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Recording

Le coucher du roi


thibault Roussel theorbo and director
Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS029
74:00 (CD) 59:00 (DVD)

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The conceit here is that, in the evening of both the day and his life, the aged Louis XIV has summoned his favourite musicians to play him his favourite music as part of the formalities surrounding his retiring for the night. So we have a lovely programme of (mainly) short pieces by the usual suspects: Lully and Lalande, of course, but also Lambert, de Visée, Marais and even that relatively youthful upstart, François Couperin. The instrumentation includes voices, flutes, strings and assorted pluckers in a wide variety of ensembles and solos, offering a rich panoply of sumptuous sounds – three bass viols, two viols with singer and theorbo etc., etc..Quite frankly, this ensemble can come and play to me at any old time of any day! The performances are unfailingly lovely and show great commitment to a repertoire that is still a mystery to many. Yes, I’ll probably have a growl about some questionably over-staffed continuo departments, but the growls will be quiet ones.

The DVD contains some of the repertoire from the CD but also additional pieces (fine chamber music by Hotteterre and Dornel, for instance), all filmed in various atmospheric locations within the Château de Versailles. And, in contrast to some concert DVDs I have seen, someone has actually thought about what it looks like! The singers have memorised their music and, even if they don’t fully act their scenes, they do at least inter-act with each other in a convincing quasi-dramatic way. However, when the final credits roll brace yourself! The accompanying music is not allowed to finish but is chopped off mid-phrase as soon as the text ends.

The 72-page booklet (in French, English and German) offers the usual performer biographies and essays on the music that place it informatively in its context though say little about its content. There is no list of the music on the DVD though there are captions as it plays.

Overall this is a very good package, though that DVD end should never have achieved publication. A shame.

David Hansell

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Recording

Royal Handel

Eva Zaïcik mezzo-soprano, Le Consort
64:59
Alpha Classics Alpha 662
+arias by Ariosti and Giovanni Bononcini

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Eva Zaïcik is a young French mezzo whose cv suggests she might have originally had ideas of becoming an early music specialist, but whose more recent work includes a debut as Carmen in Toulouse and appearances in Pique Dame and Eugene Onegin.  Having heard this CD my guess is that the latter type of repertoire is more likely to become mainstream for her. In full flow the voice is a richly opulent instrument, with a hint of edge to it in the middle register, which itself does not always sit in comfortable relationship with the soprano register. In Baroque repertoire Zaïcek’s voice is on this evidence at its most beguiling singing mezza voce, where the ear experiences a purity of tone and line not always apparent elsewhere. But in general terms neither her technique nor her approach to the mostly Handel arias on the present CD convince that she is truly at home with it. While there is an admirable flexibility and passaggi are in general well articulated, her approach to ornamentation is haphazard, cadences go unembellished and of course there is no hint of a trill. Not that Zaïcek is alone in that respect. As bad is her approach to text or more accurately non-approach. Contrary to the needs of these arias, the performances seem driven by the desire to make a beautiful, lustrous sound. Aria after aria passes with little attempt to explore its emotional core or meaningfully articulate its text.

In this respect, the singer is hardly aided by her choice of accompanists. Le Consort is one of those small French ensembles bearing no relationship to the size of an average 18th-century opera orchestra. It is also characteristic of so many ensembles today in that Le Concert appears to feel it necessary to play quick music very fast and slower numbers excessively slowly. Thus an aria such as ‘Rompo i lacci’ from Flavio is taken so fast as to render it virtually meaningless, despite some agile passagework from Zaïcek, while the funereal tempo and emasculated rhythm adopted for ‘Ombra cara’ (Radamisto) leaves the aria as little more than a glutinous, sentimental wallow.  There are two compensating factors. One is that mezza voce, where the lighter tonal palette can produce exquisite results, nowhere more so than the central section and da capo of ‘Deggio morire’ (Siroe), where criticism is silenced, the listener seduced into luxurious immersion in the sheer beauty of the moment. The other is the inclusion of first recordings of arias by two composers that along with Handel also contributed operas to the first Royal Academy in London (1719-28), the source of the CD’s title. Both Attilio Ariosti and Giovanni Bononcini scored significant successes in its early years and ‘Sagri numi’ from Ariosto’s Caio Marzio Coriolano (1723) is a ravishingly lovely discovery, though as with all the cantabile numbers it is sentimentalized and taken too deliberately.

