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Recording

Vestiva: Embellishing 16th & 17th Century Music

CD cover Vestiva Embellishing 16th and 17th Century Music

Lux Musicæ London
58:00
First Hand Records FHR137

I was blissfully unaware of the fundamental effect a recording by David Munrow and his Morley Consort of Morley’s Consort Lessons of 1599 featuring extended divisions had had on a teenage me until I invested in the CD version some forty years later and realised that it had truly entered my bloodstream and become the basis of most of my embellishment instincts throughout a subsequent lifetime of playing Renaissance music. I would like to think this delightful CD might have the same effect on young performers, and indeed this ambition is expressed towards the end of the programme note. Lux Musicae (harpist Aileen Henry, recorder player Mirjam-Luise Münzel and lutanist Toby Carr) deftly take us through a selection of ‘written out’ embellishments of Renaissance and Baroque pieces as well as applying the wisdom of various embellishment instruction books of the period to other pieces. The results could so easily have sounded ‘worthy’, but in the hands of these gifted musicians the music comes wonderfully to life, and we are given a little flavour of how embellishment became such an indispensable skill for musicians of this period. The witty reference to the madrigal Vestiva i colli providing the title of the CD and alluding to the idea of flowers clothing the mountains much as embellishment clothes the original scores is indeed pertinent. Mirjam-Luise Münzel employs recorders based on illustrations by Ganassi. It was the purchase in the 1970s of a facsimile of Ganassi’s Fontegara (1535), a recorder tutor and one of the main sources of manners of embellishment, that first opened my eyes to the complexities of Renaissance ornamentation. I have yet to hear the more outrageous suggestions in this publication such as trills on thirds and fourths and dense diminutions of original phrases put into practice – perhaps they were never intended to be taken literally, or maybe they were and have yet to transform our understanding of the art of Renaissance embellishment.

D. James Ross

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Recording

Handel: Israel in Egypt

CD cover Handel Israel in Egypt Jeannette Sorrell

A Dramatic Oratorio, adaptation by Jeannette Sorrell
Margaret Carpenter Haigh, Molly Netter, Daniel Moody, Jacob Perry, Edward Vogel, Apollo’s Singers, Apollo’s Fire, directed by Jeannette Sorrell
74:13
Avie AV2629

I should start by addressing the edition of Handel’s Israel in Egypt created by the director Jeannette Sorrell for this recording. She ‘restores’ the opening Lament of the Israelites for the Death of Joseph included by Handel in his 1739 version, but sometimes omitted from later editions and performances. This is indeed a worthwhile exercise, although not nearly as radical a move as Sorrell’s note suggests – in fact most of the recordings I consulted open with the Lament. However, her further concomitant decision to cut down the remaining two sections is much more controversial. Her stated aim ‘to keep the length of the oratorio manageable for modern audiences’ seems ridiculous – are we to trim other extended musical masterpieces in response to the shortening attention span of the modern public? This decision would seem to me to have much more to do with fitting the work on a single CD, and to run directly contrary to the group’s vision of an authentic performance on period instruments. The CD package does prominently announce that this performance uses an adaptation of the original score, but I doubt that any prospective buyers would suspect the extent that the music has been compromised. This is so disappointing as the singing and playing of the Apollo forces is compelling and utterly convincing and Sorrell’s direction crisp and insightful. What a pity they didn’t decide just to trust the composer’s dramatic instincts – he was hardly a man inexperienced in the arc of drama – and use their excellent forces to record the piece as he wrote it. I have recently encountered several  ‘adaptations’ of Baroque pieces, designed to ‘improve’ upon the original and which have proved disastrous. This recording is by no means a disaster, but it is ultimately a disappointing misrepresentation of Handel’s work – a missed opportunity. As a footnote, I should mention the extraordinary 1888 recording of the annual Handel Festival performance by 4000 singers of Moses and the Children of Israel from this oratorio (available online), one of the earliest recordings of Handel’s music and a remarkable insight into the performance practices of this period! I’m sure the Victorian audience was thrilled with this version…

