Category: Recording

Categories
Recording

Gasparini: Atalia

CD cover Gasparini Atalia

Camille Paul soprano, Ensemble Hemiolia, directed by Emmanuel Resche-Caserta violin
75:54
Versailles Spectacles CVS147

Born near Lucca in 1661, Francesco Gasparini was an important opera composer during the transitional period that straddles the 17th and 18th centuries. In the early 1680s, he settled in Rome, where he was a pupil of Alessandro Scarlatti and Corelli. Records show that at this time he was considered an accomplished violinist, singer and keyboard player. In 1701, he moved to Venice, where he became choirmaster of the Pietà a couple of years before Vivaldi was employed there. During the period he spent in Venice, Gasparini composed some twenty operas, all except one for the San Cassiano theatre, in addition to being the teacher of such composers as Domenico Scarlatti, Marcello and Quantz. In 1716, he left Venice, returning to Rome where he entered the service of Handel’s patron Prince Francesco Maria Ruspoli. Gasparini’s final post in a long and distinguished career was as maestro di cappella at St John Lateran in Rome, a position he took up in 1725 and held at the time of his death in 1727.

The oratorio Atalia dates from Gasparini’s early years in Rome, having probably first been given during Lent in 1692 at the Collegio Clementino, an institution renowned for its promotion of music drama. Roman oratorio had a particular renown during this period, one in which opera was subject to intermittent Papal interference and disruption. Opera was of course at no time given during Lent. Atalia is the first of several oratorio librettos based on Racine’s play Athalie (1691) – another is, of course, Handel’s English oratorio Athalia (1733). Racine drew his plot from the Second Book of Kings. It relates the story of Athalia, daughter of Jezebel and tyrannical queen of Jerusalem, who – in order to usurp the throne – had all the members of the royal family executed. Only the baby Joash escaped to be hidden by the high priest Joad. After several years, Joad found the opportunity to present the boy to his people, who kill Athalia. Racine’s play is a powerful psychological study of a corrupt and evil woman; some of this comes across in Gasparini’s oratorio, which perhaps presents her with slightly greater sympathy.

Stylistically, the oratorio follows closely the scheme familiar from the earlier operas of Alessandro Scarlatti and other contemporaries. That’s to say a flexible combination of recitativo cantando, arioso and arias, the latter not infrequently following an ABA structure while not as yet a fully developed da capo form. All this can be clearly heard in the remarkable scena for Atalia that opens Part Two. The longest closed sequence in the oratorio, it is something of a tour de force in which the tormented queen, haunted by images of hell, passes through accompagnato to aria to a powerful virtuoso concluding section. It is sung with superb dramatic intensity by the soprano Camille Poul, whose performance throughout communicates vividly. Particularly impressive is her excellent diction and clean articulation. In the passage discussed above, she rises to the challenge of the exceptional music. Poul’s opening at the start of the sequence, ‘Ombre, cure, sospetti ‘ (shadows, cares, suspicions) almost produces a messa di voce – the diminuendo on the return is not quite there – while chest notes are secure and powerfully projected.

If the principal weight of the oratorio falls firmly on the shoulders of the Atalia, the sympathetic role of Ormano, the queen’s general and advisor, is also significant. It is well sung by tenor Bastien Rimondi, who like Poul also displays a keen awareness of the dramatic possibilities, particularly in the one duet, another of the highlights of the score, an argument in which Ormano upbraids the scornful Atalia. Mélodie Ruvio (the nurse of Joas) sings the role with sensitivity, but baritone Furio Zanasi’s High Priest lacks a commanding presence, the voice here sounding rather worn. The chorus plays only a relatively small role, restricted to the closing stages, but reveal Gasparini to be a fine contrapuntist. With the exception of some raucous trumpet playing, the often Corellian orchestral writing is well executed by Ensemble Hemiolia, the generously-proportioned continuo group in general supportive without being over intrusive.

