Ring Around Quartet & Consort
60:06
Naxos 8.573320
Music by Capirola, Cara, Dalza, Festa, da Fogliano, Patavino, Pesenti, Tromboncino, Willaert, Zesso & anon
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hese performers take a free but ultimately convincing approach to the secular music of Renaissance Italy, singing with relatively ‘naïve’ vocal production and feeling free to introduce glissandi and other vocal effects. The instrumental playing has an attractive élan to it, nicely offsetting the sometimes rather opaque sound of the voices. Notwithstanding the sterling efforts of the performers there is an undoubted sameness to much of this material, and this is undoubtedly a collection to dip in and out of rather than to consume in its entirety as I have to as a reviewer. By the end I felt as if I had eaten an entire bag of dolly mixtures at one sitting!
I did particularly enjoy Atsufumi Ujiie’s winsome way with a recorder and Marcello Serafini’s idiomatic and imaginative guitar contribution. Many Naxos releases of this sort are recorded accounts of live performances, and very often you can’t help feeling that many of them would work better with the theatrical presence of the performers, an element lost in the recorded account. Naxos’s modus operandi often leads performers to record with them in order to have high-quality CDs to sell at performances, and the present CD may well fall into this category, but is nonetheless enjoyable as an independent recording.
Apollo’s Fire Baroque Orchestra, Jeannette Sorrell
69:06
Avie AV2329
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he impetus behind this collection goes back to Jeanette Sorrell’s experience between 14 and 17 playing piano for the Greenway Southern Baptist Church and accompanying an Appalachian singer, Madeline MacNeil. She then turned primarily into a harpsichordist and conductor. Later, she returned to her interest alongside her serious musical activities – not that it’s a helpful distinction. But the music here isn’t like the Appalachian music when I have heard it on radio and previous recordings. I expected to find the tunes more rhythmic, and was disappointed. I happened to have a performance of one of Berio’s settings of “Black is the colour of my true love’s hair”, which is of the fuller version – sadly, I’ve lost the one for Berio’s wife and a viola , which somehow makes more of an impression than either of the tunes here. I expected “The Cruel Sister” to be sung without too much variety – a little gesture is for me more impressive than what is done here. I don’t know where my expectation of Appalachian singing comes from, but I suspect that the hymns were strict, and the method here seems to imply musicality of a different nature that has expanded with the “early music” aspects which Jeanette seems happy with.
I’m pretty certain that if I went to a concert, I’d enjoy lots of it, though would imagine that the expression is rather excessive. But in their own way, they are extremely skilful.
Miklós Spányi clavichord
75:30
BIS-2046 CD
Wq52/4–6, 65/47 & 49 [H37, 163, 129, 248 & 298]
[dropcap]I[/dropcap]n this, volume 29 of the BIS complete C.P.E. Bach keyboard series, Miklós Spányi makes a strong case for the clavichord, both in his playing and in the useful sleeve notes. He gets a wide range of dynamics and articulation, and the recording quality is excellent, picking up every nuance. The five sonatas in this volume come from a range of periods: there is one early one from the 1740s (Wq 52/4), two from the middle period and two late sonatas. The most impressive is that in E minor, composed in Zerbst in 1758 (Wq 52/6), a classic combination of CPE Bach’s control of extended structures with very quirky moments. Spányi plays on a copy by Joris Potvlieghe of a 1785 clavichord by Gottfried Joseph Horn of Dresden, now in the Leipzig Musikinstrumentenmuseum. These are very persuasive accounts and contrast well with similar works recently recorded on the pianoforte by Riccardo Cecchetti.
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he Fireworks were not quite fitting with any particular manner: I’ve heard much worse, but somehow it didn’t always get enough rhythm – e.g. starting a triple phrase when the opening bar moves towards the stress in the first note of the 2nd bar – but don’t expect regular stress imitations. There is not quite enough vigour.
The three Concerti, however, had much more success! They were composed around the same period, with movements from various oratorios and the like, all of which were brought together with great success. The booklet is extremely thorough – though three of the pages concern the Fireworks whereas only one page is devoted to the three Concerti.