D. James Ross

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Recording

Handel: Serse

CD cover Handel Serse English Concert Bicket

Emily D’Angelo Serse, Paula Murrihy Arsamene, Daniela Mack Amastre, Lucy Crowe Romilda, Mary Bevan Atalanta, Neal Davies Ariodate, William Dazeley Elviro, English Concert, Harry Bicket
172:38 (3 CDs in a card triptych)
Linn CKD709

One of Handel’s last operas written against the backdrop of the collapse of the London operatic scene, which precipitated the composer’s inspired switch to the composition of oratorios, Serse fell victim to its circumstances receiving only five performances in Handel’s lifetime. If this reflected the tumultuous finances of the company presenting it and perhaps a perceptible decline in performance standards as well as the changing taste of the London public, it certainly had little to do with the quality of the music Handel had composed. Remembered now primarily for Serse’s opening aria, the exquisite Ombra mai fu, this is a work like so many others composed by the mature Handel, rich in originality and masterly music. Having mentioned this opening aria, I should probably address my main reservation about this account – the role of Serse, taken by the irascible and temperamental castrato Caffarelli in the original run, is here sung by the mezzo-soprano Emily D’Angelo. While she sings very expressively and musically, the decision not to use one of the excellent male alto singers currently available is baffling and changes the character of the eponymous hero. No reference is made to this odd decision in the performance notes, but I’m afraid it had a major effect on my enjoyment of this recording. Having said that, the singing from the first-rate line-up of soloists and the chorus is wonderfully expressive, while the orchestral playing is superlatively supportive, responsive and beautifully crafted – particular mention should be made of the orchestral trumpet playing, which is not just punchy punctuation but beautifully phrased and tastefully lyrical. Harry Bicket has a wonderful way with Baroque music, and his reading of this rich score is exemplary. The revival of the fortunes of Handel’s operas is something which has happened largely in my own lifetime, but this recording of Serse emphasises that this process has still some way to run. I was ashamed and appalled that the bulk of this excellent music was completely unknown to me – there is simply so much excellent Handel lurking in the less familiar operas and oratorios that complete recordings such as this are extremely valuable. David Vickers’ fascinating programme note makes the unexpected and valuable observation that a connecting line can be drawn between these late operas of Handel and the late-18th-century opera buffa of Mozart and his contemporaries. In the middle of the physical and mental breakdown which accompanied the collapse of Handel’s operatic aspirations, it would have been some consolation to him to know that the opera condemned to such a short run under his direction would go on to enjoy such a fruitful and well-deserved afterlife.

D. James Ross

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Recording

Lucrezia: Portraits of a Woman

CD cover Lucrezia Les Paladins

Sandrine Piau, Amel Brahim-Djelloul, Karine Deshayes, Lucile Richardot SSSmS, Les Paladins, Jérôme Correas
64:00
Aparté AP359

The story of the rape and subsequent suicide of the Roman noblewoman Lucretia in 509 BC has resonated down the centuries. As a political event that spelt the end of the Roman monarchy and as a personal tragedy, the sexual violence of Sextus Tarquinius, son of the king of Rome, has captured the attention of writers such as Livy, Ovid and later Shakespeare, painters like Artemisia Gentileschi, herself a victim of rape and portrayer of the scene in four separate paintings, and composers. The best-known versions in music are the early cantata by Handel, included here, and Britten’s opera The Rape of Lucretia. Surprisingly we are told by Jérôme Correas in his note that the Baroque era yielded only three further versions of the tale set to music, all of which are included on the present disc, providing a unique opportunity to compare and contrast the settings.

