Gunar Letzbor, Ars Antiqua Austria
61:42
Pan Classics PC 10363
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his recording features four (of six) sonate da camera from Lonati’s XII Sonate a violino solo e basso, printed in Salzburg in 1701. As the booklet notes suggest, they were probably written earlier in the virtuoso violinist’s career, and at least some of them look north of the Alps for their inspiration. The first three (nos. 1-3 of the second part of the publication) use a variety of scordatura (a retuning of the strings of the violin to give a different timbre to the sound and allow a different range of chordal possibilities). The final work from the set is simply labelled “Ciaccone” and goodness, what a beast of a movement it is! Variation after variation before the style switches completely for a couple of short movements then off the chaconne goes again, ever more intricate, ever more demanding ‒ either the violinist had a page-turning assistant or his part must have been written out on enormous paper. Letzbor’s lightness of touch and deft bow work bring out all the subtleties in the music, far and away the very best playing I have ever heard from him. The continuo line-up of keyboard, lute and 8’ violone provide an unfussy aural backdrop that throws the always interesting solo line into relief. The scores are readily available online – following them merely underlines Letzbor’s equalling Lonati’s wizardry.
Sieglinde Größinger, Ensemble Klingekunst
62:30
cpo 555 076-2
Music by Bonno, Gaßmann, Monn & Wagenseil
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]opped and tailed by concertos by Wagenseil, this survey of the mid-18th-century flute concerto in Vienna also features works by Monn, Gaßmann and Bonno. Four of them are scored for flute with (here single) strings and continuo. Broadly speaking, they are rococo in style, not really managing to escape Baroque ritornello form, with solo episodes accompanied by upper strings or continuo. The odd man out in the recital is the Monn piece which is for concertato harpsichord, flute, violin and bass; it really is an original sounding composition, with the keyboard sometimes duetting with the flute, sometimes the true soloist while the flute and violin provide a duetting background. The presence of lute as a continuo instrument prevents any direct comparison with C. P. E. Bach’s quartets. It is a pleasant piece, though. In fact, the whole disc is enjoyable, and Größinger provides some neat cadenzas in the flute concertos. I suspect this is a line-up from whom we shall hear more.
[dropcap]R[/dropcap]ichard Maunder’s work on the performance of the 18th-century concerto bears the ultimate fruit here in wonderfully stylish performances of music by composers who were among the orchestra directed by Corelli in the original performance of Handel’s La Resurrezione in 1708. Thus we have one-per-part performances of five fine concertos with four violin parts and Mossi’s exceptional op. 4/12 for a total of eight violins with viola (except the Mossi pieces), cello, violone grosso and harpsichord (and archlute for three pieces). The playing is crisp and clean, the tempi well judged and the recorded sound exemplary. I have known the Valentini concerto for a long time, but rarely heard it played with such lustre. It is nice that only two concertos from Ensemble Diderot’s recent Montanari recording are duplicated. I would certainly love to hear more of Mossi’s output.
Jean-François Madeuf, Musica Fiorita, Daniela Dolci
65:04
Accent ACC 24327
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is the second new CD devoted to Molter’s music this year and, once again, it reveals a composer of great imagination, particularly when it comes to instrumental colour. Alongside works for the brass instruments of the title, the programme includes a Concerto Pastorale for strings as well as a Divertimento for 2 chalumeaux, 2 horns and bassoon and Tendrement that drops the bassoon from the line-up. Anyone of a nervous disposition (or with troublesome perfect pitch) will suffer some discomfort at the brass playing as this is cutting edge natural instrument playing, all done with the embouchure without the artificial aid of finger holes, etc. If such a basic question of “authenticity” is still considered challenging, all credit to Madeuf and his colleagues for undertaking to give us these raw performances. I sincerely doubt whether many 18th-century musical events featured the perfection we expect nowadays – and my work as an editor who constantly has to correct mistakes in the source material confirms that the odds were stacked against error-free playing. Musica Fiorita play very well (though it is not indicated in which pieces the four oboists play). It is slightly frustrating that only three of the six full works on the disc are given their catalogue numbers – a librarian’s nightmare.
