Accademia Bizantina, directed by Ottavio Dantone harpsichord
66:08
HDB-AB-ST-005
Born in Lucca in 1687, Francesco Geminiani spent most of his life in London following lessons with Corelli in Rome and a short period in Naples. Charles Burney’s story of how following his appointment to lead the orchestra there he was soon dismissed has frequently been related. Apparently, he was found to be such a wildly eccentric player as to timing and use of rubato that the other string players found him near-impossible to follow. Less often quoted is Burney’s view that the set of opus 3 concertos, first published in 1735, ‘established his character, and placed him at the head of all the masters then living, in this species of composition ‘.
‘This species of composition’ was of course the concerto grosso, typified by Corelli’s famous opus 6 set published posthumously around 1714. It created a rage for the genre, particularly in England where Corelli’s set became a model for dozens of publications suitable for the many orchestras that included both professional and amateur string players. That meant that the concertino players – in the case of Geminiani two violins, viola and cello – could take the demanding solo parts, leaving the less challenging parts to the body of strings (ripienists). Geminiani’s opus 3 consists of six concertos, four in minor keys, two in major, and he makes an important distinction in the music he writes for each. Those in major keys consist of four movements, often influenced by the dance, while those in the minor are liable to feature multi-part movement and concentrate on more serious contrapuntal structures. But all have in common a finely balanced and weighted quality that belies Geminiani’s tempestuous reputation as a performer.
Accademia Bizantina’s CD comes in luxury packaging, being the final disc in a trilogy of discs devoted to the concerto grosso entitled ‘The Exciting Sound of Baroque Music’. Few I think would disagree that the sound is indeed exciting, with full-blood tutti’s and strong, deep-rooted chords alternating at the extreme with delicately-drawn cantabiles. The opening Adagio of Concerto 1 in D minor provides a good indication of what is to follow. Here the beautifully shaded, caressing violin solo is disturbed by crunching chords almost violent in character. In quicker music – and it is a great asset of the performances that tempos are never extreme – rhythms have the power of powerfully delivered rhetoric. My one major disagreement with Ottavio Dantone, and it applies to the majority of his performances, is the manner in which he uses the continuo theorbo or rather what should be continuo theorbo but in the hands of his player becomes an extra concertino part. In fast chordal writing, it is at times used virtually as a percussion instrument, but it is in delicate solo passages that the arpeggiations and broken chords become an intolerable distraction, overlaying cantabile writing. If you want an especially damning example, listen to the exquisitely played Adagio third movement of Concerto No 5 in B-flat, where the long cantabile solo violin solo is unforgivably obliterated by the theorbo’s unwanted presence.
But such a view must not be allowed to distract from what is another outstanding set of performances that allow the composer’s voice to speak with an emphasis and determination that can only be compared with the delivery of a great orator. In addition to opus 3, the disc includes the famous ‘La Folia’ variations adapted from Corelli.
Brian Robins