If the response to this CD is perhaps a little harsh at times, it stems from the depressing regularity with which so many of today’s younger singers seemingly come to Baroque repertoire as a kind of warm-up for bigger, later parts. Such singers need to be taught to recognise that Baroque opera has its own demands that need to be met if they are going to do it more justice than simply winning cheap applause from mainstream critics and audiences.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Tormenti d’amore

Philipp Mathmann, Capella Jenensis, Gerd Amelung
82:13 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Querstand VKJK 2002
Music by Hasse, Porsile, Reutter the Younger & Scalabrini

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This set is centred around a collection of vocal music made by Prince Anton Ulrich of Saxe-Meinigen during the period he spent in Vienna, where he apparently arrived in 1724. Apparently, since the notes rather ambiguously tell us that the collection, consisting of nearly 300 vocal works, including over 170 chamber cantatas, were works from ‘Vienna’s musical scene composed between 1710 and 1740’. So the assumption would be that Anton Ulrich spent around 20 years of his life in Vienna. More importantly, many of the works in the Meinigen Archive are the sole surviving copy, including the best music in the programme, the two characteristically melodious and elegantly turned cantatas by Hasse. The cantata by Georg Reutter, the Court Composer of Vienna and Kapellmeister of St Stephen’s Cathedral who brought Haydn to Vienna, and the Neapolitan opera composer Giuseppe Porsile are less interesting, the former in particular also suffering from an excruciating anonymous text on the prevailing topic of the cantatas – tormenti d’amore, the torments of love.

In addition to the cantatas, the set includes two trio sonatas by Hasse and two sinfonias once surprisingly attributed to Hasse, but more recently established as the work of the Italian-born Paolo Scalabrini (1713-1803 or 6), the director of the travelling Mingotti opera company, who ended up as maestro di cappella in Copenhagen, where he composed at least eight operas, including several Danish-language works that helped establish native opera. They are pleasant enough routine Galant works in three brief movements but little more and assuredly not worthy of Hasse’s name being attached to them.

The programme itself is therefore not without interest, but sadly the performances rarely rise beyond the level of the efficient and in the case of the cantatas fail to reach that level.  Philipp Mathmann, confusingly described as a countertenor/soprano, is in fact a sopranist pure and simple. While the voice has an admirable purity and wide range, it is unfailingly hooty in its upper range, while also displaying deficient technique in several respects. Little ability to articulate a simple turn is shown, while more complex embellishment or ornamentation is rarely attempted. What truly compromises Mathmann’s performances, however, is his seeming lack of interest in the texts he is singing. None is a literary revelation but the whole object of the chamber cantata was to move the listener, evoking sentiment and emotion through expressive vocal gesture and realization of the words. Ignore that and you may as well be singing a vocalise, which is precisely the impression given here for much of the time.  

The instrumental contribution of Capella Jenensis is rather more enjoyable, though rhythms tend to plod in slower movements. The Hasse trio sonatas, in particular, are well played, with pleasing shaping of melodic lines from the two violinists and – in that in D, op. 2/2 – flautist. The programme, almost exactly the length possible today on a single CD, is extravagantly spread over two discs so it is to be hoped that some price concession is built in.

Brian Robins

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Recording

J S Bach: Little Books

Francesco Corti harpsichord
79:14
arcana A480
+Böhm, Couperin, Hasse, Kuhnau, Telemann

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This is a recital that introduces us to the idea of formation by learning under a teacher’s instruction – and also by copying out the music – pieces of that teacher’s choosing.  The “Little Books” of the title – Klavierbüchlein in German – are the books prepared by Johann Sebastian for his eldest son, Wilhelm Friedemann in 1720 and his second wife, Anna Magdalena in 1722 and 1725.

