Categories
Recording

Beethoven: Late String Quartets

CD cover Beethoven Late Quartets Narratio Quartet

Narratio Quartet
241:06 (4 CDs)
Challenge Classics CC72982

This completes the Narratio Quartet’s path-breaking and challenging set of the Beethoven string quartets. EMR reviews of the two earlier sets issued can be found here and here respectively. For the sake of clarity, it should be noted that the F-minor Quartet, op. 95 of 1810, usually tacked on to the middle period quartets, is included in the present set, chronologically if not entirely stylistically a little incongruously since it predates the genuine ‘late’ quartets by 15 years.

As noted in regard to the earlier sets, the Narratio’s period instrument performances are in some ways a reaction to the philosophy of the foundations of the 20th-century early music revival. That sought to be truthful (or authentic) in its treatment of the music of the past by means of the use of instruments of the period and faithful adherence to matters such as rhythm and tempo. Yet we know that such a ‘pure’ manner of interpretation was not the way music was played in the time of Mozart and Beethoven, that greater freedom was admitted to performance for the purposes of creating expressive gesture. That freedom included such features as rubato – rhythmic flexibility – vibrato employed for expressive purpose and portamento, the ‘slurring’ or sliding from one note to another. Needless to say, such means should be carefully thought through before use, and it is much to the credit of the Narratio’s that they have been thinking about and experimenting with the use of expressive devices in Beethoven’s quartets over a period of some 15 years. It is interesting to note too that this rethinking of what we call ‘period performing practice’ is increasingly extending to vocal music, where topics such as vibrato, rubato and portamento are also becoming questioned and debated. Finally, before brief observations on the individual quartets, it has been encouraging to note that throughout the Narratio’s set they have been happy to engage with Beethoven in one aspect of his music so frequently overlooked or forgotten – his wit and sense of humour. It stems, I think, from the 19th-century elevation of the composer to the status of a god, only to be the subject of awesome worship, not a great composer who laughs at us or invites us to laugh with him.

The String Quartet in F minor bids fair to be considered one of the knottiest of his works. Composed in 1810, a year that witnessed little productivity on Beethoven’s part, it was published five years later. Clues to the intensely personal nature of the work can be found in Beethoven’s designation of it as ‘quartetto serioso’ and his curious words to Sir George Smart when the composer sent a copy to London, ‘The Quartett (sic) is written for a small circle of connoisseurs and is never to be performed in public’. The Narratios attack the opening with uncompromising vigour, while the almost immediate lyrical response provides a fine example of their use of portamento and rubato. Lasting little more than five minutes, the movement here has a concise intensity that never lets up. This economy, the impression of saying nothing superfluous, characterises the quartet as a whole and is well caught by the Narratios who also make much of the lovely cantabile that forms the answering motive in the second movement.

It would be almost fifteen years before Beethoven returned to the medium. He then between 1824 and 1826 completed the five quartets now universally referred to as ‘the Late String Quartets’. These works, in particular the middle three (opp 130, 131 and 132), suggest a summation that not only expands the string quartet – structure, radical uses of tonality, texture, rhythm – to a degree that would inhibit the approach to the form by composers at least until the 20th century.

The Quartet in E-flat, op 127 occupied Beethoven between 1824 and 1825. Often considered the most ‘normal’ of the late quartets, it nevertheless stakes its claim to be unusual by including a slow movement that is virtually twice as long as any other of the three remaining movements. Marked ‘Adagio, ma non troppo e molto cantabile’, its nearly 15 minutes duration take us into a world of intense introversion that demands a concentration from both players and listener, here superbly achieved by the Narratios. The players also react well to the more animated central section, one of the many passages throughout these performances where the listener’s attention is drawn to the outstanding balance these players achieve. By contrast the Scherzo, with its constantly iterated perky theme reminding us how economical Beethoven could be with thematic material, shows us a more robustly committed side of the Narratios, the central folk-dance like Trio is celebrated with uninhibited pleasure and not a little of the good humour alluded to above.