Vivica Genaux Dido, Henk Neven Aeneas, Ana Quintans Belinda, Marc Mauillon Sorceress/Sailor, Le Poème Harmonique, Chœur Accentus /Opéra de Rouen Haute-Normandie, Vincent Dumestre
80′ (1 DVD)
Alpha 706
[dropcap]‘[/dropcap]Dido-on-Sea’? Or ‘Dido and Aeneas go to the Circus’? Whatever construct is put on this conception it will hardly be sufficient to convey just how bizarre it is. Where to start? Well, as is not uncommon in these benighted days, the stage directions are largely ignored. At no time are we ever in Dido’s Palace (act 1), a Cave (act 2/1), or a Grove (act 2/2). Only in act 3 do we have some semblance of place, where we see the prow of a ship. Otherwise we are located on a rocky seashore, which makes something of a nonsense of Belinda’s ‘Thanks to these lonesome vales’, among much else. The dances are largely given over to a troupe of acrobats, whose performances both aerial and earthbound are described in an astonishingly pretentious – and in places inaccurate – note by Vincent Dumestre as being ‘sometimes the protagonist’s projections’, while at other times ‘allegories of the characters described in the songs of the chorus’ (which performs throughout off-stage). Most notably, in the Cave scene they are slithery, writhing sea creatures, the accessories of a (male) Sorceress who is … wait for it … an octopus with a rather nasty bump protruding from the back of her/his head. Really. Otherwise the costumes in what is a quasi-period production are odd – Dido wears striped pantaloons under her gown, while Aeneas looks like Trapper John, the fur round his neck hardly compatible with his location in North African desert territory.
It would be pleasing to report that it was a relief to turn to the music. But it is no such thing. Dumestre has seen fit not only to flesh out the scoring with an utterly anachronistic continuo group including a harp, guitars, theorbos, but also – and equally anachronistically – an orchestra that includes recorders, oboes and bassoons. The effect of the plucked arpeggiations and pretty ornaments in such numbers as the Ritornelle that opens act 2 is about as inimical to Purcellian style as it is possible to imagine. While there is certainly room for improvisation in the Dido dances, Dumestre’s owes far more to his mistaken belief in the influence of Lully on the score. As Richard Luckett pointed out all those years ago in his notes for the famous Andrew Parrott Chandos recording, the musical accent of the opera is – aside from the overture and a few dances – not at all Lullian, but cast in Purcell’s wholly distinctive style. It is this aspect of Dido that Dumestre and his performers have fatally missed. Not one of the cast display real comprehension of either the linguistic or musical syntax. Vivica Genaux’s Dido is especially disappointing, the voice marred by obtrusive vibrato and even pitch problems, while at times taking on a curiously plummy quality. Her Dutch Aeneas is better, but ultimately, well, the Aeneas we all love to despise and his inability to articulate ornamental phrases cleanly is another disadvantage he shares with the Belinda.
Vincent Dumestre is a director for whom I have great respect for the many outstanding things he has done on record, not least the marvellous DVDs of Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme. But I fear here he is way out of his comfort territory. And I say that not because he is French; it is perfectly possible for non-English musicians to give convincing, moving performances of Purcell’s operatic masterpiece, witness that given last year in Bruges by the Italian Fabio Bonizzoni with a Spanish Dido. The film emanates from performances given at the Rouen Opera in 2014.
Juan Sancho Catone, Franco Fagioli Cesare, Valer Sabadus Marzia, Max Emanuel Cencic Arbace, Vince Yi Emilia, Martin Mitterrutzner Fulvio, Il pomo d’oro, Riccardo Minasi
233:42 (3 CDs)
Decca 478 8194
[dropcap]F[/dropcap]irst given in Rome at the Teatro delle Dame in January 1728, Catone in Utica was the first collaboration between Leonardo Vinci and Metastasio. In accordance with the Papal decree forbidding women on the Roman opera stage, it was given with an all-male cast, a format followed in this first recording, with countertenors taking the female parts. To those familiar with Handel’s operas, the libretto may seem excessively lengthy, with much longer stretches of secco recitative than London audiences were prepared to take. For anyone prepared to remember that in the 17th and for much of the 18th century the librettist took precedence over the composer, a reading of Metastasio’s masterly book as literature will prove rewarding. It tells of the power struggle between two giants of the Roman world, the dictator Julius Caesar (Cesare) and Cato the Younger (Catone), the upholder of traditional republican ideals.
