Tag: Chamber music

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Recording

Telemann: Six trio 1718

CD cover Telemann Six trio 1718

Les Timbres (Stefanie Trouffes traverso, Antoine Torunczyk oboe, Yoko Kawakubo violin, Myriam Rignol viola da gamba, Julien Wolfs hpscd/org); Harmonia Lenis (Kenichi Mizuuchi recorders, Yukiko Murakami bassoon, Yuki Koike violin, Elena Andreyev violoncello, Akemi Murakami hpscd/org)
78:28
Flora5925

It has been suggested that these elegant trios were inspired by members of the Collegia Musica or indeed by known virtuosi or even gifted amateurs; they do mark a progressive statement from the earlier examples in Telemann’s “self-publishing” enterprise, pushing the scope beyond the Italianate sonata format with added “spice” and dynamics. Rather fittingly, we have two ensembles embracing the wonderful scope of tonal colours offered by the varied instrumentation, from flute and recorder and oboe, alongside violin, to a second violin, and with Trio VI violin with violoncello or bassoon, the latter chosen here (all with continuo). To top off this well-presented disc, we have two of the much later trios from Essercizii Musici (1739-40) with viola da gamba, and the recorder, alongside an obbligato harpsichord part, given a slight variation in selected movements with organ. The two ensembles share the limelight and delight, with some very articulate and fluent playing capturing the essence of these progressive, well-conceived trios with their distinctive (semi-canonic) tonal interplay; heard keenly in the D major with two violins, and violin and bassoon in F featuring some very nimble playing. Perhaps another outing for the oboe might have been considered, the E flat major work from the Essercizii Musici set?

Overall, these pieces hold their unique, engaging charms on this crisp, mellifluent, collaborative recording. Whether inspired by musicians from his immediate circle, or intended for the growing number of customers who subscribed to his published music, they highlight Telemann’s alert understanding of the trio form and his ability to use the spectrum of instrumental colours to hand. The booklet (in English, French and Japanese) has plenty of biographical and incidental quotes. This is a generous offering of Baroquery, for more than just one sitting.

David Bellinger

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Recording

Charpentier: Les Arts Florissants

CD cover Dallas Bach Charpentier Les arts florissants

Dallas Bach Society, directed by James Richman
65:35
Rubicon RCD 1128

The cover illustration of this issue and listing of the New York Baroque Dance Company among the artists enticingly suggests this might be a DVD rather than CD. The impression is enhanced by a passing observation made in his somewhat bizarre notes by Dallas Bach Society director James Richman, but visits to Rubicon’s website and YouTube bring no further suggestion that there is a film. So quite where a Baroque dance company fits into an audio recording must for now remain a mystery.*

Like a number of works such as Racine and Lully’s Idylle sur la paix, Les Arts Florissants (H.487) owes its existence to the Ratisbon Truce of 1684, the signing of which brought an end to war between Louis XIV’s France and the Holy Roman Empire and Spain. It was written for Charpentier’s long-term patron Madam de Guise, and was doubtlessly performed at her hôtel along with another celebratory work, the brief La Couronne de Fleurs (H.486). A charming conceit, Les Arts brings together the various arts to celebrate the king’s victories in their own brief contributions, seconded by a Chorus of Warriors relieved at the cessation of battle. Meanwhile, Discord still clamours for the return of war, a sentiment opposed and overcome by Peace (La Paix). The five scenes are punctuated by dance, as would be expected in a French work of this kind.

It is probably fair to say that Dallas is not the first place you’d associate with French Baroque music, but James Richman here directs an appealing performance particular notable for the contribution of the members of the Dallas Bach Society. In keeping with the original performing circumstances the instrumental forces are small, just pairs of flutes and violins with cello, gamba, theorbo and harpsichord continuo. The playing throughout is of high technical quality, only just missing out on the final degree of idiomatic rhythmic lift. The eight vocalists are also commendable in their grasp of style, but it is unfortunate that a resonant church acoustic has blunted the already poor diction of most of them, an honourable exception being stand-out soprano Haley Sicking, who is also better with ornamentation than her colleagues. Indeed, with her fresh but attractively rounded soprano, Sicking’s La Paix brings constant pleasure.

It would have been good to add the companion La Couronne, as does the larger-scale performance on Versailles Spectacles, but here we have instead a nine-movement Sonata a 8 (H.548) scored for the same forces as those employed in Les Arts Florissants. Not a perfect CD, but one that shows that French Baroque musical art can indeed flourish far from home.

Brian Robins

* The answer may lurk somewhere on their website…

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Festival-conference

Ambronay 2025

Ambronay Festival 2025

Over three weekends in September, this wonderful festival that takes place in an abbey not far Lyon, Annency and Geneva covers everything from trio sonatas to the B minor mass, and from “a duet for clown and viola da gamba”(!) to Mozart’s precocious “Die Schuldigkeit des Ersten Gebots”. Performers include well-known ensembles such as Vox Luminis, Ensemble Correspondances, Cappella Mediterranea and Pygmalion, but also – a trademark of this talent-fostering organisation – plenty of young artists who will undoubtedly continue to grow as a result of such exposure.

