Cappella Musicale S. Maria in Campitelli, Studio di Musica Antica “Antonio Il Verso”, Vincenzo Di Betta
75:33
Tactus TC 601503
[dropcap]A[/dropcap] new composer for me, Bonaventura Rubino (1600-1668) was master of music at Palermo Cathedral from 1645 until his death. His Messa di Morti a 5 concertata was published as part of his Opera Quarta in Palermo in 1653. The music is as it says on the box – substantial late renaissance polyphony alternates with a kaleidoscopic array of affecting solos, duos and trios; try the extended and attractive Dies Irae for a good taster:
The recording has been carefully prepared to reproduce the structure of a solemn Requiem mass, using three celebrants for the chant and interspersing organ and instrumental music at appropriate points in the service. The performance is generally enjoyable. Although comparatively large, the choir sounds focused and well blended. The soloists are good, and the instrumentalists, as well as providing excellent doubling for the choir, shine in the sinfonias. I particularly relished the delectable sound of the 1635 chamber organ. Occasionally, especially in the full sections, the music sounds a little rhythmically over emphasised, but this does not detract unduly from one’s overall pleasure in this important addition to the recorded repertoire.
James Gilchrist Evangelista, Matthew Rose Jesus, Ashley Riches Pilatus, Elizabeth Watts, Sarah Connolly, Thomas Hobbs, Christopher Maltman SATB, Choir of the AAM, Academy of Ancient Music, Richard Egarr
AAM Recordings AAM004
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he Academy of Ancient Music with Richard Egarr have also released a 1727 Matthew Passion, which in many ways is very different from Peter Seymour’s Yorkshire Bach Soloists. Here the current orthodoxy of eight voices is set aside in favour of two choruses of ten voices each and four distinctly soloistic soloists, who, together with three ‘character parts’ – Evangelist, Jesus and Pilate – never sing with the chori. This means that the chorus numbers – especially the turba choruses can be, and are, sung extremely fast and cleanly – there’s no trace of a wobble here. Only once did I find myself really querying the elasticity of their fluent tempi changes, and that was in “Andern hat er geholfen” – the turba chorus that taunts Jesus on the cross. But sometimes they outpace even the admirable and mellifluous Evangelist, James Gilchrist, who sings to the accompaniment of a fairly full continuo section. In the surviving score of the early version, copied by Altnickol’s pupil c.1755, the one bass section serves as a joint bass line for both orchestras. Richard Egarr clearly plays the rather mellow harpsichord with the Evangelist, but why is there another one? Two harpsichords to one organ seems an odd balance.
Chorales are also brisk; not merely unsentimental, but fast and direct. In the opening chorus, at a rhythmic, swinging pace, the chorale is played (correctly) on the organ alone, (like the chorale in Cantata 161: Weimar 1716, where the Sesquialtera is also called for) although the Klop organ which boasts an 8’ wooden principal doesn’t run to the specified Sesquialtera – a pity, as some of Klop’s do: and the tempo hots up for the sharp staccato exchange between the choirs – a foretaste of things to come. The variations in tempo indicated in this early score for “O Schmerz” for example – un poco allegro for the choir II chorale – are exploited to the full, and indeed the playing is so assured and confident that there can be a good deal of rubato in the movements – beautifully done by the flute, Rachel Beckett, in “Aus Liebe” for example. This confidence and rhythmic fluency – evident in the soloists (for that’s what they are) too – is the hallmark of this recording. Sarah Connolly stretches many phrases in “Erbame dich”, and the solo violins in each band are accompanied by the string of the opposite group: an indication of single strings originally perhaps?
For me, the weakest voice is Matthew Rose, the bass who sings Jesus. His voice is much plummier than the others, and he makes Jesus sound rather portly and elderly. The tenor Thomas Hobbs is wonderfully clean by comparison and Christopher Maltman sings beautifully in “Komm süßes Kreuz” with the lute and just the organ in this early version, evoking the domestic side of Lutheran piety to perfection.
So there is much to commend this beautifully crafted performance: only in her last phrase did I find Elizabeth Watts’ wobble on the sublime “Tausend Dank” unbearable. But it was clearly all very much meant and even if this isn’t my favourite version there can’t be enough takes – especially now that the 1727 material is readily available – of the Great Passion.
