter quite properly restricted to one-voice-per-part (OVPP). It is a general and welcome feature of the performances that the young singers of Musica Gloria bring a robust and strongly rhetorical performance style to all the music, singing also with generally excellent diction.

Arguably the most imposing and impressive of the works included is Georg Österreich’s own motet in the concertato style Weise mir Herr, deinen Weg, scored for four voices (SATB) plus ripieni and instrumental forces including two oboes, two violins, two violas, bassoon obbligato, cello and continuo. Worth noting is that the organ continuo is played on an Arp Schnitger instrument dating from 1690 and sited in the recording location, the Mauritiuskirche in Hollern-Twielenfleth on the banks of the Elbe. A setting of verses from Psalm 85 (86), it takes full cognisance of the potent and dramatic text, the solo trio at the supplicatory words ‘Wende dich …’ (Turn to me and have mercy on me) being especially telling, as is the beautiful bass solo ‘Denn deine Güte ..’ (For great is your love toward me).

Also impressive is brother Michael’s setting of the Lord’s Prayer for two sopranos, alto and tenor with instrumental parts for two violins, two violas, bassoon and continuo. But in truth there is nothing in the collection that is not without merit and worthy of these searching, communicative performances, which are not only worth discovering in their own right but provide valuable clues as to where Bach’s early sacred works come from.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Bach: Easter Oratorio, Magnificat

Nola Richardson, Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen, Thomas Cooley, Harrison Hintzsche ScTTBar, Cantata Collective, directed by Nicholas McGegan
70:00
Avie AV2756

Following their St John Passion recorded at a live performance in 2022, which I reviewed in August 2024, the Cantata Collective under Nic McGegan have now produced a CD with the Easter Oratorio (BWV 249) and the Magnificat (BWV 243.2). Much the same forces are employed, though some of the members – both singers and players – have changed for this 2024 recording. These are fairly traditional performances with a chorus of 6.4.3.3 (or 3.3.3.3.3 for the Magnificat), plus four independent soloists and a string band of 3.3.2.1.1. McGegan himself is shown in the photographs standing in front of a harpsichord with the organ at the back, though I fail to detect any actual use of the harpsichord. The chorus is well drilled and sings with commitment: most of the voices are well-suited to the music, although there are some among the sopranos and altos who sing with more vibrato than I would like.

When it comes to the soloists, the two singers I singled out for praise – the tenor Thomas Cooley and the bass baritone Harrison Hintzsche – in the John Passion are singing on this CD also. So are Nola Richardson and the countertenor Aryeh Nussbaum Cohen. Cohen has a florid voice, and clearly has considerable experience in opera, but sings well in ensembles with other singers; he is at his best in the Magnificat where he balances well with Cooley in Et misericordia, and with the two sopranos in Suscepit Israel. His Esurientes is a delight and quite different from his over-histrionic Saget in the Easter Oratorio. Cooley is imperious in the Deposuit and sensitive partner in Et misericordia, while he and Hintzsche make a good pair in the dialogue sections of the Easter Oratorio between the disciples Peter and John. In the 1725 original version, parodied for Easter day from a secular cantata composed only three months earlier, it was clearly sung one voice to a part by an SATB quartet of named characters following the secular version from which it was parodied. This explains why the B section of the opening chorus has a duet – sung here by all the tenor and basses rather than the T and B soloists – which feels strange in the middle of the ‘chorus’ which it became by the 1743 revision when the opening chorus had been rewritten for SATB. I do not share the press’s enthusiasm for Nola Richardson: I find her voice over-produced for this period of music, and thought I detected a real star in Tonia d’Amelio, plucked from the chorus to sing the second soprano part in Suscepit Israel, though she is not given the second soprano aria Et exultavit earlier, whose voice is sweet and true.

The other matter to mention is that McGegan follows the 19th-century tradition of changing the tempo between Quia respexit and omnes generationes – two parts of the same verse – going off at a good gallop, for which there is no textual authority, although it is what we have all grown up with. But do not let this deflect you from what is a perfectly produced example of the offshoots of the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra of which Nic McGegan is now the Music Director Laureate. This is the premier Bay Area period instrument band, and deserves its outstanding reputation.

The overall impression of this well-chosen pairing is of a bouncy and jubilant celebration of the resurrection, with well-balanced scoring and judicious tempi set by McGegan, a past master at getting the overall feel exactly right.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Greene: Jephtha

Early Opera Company, conducted by Christian Curnyn
99:22 (2 CDs)
Chandos CHSA0408(2)

The story of Jephtha and his rash vow to sacrifice the first person from his household he encounters on his return from battle if God will support his military action is known in music chiefly through the brief, but renowned 17th century oratorio by Carissimi (c.1648) and Handel’s eponymous final oratorio composed in 1751. To them can be added the version composed by Maurice Greene, the leading English composer during much of the period Handel was domiciled in London. Greene’s Jephtha appeared in 1737, but exact details of its earliest performance(s) remain shrouded in mystery. In his notes, Peter Lynan, who produced the edition used in the present performance, dismisses the theory that Jephtha was first given at the King’s Theatre during Lent 1737, no evidence for a public performance existing until its modern revival in 1997.