There is no question that Atalia is an important revival that should point the way toward exploration of the operas, which remain largely unknown.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

Beethoven: Piano Trios

CD cover Rautio Piano Trio Beethoven trios vol. 2

Rautio Piano Trio
62:33
Resonus RES10337

The Rautio Piano Trio earned the highest praise from me for the first of what we can now safely assume will eventually be an extremely welcome complete set of the Beethoven Piano Trios. You can read the review of the last issue, which involved the first two trios of op 1 here. A particular joy of that disc was the success with which the Rautio Trio (Jane Gordon violin, Victoria Simonsen cello and Jan Rautio fortepiano) captured the sheer exuberance of the young Beethoven on their period instruments. Those include 17th-century string instruments whose splendid tonal qualities are enhanced by outstanding playing, for proof of which there is no need to go further than the exquisitely lovely opening of the Adagio of op. 11, perfectly shaped and played with gorgeous tone first by the cellist, then the violin counterpointed by the cello. The fortepiano is a copy of an 1805 Walter Viennese fortepiano built by Paul McNulty; as I noted in the earlier review, it boasts exceptional tonal quality across the range, with a silvery top and (when required) a surprisingly powerful bass. This raises another highly important aspect of these performances, which are throughout balanced to near perfection. To some degree, this is of course down to the performers – Rautio seems to have an instinctive feel for dropping out of the limelight when he needs to – but equally to the greater ease of finding the right balance when instruments appropriate to the period are employed.

Like its companions from op 1, the C-minor Trio is an ambitious four-movement work, the big-boned, muscly characteristics of its opening and closing movements apparent from the urgency of the first movement, with its bold opening, chunky sonorities and, particularly in the development, more than a hint of Sturm und Drang. But perhaps its most remarkable movement is the big Finale: Prestissimo, the energy and bravado of which are superbly conveyed by the Rautios. Throughout all three works, one notes the distinctive little hints of portamento and rubato that give the performances a distinctive character.

Op 11 dates from 1797 and is sometimes known as the ‘Gassenhauer’, a nickname referring to the popularity of the theme of the variations that form the last of its three movements. This was taken from a popular drama giocosa by Joseph Weigl, and was apparently so infectious that it was sung throughout the lanes (or “Gassen”) of Vienna. I can well believe it – the first time I heard the Rautio’s performance, it stuck in my head for days. It seems Beethoven had second thoughts about using such a low-brow ‘pop’ tune, but eventually decided he would use it. I’m glad he did, not least because it gave the Rautio Trio the opportunity to play the tune and its variations with such a sense of vitality and fun. Op 44 originates from 1792, but did not appear in its final published version until 1804. Based on a very simple tune presented in unison, Beethoven gradually works through a variation scheme to give each instrument prominence, the virtuosic demands of the writing increasing gradually. The Rautios, both individually and as a unit, grasp the many opportunities it offers but perhaps for me most memorably of all in the barcarolle-like variation 5 (I think!), where there is some wondrous sotto voce playing.

In sum, bravi tutti! – again. I await the ‘Archduke’ with impatience.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

Bach: Mass in B minor

CD cover Bach B minor mass Pichon Pygmalion

Julie Roset, Beth Taylor, Lucile Richardot, Emiliano Gonzalez Toro, Christian Immler SmSATB, Pygmalion, Raphaël Pichon
107:21 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
harmonia mundi HMM 902754.55

Everything in this new recording of the B-minor Mass is perfect – clarity, flawless instrumental technique and excellent voices – provided you want a performance that takes the complex compilation of Bach’s final years, treats it as a visionary, near mystical experience and expresses that in an idealised performance that owes much to the massive scale of the late romantic performance tradition. Pichon uses a choir of 12.6.6.6 with 5.5.3.2.1 strings who sing and play all the ‘chorus’ numbers, complete with a dynamic range from pp to ff. The acoustics of the Cathédral Notre-Dame-du-Liban in Paris’s 5th arrondissement are tremendous, giving the fortes – especially the timpani – a huge bloom: the sound engineers have done wonders in bringing both clarity and depth to this performance. This is a grand performance in the grand style: listen to the choir in the Cum Sancto Spiritu for the thrills, and the Credo for the high-octane drama.

This is fair enough in some ways. We have no idea if Bach himself ever heard, let alone directed, a live performance, but suspect he never did. So we can take the coup de théâtre in ‘a work that embraces the world’ (to quote Pichon’s programme notes) as justifying a performance that owes more to a romantic response to this great summary of Bach’s life’s work than to the scholarship and discoveries of the past half century.

