Accademia degli invaghiti, Concerto Palatino, Francesco Moi
63:04
Brilliant Classics 95344
[dropcap]A[/dropcap]mante Franzoni, a contemporary of Claudio Monteverdi, worked as a composer and musician for the Gonzaga family in Mantua, and the present recording is a reconstruction of Vespers for the Feast of Santa Barbara, using Franzoni’s choral settings, instrumental inserts and relevant plainchant. The performers give a nod in the direction of Franzoni’s more illustrious contemporary by opening the proceedings with Monteverdi’s familiar setting of Domine ad adiuvandum featuring the famous Orfeo toccata. This invites a comparison between Franzoni’s music and Monteverdi’s, and throughout the service we are treated to music for cori spezzati, smaller groups and instruments which is certainly in the same league as Monteverdi. Given the fact that Franzoni spent his whole working life in the employ of the wealthy and demanding Gonzaga family, we should hardly be surprised at the high quality of his music, and it is perhaps a result of the prominence of Monteverdi that the likes of Franzoni have been overlooked. There is some lovely singing and playing on this CD, although occasionally a little more passion would have helped things on their way. Apart from the fact that the recording was made in 2010 in Mantua, we are given no details of the recording venue, and to my ears a little bit more resonance would have given Franzoni’s music more of an epic sound such as it would have had in Mantua’s Basilica of Santa Barbara where Franzoni worked. I know of at least one attempt to present Monteverdi’s Vespers music in the context of a service for Saint Barbara, and it is encouraging to see this Italian ensemble exploring the music of a relatively unknown master rather than just giving us yet another account of the Monteverdi.
[dropcap]F[/dropcap]asolo’s Annuale Opera Ottava is essentially a handbook for organists offering music appropriate for services throughout the year. The present CD offers liturgical reconstructions, ordinary and propers, for three types of mass: the Missa in Dominicis diebus, the Missa in duplicibus diebus and the Missa Beatae Mariae Virginis. Fasolo’s music, played by Luca Scandali on a characterful 1547 organ by Luca di Bernardino in the Chiesa di San Domenico in Cortona, alternates with appropriate chant sung by the Ensemble Bella Gerit. The main star of the CD is the venerable 16th-century organ, which offers an intriguing range of stops. It is imaginatively presented by Luca Scandali, who manages to entice the most gentle and almost strident sounds from the instrument. The chant is beautifully unanimous, and has the pleasant detachment of working clergy perhaps almost over-familiar with its phrases. The only slight fly in the ointment is the audible difference in background sound as we switch from organ solo to the voices and back again – clearly the two were recorded separately and edited together. Fasolo’s publication appeared in the wake of Frescobaldi’s much more famous Fiori Musicali of 1635, but in its subtle differences from it suggests that local liturgical traditions and musical practices were still very much respected. Rather than pick a publication like Frescobaldi’s off the shelves, at least some local organists decided to compile rival publications in imitation but reflecting their own specific talents and the traditions within which they operated.
Ruby Hughes soprano, Mime Yamahiro Brinkmann cello, Jonas Nordberg lute
71:28
BIS-2248 SACD
Music by Bennet, F. Caccini, Kapsberger, Piccinini, Purcell, Sessa, B. Strozzi, Vivaldi, Vizzana & anon
[dropcap]F[/dropcap]or all its apparent thematic interest, his CD is really a showcase for the vocal skills of Ruby Hughes, and these turn out to be considerable indeed. In these songs accompanied by lute and cello there is no place to hide, but Hughes’ impeccable technique and expressive imagination take us on a rewarding tour of this lovely repertoire. Her opening Purcell air from Bonduca ‘O, lead me to some peaceful gloom’ establishes the air of melancholy which will prevail, but also lays out Hughes’ credentials as she demonstrates a rich palette of vocal colours. These truly come into their own later in Hughes’ intense account of Dido’s Lament. Amongst the tragic heroines we also have fine music by 17th-century women composers Barbara Strozzi, Claudia Sessa, Lucrezzia Vizzana and Francesca Caccini, who – with the possible exception of Strozzi – have left distressingly limited evidence of their musical careers. I have highlighted Ruby Hughes’ lovely singing, but the instrumentalists both accompany her impeccably as well as contributing fine instrumental interludes of their own. These include engaging accounts of movements from Vivaldi’s G minor Cello Sonata and a wonderful Toccata Arpeggiata by Giovanni Kapsberger and a Ciaccona by Alessandro Piccini both for solo theorbo. The CD ends appropriately with a riveting account of the anonymous ‘O death, rock me asleep’, the words of which are attributed to the tragic Anne Boleyn.