The earliest of the four is that by Alessandro Scarlatti, the ‘father’ of the Italian cantata, whose setting of a text by the Roman nobleman Cardinal Benedetto Pamphilj dates from 1680. An abridged version of the same libretto was employed by the Venetian Benedetto Marcello, who omitted the final aria. Handel’s version is something of a mystery, since it is not known where or when it was composed, nor has the author of the libretto been identified. It is frequently attributed to Pamphilj, though if it is his work it is a quite different text to the one set by Scarlatti and Marcello. Examination of the paper type has also led scholars to believe it was composed before Handel arrived in Rome, either in Florence or Venice. It is interestingly also the only one of the four cantatas to have a text entirely in the words of the stricken Lucrezia, the others all including narrative passages written in the third person. The final cantata by the French composer Michel Pignolet de Montéclair has an Italian text but the musical style tends to that of the ‘goûts réunis’ that sought to unite French and Italian taste. All four cantatas fundamentally employ the alternating recitative and aria structure, though within this pattern is an array of contrast. Scarlatti, for example, binds his final stretch of recitative with a touching vocal ritornello, ‘Ma che farai mia cor’, its repetitions more affecting as Lucrezia comes ever closer to death. It is here one of the highlights of the performance by the Algerian soprano Amel Brahim-Djelloul. But no one can match the sheer exuberance of the young Handel, whose structure abides by no rules in an extended setting that includes only two arias, but concludes with passages of an infinitely moving arioso, as death starts to steal in on Lucrezia and then a final, furious recitative outburst of unrestrained anger directed at the man who has defiled her.

In nearly every respect, this ought to have been an outstanding release, but sadly it is seriously flawed, not for musical reasons but because Aparté have taken the foolish step of issuing the CD without bothering to translate the texts into English. Such is the importance of the communication of words in this repertoire, both directly by the singer and to the listener that the lack of translation seriously diminishes the impact of these works to those without Italian or French.

It is a luxury to have four different singers, including three of France’s leading early music artists, although Karine Deshayes is generally associated more with bel canto. Her singing of the Handel has considerable merit, but in a work so frequently performed doesn’t quite match the finest versions. The lesser-known name, particularly outside France, is Brahim-Djelloul , whose singing of the Scaralatti veers between the sensitivity described above and some rather overwrought singing more suited to the opera house than the chamber. No reservations apply to Sandrine Piau’s exquisitely nuanced Montéclair or the Marcello of mezzo Lucile Richardot, whose powerful projection reminds us she is today one of France’s paramount actor-singers. Finally, it must be mentioned that the support by Les Paladins is exemplary; on their own account they contribute a fine performance of Marcello’s Concerto in F minor, op 1/7 and a brief but affecting sinfonia from Bernardo Pasquini’s oratorio Il martirio dei santi Vito.

No one that has a fair understanding of Italian and/or French should miss out on this fascinating collection. Those that don’t, well, you’ve been warned. Three boos to Aparté, whose slovenly presentation does poor service to the outstanding performers on the CD.

Brian Robins

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Recording

TRE

CD cover Tre Lise Vandermissen triple harp

Lise Vandersmissen triple harp
78:00
Et’cetera KTC 1826

The triple harp is something of a rare bird, as I soon discovered when attempting to expand the sketchy introduction to the instrument the Belgian performer Lise Vandersmissen provides in the note for her new CD. She tells us only that the instrument was invented in Naples at the end of the 16th century, having three rows of parallel strings. Visits to my old Grove Dictionary (5th edition, 1954) and the redoubtable Rev Galpin’s Old English Instruments of Music (1905), failed to yield further detail. In need of a sharp learning curve on the topic, Wikipedia eventually came to the rescue, explaining its invention was a further development following the introduction of the double harp as an answer to the expansion of the use of chromaticism at the end of the Renaissance. It appears that Welsh harpists working in London took up the instrument in a big way when it was introduced there in the early 17th century, the instrument becoming familiar in Britain as the Welsh harp, under which name the instrument is indeed described by Galpin.

We are not given any details of the harp played by Lise Vandersmissen, obviously a copy, but it has a rich, full sonority in the lower register and a pleasingly delicate bell-like upper range. Were it not for the resonant overtones, there are times when the instrument sounds not unlike a clavichord. There is little repertoire composed specifically for the triple harp, Vandersmissen’s programme consisting of her own transpositions of Baroque repertoire, plus a smaller group of her own compositions. From the outset she displays a mastery of the instrument, playing with an admirable fluency of technique. Rapid runs and ornaments, the latter not infrequently in addition to those included in the music, are executed without the blurring or buzzing sometimes experienced with less accomplished players. Most importantly, one senses that behind the technical expertise lies true musicality.  

