Category: Recording

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Le Ballet Imaginaire

Baroque Masterworks around 1730
Jeremias Schwarzer recorder, Ralf Waldner cembalo
79:26
Genuin GEN 19646
Music by Bach, Chédeville, Handel & Telemann

This is a meaty recital offering works of fame and substance for recorder and harpsichord, either original compositions or perfectly reasonable transpositions/arrangements of music for other solo instruments. Alto recorder and voice flute are both used: thus those allergic to high recorders need not fear. All of this is at eight-foot pitch! The inclusion of unaccompanied Telemann fantasias gives some sonic variety, as do the alternating obbligato and continuo roles of the harpsichord. The playing of both instruments is impressive, though I do find some of the recorder articulation a touch capricious and some of it – especially staccato notes – aggressive for a flauto dolce. The booklet (English & German) offers a general introduction as well as concise comments on each work: the English is reasonable and readable, though not fully idiomatic.

David Hansell

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Seconda Donna: Händel | Vivaldi

Julia Böhme alto, La Folia Barockorchester, Robin Peter Müller
51:01
Accent ACC 24356

In a note so badly translated that it is scarcely intelligible, we are told that the women who played the part of seconda donna, or second woman, in 18th-century opera are both figuratively and often literally ‘Women in the Shadows’, the use of shadows then expanded into a discussion of the Baroque taste for chiaroscuro. The space taken up by this pretentious nonsense would have been far better occupied by telling us something of the singers who undertook roles that frequently complemented the prima donna in their opposition or rivalry to her. They are not even mentioned. In the case of Alcina in Vivaldi’s Orlando furioso (1727) one could even question whether the role is that of seconda donna. Originally sung by Anna Girò, Vivaldi’s brilliant young protégée, in her most ambitious part to date, this a multifaceted role that includes no fewer than seven arias, including the delightfully playful ‘Amorose ai rai del sole’ and lively ‘Vorresti amor da me’ included here.

Or perhaps we might consider the role of Matilde in Handel’s Lotario (1729). Wife of the usurper Berengario, she is far too positive to be considered a shadowy figure, rather is she ‘a veritable dragon without a redeeming feature’, to quote Winton Dean. Matilde was originally sung by Antonia Merighi, a contralto particularly noted for her acting and for whom Handel composed a number of important secondary roles. The range of her music is amply illustrated in this selection by two arias and the powerful act 3 accompanied recitative, ‘Furie del crudo averno’. In the bitingly sarcastic ‘Arma lo sguardo’, Matilde addresses both her son Idelberto and the heroine Adelaide, while ‘Quel superbo’ is a cantabile ‘simile aria’.

What we have here, then, might have thrown an interesting spotlight on some of opera’s mostly less than heroic women, but for that reason alone intriguing. That it is not, I’m afraid, is the fault of performances that never rise above the level of ordinary and are marred by the monochrome tonal palette of Julia Böhme, whose vocal acting and Italian diction are so poor as to project little idea of text. While her basic technique is sound, with well articulated passaggi, her approach to embellishment, both written and added, is often tentative and unimaginative. The support given by the La Folia Barockorchester, here pared down to one-string-per-part despite a booklet illustration that promises more substantial forces (if nowhere approaching the size Handel had at his disposal in London), is routine at best and too often merely pedestrian. In sum, a thoroughly disappointing CD.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Haydn: Die sieben letzten Worte unseres Erlösers am Kreuze

Ensemble Resonanz, conducted by Riccardo Minasi
63:56
harmonia mundi HMM 902633

Haydn explained the genesis of his Die sieben letzten Worte in a letter to his biographer Griesinger: ‘About fifteen years ago [1786] I was requested by a canon of Cádiz to compose instrumental music on (The Seven Last Words of our Saviour on the Cross) […] After a short service the bishop ascended the pulpit, pronounce the first of the seven words […] and delivered a discourse thereon. This ended, he left the pulpit and prostrated himself before the altar. The interval was filled by music […] the orchestra following on the conclusion of each discourse. My composition was subject to these conditions, and it was no easy task to compose seven adagios lasting ten minutes each […]; indeed, I found it quite impossible to confine myself to the appointed limits’.