If there is any doubt that Beethoven was entering new territory, it can be firmly dispelled in the face of the opening of the B-flat Quartet, op 130 of 1825. In every sense – sonority and expansive breadth – this is music that occupies a landscape greater than had previously been attempted. It’s a moment that the Narratio Quartet captures to near perfection, the massive sound picture enhanced by the satisfyingly bronzed sound of bow on gut strings. This sense of being at one with the music pervades the work, planned on a unique scale that includes six movements. The penultimate of these is the formidable Grande (or Grosse) Fugue, a movement found so difficult by the original performers and friends of the composer that the latter persuaded Beethoven to write a more concise, user-friendly alternative. Today it is that movement that is more frequently played. Overall, the performance is an impressive illustration of the manner in which the players invariably and instinctively seem to be at one with the music. In this context, it should be mentioned that tempi, which I’ve not mentioned until now, are never a cause for concern. The intelligence of the players can also be noted that although they play the famous Cavatina ‘molto espressivo’ as Beethoven asked, they keep such external signs of expression as portamento and rubato under strict control. Music of such sublime simplicity and introversion has no need of such tools.

The only other movement among this set that the composer marks ‘molto espressivo’ is the Adagio of op 131 in C-sharp minor (composed 1825-26) and here was one of the rare cases I disagreed with the use of portamento, in the first violin’s opening upward sweep from G# to C#, a gesture subsequently imitated by the other players. Like the Cavatina, it is fundamentally a simple, but profound almost hymn–like subject that needs no adornment. Although the quartet is in seven movements (two of which – the second and fifth – demand and here receive a virtuoso response from the performers) it is fundamentally structurally closer to the tradition four-movement quartet. The third movement, a brief accompanied recitative, is for example clearly linked to the monumental slow movement, a sublime aria of the utmost tenderness which although passing through a period of more animated disquiet ends with music and performers totally at peace and at one.

As with the C-sharp minor quartet, the Quartet in A minor, op 132 of 1825 has multiple-movements, here five dominated by the expansive opening and third movements. The latter is headed ‘Heiliger Dankgesang eines Genesenen’ (a holy hymn of thanks of a convalescent to a Deity), a reminder that Beethoven had been seriously ill during the preceding winter. If this movement can thus be seen as autobiographical, then the same surely applies to the opening Assai sostenuto, which appears to arise out of the memories of some unrelated nightmare. Both these passages are played with deeply introverted concentration by the Narratios, the sustained bass chords of both passages played with rasping intensity. But op 132 is by no means a tragic quartet; as so often with the mature quartets, it passes through many moods, the final Allegro appassionato embracing both affection in its lilting opening and deeply troubling thoughts in the animated central section.

Beethoven’s final string quartet, op 135 in F, on first appearances appears to mark something like a return to convention. It is cast in four movements and, unlike its immediate forbear,s plays no longer than a quartet by Haydn or Mozart. But such appearances are deceptive and not only ignore the sublime third movement, marked Assai lento, cantante e tranquillo, which enjoys a profoundly spiritual inner life of its own quite as intense as the Cavatina of op 130 or the Andante of op 131, but the autobiographical element of the final movement. This has occupied Beethoven scholars since the work’s composition, with its opening quotation of the three-note motif, ‘Es muss sein?’ (must it be?), later answered ‘ja, es muss sein’ (yes, it must be).

Once again, there is an autobiographical explanation for the origin, if not for Beethoven’s use of the motif here in the final quartet movement he would write. The more I hear these quartets, the more I feel there is possibly an even greater personal element to them than we realise. Such thoughts have certainly been enhanced by these Narratio Quartet performances, which demand to be heard even by those familiar with this music. It should be added that they are presented in superb sound that aids the multitude of sonorities admirably. There will be things here that surprise, things to relish and, perhaps, things to disturb or even infuriate. One thing I can promise: you will not be bored.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

A Tribute to Mikhail Vysotsky (1791-1837)

A Tribute to Mikhail Vysotsky (1791-1837)

John Schneidermann & Oleg Timofeyev (Seven-string guitars), 74:38
Prima Classic PRIMA075