The instrument is here particularly effective in pieces of an improvisatory or rhapsodic character, as in the Fantasia by Mudarra (1510-80) and Toccata by Trabaci (1575-1647), where the web of sound is frequently quite magical, the latter also demonstrating effectively the instruments sonorous bass chords. English music of the 17th century features strongly, including Purcell’s Suite in G minor, Z.661 a particularly beguiling arrangement of ‘Music for a While’ and Dido’s lament. But arguably the highlight of the disc is the transposition of Handel’s keyboard Suite in B flat, HWV434, at once, as Vandersmissen notes, the most challenging music on the disc, especially in the Aria con variazione (iii), which calls for particularly nimble finger-work from a keyboard player or harpist. But the improvisatory Prelude, with its colourful arpeggiations, also works especially well. Vandersmissen’s own works – there are five brief compositions – draw both on the Baroque heritage associated with the instrument and more contemporary writing. Of these works I found ‘Between Words’, which incorporates the parlando quoting of a poem by Alice Nahon, an early 20th-century Flemish poet, quite mesmerizing, while the playful ‘Jig’ is arguably the most immediately appealing work.   

In all, I found the instrument’s greater scope for creating a more involved and involving sound scape made the disc more attractive listening than is normal with harp records, which it has to be confessed are not a first choice when it comes to recitals. Nonetheless, given the exceptionally generous playing time, I would advise against listening to the CD at one sitting. Listeners will gain a better impression of the outstanding quality of Lise Vandersmissen’s performances in smaller doses. She deserves that kind of attention.

Brian Robins

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Book

“Puote Orfeo col dolce suono”

Giacomo Sciommeri, “Puote Orfeo col dolce suono” Il mito di Orfeo nella cantata italiana del Seicento

Giacomo Sciommeri: “Puote Orfeo col dolce suono” Il mito di Orfeo nella cantata italiana del Seicento
Strumenti della ricerca musicale No. 24 of the Società Italiana di Musicologia.
Libreria Musicale Italiana,  Lucca: 2022
ISBN 978 88 5543 124 8
viii + 152pp. €20

The title in quotation marks is from the poetry of Benedetto Pamphilj, set by Handel as Hendel non può mia musa. The cover is Orfeo suona tra gli animali by Luca Giordano, ca. 1697 in the Palazzo Reale di Aranjuez in Madrid.

Giacomo Sciommeri’s fairly short book on ‘the myth of Orpheus in Italian cantatas of the 1600s’ gives a rigorous account of how it was acquired historically, understood allegorically, and treated by poets and composers of Italian 17th-century cantatas, thus influencing the development of the pastoral cantata genre in general. The full story of Euridice and Orfeo, which inspired the birth of opera (Ottavio Rinuccini’s L’Euridice by Peri and Caccini in 1600, Alessandro Striggio’s Favola d’Orfeo by Monteverdi in 1607, and Luigi Buti’s Orfeo by Luigi Rossi in 1647) sowed other seeds, from lyrical, dramatic and instrumental laments to Ranieri de’ Calzabigi’s Orfeo ed Euridice by Gluck and perhaps – my conjecture only – even to the magical power of music, one of its themes, that saves and matures Tamino and Pamina in Mozart’s Magic Flute. Readers may already know about these, but less about the presence or mere allusion to Orpheus in cantatas! Sciommeri gives us something entirely different. He chooses six poetic texts on different portions of the story, illustrating four of them analytically in relation to five musical settings.