In these latter, we find the first sketches for what would later become the French Suites, while others come from the ‘Andreas Bach Book’ that originated with Johann Sebastian’s eldest brother and first teacher, Johann Christoph. Here we have some of Bach’s earliest keyboard compositions set alongside those he admired and copied for teaching purposes by other composers.

Francesco Corti, an experienced teacher as well as harpsichordist, plays a selection of these in his illuminating recital on a 1998 copy by Andrea Restelli of a Christian Vater harpsichord (Hannover 1738) now in the Germanisches Museum, Nürnberg. The introductory essay on music from the Bach family circle by Peter Wollny and Corti’s own piece, Copying the master’s gestures, are both in English, German and French, and each exudes thoughtful, undogmatic scholarship and sound musicianship.

Corti’s playing matches these aspirations. He is fluent without being showy and varies his style with the chosen music – indeed the whole production is an essay in how to teach by immersion in sources, sounds and sensual serendipity. Recorded in 2019 before the pandemic of this past year, this is the kind of production that is useful to have in lockdown as a teaching aid or refresher course, helping students re-examine the sources of their own technique and choices.

I recommend it for these reasons as well as for the innate musicality of Conti’s playing, which can be glimpsed live in his performance of the A major harpsichord concerto BWV 1055.

Here you can see Corti engaging with the other players in the only one of Bach’s early concertos that he transcribed for harpsichord – probably originally for oboe d’amore – to have a separate continuo part in addition to the solo instrument. This is teaching by immersion, and I commend Conti as a first-class teacher, as he is on this clip, teaching his master’s Suite in G major.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Telemann: 3 Overture Suites

L’Orfeo Barockorchester, Carin van Heerden
66:11
cpo 555 389-2
TWV 55: G1, G5 & B13

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Every once and a while, along comes a recording that fires on all cylinders with a special synergy and bubbling musical alchemy, matching the finest ideals of music-making, and presents the dazzling facets of a composer’s subtle, creative nuances and whims.

Here the players of L’Orfeo Barockorchester under Carin van Heerden deploy their boundless energy and polished musicality to great effect, creating some truly wonderful moments of euphonic transport. The well-honed Orchester navigate through Telemann’s many subtleties and scenic changes with seemingly effortless fluency.

The three fairly lengthy suites date from just before or during his time in Frankfurt, offering tremendous scope for the composer’s imaginative musical, operatic esprit. The Frankfurt connection may well be present in TWV55:G5’s “Les Augures” (oracles, portents? – note those shuddering winces! – possibly (bad?) financial omens at the Stockmarket, which stood next to Telemann’s home).  The delightful Rondeau(x) is an addictive Ohrwurm! Normally, a Gigue might close a suite, not here, carrying on until a delightful sweep of no fewer than *three* Menuets. The ravishing kaleidoscopic tour moves on with some arresting slower movements too: Plaintes (B13, G5).

The recorded sound here is just about perfect, every timbral shade is found and heard. Despite the claims, the TWV55:B13 (c1725?) is the only real premiere – G5 came on a slightly earlier Atma CD, and there is a recording of G1 possibly from late 80s?

A highlight of the premiered work, the tender and sprightly interplay of solo violin (Julia Huber-Warzecha), two oboes and tutti, is rather special and gives a very different opening. Placing the gigue in second place is unusuale! Special mention must go to the penultimate movement, given as “affectuoso e molto adagio” or as the oboe part has it: “Cantabile et Affectuoso” a truly captivating duet!

The opening suite (G1 of 1716-25?) opens with an attention-grabbing, curtains-up Overture, after which comes the exquisite quasi-Handelian Air: Document, which made me think, did he hear this and use it elsewhere? (Where’ere ye walk seems a likely candidate…) The other airs all feel like hidden arias or scenic mood music for the Leipzig stage.