There are a number of eccentricities. The change from the Domine Deus to Qui tollis treats these as separate numbers with no discernible relationship between the tempi, and a very mannered final ‘nostram’. And there is a very curious change between the Sanctus, taken in the old and slow = ‘majestic’ style till the singers are unleashed in Pleni to another thrilling display of vocal pyrotechnics with no link in tempo to what went before, reminiscent of early recordings by Gardiner’s Monteverdi Choir. For me, these disjunctions reveal fail to deliver that overall coherence which a work like this demands and Pichon claims as a central plank of his performance. Another danger of disregarding the common practice in Bach’s day, when instrumentalists almost always outnumbered singers, is that the model of a choir accompanied by an orchestra means that some orchestral details are obscured. In the Patrem omnipotentem it is really hard to hear the 1st tromba’s entry in bar 29. A similar imbalance pervades the Crucifixus, where the traversi are inaudible amid the thunking string chords, where the theorbo – as in the Incarnatus – has a big impact on the texture.

Among the high points for me are the solo numbers where the issues of balance are less in your face: the wonderful Lucile Richardot’s Qui sedes, where her sense of the rhythmic complexities and interplay with the oboe d’amore are second to none, and Agnus Dei is a model of well balanced musicmaking with her near-miraculous breath control. The Benedictus, with Emiliano Gonzales Toro, is poised and elegant, using the acoustics to smooth over the long lines of both voice and traverso. The harpsichord (and theorbo) in Quoniam keeps the sprightly tempo on track, and Christian Immler is in great voice, even if the style is a long way from what was being explored in those exciting days in the 1970s, when he sang as a boy alto in Teldec’s pioneering Cantata recordings under Harnoncourt and Leonhardt. He is less comfortable in Et in Spiritum sanctum, where it feels as if he is trying to hold back the tempo in pursuit of rather more lyrical delivery. At the end of the nimble Confiteor, the adagio is prepared for with a massive rallentando and Pichon wallows in the chromaticisms, and slows even more in bar 138; at the end of the Et expecto resurrectionem there’s absolutely no rallentando at all, in contrast to many other final cadences.

I hope these comments help give readers a feel for this recording. In many ways, it is so good, and it is certainly full-blooded. But I cannot commend to EMR readers Pichon’s almost total disregard for what we have learnt over the past fifty years about Bach’s careful balancing between voices and instruments in his scoring that illustrates his desire for clarity and audibility. Welding a period instrument band onto a large modern chorus of trained singers, however talented, demonstrates what a range of complexities face the director of any actual performance. Unless your prime motivation is to let the music speak for itself, mantras like ‘a work that embraces the world’ continue to provide directors with an excuse for promoting their personal vision rather than trying to reveal Johann Sebastian’s: Soli Deo Gloria was his mantra at all times.

David Stancliffe

Categories
Recording

Music for two

CD cover Music for two Duo Coloquintes

Duo Coloquintes
53:19
Seulétoile SEC 02

When I offered this recording to our regular Byrd reviewer, he (rightly) politely declined. The “problem” with it is that the musicians have taken keyboard music from around the beginning of the 17th century and “arranged it” for violin and viola da gamba.

This might be a radical approach but – as someone who once wrote a rave review of Bach on the accordion (and convinced his father, an accomplished folk player of the instrument, to listen and enjoy it!) – I could hardly pretend that I was offended by the idea.

The present review will also be a glowing one, as violinist Alice Julien-Laferrière and her gambist colleague, Mathilde Vialle, argue very strongly for their approach; neither is afraid to introduce harmonies where their instruments allow, and there is so much more to their arrangements (purists will doubtless be horrified by plucked notes, and layered dynamics!) than simply seeing how much of the original they can include. These are well-considered and – most importantly – convincing accounts of the repertoire, and, let’s be honest, the music they’ve selected (mostly from The Fitzwilliam Virginal Book) is not that familiar to anyone but keyboard specialists, and any recording that brings it more widespread attention is welcome.