Haydn’s words are interesting in a number of respects, not least for showing that, like the sections of the Mass, his movements were originally interspersed by discourse and ceremony. The problems arising from a succession of slow movements were therefore mitigated by the performance conditions. The composer also provided more variety than he suggests by subtly varying tempi, only two movements (the Introduzione and no. V) being marked Adagio, while no fewer than four (no’s 2,5,7 and 8) are largos, in the 18th century a quicker tempo than adagio. Despite Haydn’s misgivings about its structure he came to view The Seven Last Words as one of his most successful works, a viewpoint seemingly shared by many of his contemporaries given that it was quickly taken up throughout Europe after its publication in July 1787. Just a month later Haydn published an arrangement for string quartet, it also appearing at the same time in a version for piano, while some years later the composer adapted it as an oratorio for soloists and chorus.

In modern times it is strangely the string quartet version that has found the most favour and indeed a glance at the record catalogues shows that there are more versions of it currently available than there are of the orchestral original. The Ensemble Resonanz is an orchestra that uses modern instruments with the objective of achieving historically informed performances. In some respects they do so to a remarkable degree, the strings played with very little vibrato that thus helps to achieve clarity and balance with the excellently played wind instruments. Ultimately there will always be tell-tale passages where the absence of gut strings is noticeable, as in no. 4 (Deus meus, deus meus; My God, my God) where both violins and violas take on a glassy sound not helped by the sentimentality encouraged by Riccardo Minasi. This tendency to mannerism, not the first time in my experience with this conductor, is regrettably one of the most salient characteristics of the performance. Much of it stems from the widest dynamic range I think I’ve encountered in 18th-century orchestral music. Even at quite a high volume, the sound covers a gamut from a barely audible whisper of sound to the violent assault on the ears in the trenchantly played evocation of the earthquake that followed Christ’s death, the brief movement with which Haydn concluded the work. Such extremes are incorporated into Minasi’s tendency to adopt fluctuating tempi. The overall impression is that the conductor is continually trying to make points, too often creating a fragmentary, disjointed approach that undermines the natural flow and phrasing of the music. All this is a pity, for there are many passages played with sensitivity and understanding that suggests a love for the music. Notwithstanding this and while also allowing for first-rate sound, the performance of this deeply moving and affecting work is too wayward to provide lasting satisfaction

Brian Robins

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Recording

Keiser: Der blutige und sterbende Jesus

Monika Mauch, Anna Kellnhofer, Anne Bierwerth, Mirko Ludwig, Hans Jörg Mammel, Dominik Wörner, Matthias Lutze, Oliver Luhn SSATTBBB, Cantus Thuringia, Capella Thuringia, Bernhard Klapprott
128:54 (2 CDs)
cpo 555 259-2

Rather than follow tradition and immerse myself in the Bach passions this Eastertide, I opted to revisit a previous cpo release of Stölzel’s Brockes Passion, and to explore this new release from the same company – I love the way they continue to champion music from “outside the box”. In fact, this is Keiser’s own 1729 re-working of a Hunold text he had originally set in 1705. Its caused a scandal on account of the participation (in leading roles!) of three prime donne from the Hamburg opera. If not for the interspersing of chorales, the music would quite easily have been a stage work, especially the first part where there are some beautiful arias and duets with instrumental obbligati. The second part, while not without interest, does not quite match the first in musical terms, but the well-paced drama maintains the drive and interest throughout.

Klapprott has assembled a first-rate team of soloists (who also sing in the chorus, where they are joined by eight other singers who have short solo roles and two more sopranos), HIPsters with full voices, neat if rather modest ornamentation, and good blend in ensembles. The orchestra (4,4,3,1,1 strings with flutes, recorders, oboes, bassoon and continuo) is excellent. The recording is bright and clear without being too close. All in all, a different experience (of course!) from the Bach passions, but an equally valid response to the story of Easter by one of his important contemporaries – the fact that it is performed with such conviction and so beautifully is a total bonus. Don’t miss it!

