Tag: Baroque

Matteo Malagoli cello, Irene De Ruvo harpsichord, Schola Gregoriana Scivias Ensemble, Milli Fullin
65:12
Brilliant Classics 96345

It is hard to remember a time, not that long ago, before Naples was recognised as the important focus it is now for Baroque music, and in particular as the cradle of early cello repertoire. Anyway, the stream of neglected Neapolitan composers just keeps coming, and the present disc offers music by two of them, roughly contemporaries, Rocco Greco and Gaetano Francone. The eleven Greco pieces are Diminutions for cello and continuo based on Gregorian chant, usefully reminding us that much of this early music for cello was intended to be played as part of church services, and that the church provided much of the financial support for this musical flowering. In this recording, each of Greco’s pieces is prefaced by the plainchant on which it is based, sung by the ladies voices of the Schola. The ten short passacaglias by Gaetono Francone were probably also intended for church use. I like the idea of the chant prefaces to the Greco Diminutions, although the singing is not always as polished as it might be, and the harmonic relationship between the chant and the instrumental pieces is often unnecessarily indirect – as the chant is not tied to a specific pitch, ought it not perhaps to have reflected more closely the key of the related diminutions? At any rate, the performances of the instrumental music on cello and organ are always convincing as are the Francone passacaglias, on cello and harpsichord – might the delineation of the passacaglia bass line have benefited from a sustaining bass instrument? As this music would almost certainly never have been performed en bloc, might it also perhaps be more evocative of the original performance practice as well as providing a more varied experience for the listener to have alternated the diminutions and the passacaglias in this programme? In any case, this CD provides yet another valuable insight into the rich world of Neapolitan Baroque music.

D. James Ross

Opera Qvinta
79:35
Tactus TC 661604

Tomaso Domenico Pegolotti was born and spent his life in the small town of Scandiano in Regio Emilia, famous mainly for parmesan cheese but also a notable centre for the arts. The twelve Trattenimenti Armonici printed in 1698 is an eclectic collection in a variety of musical forms and styles and making considerable demands on the solo violin, suggesting that Pegolotti was something of a virtuoso. The present recording presents the pieces in a variety of instrumentations using the group’s cello, theorbo, organ and clavicembalo, although the main focus is necessarily on the solo violin line, played by the group’s musical director Fabrizio Longo. Although the violin sound is occasionally a little pinched, and at the ends of some tracks we are aware of some background hiss, Longo plays with confidence and musicality, ornamenting appropriately and tastefully and finding the essence of these engaging pieces. As a result of his established position in his home town and his contacts with the wealthy local aristocracy, Pegolotti’s Trattenimenti were published as part of what was clearly envisaged as a cumulative body of printed work. Sadly, this project remained unrealised as the composer, who already divided his time between music and law, was increasingly lured by circumstances into the latter sphere. Local politics and the law may have benefited, but music undoubtedly lost a promising musician, who might have gone on to make a distinctive contribution to the melting pot of Italian music at this crucial time.

D. James Ross

Sami Junnonen
60:19
resonus RES10312

This current recording on a 24-carat Japanese muramatsu flute, must be sitting on a large pile of predecessors, by now possibly over 70? The other morning I was reading something from 2015, and listed were some 10 recordings, some on recorder, one arrangement for tuba! Despite the freshness, and newly minted recording status, some will already have landed upon favourite versions of these well-crafted works. Rachel Brown’s version of 2007 (Uppernote Recordings) was noteworthy, and came with a fine dissertation to boot! The impeccable dulcet tones of Claire Guimond’s version of these pieces on Analekta/Fleurs de Lys (FL 2 3080) have left their impressive mark, and this remains my absolute favourite, or at least a very high benchmark despite being from 1995.

As mentioned in this latter-mentioned recording, there’s an element of “Trompe l’oreille” (Trick of the Ear?) built into these works, which – though written for solo flute – give the impression of an echo, or second voice.

Sadly, some of these clever dynamics, and tricks of the ear, are swept aside for a more lesson-like approach as mere Solfeggi for competent flautists. The test here comes in No. 7 in D, with its Alla Francese, a most cleverly spun French ouverture, requiring the two-voice approach for effect! Oddly, I do often imagine a Japanese (hermit?) flautist reverberating through misty forests here!

The final work in G major is a mini tour de force of alternating movements, and if your ability falls short, then a bumpy ride can occur! With some push-me, pull-me turbulence… such are the clever virtuosic twists here, which some achieve better than others.

I have heard these works on flute, baroque flutes, recorder, and even bassoon, (though never tuba!) and can hear the registers and instruments that best suit, the bassoon was really rather good! Here, the lower and middle registers seem to sit comfortably, however, I found a slightly strident tone in the higher registers. That said, occasional flourishes made an impression.

I haven’t kept up with all the recordings in this expanding pile of approaches, yet this version must sit in the bottom 20 of perhaps almost 50+ ? Extrapolating from 2015, approximately ten (+ or -) a year!?, the figure could be as high as 90, and this new version – despite its expensive Japanese flute – will inevitably slip down the ratings! Benchmarks were set back in 1995!