This battle of political wills forms the backdrop to the military action in which Cesare and Catone are engaged. Within this context the love interest for once takes on a background role, though it remains as complex as ever. It involves primarily the love between Catone’s daughter Marzia and Cesare, revelation of which not surprisingly leads to rejection by her father, a heroic man whose stubborn pride is his Achilles heel. Catone’s ally, the Numidian prince Arbace, also loves Marzia, while a secondary couple is formed by Pompey’s widow Emilia and the Roman legate Fulvia, though Emilia is rather more interested in revenge on Cesare than romance. The denouement is unusual, with the defeated Cato dying on stage after stabbing himself and Cesare lamenting the loss of his one-time friend in a final few lines of plain recitative. It was a genuinely tragic denouement that did not go down well with Roman critics; Metastasio, ever sensitive to criticism, subsequently produced a second, less austere ending used by most composers who later set the libretto.
Vinci’s score is richly orchestrated for pairs of oboes and horns, trumpet, the usual strings and continuo, here including theorbo and guitar, neither to the best of my knowledge listed in any early 18th-century Italian theatre orchestra. Equally anachronistic are the timpani added – excessively noisily – to the overture and Cesare’s ‘Se in campo’ (act 2); I’ve become increasingly irritated by so-called HIP conductors (usually Italian) who see fit to add timpani as soon as they catch a whiff of a trumpet part.
While not without weaker moments (mostly in act 2), the arias maintain a high level of interest and variation. Vinci takes particular care to show both sides of Cesare’s character, the tenderness he displays toward the grieving Emilia and his love for Marzia in two gracious cantabile arias in act 1 contrasted strongly with the martial coloratura of ‘Se il campo’ and the ‘simile’ aria ‘Soffre talor’ (both act 2). The role is sung and projected by Franco Fagioli with real distinction, the beauty of his cantabile matched by the accuracy of his divisions, impressive chest notes and accomplished ornamentation, including trills. Even better are the superb arias Vinci provided for the proud Catone, a tenor role here well essayed by Juan Sancho with strongly confident singing and a fine technique tested to his detriment only when he asks too much of himself by over-elaborating da capo repeats. Especially memorable is his furious dismissal of the Roman legate Fulvio, ‘Va, ritorno’ (act 2), the orchestral contrapuntal chromaticism underpinning a magnificent display of defiance. Cato’s daughter Marzia also displays distinctively contrasting character traits, haughtily dismissive toward her would-be admirer Arbace while fiercely guarding her love for Caesar and concern for her father. Valer Sadabus’ singing of the role is marred only by an occasional lack of control. Max Emanuel Cencic’s Arbace, a weak character in the face of Marzia’s strong personality, is sung with his customary authority and tonal beauty, the pain of the intensely chromatic act 2 aria ‘Che sia la gelosia’ touchingly conveyed by Cencic’s finely poised singing. Emilia is a less rounded figure, driven by her hatred of Caesar, who she blames for her husband’s murder, the story of which she recounts in a dramatic accompagnato, one of such passages unexpectedly encountered in a opera of this date. Vince Yi’s distinctive – and here at least very feminine sounding – timbre allied to a highly accomplished technique is ideally suited to the role, while her admirer Fulvio is sung with real style by the young German tenor Martin Mitterrutzner; his love-sick ‘simile’ aria ‘Piangendo ancora’ (act 1) has a text whose beauty is matched by Vinci’s exquisite music.
If the vocal contribution maintains a generally high level, Riccardo Minasi’s direction begs a number of question marks. While the playing he draws from his Pomo d’Oro maintains throughout an admirable level of fiery dramatic conviction in allegros and Italianate lyricism in andantes, it is regrettably also prone to the kind of foibles frequently encountered among Italian early music groups. They include eccentric exaggeration of tempo, rhythm, and dynamics, apparent here on rather too many occasions. An especially bizarre example can be heard in the triple chord bass figure in Arbace’s ‘È in ogni’ (act I). Despite such reservations, there is no doubting this is a highly significant and important release that casts fresh light on Vinci’s standing as one of the major figures in earlier 18th-century opera.