Mikhail Vysotsky was a Russian guitarist who was born in 1791 in the village of Ochakovo. He moved to Moscow in 1813, where he performed as a virtuoso guitarist, and was in demand as a guitar teacher. In his liner notes, Oleg Timofeyev describes Vysotsky as “Disorganized and impractical in daily life. Vysotsky drank himself to death by 1837.” Vysotsky wrote music for the Russian seven-string guitar, which had become extremely popular by the beginning of the 19th century. Timofeyev notes that there are about a hundred of Vysotsky’s compositions which were published: preludes, fantasias, dances, transcriptions of piano music and opera arias. There are a few pieces which survive in manuscript. The twelve tracks on the present CD are variations on popular Russian songs. The first eight tracks are performed by John Schneidermann, and the last four by Oleg Timofeyev.

The first track, “Along the street”, is Vysotsky’s take on a well-known Russian song. It is a jolly piece, with variations involving continuous quavers, with slurred notes and harmonics thrown in here and there for variety. There are little touches of chromaticism which brighten what is straightforward conventional diatonic harmony. Vysotsky is in good company: the Spanish composer Fernando Sor, wrote variations for two guitars on the same song in his “Souvenir de Russie”.

“Show yourself the clear moon” is in a similar vein. There are grace notes and similar decorative effects, and attractive scalic passages running up and down the neck of the guitar, but harmony is limited to the folk singer’s three-chord trick of tonic, dominant and subdominant. One variation switches to triplets, followed by another which consists of dotted rhythms.

A more sombre mood pervades “Mother I have a headache”. It is in a minor key, and a feeling of unease is created by occasional diminished sevenths. Schneidermann plays expressively with a delicacy of touch, so it is unfortunate that there are occasional obtrusive noises from the strings as he slides his finger along them. Perhaps this can’t be helped, but it does stand out at 3.07. In contrast, portamento slides are used to good effect in “Variations on a Tyrolean Theme.” Vysotsky’s music is designed for easy listening, and Schneidermann’s nimble fingers create a charming performance.

Oleg Timofeyev is responsible for the last four tracks. I like his interpretation of “I used to know no worries”, which is a delightful piece full of contrasts. The very high notes towards the end are particularly satisfying. The music for track 11, “My strip of land”, is available online at IMSLP, where it has the title “Is it not the Field, my little Field”. I wonder if Timofeyev used a different source for the recording, because there are so many places where what he plays does not match the IMSLP score. Variation 6 begins with a passage of 20 single notes. Timofeyev plays them as harmonics, apart from c# which is not available as a harmonic. The result is unsatisfactory, since the c#s obtrusively sound an octave lower than the other notes. It is clear from the IMSLP score, that the first 13 notes should be played normally at the written pitch, and only the last seven notes should be played as harmonics.

One welcome feature of the CD is Oleg Timofeyev’s commentary in the liner notes: He provides information about the songs and their text, about Vysotsky’s life, and the musical context in Russia. “Russia of that time was a place of constant singing everywhere. Coachmen in carriages, rowers in boats, women washing the laundry – everybody was singing in villages, towns and cities.”

Stewart McCoy

Categories
Recording

Clérambault: Te Deum, Histoire de la femme adultère

CD cover Clérambault Te Deum Histoire de la femme adultère Van Mechelen

Choeur de Chambre de Namur, A nocte temporis, directed by Reinoud Van Mechelen
58:36
Versailles Spectacles CVS163

