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Festival-conference

HOLY WEEK IN THE CHAPELLE ROYALE VERSAILLES

Among the many glories that contribute to the extraordinary complex that is Versailles, few emulate the classical grandeur of its Chapelle Royale. Built for Louis XIV by the great architect Jules Hardouin-Mansart between 1689 and 1710, during the course if the 18th century it would witness ceremonial that included royal weddings and the singing of grandiose Te Deums to celebrate military victories and royal births. Today, along with the later 18th-century opera house, it forms the most important venue for the musical promotions of Versailles Spectacles, the management arm of all public events mounted at Versailles. During the course of an interview I conducted recently with Laurent Brunner, its highly cultivated director, Brunner readily recognised how fortunate he is to be in the unique position of having two such magnificent and complimentary historic buildings at his disposal, one for opera and concerts, the other for sacred music. The Chapelle Royale currently plays host to some 30 concerts annually and while they are spread throughout the year the principal concentration is on the two major church festivals of Christmas and Easter.

In 2019 the period leading up to Easter (March 31 to 20 April) featured seven events, including both Bach Passions. During the course of Holy Week itself, Jordi Savall directed a performance of the St Matthew Passion, while Good Friday and Holy Saturday brought respectively the Pergolesi Stabat Mater and Leçons de Ténebrès by both Couperin and Lully’s father-in-law, Michel Lambert. It was these last two days that I was able to attend, an interesting feature of which was the placing of the major works within some kind of context. Most surprising – and indeed for some in the audience disconcerting – was the framing of Pergolesi’s bitter-sweet Stabat Mater with a lively, not to say raucous Neapolitan tarantella, albeit with a Marian text that makes mention of the Thursday of Holy Week. It was preceded by a plainsong intonation of the 13th century Stabat Mater hymn, the tarantella heard initially off-stage then in lively procession by the forces of Le Poème Harmonique under their director Vincent Dumestre. Such practice was very much a part of Neapolitan life, where festivals mingled sacred topics with profane street life to a degree unknown in the West today. Two further plainsong settings and a rather brusquely played Concerto in F minor by Francesco Durante led to the Pergolesi Stabat Mater, sung by soprano Sophie Juncker and mezzo Eva Zaïcik. It was a performance characterised by a considerably more dramatic approach than the juxtaposition of painful dissonance and sensual comfort more often encountered in the work. It made for an intriguing comparison with more conventional, lyrical performances, but although both singers were fully engaged and in general sang well – though ornamentation was poorly articulated – the overall effect was closer to secular drama, Juncker, in particular, bringing such inappropriate intensity to a verse such as ‘Vidit suum’ as to produce something close to screaming. Interestingly, the performers had obviously focussed on the duet ‘Fac ut portem’ (Make me bear Christ’s death) as the heart of the work.

Dumestre and Juncker, along with a continuo group from Le Poème Harmonique, returned the following evening for the first of two concerts featuring music for the service of Tenebrae, which formed Matins and Lauds for the final three days of Holy Week. During the latter part of the 17th century leçons de ténebrès, settings of texts from the Lamentations of Jeremiah became popular in France, attaining the status of a genre in themselves. Couperin’s extant leçons relate only to the three he composed for Thursday. The most distinctive feature of Tenebrae services was the dramatic and potently symbolic gradual extinguishing of the candles that lit the chapel, a format followed by the Versailles performance, though here the ceremonial took place during the performance of a Miserere by Clérambault added after the Couperin, a long setting for vocal trio (SSMez-S) that after an impressive dissonant opening was too lengthy a supplement to the Couperin. It did, too, seem rather pointless that following the extinction of the final candle the moment of black contemplation was almost immediately dissipated by the full restoration of the chapel lighting, thus inducing a wave of inappropriate applause. Returning to the Couperin, many readers will doubtless have come to know these supremely lovely settings through the famous 1977 recording made by Emma Kirkby and Judith Nelson. The present performance, again set within the context of plainsong (by Gabriel Nivers), brought something very different. As with the Pergolesi, Dumestre seemed determined to seek unwonted drama in the music, inspiring Juncker and second soprano Claire Lefilliâtre to performances that completely lacked the chaste, serene purity of Kirkby and Nelson. Given that this is music written for a nunnery the approach of the latter is surely closer to authentic style, however good the singing of the French sopranos?

For the succeeding late concert, a smaller audience was ushered into the balcony to surround the organ for a set of unknown leçons de ténebrès for the third day by Michel Lambert, today known for his airs de cour, songs that would have a considerable influence on Lully’s operatic airs. Originally composed for three voices and continuo, they were given here in a solo version prepared and sung by the baritone Marc Mauillon. Once again these deeply felt pieces were sung within a plainsong context. Initially it seemed that Mauillon’s grainy, imprecise singing would create a barrier between music and listener, but in fact he improved considerably both tonally and in security of pitch, ultimately producing some of the most affecting and idiomatic singing over the two days, days that, despite reservations, provided an intensely moving experience much enhanced by the supreme Baroque splendour and dignity of the surroundings.