Analytical studies can be ungrateful reading, finding only dedicated readers, whereas here the intense emotions of the protagonists and those around them, expressed poetically and musically, like Orpheus’s power to move birds, beasts, trees and rocks, is irresistible! We know the fable, as did the Baroque poets, whether from Virgil, Ovid, or the 1480 drama La Fabula di Orfeo by the Tuscan Renaissance poet Angelo Ambrogini (Poliziano) – the earliest known secular theatrical text in Italian, performed in Mantua, probably with music, ending with the Menads’ killing of Orpheus. Some even interpreted Orpheus’s failure to rescue Euridice from death (symbolizing the salvation of the ancient world), as the allegorical defeat of Humanism after the bloody Pazzi Conspiracy against the Medici in Florence of 1478.

Fascinating as Chapters 1 and 2 are (the first one tracing the myth of Orpheus from the classics to the cantata, and the second finding its aesthetic and rhetorical echoes in cantatas that are not necessarily mythological, both replete with poetic excerpts), Sciommeri intensifies the interest for musicians in the next four chapters. He gives a running musical analysis of five mythological Orpheus cantatas, comparing their treatments of the key elements of the fable: the love between Orpheus and Euridice; the power of his music; his descent to Hades and return (catabasis and anabasis); his death. He gives the complete lyrics and structure of these cantatas, with short musical excerpts from every aria and recitative, illustrating how each cantata presents a single episode of the story we know:

♦ Chapter 3: Fuor della stigia sponda (anon.) – the anabasis (ascent) of Orpheus as set by Alessandro Stradella and also by Antonio Foggia

♦ Chapter 4: Cadavero spirante (anon.) – the lament of Orpheus, attributed to Orazio Antonio Fagilla, a Neapolitan abbot.

♦ Chapter 5: Ove per gl’antri infausti (anon.) – the catabasis (descent) of Orpheus, set by Giovanni Lorenzo Lulier, a Roman. (There appear to be one or two wrong notes in ex. 5.7 bar 15, possibly present in one or both of the Roman copies. Harmonically and melodically a”’d” makes more sense than f♯”d”, preserving the sequential imitations, and similarly G instead of B in the continuo – notes off by one staff line, as here, are very common errors by copyists!) Studies of this cantata are mentioned in footnotes, notably by Biancamaria Brumana in Recercare XVII, LIM 2005, and in Quaderni di Esercizi. Musica e Spettacolo, 15, Morlacchi 2007.

♦ Chapter 6: Del lagrimoso lido (anon.) – the lament of Euridice, attributed to Alessandro Scarlatti (cf. edition by Rosalind Halton, Cantata Editions 2005). At the moment Euridice finds herself ‘abandoned’ among infernal flames she addresses Orpheus, expressing her grief and love, encouraging him to come. She begs Cupid not to torment her further and tells Orpheus that she died loving him, while fleeing from Aristeo, and hopes he will use his lyre to rescue her. It is one of three cantatas by Scarlatti based on the myth of Orpheus. See Poiché riseppe Orfeo and Dall’oscura magion dell’arsa Dite in Scarlatti, Alessandro, L’Orfeo, ed. Rosalind Halton, Web Library of 17th-Century Music, 2012, n. 23 www.sscm-wlscm.org and Alessandro Scarlatti, Tre cantate da camera sul mito di Orfeo ed Euridice, in preparation by Giacomo Sciommeri, to be available both in print and online: http://www.sedm.it/sedm/it/musica-vocale/111-scarlatti-orfeo.html.

Sciommeri’s considerations about the historical reception of the Orpheus myth in 17th-century literary circles should stimulate musicians, writers and composers to view the 18th-century pastoral cantata genre linking poetry and music more profoundly. The cantatas analyzed here may also give someone the idea of programming a group of Orpheus cantatas in the order of the narrative!

Barbara Sachs

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Recording

Handel in Rome

Nardus William Dunedin Consort John Butt Handel in Italy

Nardus Williams soprano, Dunedin Consort, John Butt
60:20
LINN CKD747

Handel’s youthful stay in Italy would shape him as a composer in a variety of ways. Not only was it a period that witnessed the defining development of his style and an extraordinary fecundity, but, particularly in the case of the chamber cantatas he wrote, provided a rich storehouse of materials that the resourceful composer would draw on for the rest of his creative life.