Brian Clark

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Recording

Ludford: Missa Benedicta

Choir of New College Oxford, Edward Higginbottom
63:13
Pan Classics PC 10403

Nicholas Ludford (1485-1557) is one of the greatest Tudor composers. This is crowded territory, which begins with some musical giants from the Eton Choirbook such as John Brown and Robert Fayrfax, and climaxes with Byrd. Along the way, to name but a few, there are the Three, or Great, T’s – Taverner, Tye and Tallis – and John Sheppard. I pick out Sheppard deliberately because his music was overlooked for a long time, not only after the original Tudor revival in Victorian times and subsequently after the publication of the ten volumes of Tudor Church Music during the 1920s. In fact his music would have been published in the planned second series, one of many casualties of the Wall Street Crash, but the music of Ludford eluded or was overlooked by all and sundry until quite recently. The breakthrough came with the recordings by The Cardinall’s Musick (TCM) of masses for five and six voices, plus motets, released on four CDs, the most recent in 1994, coinciding with a major article about the composer by David Skinner in Musical Times. Since then, we now have the luxury of all his masses for five and six voices on disc, thanks to the superb recordings by Blue Heron of music from the Peterhouse partbooks based upon the remarkable restorative editing of Nick Sandon, plus a couple of recordings of his smaller masses. There are now even alternative versions of two of the masses originally recorded by TCM – just as well because three of their original recordings are not currently available.

The recording under review is of one of these alternative versions. It was originally released in 2007 on another label named K617 (numbered K617206) and additionally includes two of Ludford’s substantial antiphons, Ave cuius conceptio and Domine Jesu Christe. Higginbottom takes the former at quite a lick – 8’03 against the 9’22 of the premiere recording in 1993 by The Cardinall’s Musick under Andrew Carwood, and even the 8’51 of Blue Heron – but although the performance sounds rather driven and a tad soulless, Ludford’s luxuriant and often demanding counterpoint is for the most part audible. In a letter to Early Music published in May 1995 (page 366) I note that Ludford’s setting of the words “fecunditas” in this antiphon seems to suffuse the opening of Sheppard’s huge ritual antiphon Media vita which I go on to suggest might have been composed in memory of Ludford; given that Sheppard’s masterpiece is among the finest musical works of the Renaissance, it would be a fitting and deserved tribute to his predecessor. Domine Jesu Christe is a much more relaxed and expansive affair but still expresses a sense of purpose and direction. The movements of the mass itself are interspersed with Gregorian chant. As Edward Higginbottom observes in his notes, each movement of the mass begins with the same musical setting, rather than an actual head motive. This opening passage contains sumptuous and striking harmonies, conspicuous among those which crop up throughout the course of all four movements, and there are also sinuous passages of reduced scoring in which fewer voices are used per part, providing textural variety. Stylistically the music is clearly in the English tradition of the Eton Choirbook with no nods towards the Continent; indeed, at the beginning of the Credo, just after the head motive that is not really a head motive, there is a passage that has resonances of the old faburden technique, from the words “Et in unum Dominum”.

New College’s singers do ample justice to Ludford’s thrilling music, the boys with a bright tone possessing a slight cutting edge, which is appropriate here given the rich, bottom-heavy scoring (TrATTBB), and the men blending well while keeping each line distinct, the whole choir making the most of Ludford’s interesting sonorities, such as the final chord of the first “excelsis” in the Sanctus. For composer and choir at their collaborative best listen to the passage in the second Agnus, led by the high voices drifting sublimely in thirds. This is great music, by a great composer, one whom the world of music should acknowledge, celebrate and acclaim as such.

Richard Turbet

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Recording

Si vous vouliez un jour

Airs sérieux et à boire vol. 2
Les arts florissants, William Christie
73:44
harmonia mundi HAF8905306

Gosh! Have LAF really been around for 40 years? Well since I first heard them live in the early 1980s they might well have been, and in that time they have immeasurably enriched our knowledge and appreciation of their core repertoire – the music of 17th-century France. A number of their recent releases have featured particularly fine programming and this second volume airs of continues that welcome trend by hanging music by Camus, Lambert and Moulinié on the framework provided by the separated scenes of Charpentier’s Pastoraletta H492. There are some moments in the more animated ensembles where collective intonation is not wholly centred but the solo songs with theorbo and gamba are exquisite in both musical content and sonority. Indeed, it is true throughout the recital that the performances that draw us in rather than project themselves onto us are the more rewarding. Yes, there are a few questionable performance practice decisions involving the continuo team but nothing that spoils the party, even for me.

The booklet (French, English & German) includes a concise though very informative note and full texts and translations, and the recording quality is very good indeed.

I wonder if Lambert’s allusion to Dowland (track 14) was deliberate. In the context of a text reading ‘Let my tears flow’ it’s hard to think otherwise.

