Tag: Baroque

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Recording

J. G. Graun: Torna vincitor

Johann Gottlieb Graun vocal and instrumental music CD

Cantatas & Viola da Gamba Concerto
Amanda Forsythe soprano, Opera Prima, Cristiano Contadin
78:26
cpo 555 284-2

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There were three brothers Graun that became musicians, although only  Johann Gottlieb (1702/3-1771) and Carl Heinrich (1703/4-1759) became significant composers. Both served Frederick the Great at Potsdam, J G as leader of Berlin orchestra from 1740, while C H became Kapellmeister in the same year. Today C H Graun is much the better known largely due to his great success in Berlin as an opera composer, a genre in which his brother showed no interest in competing. Otherwise, the closely paralleled careers of the Grauns have caused musicologists not inconsiderable difficulties as to attribution of their instrumental works.

One group, however, that is not in dispute are the works Johann Gottlieb wrote involving the viola da gamba. He probably first discovered an interest in the instrument during his time as orchestral leader at Merseburg in the 1720s, where he came into contact with the gambist and violinist Hertel. However, it seems likely that the greatest influence on Graun’s attachment to the gamba was the virtuoso Ludwig Christian Hesse, whose father had studied with Marais and Forqueray in Paris. Hesse became a leading figure in the musical entourage of the Berlin court, where he worked alongside Graun from 1740 until 1761, presumably the period from which the majority of the former’s 27 known gamba works date.   

The present CD includes three of these works, two large-scale cantatas for soprano, viola da gamba and strings and a three-movement Concerto in A minor, a work that has also been recorded by the great Italian gambist Vittorio Ghielmi (Astrée). The cantatas sung by the American soprano Amanda Forsythe are premiere recordings. Their texts are by Metastasio and like the operas of his brother (who set several of the great poet’s librettos) totally Italian in style. Both owe much to the pastoral movement, the first, ‘O Dio, Fileno’, concerning the laments of the shepherdess left by her lover to go to war, the oft-employed metaphor comparing love and war fully exploited in the long accompanied recitative that lies at the heart of the cantata. The enchanting ‘Già la sera’ takes a lighter look at love, as the lover tries to entice his Nice to leave the fields and live with him on the seashore, his enticements articulated in two arias which describe the alluring charms of eventide on the shoreline. Again they surround a long central accompagnato in which Nice is told she can become both ‘shepherdess and a fisher girl’. The needs to involve the concertante role for gamba and the fact that arias are in fully developed da capo form gives them an expansive scope, the first of the former work alone lasting for over 14 minutes. The writing for gamba, especially in ‘O Dio, Fileno’,

is extremely demanding, featuring rapid passagework and virtuoso polyphonic chordal writing. Perhaps its most appealing contribution comes in the opening aria of ‘Già la sera’, where voice and gamba work in sympathetic imitation to delightful effect.

The A-minor Concerto displays some of the nervous energy associated with Empfindsamkeit and also features much bravura writing for the gamba. In the outer movements, an opening orchestral statement is taken up by the gambist, its themes developed by the soloist in passaggi, chordal counterpoint and so forth. The central Adagio plays with ambiguity by alternating major and minor. It’s a moderately appealing work, less enticing here than in Ghielmi’s more characterful performance. Amanda Forsythe has a bright, pure soprano capable of agility and also sustaining cantabile lines with assurance, but it is difficult to avoid the feeling that she might have been heard to greater advantage in a less resonant acoustic than that provided by what sounds to be a large hall in the wonderful 16th century Villa Bolasco at Castelfranco in the Veneto. The long reverberation period allows the voice to spread uncomfortably in the upper range, but even making allowances for that her performances fall some way short of ideal. Passaggi and ornamentation are too frequently articulated without depth and far too little attention has been paid to diction and interpreting the text, though ‘Già la sera’ is not without the merit of generalized appeal and includes some impressive mezza voce singing. An interesting disc, then, but not an essential one.