Sometimes, it takes a radical approach to reveal new facets to something with which you thought you were familiar; having had to study TFVB as a set work at university, I can honestly say that nothing about it brought me any pleasure… Unfortunately, there were no such inspiring recordings as the present one around! And definitely, nothing as beautifully captured in spectacular sound!

Brian Clark

Categories
Recording

Beethoven: Middle String Quartets

CD cover Beethoven Middle Quartets Narratio Quartet

Narratio Quartet
146:33 (2 CDs)
Challenge Classics CC72981

A review of the first release of what will ultimately be a complete set of the Beethoven string quartets appeared on this site in 2024. To paraphrase what I wrote on that occasion, what makes their performances so special is the quartet’s unique approach to performance practice. This embodies not simply the use of period instruments and playing them with a lack of continuous vibrato, but such matters as the employment of rubato, allowing for a greater flexibility of phrasing and rhythm, and, perhaps most radical to the modern ear, the use of portamento or glissando – the sliding of one note to another, borrowed from vocal music. All these innovations stem from a long and careful study made by the Narratios of performance practice in Beethoven’s day, while it is important to recognise their usage has one purpose and one purpose only: to serve the expressive qualities inherent in the music. So you won’t hear portamenti used indiscriminately but carefully judged to enhance expression. Probably the most striking example here is the outset of the third movement of opus 59, no. 1 in F. Marked Adagio molto e mesto, it is an elegy of the greatest profundity, the use of portamento here enhancing the inner qualities of the music. The revelation that results is further enhanced by rhythmic flexibility.

For those in need of a reminder, the middle quartets of Beethoven comprise the three quartets of op 59, in F, E minor and C respectively, and op 74 in E flat, sometimes known as the ‘Harp’ from the pizzicato figure in the opening movement. The quartets of op 59, composed between the end of 1802 and 1804 and published with a dedication to Count Rasumovsky, one of Beethoven’s patrons, represent a huge advance on the op 18 quartets completed two years earlier. This applies especially to the F-major Quartet, the spacious breadth and contrapuntal density of whose opening Allegro take the medium into new territory only transcended by the following movement, a scherzo as far removed from the traditional minuet movement as is possible to conceive. Both these revolutionary movements are splendidly brought off by the Narratios with an energy that captures the dynamism and sometimes quasi-orchestral textures with impressive bold strokes. At the other end of the scale, the intense, deeply felt slow movement is beautifully sustained, with some notably beautiful playing from violist Dorothea Vogel. Only with the final movement, marked Thème russe, does the overpowering effect of this extraordinary quartet, as remarkable in some ways as the late quartets, give way to a rumbustious buoyance, noting in this performance however the magical moment just before the final bars when Beethoven slows and quietens the headlong thrust to the end of the quartet.

The remaining three quartets offer fewer challenges to performer and listener, the ‘Harp’ in particular eschewing that kind of density and intensity in exchange for a friendlier ambiance, again finely judged in the present performance. At the start of the slow movement there is another subtle yet highly effective example of the use of portamento. This movement, a love song taken by the leader – splendid playing here from Johannes Leertouwer – into the realms of tragedy and the viola into a shadowy, more dramatic world is especially effective at showing up the splendid balance achieved by the Narratios, while the final set of variations underlines the exceptional technical prowess of the quartet with some particularly nimble bowing.

Doubtless most readers have their own favourite interpreters of these quartets, but for their ability to make strong declamatory statements alongside more lyrical pronouncements these performances are a special case that should be investigated by all who think they know them.

Brian Robins

 

 

Categories
Recording

In chains of gold

CD cover In chains of gold

The English Pre-Restoration Verse Anthem Vol. 3
Magdalena Consort, Fretwork His mAjestys Sagbutts & Cornetts with Silas Wollston 83:39
signum classics SIGCD931