David Hansell

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Recording

Jean-Louis Duport: Concertos pour violoncelle

Raphaël Pidou, Stradivaria, Daniel Cuillier
64:00
Mirare MIR 394

I slightly feared death-by-passagework from this CD, but need not have worried! Yes, there are passages of galant predictability, but also many striking moments. A sudden high (or low) passage; an intervention from the woodwind; a striking chord. And then there’s the constant and spectacular virtuosity of the solo line – wow! Having said that, however, I enjoyed most the graceful melodic writing in the middle movements and the curiously melancholic finale to Concerto no. 4 (Duport wrote six, of which 1, 4 and 5 are presented here.)

The booklet (French, English & German) includes biographies of the composer and the artists but offers little more than a paragraph of generalities about the music. And the English, though without actual errors, is curiously stilted: translators need to remember that their job includes producing a decent piece of prose.

Until now, this composer has perhaps been most famous for being a previous owner of a Stradivarius cello more recently played by Rostropovich. We should now start to value his music as well.

David Hansell

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Recording

A. Scarlatti: Quella pace gradita

Alicia Amo S, Giuseppina Bridelli mS, Filippo Mineccia cT, La Ritirata, Josetxu Obregón
66:02
Glossa GCD 923107

As the notes for this CD pertinently remind us, the chamber cantatas of Alessandro Scarlatti represent a quite staggering achievement. It is not only the sheer number – some 800 in all – that overwhelm the imagination, but also, and more importantly, the extraordinarily high musical quality found in such a high proportion of them.

Notwithstanding the success of the modern early music revival in unearthing so much forgotten treasure, only a relatively small number of Scarlatti’s cantatas have so far been recorded. Of the five on the present disc, only one, Quella pace gradita, has been previously recorded (by Nancy Argenta). The works have in common their instrumentation, a rare combination of violins and recorders in addition to the usual continuo. All conform to the subject matter of the overwhelming majority of chamber cantatas, that of the lives and loves of the shepherds and shepherdesses that inhabit an idealised Arcadian world. Thus the first on the CD, E perché non seguite, o pastorelle, for mezzo, two violins, two recorders and continuo, speaks in the course of its three brief da capo arias and alternating recitative of woodland streams and flowery banks unable to provide solace to the absent Chloris. Not surprisingly the presence of recorders is employed to evoke mimetic images of birdsong, in the case of the enchanting single-movement Sconsolato rusignolo for soprano and strings the ‘disconsolate nightingale’, whose role is played by a flautino, while in the final aria of Quella pace gradita a turtledove provides consolation ‘where the forest is most beautiful’. The imagery of the wildness of nature is perhaps most potently evoked in the wonderful Filen, mio caro for alto, recorder, two violins and continuo, where the shepherdess Phyllis reassures her lover that mountains, rocks, streams and trees will all echo the sound of her love. Perhaps only in Tu sei quella, che al nome, a lover’s complaint (for alto) does the text concerning the cruelty of the loved one depart from the pastoral, at times being more than a little reminiscent of the poetry of medieval courtly love.

The recitative in all these cantatas testifies to the high regard in which Scarlatti was held in this aspect of composition, while arias invariably achieve that juxtaposition of the learned and the appealing for which the composer was equally renowned. Inevitably some stand out, none more so than the exquisitely lovely ‘Chiedi pur ai monti’ (from Filen), sung with a real command of line and sustained shaping by countertenor Filippo Mineccia, though his vibrato can be a little obtrusive at times. But the overall standard of singing is very high indeed. Particularly praiseworthy is the recognition by all three singers (or perhaps credit should go to the director?) that these are chamber works, not miniature operas that need projecting into a theatre. So we hear pleasingly nuanced singing that maintains intimacy and in which there is no forcing of tone. Ornamentation might have been articulated more precisely at times and, as usual, we hear little in the way of the trill at cadences or the employment of messa di voce, though several obvious invitations are passed up. While both mezzo Giuseppina Bridelli, whose mezzo moves with admirable ease between head and chest notes, and Mineccia are a known quantity, soprano Alicia Amo was not, at least to me. I count her as a real find, the voice being one of pure vernal freshness, but of a sweet quality that is not at all ‘white’ and does not neglect nuance and colour. Throughout her attention to text and the shaping of line is exemplary, while the beautifully executed repeated note ornament at the end of the final recitative of Quella pace leaves one regretful that it was a decoration that had been virtually abandoned by the time of Scarlatti.