Brian Robins      

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Recording

Cesti: La Dori

Cesti's Dori performed at the Innsbruck Festival

Ascioti, Baráth, Lombardi Mazzulli, Enticknap, Sacchi, Accademia Bizantina, Ottavio Dantone
160:46 (2 CDs in a single jewel case with booklet in a cardboard sleeve)
cpo 555 309-2

(Innsbruck Festival 2019)

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Venetian opera of the second half of the 17th century was marked by a remarkable flexibility of form involving recitativo cantando (sung recitative of the type familiar from the operas of Monteverdi) arioso and aria, the last often in strophic form. Frequently all three were seamlessly integrated and alternated to create fast-moving action involving both serious and comic episodes in which text was rarely subject to all but a minimal amount of repetition. Even more than Gluck’s so-called ‘reform’ operas, Venetian opera came close to realising a prototype of Wagner’s ideal of the Gesamtkunstwerk over 200 years before he formulated it.

Although many composers were active in Venice and beyond during the period, two names in particular stand out: those of Cavalli and Cesti. Of the two Cavalli is today by far the better known, a number of his operas have been revived in more recent times. Pietro Antonio Cesti remains a more shadowy figure, this despite having composed two of the most successful operas of the entire century, Orontea and La Dori. His relative obscurity may at least in part be accounted for because his greatest successes were composed not for Venice – thereby leaving him less explored by writers on Venetian opera – but Innsbruck, where he served the Archduke Ferdinand Karl from 1652 until 1657, and Vienna, where he was put in charge of theatre music in 1666. Both Orontea and La Dori date from the Innsbruck period, premiered in 1656 and 1657 respectively, but both became widely performed throughout Italy, La Dori achieving at least 30 productions by the 1680s.

2019 marked the 350th anniversary of the death of Cesti, so for the Innsbruck Early Music Festival to, as it were, bring La Dori home for that year’s edition was a particularly felicitous idea, the results of which are now available on this set. I was fortunate enough to be there, happily one of the most exhilarating productions of a 17th opera I’ve yet to see, sympathetically staged, with outstanding lighting, and sumptuously and colourfully costumed, in keeping with its being set in Babylon. Quite apart from much outstanding music, La Dori has the advantage of a splendidly varied libretto of high literary standard by Giovanni Filippo Apolloni. The story is highly complex, involving an arranged dynastic marriage that is very nearly foiled multiple times both in the prehistory of the plot and during the course of the opera itself. At breath-taking pace we are taken through a series of events involving mistaken identity, disguise, love intrigues and comic interludes, the latter mostly involving that stock character of Venetian opera, the old nurse Dirce, a role sung here with comic relish by tenor Alberto Allegrezza. Cesti’s music runs a wide gamut between tuneful dance-like arias in triple time to ravishingly sensual love music and near-tragic solo scenas, sometimes in close juxtaposition. At the pivotal point in act 2 Prince Oronte, still seeking his Dori, but having been convinced she is dead, dictates to the slave Ali (Dori in disguise) a letter to Arsinoe, the woman it has been arranged he will marry in the stead of Dori. It is a poignant scene, handled by Cesti with sensitivity and consummate dramatic skill and beautifully sung and vocally acted by Rupert Enticknap (Oronte) and Francesca Ascioti (Dori/Ali).

In keeping with the minimal instrumental forces customarily required for Venetian opera, La Dori is scored for continuo with two violins, whose role is near-exclusively confined to ritornellos. Ottavio Dantone has opted for a rather more generous orchestration, with three first and three second violins at times joined by recorders and a rich continuo group that includes the anachronistic addition of harp and chamber organ in addition to the expected bass strings, theorbos and harpsichords. Notwithstanding the continuo is deployed with such sensitivity and musicality that anything but the mildest censure is stilled, particularly in the face of direction that captures the essence of the work with unerring empathy and a thrilling sense of theatre. Dantone’s insistence on his singers devoting unusual attention to words is especially apposite in text-driven operas like La Dori and bears fruit in the vivid declamation in recitative and beautiful expressed Italian in cantabile music. His entire cast in fact does him credit. Emőke Baráth’s Tolomeo/Celinda (a woman playing a man disguised as a woman – I did warn you!) is sung with complete tonal security, while soprano Francesca Lombardi Mazzulli is a touching and impressive Arsinoe. The smaller roles are all exceptionally well taken. My only caveat is that I would have liked to have heard more ornamentation and for what is heard to have been more stylish and clearly articulated. That said this is one of the most musically and dramatically satisfying recordings of a Venetian opera available. La Dori deserves to be far more widely known; its pace, colour and variety would make it an ideal opera for Glyndebourne.