As with Handel’s setting, Greene’s libretto was the work of a clergyman, John Hoadley. However, the inexperienced Hoadley’s book is poor stuff compared with Thomas Morell’s, couched in stilted verse – ‘It is decreed, And I must bleed’ – and clumsily constructed. It also lacks any hint of the kind of dramatic element achieved by Morell’s fleshing out of the basic story with additional characters, while supplying a redemptive conclusion in which Jephtha’s daughter is dedicated to rather than sacrificed to God. Greene’s Jephtha is written for just four characters: Jephtha himself, his unnamed daughter (Iphis in the Handel) and two Elders of Gilead, the first a bass, the second a tenor. Like most oratorios of the period, it is cast in two parts (or acts; Handel’s is in three) and of course there is a substantial role for the chorus, Curnyn’s here being one of the successes of the performance. Like much else in the score, they cannot totally escape the taunt so often levelled at Greene that he was merely a lesser Handel. As so often with such lazy labels, there is plenty of evidence that the Englishman was his own man and we might at times more advantageously look back to Purcell. I’d suggest as an example the chorus that ends Part 1, ‘God of Hosts’. Here the reiterated war-like cries of ‘strike, strike’ have a distinctly Purcellian flavour. The final chorus is interesting, too. Since there is no redemption, the daughter’s death will happen, but unlike the sublimely tragic and bitterly chromatic chorus that concludes Carissimi’s Jephte, Greene’s follows a broad, throbbing course that is not so much tragic as understated, while reaching a peroration of real beauty. It is somehow very English.

Thanks are certainly owed to Christian Curnyn and his Early Opera Company forces for this first recording. Sadly, such gratitude must be tempered with the conclusion that Curnyn’s performance is lacking the kind of persuasive qualities needed to revive such a work. His direction overall is prosaic and lacking dramatic purpose. Too often tempos are sluggish and although the orchestral playing is neat and tidy it lacks spirit, while the almost certainly spurious inclusion of a theorbo in the continuo is greatly exacerbated by the narcissistic inclination of the player to be heard as clearly as possible as often as possible. The best of the soloists is the First Elder of bass Michael Mofidian, splendidly vibrant and producing some impressive low notes. Andrew Staples’s Jephtha is neatly and reasonably stylishly sung, but his lyric tenor is too small to convey the authority of the character, who was a renowned war leader. Mary Bevan’s Daughter lacks control in the upper register, though she is affecting in her beautiful final air, ‘Let me awhile defer my Fate’, with, to this listener at least, its affinity with Handel’s ravishing duet ‘As steals the morn’ from L’Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato, which postdates Greene’s Jephtha by three years.

Even if it cannot match the Handel, one of his greatest creations, Greene’s Jephtha contains much fine music and if we ever start to place some value on our 18th-century English musical heritage, it will doubtless occupy a valued place.

Brian Robins

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Maria: Josquin in Leipzig

amarcord
80:25
Raumklang RK AP 10124

Before I listened to this fabulous recording, I hadn’t realised how much I miss the music of Josquin. My first encounter (after a cursory introduction in my first year at St Andrews, when it all sounded terribly dry and dull) was the Hilliard Ensemble’s Reflexe tape (remember them?!) that opened – as does the present recital – with his gorgeous setting of Ave Maria, gratia plena. By the time I’d made it to fourth year, this was set as one of the test pieces in my “musical paleography” exam, which, trust me, was what we now call “a challenge”…

Amarcord’s performances are anything but a challenge; the voices blend beautifully and the recorded sound is rounded and crisp, capturing the natural decay of cadences before the composer’s next masterstroke is delivered.

Although I bought several, I was never taken by the mass recordings by The Tallis Scholars. I suspect that has more to do with having seen them perform and watching someone “conduct” two singers and not being able to get that out of my mind. Here, amarcord can interact freely with one another so that we hear Josquin, rather than someone’s interpretation of Josquin.

An interesting difference between the Hilliards and amarcord is their approach to ficta (the application of accidentals that are not in the original notation but may have been understood and applied by singers of the time). Especially at cadences, our modern ears “expect” a sharpened leading note if the bass note is what in our terms is the dominant of the “home key”. Applying that principle, the Hilliards sharpened many more notes than amarcord, but I cannot say for sure which version I prefer.

It is also a definite bonus to hear Ave Maria twice, the second time with its contrafactum text Verbum incarnatum , taken from a manuscript that is today held at the State Library in Berlin. Like the other manuscripts upon which the project is based, its origins lie in Leipzig; although there is no record of Josquin ever visiting the city, the rising popularity of printed music at the thrice-annual book fairs brought his music to Germany, where it was widely copied and performed. Other contrafacta on the recording include some of the composer’s secular chansons. Full marks to Raumklang, too, for the high-quality booklet; the informative essay, full translations of the texts, and a selection of magnificent illustrations from the sources.

If – like me – you have been lacking a bit of Josquin in your life, please do not miss this. Very rarely do I listen to a CD lasting over 80 minutes at one sitting – I enjoyed this twice this morning!

Brian Clark