All in all, this is a real tour de force, with added Italianate passages for a perfect musical assemblage. L’Orfeo Barockorchester is in excellent form. This is a must for all baroquophiles! Moments of wonder, wistfulness and elegiac tenderness wrapped in entrancing music. Probably my CD of 2020, heart on the sleeve, hand on the heart.

David Bellinger

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Recording

Schütz: Geistliche Chor-Music 1648

Ensemble Polyharmonique
57:20
Raumklang RK 3903

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Schütz’s Geistliche Chor-Music was produced in 1648, just as some semblance of order was restored to Germany at the end of the Thirty Years War. The 29 motets it contains are the summary of a work in progress, with more than a passing nod to the Italian examples in Schütz’s stated exploration of polyphonic writing, and with provision – not always necessary – for a basso continuo.

Listeners seeing Geistliche Chor-Music headlined and expecting the complete op. 11 will be disappointed. There are only 12 of the 29 numbers here, plus two works for duet combinations of voices (SWV 294 & 289) from Kleine geistliche Konzerte I and a trio (SWV 325) from Kleine geistliche Konzerte II, chosen to make the most of the ensemble’s line-up of SSATTB. Missing entirely is the final group of motets with larger combinations of parts, including instrumental lines, like the wonderful lament Auf dem Gebirge (SWV 396) for five trombones and two altos and the adaptation of Andrea Gabrieli’s Angelus ad pastores.

While this is understandable, it is a pity that the euphonious group Ensemble Polyharmonique should choose a selection from such a well-known and often-recorded work of Schütz to present their skills. The sopranos are a well-matched duo, even if not quite as clear of the inevitable tendency to colour their notes with modern vibrato as the steelier lower parts. The bass is a real basso, with a characteristically cavernous timbre and the middle parts well-suited for consort singing.

I quite like the sound, as well as admiring the skill and professionalism of the one-to-a-part ensemble. But after hearing the CD through a number of times, the performances were just a bit samey – I would have liked more tonal and expressive variety to justify a recording like this of part of a single opus, when there are many complete ones – like Rademann’s 2007 version in the complete Schütz project for Carus or Suzuki’s 1997 take using viols and with the Die Sieben Worte as a filler – continuing to claim attention.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Serenissima

A Musical Portrait of Venice around 1726
Perrine Devillers (soprano), The 1750 Project
76:13
Ramée RAM 1902
Music by Porpora, Giuseppe Sammartini, D. Scarlatti & Vivaldi

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Explanation for the unusual name of the ensemble comes in the opening lines of the notes, where its leader, oboist Benoît Laurent, tells us that the declared objective of The 1750 Project is an exploration of a chosen city’s musical life in the period 1720 to 1750. So here they have commenced by landing in Venice around 1726. This is a time chosen to mark a change of style moving toward the Rococo, a development that in Venice doubtless gained particular impetus from the arrival in the Adriatic city in 1726 of the Neapolitan Nicola Porpora. His Ariana e Teseo, given at the San Giovanni Grisostomo theatre in 1727, was the third of a sequence of operas composed for Venice. ‘Pietosa Ciel difendimi’ is typical of the composer’s gracious, mellifluous style, an expansive cantabile aria with an elaborate oboe obbligato part in which the character (Carilda) asks for relief from the doubts about love that afflict her. It is sung with affecting freshness and elegance of line by the young French soprano Perrine Devillers, who needs only to articulate both musical embellishments and the Italian language with more depth and acuteness to become a truly outstanding singer. Devillers also sings a Porpora chamber cantata with continuo accompaniment cast in the form of a pair of arias with a central recitative, in the latter of which some of the key phrases (‘Ahi! Lasso!’) do indeed hint that Devillers has more to bring out as to the dramatic side of her singing.

