Categories
Recording

TRE

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
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 fd”, 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

Categories
Recording

Handel in Rome

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

Categories
Recording

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

Categories
Recording

Miscellanées

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

Categories
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

Categories
Recording

Fauré: Complete Works for Cello and Piano

Robin Michael cello, Daniel Tong piano
63:21
resonus RES10343

A foray into Fauré – apologies, it was irrestible – on EMR? I have to confess that it is some while since my own musical path took me in this direction. Notwithstanding, some of our more astute readers will doubtless put two and two together with the recognition that ‘early music’ in this instance is applied in the sense that the performances are played on instruments  appropriate to the music, or set up to be. Thus the cello used here is a modern copy of an instrument made at the end of the 17th century by Matteo Goffriller, the founder of the Venetian luthier school, and strung with gut strings. It has a rich tone, with a particularly mellow lower register. The piano is an Erard of 1885.

The CD contains all the works Gabriel Faure composed for cello and piano over a period of some 40 years (if you count the early Berceuse, op 16, which was written for violin or cello). At its heart lie the two late sonatas, the first in D minor dating from 1918, the second in G minor from 1922, being one of the composer’s last major works. The remaining works are all small-scale salon pieces and include the Sicilienne, op 78 (1898), which will be familiar to many listeners from its use in the incidental music Fauré wrote for Maeterlinck’s Pelleas et Mélisande.

Both sonatas utilise music from Fauré’s opera Penelope, first given a long-awaited premiere at Monte Carlo in 1913. But in his excellent note Robin Michael also points to such early influences on Fauré such Renaissance polyphony and plainsong, influences that here reveal themselves in othe occasional hints of modality and rhythmic complexities. Those that think of the composer in terms of the Requiem, the popular piano music or the well-known songs, may indeed be surprised by the fragmentary grittiness of the main theme of the opening allegro of the D-minor Sonata, op 109, where the disjointed rhythm of the piano part creates a disconcertingly discursive effect only dissipated when the music settles to the more lyrical middle section of the movement. The final movement of the same sonata is dominated by an expressive falling motif full or ardent longing. The opening allegro of the G-minor sonata, op 117, is driven by an impatient, thrusting theme led by the piano, it demanding considerable dexterity from the player when later taken up by the cellist, requirements well met by Michael. Conversely, the central andante with its hints of a funeral procession needs an expressive cantabile line, the pianissimo ending of the movement creating a moment of magic from both players.

The smaller pieces require little comment. The fluttering cello part in Papillon, op 77 is brought off with virtuoso aplomb, while the lovely Berceuse, op 16 is lovingly coaxed by both players, in particular demonstrating effectively the sensuality of the cello’s middle register.

Overall these are immensely rewarding performances that have reminded me just how exceptional a composer Fauré is. The sole reservations are to wonder whether a marginally greater use of rubato might have been appropriate at times and to tentatively suggest the bowing in the Sicilienne might with advantage have been lighter. A rewarding, and for one coming to the music from an earlier period, revealing CD.

Brian Robins

Categories
Festival-conference

The Innsbruck Early Music Festival and Haydneum Festival, Eszterháza

Although principally undertaken on opera duty, brief successive visits to two European early music festivals also allowed time to take in a chamber music concert in both venues. While the Innsbruck Early Music Festival is well-established and familiar to early music enthusiasts, that at the palace of Eszterháza, Haydn’s principal place of employment for thirty years, is not. Despite a somewhat isolated location that caused Haydn to complain of feeling cut off from the world, I suspect that it being the home of the Haydneum, a centre for early music recently established on the model of the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, will soon result in it having a higher profile.

The first stop was Innsbruck, where the evening after a triumphant first performance of Graupner’s Dido, Königin von Carthago festival-goers were transported up to Ambras Castle, a Renaissance jewel situated above the city. It is there that the majority of the festival’s chamber concerts are given in the spectacular Spanish Hall, that on 26 August being devoted to an intriguing and well-designed programme featuring two composers that at one time or another in the early 18th century might have contributed to making Innsbruck a rival to London. Handel (represented by his Italian cantata Il duello amoroso) seemingly rejected the possibility of employment in Innsbruck, but Mannheim-born Jacob Greber (d. 1731) having failed spectacularly in London did not, becoming Kapellmeister in Innsbruck in 1707. On the evidence of the three cantatas presented, he was a competent if not especially inspired composer, here unkindly cast into the shadows by Handel’s infinitely superior work. In addition to the vocal works, the programme included chamber works featuring recorders by two other German immigrant composers working in London, J C Pepusch and Gottfried Finger.