Given the rare moments of insecure intonation in the violins, the instrumental support is excellent. The whole production is indeed a near-exemplary demonstration of how chamber cantatas should be performed.

Brian Robins

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Recording

The Raimondo Manuscript: Libro de Sonate Diverse

Modern floral
Domenico Cerasani lute
50:26
Brilliant Classics 95580
 
The Raimondo lute manuscript (Como, Biblioteca comunale, MS 1.1.20) was unknown to Wolfgang Boetticher when he compiled his RISM volume of manuscripts in tablature (published in 1978). It first became known to the lute world in 1980, in a facsimile published by the Antiquae Musicae Italicae Studiosi, which now has long been out of print. The manuscript was owned by Pietro Paolo Raymondo, who came from a distinguished family in Como, and who was responsible for copying some of the pieces, signing his name, and adding the date July 1st 1601. The manuscript contains a wide range of pieces, the earliest by Francesco da Milano (1497-1543), and later ones appearing in Besard’sThesaurus Harmonicus (1603) and Mertel’s Musicalis Novis (1615). I know of only two previous recordings of music from this source – an LP by Sandro Volta, and a CD by Ugo Nastrucci – both mentioned by Federico Marincola in his LuteBot Quarterly, Autumn 1998.
 
Of the 69 pieces in the manuscript, Domenico Cerasani chooses 24, beginning with a short anonymous Toccata (41v). He adds a few notes of his own to the opening chord, and includes (correctly) a surprising g (2 on 4) written before the final chord of F major. It is a rather nice miniature, which I don’t think benefits from Cerasani’s slightly jerky interpretation of the rhythm. Why not play it in time, and let the music speak for itself? His playing is otherwise quite expressive, with pleasing contrasts. Where there is polyphony he sustains the different melodic lines clearly, giving the impression that more than one instrument is being played. There is also a slight unevenness of rhythm in his interpretation of the Gagliarda del Cavagliero (85v) which causes it to lose the rhythmic crispness one expects with a galliard. He is not helped by the way the music is written – thick 4-, 5- or even 6-note chords interspersed with fast-moving quavers – but the note value of his interpretation of the chords is not always clear. The Fantasia (46v), attributed on the CD to Lorenzo Tracetti, is the same as Laurencini’s Fantasie 4 in Robert Dowland’s Varietie (1610), albeit with extra passages added here and there, including an elaborate final cadence. The so-called Corrente francese (22v), is in duple time and appears in Lord Herbert of Cherbury’s lute manuscript as a Prelude by Perrichon. There is much variety, from short, lively dances – Brandle, Gagliarda, Corrente, Volta – to longer, more cerebral toccatas and fugues. The Fuga of track 15 is the well-known La Compagna by Francesco da Milano (Ness 34). Cerasani credits the extra divisions in “Vestiva i colli” to his erstwhile teacher, Massimo Lonardi. There is much to enjoy on this CD, including a well-poised performance of an intabulation of Susanne un jour, which covers the whole range of Cerasani’s instrument, from the lowest note up to the tenth fret of the first course. He plays an 8-course lute by Matteo Baldinelli, strong in the treble and quieter in the bass. Judging by occasional squeaks as Cerasani’s fingers slide along the strings, I guess it has synthetic wound strings for the lowest courses.
 
Stewart McCoy
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Recording

Marais meets Corelli

Floral design

Jakob Rattinger viola da gamba, Lina Tur Bonet violin, musica narrans
64:56
Pan Classics PC 10395
Music by Biber, Corelli, Forqueray, Hume, Marais & Morel

A weak booklet essay (German & English) does this release no favours, but don’t be over-deterred either by this prospect or the rather strange picture on the front. The playing is lively and not afraid of the occasional un-beautiful sound, and the programme presents a (necessarily highly selective) survey of 17th-century chamber music. This ranges from Tobias Hume for lyra viol to a ‘re-mix’ of Marais’s and Corelli’s Folia variations for viol, violin and harpsichord via violin sonatas by Corelli and Biber and the near-inevitable La Sonnerie. I need to express my usual doubts as to whether a continuo section of theorbo, harpsichord and guitar ever took part in any 17th-century performance of chamber music and I also need to note that the playing, while always committed, is not free of occasional technical accidents that become increasingly intrusive on repeated listenings.

David Hansell