The principal representative of the home team is unsurprisingly Vivaldi, who gets the lion’s share of a programme that includes two of his chamber cantatas, an oboe concerto and one of the so-called ‘Manchester’  violin sonatas. Both cantatas, ‘All’omba di sospetta’, RV 687, which has an obbligato part for flute, and ‘Che giova il sospirar’, RV 679 are also extremely well sung, the latter in particular being a fine work with, unusually, accompaniment for strings. It opens with an extended recitative bemoaning the pain inflicted by ‘cruel Irene’ that again provides Devillers with the opportunity to suggest a dramatic side to her singing yet to be fully developed. The splendid aria that follows is inflected with chromatic pain, while the fiery final aria takes a more rhetorical approach.

Arguably the most complete performance on the CD is that of the Violin Sonata in A, RV 758, which is played with outstanding technique and beautifully nuanced tone by Jacek Kurzydlo. Cast in four movements, it opens with a siciliana Prelude, taken perhaps marginally too slowly for a largo, but shaped so beautifully and with such exquisite nuance as to silence criticism. The following Corrente, nimble and spry, benefits from outstanding intonation, while the Andante’s double stopping introduces that elusive, folky element we sometimes find in Vivaldi, perhaps a dance heard in a distant calle.

The remaining works are also excellently done, the Vivaldi ‘Oboe’ Concerto in D minor, being a transcription of the ninth of the op. 8 violin concertos (Il Cimento dell’armonia e dell’invenzione), while Domenico Scarlatti’s Sonata in E, K. 162 plays with the contrasts between a thoughtful Andante that leads into a bright Allegro, in so doing creating a near mirror image between the two halves of its binary structure. Finally, Giuseppe Sammartini’s Oboe Sonata in C not only gives Laurent a further opportunity to demonstrate his prowess but also offers another example of more forward-looking trends, the tentative hesitancy of its central Andante lento providing the sonata’s most characterful moments.

The disc as whole makes for an extremely agreeable and well-contrasted program. With its highly accomplished playing and singing, it is the kind of concert that would send you away more than well satisfied were you fortunate enough to encounter it live.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Vivaldi: Argippo

Emőke Baráth Argippo, Marie Lys Osira, Delphine Galou Zanaida, Marianna Pizzolato Silvero, Luigi De Donato Tisifaro, Europa Galante, Fabio Biondi
123:00 (2 CDs in a jewel case with separate booklet, all in a card case)
naive OP 7079

Naïve’s attention to the operatic repertoire in its complete Vivaldi Edition is certainly not skimping. Here, following closely on the heels of an outstanding Tamerlano (Verona, 1735), a review of which appeared recently on EMR, is another pasticcio. Until recently, Argippo was considered to be lost, one of several operas from the early 1730s known only from a libretto housed in the University Library in Prague, where it was first given at the Teatro Sporck in 1730. A libretto for a slightly varied version of the opera given in Vienna, possibly earlier the same year, is also extant. Then, in 2011, an anonymous manuscript that can be linked to the opera was discovered in Darmstadt and it is this, alongside a collection of arias associated with the Vienna version, which formed the basis for the publication of the critical edition of the opera recorded here. Cast in the usual three acts, Argippo is a dramma per musica containing nine arias that can be attributed to Vivaldi. In addition, there are arias by his Venetian contemporaries G B Pescetti (4), A Galeazzi (a composer unknown to Grove Opera or any other authority I’ve consulted), the Milanese composer Andrea Fiorè, whose own setting of Argippo (Milan, 1722) is the source of Osira’s act 3 ‘Vado a morire’, one of the finest moments in the opera, and the better-known names of Hasse, Porpora and Vinci, each represented by a single aria.

The libretto was the work of Domenico Lalli, the poet who enjoyed the company of the composer D’Astorga during their adventurous travels through Europe during the second decade of the century (see the recent EMR review of D’Astorga sonatas and cantatas). It had first been set as Il gran mogol by Francesco Mancini for Naples in 1713, its exotic, colourful location in India conforming with the taste for opera seria to be given settings far removed from everyday life. The book is not exactly a masterpiece. It concerns Zanaida, the much-loved daughter of the Great Mogul, Tisifaro. She is convinced that she was seduced by Argippo, a tributary king, who married her, but then went off to commit bigamy with another princess, Osira. The opera revolves around a visit to Tisifaro by Argippo and Osira, during which it is revealed that Zanaida’s seducer was not Argippo but Tisifaro’s cousin and counsellor Silvero, this however not before poor Osira has been sentenced to death for her husband’s former ‘crime’. In a conclusion that defies all credibility, Zanaida agrees to marry Silvero, the man whose lust for her caused everyone else great distress.