For those who would like an early version Matthew, there is a choice between these two versions. The AAM one is more polished, and a lot faster. The YBS is less hurried, and has a far finer Jesus; its soloists are the singers of the chori, so in many ways it is more ‘proper’, and it is on 2CDs in a standard package. But the slicker and glossier presentation – even if the scholarly evidence is less to the fore: why can’t all directors and writers of liner notes quote their sources, and give us helpful references to the instruments being used (as is done on the AAM set) and on the temperament chosen for the keyboards? – may win friends for the AAM. I would listen to both, and find a pair of contracting performances like these unusually instructive.
I should add, so that it is clear where my own preferences lie, that neither of these displace Paul McCreesh’s Gabrieli Consort recording from 2003 (though it is of course the later version) made with the splendid organs in the cathedral at Roskilde at the top of my list of Matthew Passions.
Bertrand Cuiller harpsichord
151′ (2 CDs)
Mirare MIR266 Premier livre (1706), Pièces de Clavessin (1724), Nouvelles Suites (1726-27), extracts from “Pièces de clavecin en concerts”
[dropcap]I[/dropcap] must say I find quite extraordinary the note’s suggestion that Rameau’s solo harpsichord pieces are ‘somewhat neglected’, especially after this last year. Be that as it may, Bertrand Cuiller here sets about rectifying any such neglect with a will and no little vigour. He’s also not afraid to go out on a bit of an interpretative limb, though from time in the slighter and slower pieces I did feel that the flexible pulse was losing touch with its base and the famous Gavotte is anything but dance-like, though the ensuing variations build to a rousing climax. Overall the greatest strength is that every track does sound like a performance with a touch of spontaneity even if this is at the expense of the occasional minor imperfection. The resources of the (modern) instrument are sensibly deployed and its sound is very well captured. The tuner/technician might have done a better job however. Some tuning ‘moments’ are not the temperament and not every note always damps cleanly. So Christophe Rousset remains the king of this repertoire, though this release is certainly worthy of a place on the same shelf. Whoever typed and/or passed as fit for publication the track list in the booklet should be sacked.
Nicholas Phan tenor, Michael Leopold lute, Ann Marie Morgan viola da gamba
69:39
Avie Records AV 2325
Music by Blow, Dowland, Alfonso Ferrabosco, Lanier & Henry Purcell
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he young American tenor Nicholas Phan has rightly attracted praise for his performances of Britten, with whose music he identifies. It is very noticeable that he has welcomed on board many elements of Pears’ style, notably the latter’s use (particularly in his later years) of acciaccatura – launching up to a higher note from the lower one, like a mini trampoline in front of a vaulting horse. This is a technique which most singers approaching Early Music rejected outright way back in the 1980s, mercifully. This might serve Britten well, and one could even describe it as ‘authentic’, since it is based upon a reliable source or two (Pears, and later Robert Tear – likewise no stranger to the trampoline), but when performing music of the 17th century, we have definitely moved on nowadays. This is a great shame – Phan is clearly a singer to watch, but not in this repertoire, sadly. Inspired by Pears’ love of English lute song, as performed with Julian Bream, Phan tackles many of ‘the usual suspects’, arranging them into a faux-cycle to create a narrative of love and rejection inviting comparison with ‘Die Schöne Müllerin’ (he suggests), which is as good a way to present a programme as anything, but his style of singing scuppers enjoyment. Unfortunately, Phan has failed to learn from Pears’ subtle ‘less is more’ adjustment of his unique voice to form a close balance with the lute, and some tender songs here seem over-projected, Britten-esque style, as if he is imagining he is on the beach at Aldeburgh, with a gale blowing behind. Some songs (such as Purcell’s ‘Evening Hymn’) with its long phrases feature some very dubious choices of where to take breaths – indeed, in that song, he appears so out of breath at the end of the final Hallelujah, he almost beats the lute and viol to arrival at the last note! Sometimes he will remember he should be emphasising words, in best Bostridge fashion, so the occasional one is promoted over its companions, but not always the best one in the sentence ‘And he whose words his passions Rr-right can tell’, with the ‘R’ on ‘right’ rolled like a sudden drum roll, making that one (not particularly important) word made to protrude from the phrase like a sore thumb. He does something similar in Purcell’s ‘O Solitude’, at ‘when their Harr-rd, their hard fate’, a phrase that he feels needs to stand out, for some reason, so although he precedes it with softer, gentle singing, he then belts that particular phrase, forte, like Grimes railing against Fate.