Of the large number of secular cantatas Handel composed in Italy, some thirty-odd are designed on a larger scale than chamber cantatas with only continuo accompaniment. Three of the better-known examples are included on the present CD, all composed for Handel’s noble patrons in Rome. Here they are performed with somewhat larger forces than Handel might have had at his disposal, a total of ten strings and continuo, including theorbo, which is not as obtrusive as is now customary but is in my view in any event superfluous (the excellent series of the cantatas with La Risonanza on Glossa found no need to include continuo lute).

Ero e Leandro, ‘Qual ti riveggio, oh Dio’, HWV 150, probably written in 1707 for Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni, also the likely author of the text, relates the words of Hero in the aftermath of the death of her lover Leandro, drowned as he tries to reach her on the opposite side of the Hellespont. Largely cast in the grieving words of the distraught Hero, the cantata ends surprisingly not with an aria but recitative in which four lines from the end a narrator takes over to tell us with dispassionate simplicity that Hero has taken her own life. Tra le fiamme, H 170, one of the most popular of the early cantatas, is one of the few for which we know for certain the name of the text’s poet. He was Cardinal Benedetto Pamphili, who took the well-known story of Icarus’s fatal flight to illustrate a morality with a Christian message – rather than attempting impossible literal flight, send your thoughts soaring heavenward. The mood of much of the cantata is playful, in keeping with the youthful rashness of Icarus. Armida abbandonata, HWV 105 inhabits a very different world. Dating from 1707, it was composed for the Marchese Ruspoli, the most important of Handel’s secular patrons, and originally sung by the soprano Margherita Durastante, the first of the series of great sopranos Handel encountered. Unusually it opens with an acompagnato describing the Crusader Rinaldo’s desertion of the sorceress Armida, a topic Handel would of course re-visit four years later in his first London opera, Rinaldo. The opening aria is a magnificent lament for Armida, ‘Ah, crudele!’, here opened with a breathtakingly lovely pianissimo by Nardus Williams. The cantata as a whole is an outstanding example of Handel’s stunning development in Italy. Finally, as a kind of encore, we have ‘Tu del ciel’, the last aria from the oratorio Il trionfo del tempo e del disinganno (The Triumph of Time and Truth), composed in 1707, also to a text by Cardinal Pamphili. John Butt takes it a little more slowly than I personally would prefer.

Since winning the Rising Talent award at the 2022 International Opera Awards, the young British soprano Nardus Williams has confirmed her place as an outstanding artist. The voice itself is glorious, lustrous, yet bright and securely produced across its range. Her cantabile singing is a special joy, the honeyed-tone spun out with unwavering security and especially impressive in an aria like ‘Si muora’ (the final aria of Ero), another case of the tempo being arguably too slow. Bravura work is also excellent, with passaggi cleanly articulated, while ornaments are in the main well-turned. However, her trill is at an embryonic stage, being at present too shallow and hazy. But at least Williams offers something in that area. Her diction and projection is good in recitative, but tends to lose focus in cantabile writing. But all in all this is a highly impressive display in repertoire that presents challenges quite different to opera. Butt’s conducting is as supportive and as idiomatic as one would by now expect.     

Brian Robins

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Recording

Lambert de Sayve: Ad Vesperas

CD cover Lambert de Sayve Ad Vesperas

Ensemble Polyharmonique, Alexander Schneider; Concerto Imperiale, Fabien Moulaert
69:03
Musique en Wallonie MEW2201