It goes without saying there is no local colour and indeed for much of the first two acts there is little colour of any kind. An exception can be made for two arias for Zanaida, the first in act 1, ‘Se lento ancora in fulmine’ an aria di furia by Vivaldi, sung with glittering precision and fervent intensity by Delphine Galou, while ‘Che gran pena’ (act 2), a graciously melodic aria by Hasse, articulates the princess’s extreme conflicts of emotion. There is little doubt the impression made by these arias owes much to the dramatic commitment of the singer, whose work with her husband Ottavio Dantone has enabled Galou to attain new levels of excellence. Moreover, her delivery of plain recitative also stands out significantly from that of her colleagues. Among them, the Osira of soprano Marie Lys is a mixed success, infinitely touching and expressive in successive arias at the climax of the drama in act 3, but prone to brittle, razor-sharp brilliance in her upper range elsewhere. But she can be forgiven much for the lovely trill at the final cadence of ‘Vado a morir’. In any event, the sometimes wildly extravagant da capo excursions into the stratosphere are not unique to her. I wonder when singers will learn that such lapses of taste invariably end in tears, for the listener at least. Notwithstanding most of the singing is well above average, with some expectedly lovely cantabile from Emőke Baráth’s wronged Argippo and noble bass tone from Luigi De Donato’s suitably regal Tisifaro.

Fabio Biondi’s direction is efficient, but to my ears not particularly inspiring. As so often with him, mannerisms can be irritating, particularly his encouragement of a continuo lutenist whose hyperactivity consistently distracts attention from the voice. The sound also lacks the immediacy of other recent issues in this series. Those collecting the series can be assured of another set well worthy of investigating, but the uncommitted may find it a less appealing proposition

Brian Robins

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Recording

Bach: 6 Partitas

Asako Ogawa harpsichord
150:31 (2 CDs in a card tryptych)
First Hand Records FHR92

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Asako Ogawa, an accomplished harpsichordist and accompanist, is based in the Guildhall, where her harpsichord teachers included Nicholas Parle (who produced this recording), James Johnstone and Laurence Cummings, with Steven Devine for fortepiano. As you may imagine with this pedigree, she plays elegantly on a harpsichord by Alan Gotto, 2009, after Jean Goermans/Pascal Taskin, 1764/1783, and writes her own intelligent liner notes on the Partitas and their place in Bach’s output. She recorded them in the Church of the Ascension, Plumstead this summer, so her calling card has been produced in time for pre-Christmas publicity.

I found her lyrical playing engaging from the start: the imitative writing in the opening Praeludium in the B-flat Partita is limpid and elegant on the upper 8’ and in this as in so many other movements you can sense the implied counterpoint. Her ornaments in the repeats are stylish and the choice of registration seems apt. It is certainly varied, and the contrast between the buff stop on the main 8’ she uses for the Minuet I in this Partita and the slightly thinner 8’ on the upper manual for Minuet II is telling. But it brings into stark relief an irritation that I find detracts from the admirable playing. That is the distinctly audible hard metallic chip on the d above middle C on the lower 8’ register, which is the major third in the opening this very key. Whether it might have been a particular trait of the acoustic or could have been solved by re-voicing that one note, I do not know. In general, I like a little individual character in the voicing of ranks (on organs as well as harpsichords), but this is obtrusive. No details are given about the temperament and tuning.