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

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Recording

La guerre des Te Deum

Floral design

Blanchard – Colin de Blamont
[Michiko Takahashi, Carline Arnaud, Sebastien Monti, Romain Champion, Cyril Costanzo], Chœur Marguerite Louise, Ensemble Stradivaria, Daniel Cuiller
66:38
Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS007

To the much-documented ‘opera wars’ of early 18th-century Paris we can now add not-so-much a war, more a squabble between composers over whose Te Deum should be played to mark which royal event! I must say I would have loved to have seen Blamont attempting to replace Blanchard’s music, already on the music stands, with his own, even as the Queen was taking her seat! The booklet (French & English) tells this story well (if in rather lumpy English) though says nothing about the music itself. These composers were both slightly younger contemporaries of Rameau, but very much in the Versailles tradition of ceremonial sacred music. So we have trumpet-led grandeur, some deft choral counterpoint and graceful writing for smaller forces. I couldn’t find any information about the recording circumstances, though a few minor untidinesses suggest ‘live’. But the lack of intrusive vibrato is welcome.

David Hansell

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Recording

Biber & Biber

Floral design

Concerto Stella Matutina, Johannes Hämmerle, organ and director
71:00
Fra Bernardo FB 1710593
C H Biber: Missa Resurrectionis Domini, Requiem
H I F Biber: Quasi cedrus exaltata, etc

Oddly enough this is the second CD to sport the title ‘Biber & Biber’, which might sound like a firm of German solicitors, but refers rather to the father and son team of Heinrich Ignaz Franz Biber and Carl Heinrich Biber. It is of course the former who is much the better known; indeed even readers of a specialist site such as EMR could be forgiven for being unaware that the elder Biber had a composer son. A quick check reveals that to date only a few instrumental works of C H Biber have reached the catalogue, so this excellent new recording concentrating on two major choral works provides a welcome opportunity to be introduced to him.

The younger Biber, Heinrich’s eighth (!) child, was born in Salzburg in 1681. Not surprisingly he studied the violin and composition with his father and also appeared in Latin school dramas with music by him. In 1704, the year of the elder Biber’s death, Carl was appointed to the court of Salzburg and also travelled to Italy, visiting Rome and Venice, where he would likely have come into contact with the young Vivaldi, recently appointed violin master at the Pietà. Subsequently he visited Vienna, but in 1714 he was appointed deputy Kapellmeister and then in 1743 promoted to Kapellmeister, making him senior to Leopold Mozart, who was appointed as a violinist in the court orchestra in the same year. C H Biber died in Salzburg in 1749.

Biber’s extant catalogue consists largely of music for the church. It survives in the archives of Salzburg Cathedral, where in excess of 120 of his works are housed. They include the Missa Resurrectionis Domini and the Requiem setting recorded here. The most surprising thing about both works is that despite Biber’s youthful contact with modern developments in Italy, they remain resolutely conservative in their adherence to solid contrapuntal techniques. Indeed, the difference in style to the three motets by his father also included on the CD is minimal. Both works conform to similar opulent orchestration as the more familiar large-scale works of Heinrich, which is to say they include parts for trumpets, trombones and timpani in addition to strings. The vocal writing, here wisely restricted to eight singers, alternates between brief episodes for the solo quartet and chorus, with very few extended solos. In both works the text is set with extreme economy, with relatively few opportunities for virtuoso solos. Occasionally, as at the telescoped ‘In incarnatus’ and ‘Crucifixus’ in the Credo of the Mass, Biber introduces a florid violin solo to remind us that he, like his father, was a violinist.

It is the Mass that is the more interesting of the two works. The Kyrie, for example, is introduced by infectiously dancing strings, while throughout exhilarating and exuberant writing for (splendidly played) punchy trumpets is never far away. But there are effective quieter moments too, as in the exquisite Benedictus duet for soprano and tenor. But the whole Mass has an engaging, upbeat ambiance. On first acquaintance the Requiem strikes me as a more perfunctory work, although it has impressive moments such as the urgent thrust of ‘Dies irae’, the soprano solo at ‘Lachrimosa’ and a certain noble dignity at the end of the Sequenz. But too much of the textural setting seems lightweight, with the supplication of the Offertorium (‘O lord deliver …) seemingly already decided by the less than humble music.

The performances are of high quality, with a good solo quartet, the soprano soloist Marie Sophie Pollak in particular being outstanding, and excellent orchestral playing from Concerto Stella Matutina. The splendid recording, made in the Seminary Church in Brixen, South Tirol, captures the often complex sounds with clarity, while at the same time creating an impressively spacious overall sound picture. The CD is well worth investigating by anyone attracted to the resplendent sound world of 17th- and 18th-century Salzburg Cathedral.

Brian Robins