Brian Robins    

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Recording

Telemann: Die Kleine Kammermusik

CD cover of Telemann's Kleine Kammermusik

Manuel Staropoli recorder/flute, Gioele Gusberti cello, Manuel Tomadin harpsichord/organ
71:32
Brilliant Classics 95517

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Telemann was never one to shy away from offering flexible performance possibilities and this set of partitas displays just this, being his second foray into the world of publishing (Die Herbst Messe/Autumn Fair Frankfurt) in 1716, seeking to appeal to specific players. Initial suggestions in the Preface state “for violin, flute, or keyboard” but *Besonders aber vor die Hautbois! (*”especially for the oboe!”) This is most often how these “light and singing” pieces are explored, openly aimed at four of the finest oboists of the age: Francois Le Riche, J. C. Richter, P. Gloesch and M. Boehme. When Camerata Köln came to record these for cpo 999 497-2 in 1996, they opted for a clever selection of instruments including oboe, offering a fine sonorous spectrum.

This latest recording makes use of three gauges of recorder, including the soprano, and flute to negotiate the partitas in their original order. In the first and fifth partitas, the organ comes into the continuo group with cello, adding a less familiar sonority within these familiar works. I would have liked to have heard the C minor or G minor works with this instrument for added gravitas. The performances of these “light and cantabile” partitas on this recording, opening with B flat major’s “Con affetto” pulses along, yet, with some oft rather strident recorder tones and flickering flashes of organ, with passing interjections of cello, it feels blithe yet somehow a tad perfunctory from the very opening bars, which on oboe comes over much subtler and far more comfortably expressive. The lovely lilting “Dolce” (which the composer cunningly re-crafted into the aria Kehre wieder, mein Vergnügung from Die Satyren in Arcadien), is very hastily dispatched! For the next three partitas, the harpsichord is deployed, and one senses a return to more familiar modes of accompaniment and slightly better articulation in the solo instrument, yet somewhat missing are the more “rounded” legato tones heard on many other recordings. This tidy, punctilious approach makes for just a hint of a blasé effect with fleeting shrillness creeping in. The organ in the fifth partita does feel much better, paired here with the flute. Some slightly bolder phrasing from the solo instrument may have lifted these florid passages, which the continuo element do handle well! Many eminent oboists have demonstrated their prowess on these well-crafted works with vivacity, engaging clarity, and yes, at times warmly “vocal” tones; other instrumentalists must strive for this sense of responsive zeal and feel for the sensual, expressive scope. Having heard easily more a dozen versions, especially on oboe (Paul Dombrecht, Hansjörg Schellenberger). Oddly enough, some of the qualities missing in the execution of these partitas were to be found in the D major cello sonata which closes the disc. In conclusion, wouldn’t be my run-to set and might sit somewhere halfway in a fairly largish pile of previous recordings.

NB: Very spurious/erroneous musicology on Page 7 regarding the orchestral versions of these partitas needs some serious revision; I have been in touch with the CD Company.

David Bellinger

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Recording

Rameau: Pigmalion * Dardanus

Rameau Pygmalion Dardanus suites and arias

Suites & Arias
Anders J. Dahlin Haute-Contre, L’Orfeo Barockorchester, Michi Gaigg
65:51
cpo 555 156-2

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This is a recording of conveniently sliced portions of Rameau to showcase the voice of the Swedish tenor, Anders J. Dahlin, and who wouldn’t wish to spend an hour lost in some fine French Baroquery when delivered so reverently and sensuously, done to a T… bien cuit!