I looked for more details of Alan Gotto’s harpsichords on his website which has sound samples, and in many ways, the Goermans/Taskin double that Ogawa plays seems a good choice for this recording with a good French-style bloom in the middle register. The instrument sampled there certainly doesn’t have a wolf-note on that d, so this must be a peculiarity of that particular instrument, as can happen. In the very French Ouverture of the D major Partita (I.13), the merry clang of the full registration in the opening section certainly masks it and the fugato starts on the upper manual.

For her rhythmic control, listen to the elegant and only slightly inégale Courante in the 2nd Partita, and for contrapuntal clarity the Capriccio at the end of that suite. This is a capable and sensitive player who is intelligently inside the music, and quite capable of drawing us into it. I admire her playing and hope that it shines through the instrument’s infelicity to give her reputation the laurels her playing deserves.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Bach: Das Wohltemperierte Klavier, volume 2

Steven Devine harpsichord
148:45 (2 CDs in a single jewel case)
resonus RES10261

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As in Volume 1 that I reviewed for the EMR in July 2019, Steven Devine records Volume 2 of Das Wohltemperierte Klavier on Colin Booth’s 2000 harpsichord after a Johann Christoff Fleischer original (Hamburg 1710) that he tunes in a version of Kirkberger III, ‘gently modified so as to retain the key colours that make the harpsichord sing so much better, but eliminating any extreme dissonances’.

I have been waiting impatiently for Volume 2 to appear, as Das Wohltemperierte Klavier is for me a perfect accompaniment to the periods of lock-down we have experienced. Playing one of these highly individual and characterful pieces each day is a way of articulating the passage of time in a way that helps give shape and direction to life when other bearings fail. I said in reviewing the first volume that Devine’s ‘has a particular seemingly effortless grace, and it’s the one of all I’ve heard in the past ten years that I am happiest to live with.’ Volume 2 confirms this judgement, and the ‘effortless grace‘ – which of course is the result of much hard work and study, and is the very opposite to those recordings which make you sit up and take notice of the player’s ability (rather than the composer’s) – is just what I hope readers will want of a recording that they are going to live with. Clever and ‘original’ performances are fine in a concert hall where they can make us sit up and rethink our opinions. But that kind of attention-seeking playing time after time is wearisome. We need to remember that although Bach was a consummate composer, he was revered in his lifetime as a keyboard player, and with that went a lifetime’s experience as a teacher setting goals that would stretch his pupils’ capabilities as well as their imaginations. Stellar performances like this one come I suspect from those who are born teachers too: Devine’s pupils are hugely lucky.

Colin Booth’s harpsichord is never aggressive and I am hardly aware of the chosen registration, as it all seems so naturally right. Without knowing the original on which it is based, all I can say is that this instrument combines clarity with a degree of mellowness that makes the lines sing and gives a distinct aura, like the sympathetic strings of a Viola d’Amore. Prelude 18 in G# minor (CD 2, track 11) illustrates the registrational possibilities well – they are gentle and unobtrusive and don’t clamour for attention – and the listener looking to understand Devine’s subtle approach to rhythmic articulation should listen to the swinging inégales of the Prelude in D (CD 1, track 9) or to the Fugue in D minor (CD 1, track 12). His ornaments and passagework are equally unmechanical and have that degree of fluidity that shows how well he is in command of the music.

The distinctive tuning that results from Devine’s tweaking of Kirkberger III never makes me wince, but results in the sharp keys maintaining a pronounced distinction from the flat keys and while we shall never know with absolute certainty just how Johann Sebastian tuned his keyboards, this version certainly produces a distinctive sound in each key, one of the chief lacks in performances on pianos tuned in modern equal temperament. This time, Devine’s essay ponders the range of possibilities behind this second collection and its context, reflecting some of the more modern or Galant-leaning characteristics that herald the later classical Sonata form.

In spite of being recorded quite closely, the acoustics of St Mary’s Church, Birdsall in North Yorkshire create a wonderful aura of tonality for each piece – just listen to the harmonics hanging in the air between the end of the Prelude and the beginning of the Fugue in G (CD2, tracks 5-6). This is – and remains with the publication of Part 2 – my top choice for the 48.

David Stancliffe