Throughout the disc he cannot seem to reconcile both ideas – emphatic and gentler singing. Like Bob Tear of blessed memory, Phan also strains and projects higher phrases by the trusty expedient of singing louder as the music ranges higher – often with a similarly slightly strangled tone! Purcell’s ‘Sweeter than roses’ taxes him, and his breathing to breaking point. Call me old-fashioned, but if you can’t sing the whole of Purcell’s phrase setting the word ‘victorious’ in one breath, you really should be re-thinking how to perform these songs. Then, at other times, he contradicts my moans by turning in a near perfect performance of, for example, Dowland’s ‘My thoughts are winged with hopes’. I said ‘near – he still belts the highest phrases! But Blow’s ‘Of all the torments’ is all over the place – he seems to think he is Loge in Rheingold. The editions he is using have some oddities, unfortunately. In ‘O Solitude’ the word is ‘Apollo’s lore’, for example, not Apollo’s love. Likewise, Dowland wrote ‘Better a thousand times to die, than for to live thus…, not ‘then for to live’, which makes no sense. I don’t enjoy writing so many negative remarks about such a promising young singer who is clearly trying so hard to create something really beautiful and special, but he really needs to acquire some Early Music Technique like the rest of us had to – you really can’t just ‘wing it’ in everything from Monteverdi to Wagner today, like Bob Tear got away with, no matter how suitable your voice may be for other material. I hope he re-thinks how to approach this earlier repertoire, and seeks proper advice, because I want to hear him do better.
David Hill
Since we only received a preview copy of the disc, David felt unable to comment on the booklet note or the packaging.
Marie-Claude Chappuis Anima, Johannes Weisser Corpo, Gyula Orendt Tempo/Consiglio, Mark Milhofer Intelleto/ Piacere, Marcos Fink Mondo/Secondo Compagno di Piacere/Anima dannata, Staatsopernchor Berlin, Concerto Vocale, Akademie für Alte Musik Berlin, René Jacobs
82:52
Harmonia Mundi HMC 902200.01 (2 CDs)
[dropcap]W[/dropcap]hat price progress in the early music world? This new version of Emilio de Cavalieri’s seminal sacred opera falls both as to concept and performance a million miles short of Andrew Parrott’s 1988 recording of the 1589 Florentine intermedi. That famous entertainment was, of course, organised by Cavalieri, who also contributed music to it. His opera (we’ll leave debates about whether it is or is not an opera to others; it’s accepted as such by New Grove Opera) followed eleven years later, beating Peri and Caccini by a matter of months to go down in history as the first opera. Although musically ground-breaking, dramatically Rappresentatione belongs to the age-old tradition of the morality play that engages dialogue between opposing viewpoints, in this case the thorny question of the conflict between earthly pleasure and spiritual elevation. By definition, the subject offers contrast that was richly exploited by Cavalieri.
But not, I think, as richly as René Jacobs would have us believe. His recording stems from a Berlin Staatsoper production given in 2012. The realization is unashamedly pitched to the requirements of a modern opera house, with a rich tapestry of colourful instrumental sound, including bowed string instruments accompanying the singers, who largely appear to be all-purpose opera singers with wide vibratos; that goes for the chorus, too. Harmonies are at times wildly anachronistic, reminding me of Raymond Leppard’s Monteverdi and Cavalli arrangements for Glyndebourne in the 60s. If you want an example listen to the Damned Souls chorus in act 3, thrice repeated and given a realization by Jacobs that Berlioz would have been happy to own to. Additionally, much of the singing is far too lyrical, arioso rather than the new recitativo style, and none of the singers seem to understand the function of gorgie. Now, there is no intrinsic problem with all of this but for the fact that, not for the first time with Jacobs, it is presented under a veneer of HIP, his notes at least implying a scholarly approach. I’m afraid I find that duplicitous and suggest that readers of EMR leave well alone.