Coro Claudio Monteverdi di Crema, La Pifarescha, Bruno Gini
62:32
Dynamic CDS7782
Any major recording of church music by Francesco Cavalli is of interest. In spite of several fine recordings over the past twenty years (including a lovely 1997 account by Seicento and the Parley of Instruments on Hyperion of his Messa Concertata CDA 66970), this key figure in musical history remains under-recorded, and the present performance of music for voices and instruments from two of his major collections makes a valuable contribution. On the positive side, the large vocal and instrumental forces and the opulent acoustic produce a very grand impression, and the episodes for the full forces are extremely impressive. We also have the nowadays obligatory cornetto fireworks. Things are less happy when things thin out and the spotlight falls on solo voices. Here there is some stabbing wildly at notes, and in chant episodes there are signs of nerves as voices don’t quite do what the singers intended. These moments are uncomfortable, but the authority of the massed passages more than makes up for them, as does the interest of hearing such generous helpings of Cavalli’s neglected church music.
Linde Brunmayr-Tutz transverse flute, Lars Ulrik Mortensen harpsichord
58:19
fra bernardo fb 1611782
Music by C. P. E. Bach, F. Benda, Kirnberger & Quantz
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is a beautiful CD of 18th-century music for flute and harpsichord by some of its finest exponents, many of them associated with the Prussian court of the celebrated royal flautist Frederick II. The enormous popularity of the transverse flute around the middle of the century along with the related triumph of ‘Empfindsamkeit’ as a general approach to music-making meant that some of the finest composers of the age devoted themselves to composing flute music, and one of them even wrote the definitive guide on how to play it. Johann Joachim Quantz is represented here by a fine sonata and an intriguing Adagio from his ‘Method’, which the performers present according to the recommendations contained in the method. The initial ‘flicks’ to important notes are reminiscent of traditional flute playing and remind us that a close look at historical playing tutors always bears interesting fruit. The music on this CD is of uniformly superb standard as is the playing of the two musicians. Flautist Professor Linde Brunmayr-Tutz is well known from her exemplary playing in a number of prominent period instrument ensembles, and her prominent suffix acknowledges her marriage to Rudolph Tutz who, alongside Rod Cameron, is one of today’s finest makers of Baroque flutes, and indeed made the flute his wife uses in this recital.
Klopstock settings by Telemann & J. H. Rolle
Antje Rux, Susanne Langner, Tobias Hunger, Ingolf Seidel SATB, Leipziger Concert, directed by Siegfried Pank
68:04
Raumklang RK3502
Telemann: Komm Geist des Herrn, extracts from Der Messias
Rolle: David und Jonathan
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]here’s some cutting edge stuff here from both literary and musical aspects. In this context what is particularly extraordinary is that the radical Telemann works on the CD date from his final years, when, nearing 80, the composer was still seeking new forms of expression employing modern texts. The Whitson cantata Komm, Geist des Herrn dates from 1759, in which year it was given in the five main churches of Hamburg. It is laid out in familiar form, with alternating da capo arias, both plain and accompanied recitative, and chorales. What was controversial was the use in the chorales not of Luther’s much-loved hymn ‘Komm, heiliger Geist’ but a parody by the young upcoming poet Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock, a substitution that caused outrage among the more conservative of Hamburg’s ecclesiastics.
Today the doctrinal issues are of course unlikely to detain us long. More importantly the work is revealed as Telemann at his most mature and inspired. Scored for four voices with a resplendent accompaniment consisting of three trumpets, timpani and two oboes in addition to strings and continuo, the joyous opening bass aria employs full scoring, while following the first chorale a splendid extended accompagnato for tenor relates the dramatic events of Pentecost. Here Telemann’s response to the colourful text takes full advantage of the mimetic possibilities offered. There is also a delightful soprano aria, full of grace and playful leaps, rejoicing in the bounties bestowed by God. The final numbers, a duet for alto and tenor, and a chorale admit to a mood of greater ambiguity both texturally and in brief hints of the minor mode. The performance of this irresistible work is outstanding with excellent solo work from all four soloists, who also produce fine ensemble work in the chorales.