This is the last of three discs in a series dedicated to the consort anthem in England during the Tudor and Stuart periods. The first contained all of Gibbons’ surviving pieces in this genre, the second featured Byrd and included works up to Edmund Hooper, and the prevailing presence over the current disc is Thomas Tomkins with a judicious combination of known and unknown musicians besides. These are anthems which were not performed liturgically in these versions, in the Anglican Church, because of their being accompanied by viols: only the organ was used in church; very occasionally on major festive, royal or other ceremonial occasions it is known that winds – usually a maximum of four waits using cornetts and sackbutts – supplemented the organs. Many consort anthems survive with alternative accompaniments for the organ, rendering these arrangements suitable for use in church; this is true of many of Gibbons’ verse anthems. While I have long stated the argument, in the face of opposition (not necessarily from this project!), for there being no evidence for the use of viols in the Established Church at this time, it is the experience of Fretwork accompanying these works in different environments during the course of this project which has led to the seemingly final acceptance of my position.

All the vocal works here are revelations to a greater or lesser extent. It is excellent that William Pising and Simon Stubbs are represented, given the minute numbers of their works that survive. They are short-winded but lively pieces, worth reviving. Thomas Ravenscroft will be considered by many as a miniaturist, but he is represented by two consort anthems, one of which – In thee O Lord – has considerable substance even among some of the other big hitters.

Who are these big hitters? John Ward certainly demands attention with two assertive pieces, one of which, accompanied by winds, begins the proceedings, the rest of which are dominated by two huge anthems (and several fine instrumental works) by Tomkins, Know you not and O God, the heathen are come. The surviving sources for both pieces required major elaboration (cf. Elgar/Payne, below) in order to become roadworthy, and have been recorded before. Know you not concludes the album with an opulent accompaniment for winds, appropriately given that the text laments the death of the youthful heir to the throne. Even mightier is O Lord the heathen, correctly listed as “Tomkins (attr.)” though the work is as certainly by him as it is possible to be without an actual contemporary attribution. Here Tomkins laments the devastation wrought upon the Church of England by the victorious Puritan forces, and to support him musically he turns to the most utterly bleak and visceral of all Byrd’s motets, Deus venerunt gentes, a work of astounding profundity and beauty which sets the same text, Psalm 79, and which illustrates musically so vividly that the music seems itself like an eye witness to the appalling events which it describes, in this instance the biblical devastation of Jerusalem as a metaphor for the barbarous executions of Byrd’s fellow Catholics. Tomkins makes his debt to Byrd crystal clear during the very first solo verse: his phrase at “and made Jerusalem an heap of stones” clearly echoes Byrd’s heartbroken and indeed heartbreaking phrase for “et non erat qui sepeliet”, and there was none to bury them. Both of these anthems are magnificent, and both reconstructions can, in the context of their own genre, be mentioned in the same sentence as Anthony Payne’s historic completion of Elgar’s Third Symphony.

Even now, there is one more anthem which requires special attention. Richard Nicolson’s When Jesus sat at meat narrates the first meeting of Mary Magdalen and Jesus, with incomparable sensitivity and pathos, never straying into sentiment, and while it is a substantial work, it never once outstays its welcome, maintaining its elevated tone throughout, besides radiating beauty. Nicolson’s setting of his text is most distinguished, his music clarifying and projecting its meaning in approved Protestant manner. Particularly notable are the dissonance on “thy faith have saved thee”, perhaps indicating the struggle that Mary endured to achieve that faith; and the exquisite phrase for “go thy way in peace”, with its fleeting consecutives, through which her Saviour imparts a reassurance for eternity.

This entire repertory has proved revelatory. Given the variety and quality of the material, consistent excellence has been essential for the performances and for the interpretations, and the musicians have delivered everything that is required. Nicolson’s anthem stands as the epitome of all that is best in Bill Hunt’s triumphantly successful project.

Richard Turbet

Categories
Recording

J. H. Roman: Assaggi

CD cover Roman Assaggi for solo violin Alison Luthmers

Alison Luthmers baroque violin
60:58
Rubicon Classics RCD1140

It is not very often that I listen to a CD from beginning to end when I am planning to review it. This beautiful recording held my attention longer than that – after a while, I sensed that I had heard some of the music before and realised that (because I was listening on the distributor’s JukeBox facility) it had seamlessly started over.