Georg Philipp Telemann, Christoph Graupner, Johann Sebastian Bach
The Bach Players, dir Nicolette Moonen, Rachel Elliott S, Sally Bruce-Payne A, Simon Wall T, Matthew Brook B
132:11 (2 CDs)
Hyphen Press Music 008
Georg Philipp Telemann: Laß vom Bösen und tue Gutes TWV 1:1038, Wer sich rächet TWV 1: 1600, Overture in F sharp minor, TWV 55: fis 1
Christoph Graupner: Aus der Tiefen rufen wir GWV 1113/23a, Gott führt die seinen wunderbar GWV 1115/24, Ouverture in C minor GWV 413
J.S. Bach: Jesus nahm zu sich die Zwölfe BWV 22, Jesus schläft, was soll ich hoffen BWV 81
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he interesting idea behind these two CDs packaged together is to give us a snapshot of what three jobbing musicians were producing at a fairly pivotal moment in their careers. Two and four years older than Bach respectively, both Graupner and Telemann were schooled at Leipzig, outlived Bach and both produced far more that the Bach output that has survived. Telemann, C.P.E. Bach’s godfather, was Leipzig’s first choice in 1722 but didn’t want it, Graupner couldn’t be released from his post at Darmstadt, so they called Bach for interview. It is instructive to hear how ‘modern’ Graupner’s music already sounds at this stage – more melodic and ‘orchestral’ in a modern sense. Telemann has obviously been influenced by the Italian and French music to which he had been introduced. Beside them, Bach’s unusual scoring, free way of illuminating the texts both Biblical and poetic, shaping them with recitative, aria and duet as well as chorus all vary the texture and intrigue us. Bach’s theological creativity makes the others seem less imaginative about the text; they already have half a foot in a symphonic future where the general mood of a piece can be reflected, rather than each word or theological concept prized.
Each CD contains an instrumental piece – by Telemann on the first and by Graupner on the second. Otherwise the Telemann cantata on the first, probably written in 1719, was performed in the Thomaskirche in 1725, while those by Graupner and Bach were their audition pieces. The link between the three on the second CD is that they were all written for the Fourth Sunday after Epiphany in 1724 – three treatments of Jesus stilling the storm, the gospel for that day.
These two CDs – recorded a year apart – offer us a chance to stand back and question our settled assumptions about Bach’s magisterial primacy, but at the same time to reaffirm what a very distinctive and unique voice – as well as a somewhat old-fashioned one – he offers. The players in the Bach Players – one to a part strings, with a pair of oboes/recorders and a bassoon and a keyboard – cultivate a beautifully clean tone, which some of the singers match better than others. Simon Wall is the cleanest, and it is easiest for his kind of light tenor voice; but both Matthew Brook and Sally Bruce-Payne are equally convincing both when singing singly and as part of the vocal ensemble and suggest hidden depths. Rachel Elliott as always draws the short straw: it is so much more difficult for a soprano to match the clean and almost steely tone of the violins and still sound both interesting and musical: she does really well but has to work hard to give that clean clarity in the chorus passage work and a steady tone in the homophonic passages before switching to a more soloistic vocal style in her (rather few) arias. This is my only uncomfortable moment with these quality performances, and perhaps it is because Nicolette Moonen herself gives no quarter. I like it, but it is very hard to match vocally.
The recording is close – you can hear every bow stroke as it was played; and the balance between strings and wind, instruments and voices is beautifully judged. The photographs showing how they stood in live performances may not reflect how the recordings were achieved, but a group like this, performing cantatas as intimate chamber music, never has to force their sound. This is a huge advantage over large-scale performances directed ‘at’ rather than performed ‘among’ their listeners.
As always with this group’s production there is a minimalistic package, concealing a very well researched and intriguing essay by Hugh Wood with Stephen Pedder giving both the background to these auditions and a detailed analysis of the music. This is programme planning of a high order, and we are lucky to eavesdrop on their performances.
Tommaso Rossi, Ensemble Barocco di Napoli
58:54
Stradivarius STR 33969
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he Neapolitan composer Leonardo Leo (1694-1744) is best known for his sacred music and for operas both comic and serious, but seven sonatas for recorder and continuo by him survive in a manuscript from the collection of the Austrian Harrach family. One of its members, Aloys Thomas Raimund Harrach was Viceroy of Naples between 1728 and 1733, at a time when the recorder was still extremely popular there in spite of the rise in popularity of the transverse flute. This is the first recording of this attractive set of sonatas. They all have the same pattern of four movements, alternately slow and fast, but these tuneful pieces are never dull. Additional variety is given by the use of different instruments for the continuo of each sonata, archlute, cello, harpsichord and even bass recorder in different combinations. The booklet notes by Tommaso Rossi cram a great deal of information into a small space, and the occasional awkward translation and the lack of a clear distinction between the paragraphs make them a slightly difficult, though interesting, read.