The other Klopstock setting by Telemann is of two extracts from the epic poem Der Messias, a huge undertaking on which the poet was occupied between 1748 and 1773 and which ultimately ran to 20 cantos. In the late 1750s Telemann set extracts from three cantos, one now lost. The other two recorded here are culled from cantos 1 and 10, the first a highly subjective reflection and contemplation on the Crucifixion, the second a song of lamentation for the crucified Christ by the Old Testament singers Miriam and Deborah, a setting that would become extremely popular in the latter half of the 18th century. Der Messias was highly controversial in its day, in part to due to its very personal sensitivities, in part for its unusual use of hexameters, a form that makes it a problem for composers to set in the customary division of recitative and aria. Telemann’s answer, following Klopstock’s own desire for greater naturalism, was to set the text as a near continuous succession of accompanied recitative and arioso divided between four soloists, the narrative broken only by an occasional short orchestral interlude. His desire to echo the qualities of Empfindsamkeit inherent in the text led to him littering the score with expressive instructions, ‘with pathos’, ‘defiantly’, ‘magnificently’ and so forth. While both extracts are of exceptional musical interest and quality, it is not difficult to understand why ‘The Song of Miriam’ (as it became known) attained such a special place, the poetry’s pathetic lyricism and powerful rhetoric underscored by Telemann’s sensitive and vivid response. Moments such as the upsurge of orchestral violence at the promise of retribution awaiting Jerusalem are quite unforgettable. Again both singing and orchestral playing are exceptional, with Antje Rux and Susanne Langner intensely sympathetic in ‘The Song of Miriam’.
The Magdeburg organist Johann Heinrich Rolle (1716-1785) had his eye on becoming Telemann’s successor at Hamburg, but lost out to C. P. E. Bach (by one vote!). His setting of David und Jonathan takes an episode from Klopstock’s tragedy Salamo (1764). It consists of a dialogue between David and his slain friend Jonathan, the son of King Saul. Rolle clearly seems to have had Telemann’s Messias in his mind, setting the piece for tenor and soprano soloist in similar declamatory style. If it is less striking and imaginative than its model that says more about Telemann than it is intended as criticism of Rolle.
This is a disc of high musical quality, both as to works involved, the performances and the excellent sound. It is a pity therefore that it is marred by the lack of an English translation of the German texts, which are here of unusual interest. There is however an excellent introduction in English. It’s perhaps worth noting that the Telemann works are available in fine if slightly less persuasive versions by Ludger Rémy (cpo 777 064-2 & cpo 999 847-2), where you will get translations.
Raquel Andueza soprano, Xavier Sabata countertenor, La Galania
67:31
Anima Corpo AEC 006
Duets & Arias from La Calisto, Elena, L’Egisto, Eliogabalo, ’Erismena, Giasone, Gli amori d’Apollo di Dafne, LL’Ormindo, Pompeo magno & La Rosinda
[dropcap]R[/dropcap]ecitals devoted to extracts from Cavalli operas are comparative rarities, and I can call only one other recent example to mind, a Glossa CD with La Venexiana. It is significant and a measure of the rich diversity to be found in Cavalli’s substantial body of operas – there are 33 – that there is no overlapping of repertoire with this new disc featuring Spanish artists. However, as we will see, there are similarities between the two in other respects.