I have never knowingly heard Alison Luthmers play before; I say that because the Canadian-American violinist plays with most of Scandinavia’s leading ensembles, including the Bellevue String Quartet (whose recordings I shall now seek out!) She is at pains to thank her recording engineer (Ragnheiður Jónsdóttir) “for the gorgeous sound”; whilst I 100% agree that this is by far one of the cleanest capturing of a baroque violin I have ever heard, the fact is that she had to conjure up that captivating sound in the first place. This is no mean feat; in all of my previous encounters with Roman, I had never conceived of him as such a creative master of the instrument. These “assaggi” have variously been described as essays, experiments, or even studies; whatever meaning the composer had in his mind, they are substantial works – Luthmers plays one in three movements that last over 11 minutes, two in four movements (almost 12 and 17 minutes respectively), and opens her recital with one in five movements that takes over 21 minutes! I was blissfully unaware of time passing, what with the beautiful sound, Roman’s surprisingly (and I still don’t know why I hadn’t realised this before) accomplished writing, and just sheer enjoyment of a beautiful new thing.

There were days not so long ago that that very feeling was the whole point of the HIP “early music” world, so it is refreshing to know that there are still undiscovered masterpieces (every baroque violin student should be made to play these as a counterfoil to Bach and Biber!) out there with fantastic musicians (and record companies!) prepared to champion them!

I’d better stop before I get a repetitive strain injury of the exclamation mark… Buy this – you won’t regret it. If we still had a stars system, this would be 6 out of 5 🙂

Brian Clark

 

Categories
Recording

From Byrd

CD cover From Byrd Trio Musica Humana

Trio Musica Humana, Elisabeth Geiger muselaar
42:59
Seulétoile SE12

This is an intriguing and quirky recording, built around Byrd’s Mass for Three Voices. The French Trio Musica Humana (CT T Bar) sing Byrd’s smallest mass superbly, with immaculate blend and intense engagement. They omit the Credo, and intersperse the remaining movements with other works for three voices by Byrd himself, Weelkes and Morley, and with works for keyboard by Byrd, Tomkins, Farnaby and Johnson. Some movements of Byrd’s Mass are performed with muselaar. It is easy to disagree with this approach, but contemporary accounts mention the participation of unspecified instruments in illegal performances of Catholic masses in Protestant Elizabethan England by recusants, so it is not out of order to experiment with instruments of that time. By current standards, this is a brief album, but is worth possessing by Byrd’s enthusiasts for the performances of the two sacred works by the composer which are included in addition to the Mass. Both are the only alternatives to previous recordings in omnibus projects. The longer of the two is Memento salutis auctor, from the Gradualia of 1605, following The Cardinall’s Musick (TCM) on disc 12 of their Byrd Edition. The other is the penitential psalm From depth of sin previously recorded only by Alamire on their complete version of the Songs of sundrie natures, which collection was originally published in 1589. The former interpretation is slower than TCM but every bit as fine. However, the USP of the current disc is the latter: Alamire sing From depth of sin divinely, and again Trio Musica Humana’s performance is slower than its predecessor, but at least for this reviewer their combination of tempo, blend, balance and perception achieves a perfection seldom conveyed on such recordings, elevating its two and a half minutes to the ranks of the very finest renditions of Byrd’s music on disc.

Richard Turbet

Categories
Recording

Telemann: Paris Quartets Vol. 1: 6 Quadri

CD cover Telemann Paris Quartets volume 1 London Handel Players

London Handel Players
74:03
SOMM recordings SOMCD 0698

It would not be an idle boast or some wild hyperbole to say that Telemann wrote unfailingly well for the flute in the chamber setting, and the Quadri (1730) and the Nouveaux Quatuors (1738) give clear proof of this facility. These works collectively known as “Paris Quartets” show a master of the “mixed taste” in full control of the musical assemblage at his fingertips; these works even foreshadow L-G Guillemain’s Conversations Galantes et Amusantes (1743) by several years.