Raffaella Milanesi S, G.A.P. Ensemble
74:10
Pan Classics PC 10324
Caldara: Risoluto son già tiranno amore Piani: Violin sonatas op1/1, 3, 9
A. Scarlatti: Appena chiudo gli occhi Vivaldi: Lungi dal vago volto
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he title of this recording is something of a marketing ploy – yes, Piani was one of the most highly paid musicians in Vienna but the violin sonatas on the disc were published in Paris before he was employed by the Habsburgs; Alessandro Scarlatti and Vivaldi’s connection was as composer to a particular residence, but how many times did they actually encounter the emperor? Caldara, of course, deserves his place on the programme though I am not sure what he would have made of this performance of one of his many cantatas… Giovanni Antonio Pieni (G.A.P., as in the ensemble’s name) published his op. 1 (a set of 12 violin sonatas) in 1712, nine years before he began almost 40 years of Viennese service. They build on the Corellian model but have not the stature of Locatelli, Veracini or even Geminiani. They are, however, all I can conscientiously recommend about this CD.
The problem is not the singer’s voice per se, but rather one of balance; the aggressive opening chords of the Caldara recitative and the “dramatic” interpretation that ensues from singer and continuo alike in my opinion distorts the music, pushing it to the very limits of good taste, especially with regards to tuning. In the arias, the single sweet-toned violin struggles to compete with the full-blooded operatic voice, and when the music has to slow down – not only for the entire “B” section, but also for some of the vocal coloratura – that really is too much; it was scarcely less uncomfortable, listening to the violinist’s efforts to draw not only more volume but also drama from his instrument.
Romina Lischka gamba, Sofie Vanden Eynde theorbo
72:28
Paraty 814129
Music by Marais, Ste. Colombe, de Visée
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is a marvellous disc. The pairing of theorbo and bass viol is a potent one, sometimes played separately (de Visée, Ste Colombe) sometimes together (Marais). Romina Lischke is a pupil of Paolo Pandolfo and Philippe Pierlot, and she clearly shares with them a very attractive impulsiveness, and a brilliant technique. She plays what I guess might be a copy of a Colichon (the booklet doesn’t tell us about the instruments) – it has a lovely, bright, pleasingly astringent top string, with a very sonorous middle register and a booming bass. The recording is made in a generous acoustic, but there is no issue of clarity. Both instruments are closely miked, and the result is a very atmospheric and intimate sound, which perfectly suits the music they have chosen.
They open with a suite of seven Marais dances, cherry-picked from all five books, in E minor or G major, and conclude with an eloquent rendering of Marais’ Tombeau pour Mr de Ste Colombe. This is followed by a suite in D made up of Preludes and dance movements, alternating Ste Colombe and de Visée for solo viol or solo lute. The final tracks feature three of Marais’ character pieces: Les Vois humaines, La Rêveuse, and Le Badinage – yes, the famous one in F sharp minor from the film.
It is very satisfying listening. I very much enjoyed the beautifully poised lute playing, both solo and accompanying, but my focus is on the music from the so-called Tournus Manuscript, of pieces for solo bass viol by Ste Colombe. I recently reviewed the edition of this manuscript published by Güntersberg, and I’ve found exploring the music fascinating and stimulating. As many players will know, it shares with the well-known duets many unmeasured bars, not just the notes perdues but fully written-out roulades. What makes them more interesting is that there are some quite detailed instructions for bowing, which all work out very well and are very informative. His music is quite unlike that of his pupils, or anyone else for that matter, and his melodies take unexpected turns. His harmonies are unorthodox, and clearly arise out of his improvisations, so wedded are they to the technique of the instrument. As the developer of the silver-wound bass strings he clearly loves the possibilities offered by the new clarity of the bass strings. He must have been a marvellous player, and he does require from a modern player a great deal of understanding and intuitive insight, as well as a brilliant technique. These performances abundantly fulfil all these requirements, and his music comes across as enormously appealing. One can discern the effect he must have had on his most distinguished pupil. De Visée’s music is more conventional, but no less compelling, and of course that of Marais is great. Open a good Bordeaux, light some candles, turn off the lights, and let the music cast its potent spell.
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his recording of the complete motets by eight singers, cello, double bass and organ continuo is one of the most moving discs I have encountered in a long time. Fabio Bonizzoni explains that the group spent a long time exploring not only the music but also its background and original setting – as part of a long German tradition of grave-side songs of consolation. Finding four pairs of equal voices that can combine seamlessly or split into two choirs as the music demands is not easy, but the results here are incredible; the texts are clearly enunciated, the phrases are beautifully shaped, and the tempi – and the spaces between movements – are spot on. There is room in the acoustic for the singers to use vibrato as an ornament, and there is, above all, a real sense of involvement in the ritual of a funeral. Definitely one of my favourite discs this month.