The vocal performers were the soprano Silvia Frigato, and the French (despite her name) mezzo Mathilde Ortscheidt, a past prizewinner of Innsbruck’s prestigious Cesti Competition and a singer who recently much impressed me in Cimarosa’s L’Olimpiade at Versailles. The instrumental works and support for the singers were provided by members of the Akademie für Alte Musik, Berlin. Without being entirely sure of the reason, the concert came over as a rather flat. Was it perhaps a hang-over from the remarkable Dido of the previous day? Both singers sang well enough, although Frigato’s tone sounded at times shrill and thin. By contrast, Ortscheidt produced a rich tone and some impressive chest notes, but neither appeared sufficiently involved in communicating texts or producing interesting embellishments. Much the same might be said of the instrumental playing, which was as competent as would be expected from such an eminent ensemble but rarely arrested the listening ear.

What was missing was vividly illustrated five days later in the course of the concert given by the Capricornus Consort Basel in the magnificent and beautifully restored Apollo Room in the palace of Eszterháza. The instrumental works included the fine B-flat Concerto (no 2) from van Wassenaer’s set of Concerti Armonico and three works by F X Richter that provided a pertinent reminder of just how excellent a composer he is. The only vocal work in the programme was the sacred cantata Il pianto di Maria by G B Ferrandini, Venetian-born but long employed in Munich. At the conclusion of the text, a scribbled note of mine reads, ‘good on one level but there is another’ and indeed the singing of mezzo Olivia Vermeulen seemed curiously uninvolved for such a searing text, underscored as it is by painful chromaticism. Chromaticism emerged almost as the keyword of the programme, nearly all the music being inflected by it, sometimes heavily. This feature induced a strong emotional response in the shape of technically accomplished and fully committed playing from the Capricornus players. However, they also produced playing of delightful lightness and great delicacy in the second movement of Richter’s Trio Sonata in A minor, op 4/6 and some affecting cantabile playing from the muted strings in the second movement of the B-flat Sinfonia, VB 59. It was overall a concert that provided an immensely satisfying conclusion to my mini tour of festivals.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

Andrea Gabrieli: Le peine de mon cœur

Sébastien Wonner harpsichord
63:00
encelade ECL2102

For those of us whose minds turn to epic choral music or madrigals at the mention of the name Andrea Gabrieli, it is a useful antidote to be reminded of his career as keyboard player and his publications of keyboard music. This repertoire is undoubtedly an extension of Gabrieli’s improvisation skills at the organ, and many of his pieces such as the intonazioni and ricercars would have served liturgical purposes in the lavish services in St Mark’s Venice – we have frequently introduced Gabrieli’s largescale choral pieces with relevant intonazioni to establish the tonality. However, it is useful to hear this music, as well as keyboard arrangements of madrigals and motets, on the harpsichord to remind us that it is perfectly effective, freestanding solo keyboard repertoire. Gabrieli was a truly international musical figure, using Venice’s status as a world power to incorporate pan-European influences into his work. He samples French and German secular songs as well as the music of his Italian contemporaries in his work, but the wonderful spontaneity with which Sébastien Wonner imbues his performances constantly emphasises the improvisatory aspect of these works. He plays a fine 1999 harpsichord by Matthias Griewisch, while the distinctive tuning with its occasional spicy discords permits parallels to be drawn with Gabrieli’s exact contemporary Veronese – more remarkably still in 1585 musician and artist collaborated on a production of Sophocles Oedipus with Gabrieli composing the choruses and Veronese designing the costumes! O to have been a fly on the wall at that performance – both Gabrieli’s music and Veronese’s costume designs survive, so await the attentions of some enterprising opera company! Clearly there is much more to Andrea Gabrieli than his magnificent church music, and this excellent CD emphasises just one further aspect of this kaleidoscopic musician.

D. James Ross

Categories
Recording

La Notte

Concertos and pastorales for Christmas Night
The Illyria Consort, Bojan Čičić
65:52
Delphian DCD34278

Opening with the predictable Vivaldi concerto La Notte and concluding with a premiere recording of a reconstruction by Olivier Fourés of Vivaldi’s string concerto RV270a Il riposo – per il santissimo Natale, this fascinating programme takes us on a wide-ranging tour through repertoire by Biber, Vejvanovsky, Rauch, Finger and Schmelzer. Since hearing Bojan Čičić play at the St Magnus International Festival in Orkney a couple of years ago, I have sought out his eloquent performances of Baroque music. This recording with his own ensemble The Illyria Consort is no disappointment, with stunning accounts of mainly unfamiliar repertoire. I found it difficult to put my finger on what appealed to me so much about Čičić’s playing, until a performance he gave in a small kirk in Orkney of the great Bach solo Chaconne moved him and all of us to tears, and I realised the extent to which his performances relied on his personal passion for his instrument and for the repertoire. This is what comes through in these performances too, as the wonderfully detailed and precise readings are injected with intelligence, musicality and above all passion. A major factor in the attractiveness of this CD is the crystal-clear Delphian sound, supervised by Peter Baxter and a hallmark of this excellent Scottish label. Just like a puppy, this revelatory recording is not just for Christmas, but provides deeply engaging insights into an important strand of Baroque string music.

D. James Ross