As anyone who has seen any Cavalli opera knows full well, whatever the background story they are dominated by one topic – love, ‘miracolo d’amore’. Or perhaps we might more pithily say, sex, exploited by Venetian 17th-century opera in general and by Cavalli in particular with an unashamed abandon that it would take the 20th century to emulate, but then usually in a far less subtle manner. So among these duets and arias we find love with all disparate variants: lustful desire (‘O mio cor’ from act 1 of Giasone, 1649), the lament for lost love (‘Misero, così va’, set over a ground bass, from the violent and never-performed Eliogabalo, 1667), playful love (‘Amante, sperate’ from L’Egisto, 1643) and so forth. The lion’s share of extracts are taken from Giasone, rightly described by Lorenzo Bianconi in his notes for the complete Jacobs recording as ‘the most highly acclaimed, the most reviled opera of the Italian 17th century’, the most acclaimed because it was revived more often than any other Italian opera, the most reviled because it was a serious mythological story treated, as some literary scholars saw it, in a flippant manner. Long after Cavalli’s death it would be used as a big stick to change the entire course of Italian opera. But that’s another story. Here there are four extracts devoted to the love between Medea and Jason, though Giasone’s ‘Delizie, contenti’ (act 1) is addressed to the joys of love generally rather than the mother of his twins, whose identity at that point in the opera remains unknown to him.
One reason recitals of extracts from Cavalli’s operas are infrequent is that they are far more context-specific in ways that later opera seria is not (think ‘simile aria’). This, too, is an era when words still dominated the music – prima le parole, doppia la musica – and while Cavalli was a wonderful melodist, as is readily apparent here in the irresistible ‘Dolcissimi baci’ from La Calisto, 1651), this is essentially music for actor-singers. In this respect soprano Raquel Andueza is here the superior. She starts with the advantage of a lovely voice that in more intimate, sensual moments takes on that slightly darkened, husky timbre that seems unique to Spanish sopranos. You need hear only the way she sings the words ‘baciata o baciante’ (kissed or kissing) from Medea’s ‘Se dardo pungente’, for example, to be utterly seduced by Andueza. Unfortunately there is a downside and it’s a serious one in that she seems totally oblivious of the need to add any ornamentation. Given that a number of these pieces are in strophic form, it seems extraordinary that neither she nor anyone connected with the recording found it incongruous that she was happy to repeat each verse with no variant. In this respect the countertenor Xavier Sabata is superior, as is amply demonstrated by the final line of ‘Or che l’aurora’, very stylishly ornamented by Sabata, but ignored by Andueza when her turn comes. Indeed Sabata’s singing is beautifully controlled throughout, but as already indicated there’s a fly in the ointment with him too, his vocal acting and concern for text (or lack of it) leaving something to be desired.
The accompaniments are on the right scale, with two violins and violone plus a continuo group including archlute, theorbo and, anachronistically, double harp, though surprisingly there is no harpsichord, where one would expect two. The playing is good, though the violin playing belongs to the 18th rather than the 17th century. Curiously I’ve found all the reservations about the present CD correspond exactly to those on the disc mentioned above, where the soprano was Giulia Semenzato and the countertenor the excellent Raffaele Pe. A further black mark for the texts in the booklet, published over photographs that at times render them virtually illegible. Ultimately, then, both CDs provide satisfying collections that with greater care taken over stylistic matters might have been more highly recommendable.
James Gilchrist Evangelista, Stephan Loges Jesus, Hannah Morrison, Zoë Brookshaw, Charlotte Ashley, Reginald Mobley, Eleanor Minney, Hugo Hymas, Ashley Riches, Alex Ashworth, Jonathan Sells SSSASTBBB, Monteverdi Choir, English Baroque Soloists, Trinity Boys Choir, Sir John Eliot Gardiner
161:04 (2 CDs in a hard-covered booklet)
SDG725
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his recording was made at a live performance in the Duomo at Pisa last September, at which I happened to be present, and has been splendidly edited. Gardiner was saying to his musicians that this was going to be his last ever St Matthew, and certainly this was the last performance of a whole series that they had given over the previous months. In some ways this is vintage Gardiner; there are two choirs of 6.3.3.3 – so 30 singers plus the cantus firmus from the Trinity Boys Choir and bands with 3.3.2.2.1 strings – but what makes it such a good performance is that all the singers sang off copy, so the absolute unanimity of the words projected into the space is telling, as was the hieratic way that singers from the different cori moved into position to sing with the different instrumental ensembles.