Pigmalion – being that famous story of the sculptor falling for his statue with the help of Cupid (L’Amour) – was Rameau’s first outing with the “Acte de Ballet” in 1748. He must have enjoyed some success, for he wrote another seven between 1748-1754. In this version, the other characters, (including the Statue!) and the choral interjections have been removed to allow the eponymous hero to take centre stage. There’s much to admire with this slightly truncated version; the French musical idioms are very well-observed and delivered with the keenest charm and cogent skills. Both the dynamic orchestral shading and their lilting supportive tones are a delight to hear, and Dahlin himself dramatically creates the aspects of infatuation and afflicted pygmalionism. Even curtailed, it is a fine soupçon of the emotive dramaturgical effects Rameau could conjure from his vivacious, sparkling musical esprit.

Track 3, which is effectively the Graces teaching the statue to dance, echoes some of Rebel’s Caracteres de la danse; the whole piece closes with a sprightly Contradanse (Ballet general….au son du tambourin?). After modest initial success, Pigmalion was repeated in 1750s onwards and revived in 1781! It testifies to Rameau’s fecundity of ideas during a prolific period of activity.

Dardanus was staged three times, in 1739, 1744 and 1760. Drastic revisions were made, with the result that there are really two different operas. The extensive Ouverture et suite de danses (Track 20) from Dardanus featured on an Amati recording by the same ensemble in 1993; it is always fascinating to compare and while the Amati perhaps languished in those special “moments to savour”, strikingly, the closing Chaconne has a longer unfurling at 4:30 compared to only 4:07 here.

It is mighty difficult to cherry-pick from such works of transformative, scenic musical genius, especially when the range of options is so broad; this said, a happy “cross-section” has been made and played with verve and vigour. Dahlin displays pieces from salient moments in this Tragedie en Musique, yet perhaps something might have been included from one of the earlier acts too? This is, overall, an admirable display of some of Rameau’s moments of drama; touching key notes and reaching for those elegant, cheery moments of guaranteed infatuation.

David Bellinger

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Recording

Telemann: Concerti da Camera Vol. 2

Camerata Köln play Telemann Concerti da camera vol. 2

Camerata Köln
56:24
cpo 555 321-2
TWV43: C2, D6, D8, F6, G6, G10, 51:D6

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Hats off and “Congrats” to Camerata Köln for their tireless dedication to this repertoire, and here now “looping the loop” with a victory roll, making a super “round-up” of the remaining Telemann works with winds. To only a few with impeccable tracking skills or alert discographic memories, perhaps requisite musicological insights, will some of these pieces be familiar. For the two solo horn works (TWV43:F6 And D8), the fine bookends to this CD, along with the Concerto for oboe, violin and viola in D, this is surprisingly just their second outing! The ensemble’s name is already a by-word for quality of tonality and musicality; these seasoned players shine with an effortless fluidity and captivating melodic charms, supported by the marvellously nimble bassoonist, Marita Shaar-Faust, and resplendent horn(s) of Ulrich Huebner; as he deploys two natural horns on this recording, opening with the Nürnberg instrument of 1720, and ending with a copy of a J. W. Haas instrument. The opening F major work (ca. 1715?) with a brisk élan and great dialogue has some passages recalling the Musique de Table in passing, then the following movements seem to nod towards music found in the wind quintets (TWV44); did it have a previous life as a quintet? It is a curious, yet splendidly engaging, piece with a tail-end Giga. Next comes the jaunty D major concerto for oboe, violin and viola; Hans-Peter Westermann sails through it with his polished, responsive musicianship making the music fly away. In the C major work, the soloists weave a beguiling spell redolent of other Telemann quartets (for example, 43:h3). The playing of the TWV43:G6 is exemplary and should be relished by all! The work listed as TWV43:D6 has in the past been attributed to Handel, and hand on heart or ear, I do detect certain Handelian phrases in the first and third sections (Con Contento and Largo) but the other movements seem much more akin to Telemann’s musical mannerisms, which do seem to re-assure and settle residual ambiguities. Amusingly the unphotographed players of bassoon and horn really make their instrumental contributions felt.