If you’re lucky enough to be in the area, check out the programme here: Dossier de presse_Festival 2025 (in French only, and accurate at the time of printing!) and support Ambronay’s initiatives if you can!

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Recording

Northern Light

CD cover Northern Light Richardot Daucé Ensemble Correspondances

Echoes from 17th-century Scandinavia
Lucile Richardot mS, Ensemble Correspondances, directed by Sébastien Daucé
81:39
harmonia mundi HMM 905368

The subtitle of this collection introduces us to a rare repertoire of sacred works (plus a short suite of dances by Sebastian Knüpfer (1633-1676), Kantor of the Thomaskirche in Leipzig from 1657). It takes its inspiration from a collection gathered by Gustav Düben, a member of a musical family that had strong connections with the Swedish court for nearly a century. The collection suggests that unlike royal courts with a strongly nationalist repertoire – that of Louis XIV is a prime example – the Stockholm court heard music by an eclectic range of European composers and musicians, including both Germans and Italians. The present CD reflects that variety by featuring music by both, including among the latter motets by Vincenzo Albrici (1631-96), one of an itinerant family of Roman musicians and a member of the court of Queen Christina of Sweden prior to her abdication in 1654 and later in Dresden, where Giuseppe Peranda (1625-1675) also worked under Schütz. The motets of both are laid out as solo verses interspersed with a refrain for a vocal ensemble.

At the time of the accession of King Charles XI in 1675, Düben led a court ensemble of 16 singers and musicians of varied nationality. Most of the music included on the present disc is reminiscent if not the equal of the smaller scale works of Schütz and features primarily works for an alto soloist with accompaniment for strings and continuo. The most ambitious piece is a birthday motet for the king ‘Jubilate et exultate’, a celebratory work adapted from an Advent motet by Franz Tunder originally in German. It seems the adaptation of works was common practice among Düben and his associates, another being ‘Ack Herre, låt dina helga änglar’, a Swedish-language adaptation of another work of Tunder’s. It is a reflection on joining Christ in death of sombre beauty, as is the lamentation on the death of Charles in 1697. It is by Johann Fischer (1646-1716 or 17), whose original music is lost but the poetry of which is here fitted to another lament by the composer.

Many of the works included are simple strophic settings, but one that is strikingly original is ‘Es war aber an der Stätte’ by Christian Geist (c1650-1711), a north German singer and organist that worked in the Danish and Swedish courts during the 1670s. Scored for solo alto, the first part is a narrative about the entombment of Christ. That is followed by a deeply felt and bitter lamentation in four strophic verses laced with a falling chromatic figure that serves to accentuate the agony. It is worth adding that the one work here that will be known to many is also the best, Johann Christoph Bach’s tear-drenched lament ‘Ach, dass ich Wasser’s g’nug hätte’.

All this music, much of it deeply devotional, is performed by Lucile Richardot and the peerless Ensemble Correspondances with a quiet authority that all but defies criticism. Richardot is not only the possessor of a richly burnished mezzo with a particularly distinctive contralto range and superbly controlled delivery but, and perhaps more importantly, she is one of the most expressive singers of Baroque repertoire currently active, as anyone that has heard her magisterial Penelope in Monteverdi’s Il ritorno d’Ulisse can testify. Add to that a technique that includes an ability to turn ornaments with clean precision and you have a set of performances to cherish. The several items that require a vocal ensemble in addition to Richardot can boast the participation of such fine singers as soprano Caroline Weynants and the outstandingly talented young tenor Antonin Rondepierre.

There are some recordings that are difficult to describe because they are so ordinary. Then there are those hard to do justice to because their apparent ordinariness and lack of sensationalism cloaks attributes more elusive but no less valuable. This is one of those. There’s no great music here, just supreme art concealing art.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Legrenzi: Balletti e Correnti, op. 16

CD cover Legrenzi Balletti e Correnti

Il Trattimento Armonico, directed by Nicola Reniero
42:27
Brilliant Classics 97496

The nine Balletto-Corrente pairs that make up this set were published posthumously by the composer’s nephew. They are scored for five-part strings, for which the present performers chose two violins, an alto viola, a tenor viola and a cello, with the director playing harpsichord continuo.

I have known the set for decades (I published the sixth pair in 1990 with what was King’s Music!) but have never heard them in actual performance. Legrenzi’s music has always struck me as a fusion of Italian and French ideas – his harmonic palette is much richer than many of his countrymen’s, and his voice-leading much more masterful. As I listened to the disc again and again (it’s short enough for that not to be an issue!), I was reminded again and again particularly of another 17th-century composer: Henry Purcell. Many of these dances could easily fit into one of the latter’s theatre works. One musical idea that caught my ear more than once was something I had only previously heard in one of the sonatas Legrenzi devoted to the Holy Roman Emperor (presumably in the hope of getting a job in Vienna!), where he juxtaposed triplets and duplets; it is a surprisingly striking device.