Apart from the peerless James Gilchrist and the commanding Stephan Loges, all other solo roles were sung by members of the choir, revealing what a talented group of singers Gardiner commands. Among the six sopranos, Hannah Morrison is outstanding for her liquid, floating tone, and Eleanor Minney sings one of the best performances of Erbarme dich I have heard. The clear-voiced tenor of Hugo Hymas seems effortless in the high tessitura of his arias, and Gardiner can choose a more bass bass (Alex Ashworth) for Gebt mir while giving Gerne will ich mich and Komm, süßes Kreuz to the lighter-voiced Ashley Riches, reserving the dark-toned Jonathan Sells for Judas and Am Abend and Mache dich. Singers like this are much better than the old ‘soloists’ at getting inside the music, and understanding the instruments with which they are singing, and Gardiner at least has this right in not dividing his ‘soloists’ from his choir: in Bach, the soloists are the choir, boosted by groups of ripienists, and this unanimity of choral and solo sound make this Matthew especially well integrated.
In a performance like this, in a substantial space, it would be churlish to criticise such a coherent presentation for what it doesn’t claim to be, but I missed hearing the bass voice in coro I who has sung the part of Jesus also singing Komm, süßes Kreuz, and wonder about the constant criss-crossing of singers to sing with the other band that disregards Bach’s division between the cori.
In his notes – substantially drawn from his 2013 book, Music in the Castle of Heaven – Gardiner writes interestingly on Bach’s purpose, drawing on the deeply felt Lutheranism he brought to his writing, and how he sought to convey the drama by gathering his hearers into the sound-world of the liturgical event rather than performing at them, as if in an opera house. In modern performances with large forces, where the audience do not have the chorale melodies in their bones, it is difficult to recapture the electric atmosphere of such a liturgical event. But if you want a large-scale performance that avoids the monumental ‘oratorio-style’ of the past while giving due weight to the music, this would be a good choice.
In over-all terms, this is the best of Gardiner’s Matthew Passions. The balance between voices and instruments, not always perfect in that big acoustic in the flesh, has been beautifully captured by the recording editor. The tempi are ideal, with no racing through ‘just because we can’. This is a strong and mature performance, and – should it indeed be the last – will be a fine testimony to Gardiner’s style and intentions in the Matthew Passion.
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hese sonatas for violin and continuo were the composer’s first published set, dedicated to Prince Johann Ernst of Saxe-Weimar, known to music history as a composer (Bach arranged his music for keyboard) who died, aged only 18, in the same year (1715).
Valerio Losito believes that each of the six sonatas reflects a different aspect of the prince’s character, as listed in the dedication, and this informs his performances of the music. His renditions are certainly lively, and Del Sordo’s accompaniments are similarly committed, but I wonder if the microphones were simply too close to the violin, since some of the bow strokes are overly edgy; rarely are both notes at either ends of wide leaps equally audible (even allowing for one being stronger than the other as part of an interpretation); sometimes the accompaniment clouds the solo line (the end of track 7 is a case in point). It is very impressive how the harpsichord fills the accompaniment role (and how odd his absence seems in track 9, as if the violinist has gone off on a folk turn…) There are a few nice ideas here (from the performers, as well as the composer) but I found the whole experience hard work (and the over-emphasized low notes in track 10 tedious…) Dare I suggest the performers have over-interpreted at the music’s expense?
[dropcap[]I[/dropcap] had known the Belgium-based group Vox Luminis as a very carefully balanced small choral group who specialised primarily in the repertoire of the seventeenth century. And now, following CDs of Schütz and Scheidt, the older Bachs, Fux, Kerll and Scarlatti, they are tackling Bach Cantatas. This CD is of four early cantatas with a gradated increase in scoring from the two recorders and viola da gambas of BWV 106, with four single voices and organ, through to the more recognisably ‘Italian’ style of BWV 12, with its distinct choruses, recitatives and arias that uses a full complement of strings with two viola parts, and has not only an oboe and bassoon, but a trumpet as well. With a more substantial score goes an increase in the number of singers from four in 106 to eight in parts of 150, and divided into solo and tutti very sensitively and effectively in 131 and using that full complement again in the distinct opening chorus and concluding chorale of 12.