Rounding off this perfect “round-up” a familiar piece, and one less so; the G major work for flute and two gambas is a real tour de force; first on CD in 2001 (Ars Antigua), it is fabulously contoured with superb opening and finishing éclat! I’m amazed this hasn’t become more widely performed, yet I do recall a Belfast concert when the audience clapped after the dazzling Vivace! The closing horn work is another curious hybrid concerto/quartet, with hunting calls bursting into the second movement, the violins having previously woven the sensual introduction alone; adding intrigue, the movement’s theme has a most noticeable closeness to one in a Leopold Mozart horn concerto. The Menuet does feel a tad stiff for Telemann, and yet you could imagine it played during a Frankfurt Collegium Musicum gathering.

In conclusion, this is a neatly gathered and wonderfully played collection of works by the finest musicians, looping the loop!

David Bellinger

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Recording

Lapis: La Stravaganza & 12 Harpsichord Sonatas

Luigi Accardo plays harpsichord sonatas by Santo Lapis

Luigi Accardo harpsichord
61:33
Arcana AD107

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Santo Lapis (c.1699-1765) led a much-travelled life, from his birthplace in Bologna via Venice, Vienna and the Netherlands to England in 1757, also taking in Scotland and Ireland during the 1760s. He seems to have been something of a libertine and a jobbing musician who carried on a successful freelance career, particularly in opera production. Not much of his music survives but the sonatas on this recording were published in The Hague in 1742, while the extended three-movement La Stravaganza followed in 1757. The sonatas follow the bipartite Scarlattian model and, while lacking the inspiration of their models, they are nevertheless entertaining pieces, with some quirky corners and pleasing melodies. The middle movement of La Stravaganza is a Handelian fugue which works very well; the finale of that work, on the other hand, is a rather dull Menuet with variations, which might have come more alive here with a faster tempo. Lapis does rely a lot on sequential figuration, presenting a challenge to the performer to keep the music fresh. Accardo responds well to this challenge and plays with commitment and sparkle, and a flexibility that just occasionally slips into unevenness in the rhythm. He plays on a copy of an anonymous early 18th-century German harpsichord by Keith Hill. The recording is certainly worth listening to as an evocation of the sort of Italian-style music heard all over Europe in the mid-18th century.

Noel O’Regan

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Book

Walter Chinaglia: Towards  the Rebuilding of an Italian Renaissance-Style Wooden Organ

Chinaglia on rebuilding an organo di legno

Deutsches Museum Verlag, Volume 5, 2020
97pp, ISBN 978-3-940396-97-6 €19.95

This significant monograph details Chinaglia’s research into the making of a copy of the famous and only surviving Italian-style organo di legno in the Silberne Kapelle of the Hofkirche in Innsbruck, Austria. It was undertaken during a residency with the research group on ‘The Materiality of Musical Instruments: New Approaches to a Cultural History of Organology’, based in the Deutsches Museum in 2018.

When I was looking for an organo di legno for a number of performances of the Monteverdi Vespers this April in Lombardy, I was introduced to Walter Chinaglia. I knew that Italian music of that period needed a real organo di legno, with narrow-scaled open wooden pipes rather than the commonly available chamber organs based on a stopped 8’ flute, as I believed it would give more body and securer tonality for the singers and players alike with its unforced, singing tone. I was planning to perform with just eight singers and a minimal band, so the right organ was crucial. Alas, that project fell victim to the lockdown, but what I heard of his organs encouraged me enormously. Margaret Phillips has one in her collection at Milborne Port in Dorset, and there are a series of four youtube videos on his project – Duoi organi per Monteverdi, which I much recommend:

            https://www.organa.it/monteverdi/

There you can hear what the unforced sound of the open principal wood pipes is like with voices.

Chinaglia has an interesting background. After a first degree in physics and five years of research in nonlinear optics, he set up his workshop Organa in 2001, and has been building organs and researching the history and making of historically informed instruments since. In I.3 (p. 18) of his monograph, Chinaglia sets out his philosophy: ‘I strongly believe that a perfect sound from a wooden pipe can only be achieved if it comes naturally from the newly built pipe, in one or two strokes: when mouth cut-up is wisely chosen and the wind-way is properly opened, no other adjustments being necessary (such as toe-hole regulation, or tricky positioning of the mouth cover).’ He is committed to following exactly the dimensions and cut-up of the Silberne Kapelle organ pipes, and the clear, unforced, singing tone that results. The pipe-feet are cut integrally with the pipe and are pyramidal, not turned and glued on later. There are split keys for D sharp and E flat, and G sharp and A flat, giving the most useful major thirds in E and B, while allowing for E flat major and F minor as well as C minor in the flat keys. There is an informative spectral analysis of the sounds of open and stopped pipes, and from metal as well as wooden pipes, and the whole is profusely illustrated by drawings and diagrams, as well as photos.