David Bellinger

Noxwode, Conor Gricmanis violin/director
65:30
First Hand Records FHR125

This series of violin sonatas is fascinating for its contrasts of mood, flamboyantly rendered by the young violinist Conor Gricmanis. Each of an opening series of four is given an epithet in its title, suggestive of the spectrum of moods it should embrace. The series is introduced by “La Musica”, which as you might imagine, embraces them all. Subtle flicks and swirls and touches of portamento bring to life these relatively well-aired pieces, giving them a pinch of folky excitement without ever being made too “appliqué”. Coupled with episodes of lyricism, this makes for an imaginative journey through the 17th-century Italian avant-garde. The continuo make-up is varied between pieces and between sections to give real flavour to each of the desired moods: from the 16ft bass support in the opening providing an anchored grandeur, to delicate sections of transparently plucked theorbo. The occasional use of a tremulant stop on the organ creates mystery and wide space around, for example, the duet with Bojan Čičić (Gricmanis’ teacher).  “La Ebrea marinata” emerges from her morose “worse for wear” state into carefree dancing, lurching into triple and unexpected key changes, followed by a vaporous period of self-reflection, and a final heavy-footed exit. “La Luciminia contenta” is intimate and alluring, and undoubtedly content. “La Vittoria trionfante” is a singing contrast, but amongst such colourful company, perhaps Gricmanis could have allowed himself an articulation of the opening arpeggiated passages more suggestive of having succeeded in the field. As the disc progresses, we have “Shining Laura”, and even “The Lie”, which present further interpretive challenges! But these titles are intended to invite the performer to open up to new possibilities in performance, and this invitation is accepted in these performances. It is gratifying to hear a new player bringing freshness to a repertoire with which we might have felt familiar.

Stephen Cassidy

[Music by] Marco Uccellini
Ensemble Ozio Regio
57:04
Seuletoile SE05

The booklet notes draw attention to the parallel creative firmament of science and music which characterised 17th-century Italy (with a long lead-up of course). This was the period of Galilei and a fascination with order, conceptual hierarchies, and exploration. The title of the disc is taken from an intriguing piece which embodies this preoccupation with formalism. The piece is based on the sol fa “translation” of its title into a melody – la sol re la mi fa fa la re – which repeats a good number of times throughout.

The Uccellini programme is punctuated with organ pieces by Pasquini and harpsichord solos by Battifieri, in a very well-conceived sequence. The opening organ toccata makes for a dramatic entry, with an enticing procession of promised cadences being wrong-footed by the pedal, so to speak. The expectation generated leads into a grand ensemble with bright trombone and a light and flighty cornett, with violin and cello. The natural balance between the parts is a remarkable piece of recording engineering, giving clarity and a realistic presence to all the parts. In one or two other pieces the trope of placing the cornett in its own acoustic, away from the strings, has proved tempting. Maybe this is intentional, but in a real performance, the physical proximity of the players creates the musical conversation. An acoustic separation is therefore subliminally interpreted as a lack of that conversation, which is of course very unfair to this marvellous playing. The cornett and violin tightly follow each other, and yet at the same time each has its own characteristics, which gives real interest. This is exemplified in the aforementioned “La Sorella…”, which is then followed by a cleverly chosen harpsichord piece by Battifieri, which has a remarkably similar mode and mood.

The instrumentation is varied in sympathy with each piece. The cool abstract sound of the tenor recorder in the fourth piece floats in its own circle of the Galilean heavens, looking down on the terrestrial strings. The performances overall are relatively gentle and abstract. The violin narratives are told in the flicker of a fireside rather than under the hard light of a stage. With appropriate symmetry, the programme ends with the full ensemble, rounding off this excellent performance.

Stephen Cassidy

Complete published strings quartets | The Art of Fugue
Richter Ensemble
77:35
Passacaille PAS1129

This CD offers a novel approach, interspersing Bach’s Art of Fugue with Webern’s string quartet movements. ‘You find everything in Bach: the development of cyclic forms, the conquest of the realm of tonality – the attempt of a summation of the highest order’, said Webern, and both composers recorded here display the exploration of the logic that canonic and fugal writing imposes.

The Richter Ensemble are joined by Paolo Zuccheri (Violone) and James Johnstone (harpsichord) for the Bach, which they play at A=415Hz and recorded in France in 2019. The Webern is played at A=432Hz and was also recorded in France, but in 2021. The shift in pitch between the Bach and Webern is perceptible, but oddly, not disturbing to me; and the grouping of The Art of Fugue numbers into simple fugues (Contrapuncti I-IV), stretto fugues (Contrapuncti V-VII), double and triple fugues (Contrapuncti VIII-XI) and mirror fugues (Contrapuncti XII-XIII, and finally XIV at the end) allow for coherent groups of increasing complexity to mirror the chronological development of Webern’s Op. 5 (1909), the Six Bagatelles Op. 9 (1913) and the late Quartet Op. 28 (1937/8).

So not every possible piece from the later version of The Art of Fugue is included, and the liner notes make it clear that it is the juxtaposition of the very different composers that is at the heart of the CD’s purpose.

I found this refreshing, and illuminating – up to a point. I am no expert in Webern, and I do not have scores of much of his music. But the well-recorded dynamic range suggests that the players are masters of this highly nuanced music, and the effects produced in terms of glissandi, pizzicato and exceptionally well-tuned intervals. For the Bach, the ensemble grows in grip and power when joined by the violone and harpsichord.

An oblique observation: most of the performances of The Art of Fugue opt for the clarity of one-to-a-part scoring as must have been standard in viol consort playing (and singing) until the second quarter of the 18th century at least. While it is most likely that Bach – if he ever thought of a live performance of the material we know as The Art of Fugue – would have used a keyboard for preference, this performance quarrying material that reflects most nearly the intellectual and disciplined focus of the composer’s life and work and the transmission of that legacy to the 20th century certainly has its place in that towering edifice of polyphonic complexity.

David Stancliffe