With the increase in vocal scoring goes a fuller registration on the quite substantial organ, built for the church in Bornem in Belgium (where the recording took place in 2013) by Dominique Thomas after the style of Gottfried Silbermann. The organ continuo is based on a Principal chorus rather than a stopped flute, and this gives a clarity and firmness to the bass line. In 106 no 8’ string bass is employed, let alone a 16’. If a 16’ was used by Bach in the pre-Leipzig cantatas, I suspect it was most likely supplied by the organ, as here – rather sparingly but effectively – in the closing bars of 131, for example. The sound of the final chorale in 12, Was Gott tut, das ist wohlgetan, where the descant line is entrusted to the slide trumpet and the first violin and a full chorus to mixture with a 16’ pedal are employed on the organ provides a thrilling climax to the recording. This organ is a fine instrument by an excellent builder (I have played a number of his instruments and rate him highly) and plays at 440 rather than the 460+ of the Chorton in Weimar, so there are some complexities in matching wind instruments to the pitch of the organ and strings. For example, the recorders of 106 must be playing in F on A=392hz instruments, and the oboe and bassoon in 131 must play in A at 392 as well. But how does the bassoon play so beautifully in 150? Bach wrote the fagotto part in D, but the strings play in B at 440; does the bassoonist play a 415 French-style instrument in C – it certainly sounds a fine bottom B! And what do they do in 12? There is no information on the instruments and pitches other than the (full) documentation of the organ, and liner-notes really should give us these basic and important – to practitioners – details. There are full texts and French and English translations, and the essay by Gilles Cantagrel, like for the A Nocte Temporis CD reviewed in December, is engaging for its insights on the interplay between theology, musicology and performance practice.
But it is the firm, robust and yet flexible sound of the singers, especially when singing together, that characterises these performances. For once, singers are approaching Bach cantatas with a sense of understanding where they have come from, what is the hinterland behind the cantatas and the performance style required. Often we hear Bach cantatas performed by singers who have reached back behind their 21st-century formation as singers and have more or less learned to discard some of their singing teachers’ conception of what solo singers ought to sound like. When this happens, the results are more or less successful as singers try to make a living and adapt to singing in a historically informed way as well as doing what most conductors still expect of a ‘soloist’. I valued the fine recordings of these early cantatas by the Purcell Quartet with Emma Kirkby, Michael Chance, Charles Daniels and Peter Harvey greatly when they came out in the early 2000s, but that was still a coro made up of four distinct ‘solo’ voices, that has remained the one-to-a-part standard in this country.
But Vox Luminis have approached these early Bach cantatas from the style of ensemble singing they have created for Bach’s 17th-century predecessors. This means that the ensemble sound, like that of the organ, is robust, but open voiced rather than ‘produced’. Not everyone will like it, but (to me) it offers an unrivalled blend and clarity. You can get a glimpse of how it is achieved on the useful Youtube video that Lionel Meunier has produced to accompany this venture.
This style of intimate attention to each others voice production as well as to the phrasing and diction is well illustrated, and makes for a style of music-making that has more in common with a viol consort playing to each other.
Some of the individual singers offer moments of great insight too: Vox Luminis have drawn in Reinoud van Mechelen, the singer/director of A Nocte Temporis (CD Alpha 252, reviewed in December) to sing with them in 131 and 12, and that sets a new standard for Vox Luminis’ solo contributions, which are always musical, clear as a bell and beautifully phrased. I particularly like the alto as well, Daniel Elgersma, who has the particularly strong lower notes of a true haute-contre, which you rarely get with an English cathedral-style male alto. For me, as so often the only vocal query I have is with the soprano line. Excellent though the singers of Vox Luminis are, they do not have quite the edge of boy trebles like Leopold Lampelsdorfer singing in Eichorn’s Weihnachtsoratorium I – III (VKJK 1238) or Jonty Ward in Higginbottom’s Mozart Requiem (NCR 1383), for example.
You can tell that in spite of the lack of some basic information in the liner notes, I rate the approach of Vox Luminis both vocally and instrumentally highly. This is great music-making, and the ease with which the sensible tempi changes are managed without any overt conducting as well as the cohesion and coherence of the style that make the texts the focus of the performances sets a new benchmark in the way we are learning to approach Bach Cantatas.