This project combines scholarship with pragmatic experience, the disciplines of physics and woodcraft (there is detailed analysis of the different ways in which to saw planks and the difference it makes), of historical research into the written sources of the period and organology today. As a record of this work in progress, its author should be congratulated on the comprehensive recording of every step and the Deutsches Museum on sponsoring such an important cross-disciplinary project in the service of us mere musicians, trying to re-create the sound-world – especially the vocal sound-world – that Monteverdi and his forbears, contemporaries and successors inhabited. Vocal production and the difference that the right organ accompaniment makes lags far behind the recovery of the sound-world of strings (both bowed and plucked), brass, flauti and cornetti. These organs will help us immeasurably.

David Stancliffe

The book is freely available online, but you can buy a copy directly from the publisher here:

https://www.deutsches-museum-shop.com/detail/index/sArticle/3925/sCategory/24

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Recording

Cabinet of Wonders, Vol. 1

Violin sonatas from Pisendel's library in Dresden

Kinga Ujszászi violin, Tom Foster harpsichord
56:52
First Hand Records Lts FHR89
Music by Schreivogel, Vilsmayr & Visconti

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The unusual title stems from the original home of these works, which following the restoration of the Dresden court in 1763 were catalogued and stored in a large cabinet along with some 1500 works by then too antique to be a part of the repertoire. It’s an unusual and fascinating early example of music archivism. Today the collection is housed in the Saxon State and University Library, one of the largest and most significant collections of high Baroque music, where it is known as Schrank II. Much of the archive had originally belonged to the Dresden Kapellmeister Johann Georg Pisendel, who when on his travels was an avaricious collector of music he was either given in manuscript or copied.  

The three composers represented on the present CD all fall into this category, none having any direct connection with the Dresden court. Johann Joseph Vilsmayr (1663-1722) belongs to the central European school of violinist-composers, the most notable of whom was Biber, the teacher of Vilsmayr during his time at the Salzburg archbishopric court. Vilsmayr’s six-movement Partita (Sonata) in E flat follows his master’s style closely, being written for scordatura violin and (a rather simple) continuo. Like Biber’s works of this kind, it employs to the full the fantastic or bizzarie, relishing the careless (in the sense of unfettered freedom). The Prelude, for example, opens with wandering scalic figuration and arpeggiations, while the chances of encountering a more eccentric Passacaglia (iv) must surely be remote. The use of scordatura comes into its own in the Final (vi), which wittily opens in the style of an intrada and also makes use of contrasting dynamics in its echo effects.

Gasparo Visconti (1683-1731) was a pupil of Corelli in Rome, but as a highly gifted young violinist also spent time in London (1702-06), where he published a set of sonatas and a trio sonata. The two sonatas played here are manuscript works (untidily) copied by Pisendel. In his characteristically informative note, Michael Talbot suggests they were written later, possibly dating from the 1720s. The three-movement C-minor Sonata is perhaps the least interesting work on the CD, only the chromatic figuration in the final minuet-type of movement seeming to me to be of much note. The four-movement Sonata in F is another matter, having an opening Andante with appealing descending sequences, a highly expressive Adagio (iii), its attractions enhanced here by judicious use of rubato, and variations on a minuet theme (iv) that include a picturesque chordal fanfare episode.

Talbot suggests the most gifted of the composers represented is the Swiss-born Johann Friedrich Schreivogel (fl.1707-1749), an assessment with which I agree on the evidence here. Three of his sonatas, possibly copied by Pisendel when the two may have met in Venice in 1716-1717, are included here. The finest is arguably the three-movement Sonata in E minor, which opens with a soulful Grave that concludes with an unaccompanied solo violin cadenza and relishes much double-stopping in its lively final Allegro assai. Although in four movements, the D-minor Sonata is the most concise of the three, though the arpeggiated flourishes of the opening movement create a feeling of breadth. The opening Vivace of the Sonata in E flat is a forthright movement, with juicy chords in the violin’s middle register.