Europa Galante, Fabio Biondi
Glossa GCD 923407
op. 7 nos 1, 3, 4 & 5
[dropcap]M[/dropcap]uch as I was fascinated to hear Italians playing Fasch’s music, it has been very interesting hearing them tackle Leclair’s concertos. Of course, his violinistic family tree leads directly back to Corelli, and thus his music, though infused with Gallic harmonies and ornamentation, has a strong Italian heritage. Biondi and his colleagues have chosen four works from the first published set, op. 7 of c. 1737. It is often said that one cannot avoid sub-consciously comparing “new” versions and I must simply confess that I was guilty of hearing things that “weren’t quite the way Simon Standage” played them; whether or not that is a good thing, the older Chandos recordings come out on top (despite Biondi’s virtuosity and the vitality of his colleagues’ brilliant accompaniments) for one principal reason – too often I felt that the tempo was pulled about too much, presumably with the aim of making the music seem more dramatic than I personally feel it needs. Don’t misunderstand me – rubato definitely has its place in Baroque music; there is a great deal to admire in these performances and recordings, but I feel the pudding has been over-egged a little.
Ann Hallenberg, il pomo d’oro, Stefano Montanari
129:56 [recte: 98:40!] (2 CDs in a cardboard box)
Pentatone PTC 5186 678
Music by Albinoni, Gaicomelli, Leo, Orlandini, Porpora & Vinci
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he early music world has now become accustomed to the concept operatic recital, often designed around the repertoire of one of the great singers of the 18th century. This 2-disc set, devised by Helger Schmitt-Hallenberg, the musicologist husband of mezzo Ann Hallenberg, takes a rather different approach, concentrating on the repertoire given in Venice in the Carnival season of 1728/9. The choice could hardly have been shrewder. It was an extraordinary season that not only featured new works by some of the leading opera composers of the day – names such as Leonardo Leo, Geminiano Giacomelli, Tomaso Albinoni, Giuseppe Maria Orlandini, Nicola Porpora and Leonardo Vinci – but a glittering array of star singers including Faustina Bordini and the castratos Senesino, Farinelli and Nicolini, Handel’s first Rinaldo. It is impossible to think of any festival today that could start to match such a line up.
The operas included that winter provide the Hallenbergs with a bountiful choice, it being noteworthy that despite the inclusion of composers who today are virtually unknown the musical quality is remarkably high throughout. Indeed, in the case of the extracts from an opera such as Leo’s Catone in Utica I suspect strongly that we are looking at a work that demands revival. The excerpts from Orlandini’s Adelaide also suggest an opera that would warrant further attention, though the eponymous heroine’s ‘Non sempre invendicata’, a Bordoni aria, is lifted from being a fairly conventional aria di furia by Hallenberg’s dazzling coloratura virtuosity and powerful chest notes.
The bar for the whole recital is set high from the first aria, ‘Mi par sentir’ from Gianguir by Giacomelli, a some-time pupil of Alessandro Scarlatti who apparently shared his master’s reputation for writing ‘difficult’ music. But there is nothing remotely difficult about this exquisitely lovely aria, which features an obbligato oboe (played here with a sensitivity that does not avoid the odd moment of sourness) and pizzicato strings. Hallenberg’s singing of it is a master-class in Baroque performance practice, with elegantly shaped phrasing and precise articulation of passaggi, along with an acute attention to text that should be studied by all aspiring singers of this repertoire. The variation of vocal colouring and subtlety of expression is also something to be wondered at; one need only listen to the different accentuation brought to ‘caro’, the final word of the A section, to be aware of an artist who has thought deeply about her performances. Here as elsewhere the ornamentation of the da capo is also an object lesson, with decoration that never steps beyond the bounds of taste to distort the melodic line.
The second excerpt from Adelaide brings a long and fine accompagnato to introduce the aria, it being projected with intense dramatic purpose, before moving into a beautiful cantabile aria, ‘Quanto bella’ with violin obbligato, splendidly played by Montanari. Here one notes especially Hallenberg’s superb mezzo voce and her precise articulation of the chain of trills that remind us of the inadequacy of most vocal performances of Baroque music, where one is lucky to hear a trill, let alone a whole sequence of them.