Indeed, there are several stylistic and rhetorical devices that performers can get to grips with. From the CD booklet alone, we can tell the London Handel Players have understood the make-up of these Quadri (first published in Hamburg, reprinted in Paris 1736 without composer’s consent by Le Clerc) to wish to tackle these elegant and eloquent gems of the chamber repertoire. There is already a good shelf-load of recordings; some are absolute benchmarks (Sony-Vivarté 1997, Kuijken brothers with Gustav Leonhardt) and Jed Wentz with Musica ad Rhenum on Brilliant Classics to name just two. The latter versions push the tempi with exhilarating effect! Here Rachel Brown and players carve a middle ground with a pleasing focus on the details of these cleverly conceived pieces. The two Balletti (i.e. French dance suites with an italianate designation to match the Quadri in the publication’s title) exude a playful amalgam of French style mixed with new idioms. The Réplique movement gives responses in turn as if saying: “Bonjour”! The two Airs almost certainly come from Telemann’s cantatas, the E minor one closely mimicking the first aria of TVWV 1:448, Ergeuss dich zur Salbung, (printed in 1725-6), which Handel also liked enough to re-deploy.

Typical of the composer, there are plenty of devices, twists and turns for the players to get to grips with, and the joyful interplay of “passing the baton” in these uniquely blended forms is every present. What is astounding, is just how the composer pulled these cleverly crafted works together during a period of such frenetic activity, as 1730 was for him. Does this ensemble pull it all together? Gladly, it is a pleasant and passable joint effort to present these aforementioned elements in their correct guise, without surpassing those two formidable benchmark recordings previously cited.

David Bellinger

Categories
Recording

Vivaldi incognito

CD cover of Vivaldi-Incognito

Hexaton, Guillaume Rebinguet Sudre
60:00
Encelade ECL 2302

Whatever the artistic merits of this recording (and I do not deny that Hexaton and its violinist, Guillaume Rebinguet Sudre, are outstanding artists), there are elements of the project itself that I find baffling. The recital does not consist of some freshly discovered works, but rather three sonatas from the “Manchester” manuscript (two of which also survive in the Saxon State Library in Dresden), and another from that German repository which was copied out by Johann Georg Pisendel – Konzertmeister of the renowned Hofkapelle in Dresden under Augustus the Strong, and a pupil of the Red Priest. It is odd (I think) that the booklet notes do not mention that RV6 (the Dresden manuscript of which is online HERE) is headed “Suonata a Solo fatta per Mr Pisendel”, or that Pisendel himself wrote the second source of RV12 (online HERE). The third Pisendel-related sonata RV10 (see his manuscript HERE) is similarly in the German’s handwriting… In the booklet note, the first movement of RV10 is listed as “(Preludio a Capriccio)”, as if there is no heading in the original – it is clearly marked “Suonata All[egr]o:”.

So much for the musicology. Now to the music. To be fair, in a live performance, these might be terrifically exciting. The violinist certainly has flair, and his exuberance is echoed by the continuo team of cello, theorbo and harpsichord. While I am mostly open-minded about whether or not a particular instrument might have been involved in an 18th-century performance (how can we ever be sure that certain combinations really were frowned upon?), I struggled here – especially in slow movements – with the competition for my ears’ attention! The violinist went full William Babell on his rapid octave scale ornaments, while the harpsichordist and lutenist spread chords, flew all over their respective ranges (even when the manuscript is clearly marked “Tasto solo”!), and even picked out some (unfigured) dissonant notes at cadences (I’m talking about the horrendous B flat in the antepenultimate bar of RV10’s opening movement!)

And then there are what, for wont of a better word, I shall call “the fillers”… Presumably unable to find any pieces by other incognito composers for solo harpsichord and theorbo, the violinist composed his own.* Even though they are relatively short, and might be adjudged to be reasonable pastiches, why on earth not champion some real neglected works by some of Vivaldi’s contemporaries? Surely this would have been an ideal opportunity (given that the CD is only 60 minutes long) to promote some obscure Venetian(s)? And what did the poor cellist do that meant he didn’t get a new piece and instead had to make do with the slow movement of one of Vivaldi’s concerti?

As I say, there are many things here to enjoy. I found that repeated listening – instead of broadening my mind – convinced me even more that the soundscape is too busy for too much of the time. They are violin sonatas after all, not sonatas for violin with a competing backing group…

Brian Clark

*As if to prove that he IS the Baroque man, Rebinguet Sudre also built the harpsichord!