The same sonata’s final Allegro, extravagantly decorated, is given an infectious lift, confirming the positive impression made by the performances throughout. My first encounter with the young Hungarian violinist Kinga Ujszászi was five years ago in the finals of the eeEmerging competition at Ambronay as one half of the duo Repico. On that occasion, I found the award of a prize disturbing, since I felt that despite a superb technique she displayed little empathy with the style of the early 17th-century Italian pieces she played. My outspoken observations got me into trouble in certain quarters, so here I’m more than happy to report that Ujszászi’s playing and interpretations strike me as near ideal. The high level of technique needed to play this repertoire is still there in abundance, but it is now wedded to an expressivity in slower music and bowing that seems to me more stylish. The use of rubato noted above is often telling as is the calm purity of tone in such movements as F-minor’s Grave (i). Tom Foster’s continuo support, on a mellow-toned copy by Keith Hill of a Taskin of 1769 tuned to unequal-temperament, is splendid, though there were times when I wondered whether he was exceeding the brief of a continuo player. Such things are however very much a matter of taste.

I don’t honestly think there are any hidden masterpieces in this sector of the cabinet, but those to whom this repertoire appeals – and the majority of the works included are first recordings – certainly cannot go wrong with the performances.

Brian Robins  

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Recording

Le Grand Jeu

Le Grand Jeu CD cover for recital of organ arrangements

French Baroque organ favourites
Collection L’Age d’or de l’orgue française No. 4
Gaétan Jarry
65:19
Château de Versailles Spectacles CVS024
Music by d’Angelbert, Charpentier, Corrette, Couperin, Dandrieu, de Grigny, Handel, Lully, Marchand, Purcell & Rameau

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CD cover of Gaétan Jarry

Not for the first time, the in-house Versailles CD production team have come up with a disc that isn’t really quite what it says it is, but that might well catch the eye of those browsing in the palace shop, not least because of the picture on the front of the packaging.

Given the working title of ‘French Baroque Organ Favourites,’ I doubt that any EMR-reading organists would have come up with a programme which included Dido’s Lament and/or Handel’s Sheba and in which Corrette out-gunned Couperin by eight and a half minutes to one and a half. And not a Noël in sight. Yes, there is some organ music – the tiny Couperin, more substantial Dandrieu and Grigny – but most of the programme is arrangements principally of Rameau and Lully.

It’s all very well played of course, though some of what we hear wouldn’t be possible without modern recording trickery, and we do get a good trip around the organ’s sound-world (it is a marvellous instrument) but for me that isn’t really the point. You realise how distinctive and rich the true repertoire is when track 4 begins and Dandrieu’s splendid Easter Offertoire succeeds a pair of contredanses by Rameau. The word ‘idiomatic’ sprang to mind, and the organ sounded so much happier.

The booklet essays (French, English & German) are long on gush and short on real information about the music, though there is a useful biography of the organ and some more good pictures. Overall, however, this is not really EMR/HIP material.

David Hansell

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Recording

Buxtehude: Complete Organ Works I

CD cover of Buxtehude Complete Organ Works I Friedhelm Flamme

Friedhelm Flamme
135:50 (2 CDs in a single jewel case)
cpo 555 253-2

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I was brought up on the renowned Danish organist, Finn Viderø’s recordings of Buxtehude which he made in the 1950s, largely on the 1942 Marcussen organ in the Klosterkirche at Sorø, Denmark. They were notable for their clarity and rhythmic precision, and while he did not use a historic instrument, the Marcussen organ there was an early example of a mechanical action instrument designed on werkprinzip lines and the recordings were energetic and crystal clear – as an elderly and rather mannered schoolmaster once said to me, ‘absolutely spiffing – no smudge!’

Fashions have changed, and organists now search out historic instruments appropriate to the style of the music they wish to record. I find then slightly curious that for the first two CDs in a new complete Buxtehude – and maybe for them all – the accomplished organist, Friedhelm Flamme, should choose the Christoph Treutmann Orgel (1734-7) in the Klosterkirche Grauhof, near Goslar. It is a favourite organ of his and he has recorded both Michael Praetorius and Vincent Lübeck there.