Al Ayre Español, Eduardo López Banzo
76:34
Challenge Classics CC72663
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is an extraordinary disc! Handel’s op. 5 trio sonatas are rarely recorded, and have often been dismissed as mere re-arrangements of existing orchestral and other material, comparing unfavourably with the ‘real’ sonatas of op. 2, etc. In these terrific performances, they come across as rich and amazingly emotionally powerful works, on a level with the almost-contemporary op. 6 Grand Concerti. It is fascinating to hear how Handel develops and modifies his ‘first thoughts’ – try the opening Largo of no. 5, for example, which began life in 1724 as the short sinfonia at the start of Act 1 of Tamerlano, where Bajazet ‘steps Forth form his Prison’. Here, it is expanded into a full sonata movement, with the arresting thematic tags richly reworked, all held together by Handel’s unerring sense of musical shape.
López Banzo is especially good at capturing the dramatic rhetoric which underlies so much of this music. He is not afraid of sharply contrasted dynamics and tempi, and modifies his continuo team to suit – I especially enjoyed the magically hushed Musette (from Alcina) in No. 2, with its lively Allegro episodes, and the similarly splendid Passacaille of no. 4 (Radamisto, this time!). The sheer range of instrumental colour that Al Ayre Español manages to pack in had me reaching for the booklet on more than one occasion to check that there were indeed still only six players! Javier Marin López’s excellent sleeve notes explain the dramatic origins of much of the music and the circumstances around its publishing. Highly recommended!
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is a re-packaging of a popular staging of Orfeo which previously appeared as an opusArte DVD, and which I saw at the Edinburgh Festival (with a slightly different cast) a few years ago. Savall swept into the auditorium with a flowing black gown (looking for all the world like Professor Snape on a mission) and the music burst forth. The singing and playing is of a very high standard, although liberties have been taken with Monteverdi’s scoring instructions; you would think that when a composer indicates that certain music should be played by recorders, he would also note the other music he wants them to join in with… I was disappointed in the long dancing and singing shepherds scene that there appeared to be no discerible metric relationship between the sections, and that they did not seem quite to flow from one into the other. That said, there was plenty of drama in other portions of the work, and Zanasi’s “Possente spirto” was a real tour de force. The book (there’s no way if could be described as a booklet!) has lavish illustrations from the production and facsimiles of the score, as well as seven versions of the text (Catalan, Spanish and Dutch added to the usual suspects) and the now familiar biographies and discography. There are also two interesting essays, a synopsis and and introduction by the conductor. I cannot imagine why one would choose to own this rather than the DVD other than to have this book – the price is such that one can possibly afford to own both.
Capella Mediterranea, Clematis, L’Acheron, Vox luminis, Doulce Memoire, Choeur de Chambre de Namur
69:50
Ricercar RIC355
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is somewhat variable. The first of the six early versions of Ancor che col partire, spread through the 19 tracks, makes clear that this was one of the famous adaptations. Other such pieces are included as well, and the seven different ensembles provide variety in style, though I got a bit tired of the automatic quick runs. I also felt a bit awkward in some of the shaping of the singers – though not enough to avoid buying this disc, which marks the 35th anniversary of the label Ricercar.
The booklet is thorough, explaining the importance of Cipriano de Rore (1515/16-1565) as a major composer, though it would be easier if the commentary gave a general introduction then described each piece in order. This is not so much a survey of his madrigals, however, and there’s a gap between no. 6 and 15 with no voices present. It’s worth hearing, but I don’t want to listen to too many such embellishments.
Marcin Świątkiewicz hpscd, Arte dei Suonatori
127:10 (2 CDs)
BIS-2179 CD
[dropcap]I[/dropcap]was very impressed by the playing of this young Polish harpschordist when he recently accompanied Rachel Podger for the Georgian Concert Society in Edinburgh and these two CDs confirm him as a formidable talent. He plays on a copy by Christian Fuchs of a 1624 Johannes Ruckers harpsichord which works well in this music. Müthel was a German organist and chamber musician who as a young man visited J.S. Bach in the last year of the latter’s life, on an educational tour which also saw him visit Telemann and C.P.E. Bach. He moved to Riga where he spent most of his life, earning praise from Herder. His concertos provide some fascinating and very attractive music with a considerable part for the keyboard and lots of dialogue between soloist and ensemble. The ensemble playing by the Polish Arte dei Suonatori ensemble is stylistic and supportive, leading to some exhilarating performances. The recording balance is eccellent, allowing the listener to hear every detail of the harpsichord playing. These concertos deserve to be much better known. Noel O’Regan