It would be possible, if idle, to subject every track on this peerless set to such commentary. These are performances to hear, not talk about. Suffice it to say there is much more treasure here, ranging from three arias from Porpora’s marvellous Semiramide riconosciuta to a gloriously spun performance of Emilia’s heartbreakingly lovely ‘Ombra cara’ from Leo’s Catone in Utica, where Hallenberg’s splendidly secure upper range comes into its own. Il pomo d’oro provides fine support throughout, with some truly Italianate legatos where appropriate. Finally, don’t take any notice of the timings for the two CDs given on the box, which are wildly inaccurate. The (very short) total timing is that given in my heading. No matter. This is a superlative set that demands to be in every collection of Baroque opera enthusiasts. Were Ann Hallenberg working within the parameters of mainstream opera I have for some while had absolutely no doubt that she would be rated among today’s great singers.
Edited by Barbara Sachs
Peacock Press / Green Man Press Mv 2
£10.50
ISMN 979-0-708105-91-6
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his volume contains not one but two variant settings by Monteverdi of a text which is divided into two sections; the first (set over a ground bass) makes up around two thirds of the piece while the second (marked Adagio in one source, Largo in the other) begins over a descending fourth. In triple time throughout, the principal differences are pitch (they are a tone apart and a range of an octave and a fourth from the B below middle C and the C sharp above it respectively), and the presence of additional continuo-only bars in one and substantial repeated sections in the other. Sachs intelligently includes ossias of the two most divergent passages, allowing performers to create further versions that suit their taste.
The set includes a full score with a green cover and realized continuo, a second score without the cover but with all of the introductory matter and just voice and bass lines, and a continuo part with loose sheets to allow all three pages to be on the stand at once, thus avoiding the issue of impossible page turns. Similar care is taken over the layout of the score, though I would have tried to get bar 25 of the Neapolitan version on the previous line, and probably taken bars 77-78 on to the next line, but these are purely for aesthetic reasons (although arguably, repeats are more easily found at the beginnings of lines).
My only difficulty was that introduction. Of course, given that there are two divergent sources meant it was always going to be a challenge, but I found it confusing, for instance, that the two sources were referred to as Florentine and Neapolitan in one paragraph and then, in the next, being identified by the RISM sigla of the holding libraries (before the sources had been thoroughly – and I mean thoroughly! – discussed). Sachs also includes a nice translation of the text (including the three lines not set by Monteverdi, for the sake of completeness).
[Hana Blažiková, Hiroya Aoki, Charles Daniels, Roderick Williams SCTTB], Bach Collegium Japan, Masaaki Suzuki
70:23
BIS-2231 SACD
BWV206, 215
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]hese two secular cantatas are closely linked. Bach was at work on BWV 206, a complex musical commentary on Augustus III’s role as both Elector of Saxony and King of Poland by describing the various claims to supremacy made by the four rivers that thread through his domains for his birthday in October, when it was suddenly announced that Augustus was coming to Leipzig for the Michaelmas fair in 1734 in person. So work on BWV 206 was shelved (it was eventually performed in 1736), and work hastily started on a grand celebratory cantata that must have been completed in about three days – Preise dein Glücke (BWV 215) – that was performed in the open air on October 5th.
To meet the tight deadline, Bach re-used as the opening chorus a movement of a name-day cantata from 1732 that was eventually to become the Osanna in the B minor Mass, a couple of arias from existing cantatas for tenor (3) and bass (5), leaving himself the task of composing new recitatives, a soprano aria (7), later re-used in part V of the Christmas Oratorio, and the final chorus (9). Though clearly a great success, the occasion was marred by Bach’s trumpet player, Reiche, suffering a fatal stroke that night, said to have been brought on by inhaling the smoke from the six hundred wax tapers held by the University students.