But this instrument postdates Buxtehude, and it definitely not in the North German style. It seems to have been chosen largely because is has – as had the organ in St Mary’s Lübeck since 1685 – a well-tempered tuning, and so makes the playing of some of Buxtehude’s works in more remote keys like E major and F# minor less astringent. It stands in a large Baroque Augustinian abbey built by an Italian architect from Lombardy between 1711 and 1717, and, although Treutmann had worked with the Schnitgers in north Germany, the sound in the resonant acoustic feels more like a southern German instrument to me. There are a number of string and flute stops that increase this sense of a later Baroque sonority, as well as the fine 32’ Posaune, mentioned in a laudatory contemporary review of the organ by Johann Hemann Biermann, where he says, ‘The structure and outline of this very magnificent and precious work presents itself to the eye as noble and lively beyond all measure. […] It also possesses an all the more pervasive harmony and corresonance (sic), so that it might well brook comparison with a thunderstorm rumbling in the air, namely, when the Posaune 32’ bass is added.’ It is indeed very fine, and, like all the pedal reeds, speaks extremely promptly; if he were recording the organ works of Pachelbel, for example, I might well have applauded his choice of instrument.

The 32’ Posaune is used in the pedal solo of the opening piece, the Praeludium, Fuge und Ciacona in C (BuxWV 137), and it is difficult to hear anything else with any clarity when it is drawn. But Flamme then uses it moderately sparingly, and so allows us to hear the way the other ranks – especially the foundation stops – combine to create a range of more subtle effects in the chorale preludes.

Each CD is planned as a complete recital in itself, with pieces chosen for their related keys. This makes for good listening, but make it harder to follow with a score. On the first CD, the Partita on Auf meinen lieben Gott (BuxWV 179) brings welcome relief before we plunge back into the E minor Ciacona, with all four pedal reeds throughout against the principal choruses of the coupled Hauptwerck and Oberwerck.  The complex three-section prelude on Ich dank dir schon durch deinen Sohn (BuxVW 195) is splendidly played, with a light 8’ pedal, and some of the preludes and fugues have an equally light registration – again the clarity of the pedal flues as well as the reeds shows to great advantage.

In the second CD, after the Toccata in D minor with its contrasting sections and multiple changes of manuals and registrations, we hear Mit Fried und Freud ich fahr dahin (BuxWV 75), Buxtehude’s setting of the Nunc Dimittis with its canonically complex variations, written in memory of his father and capable of multiple performance possibilities, including with voices and viols. I do not much care for his D minor Passacaglia (BuxWV 161) with its nightingale effects, but again we hear what the organ is capable of.

The F major Toccata (BuxWV 157) shows Flamme playing these showy but harmonically simple pieces with the rich 16’ and 8’ manual reeds, and he follows this by small-scale manualiter canzonettas and fugues, sometimes based on 4’ pitch. The disc ends with the amazing Praeludium in E, with its rich chromatics, demonstrating the need for a well-tempered instrument, that influenced his choice of the Klosterkirche Grauhof Treutmann instrument.

On the showing of these first two CDs, this will be a significant series, challenging other established complete organ works by Vogel, Bryndorf and others who chose to play on more recognisably Danish/North German instruments. While it deserves a warm welcome, the choice of instrument(s) matters as well as the playing. Has Flamme in his search for a colourful instrument thought of using the stunningly re-habilitated Stellwagen organ (1659) in St Mary’s Straslund for Buxtehude? It was Stellwagen who rebuilt the Totentanz organ in St Mary’s, Lübeck in 1653 and worked on the large organ there that Buxtehude played as well, so there would be a good historical reason, even if it has a not very extreme meantone temperament. However, in the booklet, there is a good essay on the Treutmann organ and its history, an introduction to the style and development of Buxtehude’s writing and in particular, the detailed registration chosen for each movement of each work. This is a great help to the listener, particularly when the monumental sound threatens to obscure some of the finer points of both the music and the playing.

David Stancliffe