Member of a family with a long musical association with the French court, Nicolas Clérambault (1676-1749) is today remembered principally as arguably the finest composer of the French secular cantata. However, he was also a distinguished organist who held the post of organist of Saint-Sulpice in Paris from 1715. Commenced in the mid-17th century, the building of the church of Saint-Sulpice (a replacement for a much smaller original church) was not completed until a century later. It is likely that Clérambault’s Te Deum was one of a number of his works given at the lavish opening celebrations in July 1745. Although designated ‘à grand choeur’ and according to reports originally performed by 100 musicians, it is overall less ostentatiously spectacular than familiar examples of the hymn by Lully and Charpentier. While the scoring includes the expected trumpets and drums, they are used sparingly, while in keeping with the custom for French settings the work is colourfully multi-sectional, contrasting solo passages with full choral passages. The composer makes the hub of the work the verse ‘Tibi Cherubim et Seraphim’ (To thee Cherubim and Seraphim), at once the most extended and elaborate passage in the work. Opening with the ethereal high voices of the angels’ praise of God, the section segues into dramatic contrast with the outburst of trumpets and drums at ‘Pleni sunt caeli’ (Heaven and earth are full). Other notable moments include the exceptionally lovely choral devotional passage at ‘Te ergo’ (We therefore pray).

While not aspiring to the use of 100 performers – the forces are fewer than half that number – the intimacy of so much of the writing makes for a highly satisfying reading of the work. The many solos and duets, often involving quite florid melisma, are well taken by a fine team, with haute-contre Reinoud Van Mechelen, tenor Guy Cutting and bass Lisandro Abadie particularly distinguishing themselves. The choral singing and orchestral playing are equally satisfying.

If the Te Deum is something of a discovery, I’m tempted to say that here it must give way to an even more exceptional work. As French Baroque music expert Catherine Cessac notes in her customarily valuable notes, L’Histoire de la femme adultère is something of an anomaly, an oratorio after the style of those of Charpentier, composed well after such works had passed into history. Like those of Charpentier (and his model Carissimi), it employs a narrator to tell a biblical story, in this case one of the most touching of those involving Christ’s ministry on earth. The story of the adulterous woman comes from the Gospel of St John, and tells of Christ’s forgiveness of a woman accused of adultery, a crime for which she would of course have been put to death. The story revolves around the famous words by which He puts her accusers to shame – ‘He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone’. Unsurprisingly, Clérambault’s setting puts these words at the heart of the oratorio, with a sublime passage of wonderment for the Narrator and chorus. But the work’s remarkable quality is apparent from the outset, a darkly sombre ‘simphonie’. In addition to the Narrator (Abadie) there are roles for Jesus (Van Mechelen), the Adulterous Woman, beautifully sung with sensitive insight by Gwendoline Blondeel, and two Jewish accusers.

Anyone yet to discover Clérambault is urged to hear this exceptional recording. Then go on to explore some of the composer’s secular cantatas, starting with Orphée.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

Telemann: Six trio 1718

CD cover 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

Categories
Recording

Charpentier: Les Arts Florissants

CD cover Dallas Bach 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…

Categories
Recording

Traetta: Rex Salomon

CD cover Traetta Rex Salomon Rousset

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

Categories
Festival-conference

Ambronay 2025

Ambronay Festival 2025

COMING SOON!

Over three weekends next month, this wonderful festival that takes place in an abbey not far Lyon, Annency and Geneva covers everything from trio sonatas to the B minor mass, and from “a duet for clown and viola da gamba”(!) to Mozart’s precocious “Die Schuldigkeit des Ersten Gebots”. Performers include well-known ensembles such as Vox Luminis, Ensemble Correspondances, Cappella Mediterranea and Pygmalion, but also – a trademark of this talent-fostering organisation – plenty of young artists who will undoubtedly continue to grow as a result of such exposure.

If you’re lucky enough to be in the area, check out the programme here: Dossier de presse_Festival 2025 (in French only, and accurate at the time of printing!) and support Ambronay’s initiatives if you can!

Categories
Concert-Live performance

New Vivanco

A Spanish Requiem performed for the first time in London

If you’re a fan of the Spanish Renaissance and happen to be in London at the end of June, you won’t want to miss this exciting event! The choir is on Facebook if you want to keep up to date with their activities.

For those who can’t manage, the choir has Crowdfunded enough to make a CD, which will be available – and reviewed in due course on this website – next year.

Categories
Recording

Northern Light

CD cover Northern Light Richardot Daucé Ensemble Correspondances

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

Categories
Recording

Legrenzi: Balletti e Correnti, op. 16

CD cover Legrenzi Balletti e Correnti

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