The three soloists in 215 are all familiars at the top of their game, and the Suzuki machine works its magic, with the brass led by Jean-François Madeuf, so no fingerholes. The recitatives are by no means child’s-play, having decorative figures on pairs of oboes and flutes respectively in the Tenor and Soprano ones (2 and 6), and complex interplay with all three instrumental cori in the final one (8). Composing, copying and rehearsing just these new movements in three days would have been almost unimaginable, let alone re-setting, copying and rehearsing the other movements. This performance is particularly notable for the clarity and balance of the chorus work in the opening eight-part chorus, where each line is doubled and there is a fine central section which didn’t survive in the Osanna.
In Schleicht, spielende Wellen (BWV 206), eventually performed in 1736 at the Café Zimmermann and again in 1740, the music is less generic and so was not subject to re-use in other contexts. This is a pity, as it is superb, and is, in consequence, less well known than its much-parodied companion pieces. Its inventive characterisation of the nationalities through their mighty rivers produces music from Bach unlike any other of his surviving compositions, including the soprano aria (9), which calls for three flutes. I particularly enjoyed the counter-tenor Hiroya Aoki in his aria with a pair of oboes d’amore (7), a complex imitative texture – vintage Bach.
Both these cantatas produce wonderful playing and singing from Suzuki’s forces and are a total delight. I cannot recommend this CD too highly, and am playing it frequently, discovering fresh nuances each time. Buy it at once and let it be your companion all summer long.
Les passions de l’ame, Meret Lüthi
56:46
deutsche harmonia mundi 88985415492
Music by Biber, Fux, Schmelzer & Walther
[dropcap]O[/dropcap]n the back cover of this recording we read: “Characters from the commedia dell’arte, playful birds, an astonishing virtuosity and a colourful instrumentation – the vivid imagination in late 17th century Austrian-German instrumental music loves to surprise”. Whilst this is true, and the lively performances certainly do the astonishing virtuosity proud, the colourful instrumentation might surprise you a little more than you expect: alongside the strings there are keyboards, guitar or theorbo, dulcimer and a wide selection of percussion. While I am sure the effect of this show live must be extremely entertaining, and I could imagine all sorts of “scene changes” as the scoring changed from trio sonata to ever larger ensemble, as a purely listening experience I think the atmospheric glissando scales on dulcimer, or rat-a-tat of some sort of drum might soon become a little tedious. That said, the playing is full of verve and vitality, with Fux’s reputation for being something of a dry peddler of strict counterpoint shot down in flames by this spirited rendition of his partita a tre, “Les Combattans”. The other three composers’ contributions are similarly exuberant, in a beautifully clear recording. The original approach to presenting the trilingual notes in the richly illustrated booklet also reflects the group’s attempts to shake up our expectations of the music they play; on balance, they are persuasive, even if I must stick to my opening gambit – I’d rather see the production live!
Marco Beasley, Private Musicke, Pierre Pitzl
Accent ACC24330
Music by Bartolotti, Carbonchi, Calvi, Corbetta, Foscarini, Frescobaldi, Galilei, d’India, Kapsberger, Biagio Marini & Pellergini
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his delightful CD presents a series of instrumental pieces by the likes of Cario Calvi, Antonio Carbonchi and a whole plethora of largely unfamiliar composers interspersed with songs by the more familiar Kapsberger, d’India and Marini. The original slant comes from the fact that Private Musicke can call upon two Baroque guitars, theorbo, cello and gamba, producing a wonderfully rich and lively sound in the instrumental pieces and a full and imaginative accompaniment to Marco Beasley’s singing. Clearly letting their instruments lead them, the instrumentalists play with a winning mercurial quality, strumming and thrumming their way through the repertoire, with inspired cross-rhythms and exploratory introductory sections which set this music in a very believable context. My one reservation is about the recorded quality, which is very close, and in the case of the singer a little edgy, giving his voice a brittleness which a more generous recorded acoustic would have alleviated. One advantage of the close recording, however, is the placing of the various instruments, which allows very clear give and take back and forth between the various players. These are passionate and musically imaginative interpretations of this repertoire, which in the likes of the masterly O del ciel d’Amor by Sigismondo D’India reach remarkable heights of expression and drama. It is easy to hear in these performances the theatricality of music which was being composed just as the medium of opera was taking shape.