The cathedral of St. Lambert in Liège was one of the richest and best-served ecclesiastical centres in Northern Europe in the 17th century, with sixty canons and connections to a large number of collegiate churches and abbeys from which it could call on musicians. The Grand livre de choeur de Saint-Lambert of c. 1645, which survives in the library of Liège Conservatoire, contains fifty-odd motets for from four to eight voices and includes five Vespers-related pieces performed on this recording. They are arranged as part of an extended Marian Vespers, with three psalms and a Magnificat for double choir by Lambert de Sayve, a fourth double-choir psalm by Matthieu Rosmarin, and motets by de Sayve, Lambert Coolen, Henri de Romouchamps and Léonard de Hodemont. The singers of Ensemble Polyharmonique, together with the wind players of Concerto Imperiale, provide a rich tapestry of sound, beautifully balanced and expertly recorded. There are plainchant antiphons and organ music by Andrea Gabrieli, Peter Philips and Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck, confidently played by Concerto Imperiale’s director, Fabien Moulaert. Sweelinck’s Écho, unique to the Grand livre, is a real tour-de-force, lasting nine and a half minutes (details of the organ are not provided). I was also particularly struck by de Sayve’s setting of the motet O admirabile commercium performed by male voices and low instruments. An extensive booklet in French, Flemish, English and German contains comprehensive liner notes by the musicologist Émilie Corswarem, an expert on the music of Liège. This recording is a real pleasure to listen to and shines a light on a neglected corner of the festive music which graced high holy days in Northern Europe in the early Baroque.

Noel O’Regan

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Recording

Miscellanées

CD cover Elisabeth Joyé Miscellanees

Elisabeth Joyé harpsichord
62:00
encelade ECL2202

This recording grew out of a Covid lockdown project in which Joyé recorded a series of videos of very short pieces covering the whole of the early keyboard repertoire for sharing with students and friends. The CD is a collection of the earlier pieces from that project, many of them very short indeed. It includes music by major 17th-century keyboard composers and makes for a varied and informative programme. Perhaps because of the nature of the project, I found much of the playing to be rather too careful, correct but not very exciting, especially in some non-imitative pieces which would have benefitted from some more panache. I did enjoy her rendition of the Capriccio cromatico by Tarquinio Merula, with some nice uneven semitones, and some similar chromaticism in a Pavan by Orlando Gibbons and a Froberger Fantaisie. The playing does come more alive in some chaconnes by D’Anglebert, Johann Caspar Ferdinand Fischer and Georg Böhm. Most of the programme is played on an Italian virginal by Jean-François Brun after an anonymous instrument of 1626. She also uses a polygonal spinet at low pitch by the same maker, after an anonymous instrument of 1560, and a 4’ harpsichord by Amadeo Castille after Pisaurensis 1543, also made in the Brun workshop. All are recorded quite closely and produce a satisfactory sound. Something of a mixed bag, then, but worth listening to, nevertheless.

Noel O’Regan

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Recording

Le Salon de la rue du Hasard

Mlle Certain, claveciniste du Grand Siècle (1662-1711)
Mathilde Mugot harpichord
64:56
Seulétoile SE10

This is a very satisfying recording with some highly idiomatic harpsichord playing from Mathilde Mugot. It celebrates the salon presided over by Mlle. Marie-Françoise Certain on the Rue de Hasard in Paris in the late 17th century. Patronised by the fableist Jean de la Fontaine, it played host to all the great French musicians of the time. Sadly, no compositions by Certain survive but this CD seeks to reconstruct some of the music which she knew. It includes some well-known pieces by D’Anglebert, François Couperin, Lully and Jacquet de la Guerre, but also two pieces by the little-known Françoise-Charlotte Ménétou. One of the highlights is a Suite in D put together from dances by the little-known Jacques Hardel, extracted from the Bauyn and Lapierre manuscripts, which surprised me with its accomplishment. A product of the Covid lockdown, the recording marks the debut of this young French harpsichordist who proves to be an excellent interpreter of the repertoire. Her playing is fluent with lots of idiomatic ornamentation which, however, never disturbs the flow or sense of forward movement. Her interpretations are always well directed and convey their meaning easily to the listener. She plays on a harpsichord by Émile Jobin and the recording, made in the Abbaye de Royaumont, displays great clarity. The accompanying booklet is in French only; the Seulétoile website does give some little information in English but its translation of the CD’s title (‘The livingroom on the Hasard Street’) doesn’t quite convey the project’s significance! It is certainly a very welcome recording and an excellent introduction to the French harpsichord repertoire.

Noel O’Regan