As for the recording itself, I have to say that the performances (for the most part) deserve better; a richer acoustic might have taken the sharpness off the violin tone, and better microphone positioning might have given the continuo part less prominence. There is a real elegance to some of the playing, but there are also brief passages where the ensemble doesn’t speak with a single voice. This is especially noticeable in the two five-part sonatas (La Marinona and La Fugazza, both of which I edited years ago) that “fill out” the disc; there is plenty of room for some of the many trio and quartet sonatas that are rarely recorded.

Brian Clark

Categories
Concert-Live performance

Sense and Musicality

Sense and Musicality

Jane Austen’s connections with music have been long acknowledged. They are by no means without controversy and apparent contradiction, Austen’s own undoubted life-long interest in music is to a certain extent counterbalanced by her own observations such as implying that while music might be a good thing on its own terms, sitting listening to a concert might perhaps not be. Otherwise Jane’s large collection of music books, many transcriptions written in her own hand, offer an argument that might serve to arrive at a different conclusion.

Such matters were among those explored in a programme mounted to celebrate the 250th anniversary of Austen’s birth in 2025. It is being presented in various venues by The Little Song Party – soprano Penelope Appleyard and the pianist Jonathan Delbridge, who accompanies her on a Broadwood square piano dating from 1814 and which is thus an instrument that Jane Austen could have known. I suppose the correct name for their well-researched programme would be ‘lecture-recital’, but that hardly does justice to the delightfully relaxed ambiance the performers achieved in presenting it as a part of the Newbury Spring Festival at Shaw House in Newbury. The venue in itself made for a highly appropriate setting, being an Elizabethan house built in 1581, but substantially altered during the 18th century by the then owner James Brydges, 1st Duke of Chandos (he of Handelian fame) and subsequently several James Andrews, the last of whom takes us up to Austen’s day.

The programme juxtaposed introductions and readings with a judicious choice of music that ranged from popular ballads through folk songs and operatic ‘hits’ of the day to themes associated with contemporary films of Austen’s works and in one instance a new work especially commissioned for the concert series. This was ‘Ode to Pity’ by Donna Mckevitt, a rare example of the poetry of the novelist being set to music. Written when she was in her teens, the song captures well the wry sense of humour that would become a hallmark of Austen’s writing. It was well projected by Appleyard, who not only delivered her spoken words with winning natural charm, but whose clear, fresh-sounding soprano is ideal for this type of repertoire. This is not the kind of programme that requires a detailed critique, but it is worth noting that where needed Appleyard added appropriate ornamentation (I thought the principal theme of Gluck’s ‘Che faro’ might have been afforded a little more decoration on its repetition). Delbridge supported the singer throughout with playing of character and sensitivity, providing several solos on his own account. One of the greatest successes of the afternoon was the ‘Storm Rondo’ by Daniel Steibelt, the piece believed by one commentator to be the agitated music played by Marianne Dashwood in Sense and Sensibility to cover up her sister Elinor’s secret conversation with Lucy Steele. Delbridge’s fine playing was ideally complemented by Appleyard’s muttered reading of both parts, the dramatization deservedly bringing the house down.

The programme will be given several more times, perhaps most notably at the Jane Austen Festival in Bath in September . If you happen to be in the vicinity don’t miss this enchanting event.

Brian Robins

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Recording

If the fates allow

CD cover If the fates allow Helen Charlston

Helen Charlston mS, Sounds Baroque
58:46
BIS-2734

If the title of this outstanding CD gives little away, its appendage is rather more forthcoming – ‘Music by Purcell and his contemporaries’. Even so and although there are several staples from the Purcell recital repertoire (‘O Solitude’, ‘I attempt from love’s sickness’), there are some rather more unexpected inclusions; ‘If music be the food of love’ is included in two of the three settings made by Purcell, but neither is the well-known one (Z. 379b).

Also unusual is the absence of programme notes, foregone in favour of a fascinating conversation between Helen Charlston and Emma Kirkby, in which they express their feelings about Purcell’s songs and what it means to sing them. Naturally, there is much accord, but what is interesting when it comes to performances is just how contrasted the approach is. One need only listen to a little of Emma Kirkby’s wonderful 1983 recital of the songs after this CD to recognise that the objectives of the singers are quite different. Dame Emma’s performances are all about vocal purity, clarity of diction and a near-perfect musical technique, with cleanly articulated ornaments and shaping of phrases. Charlston comes from a new generation, the best of whom – certainly including singers like her and Lucile Richardot – is starting to recognise that there is potentially more to this repertoire than simply singing it perfectly. Take Charlston’s singing of ‘Morpheus thou gentle god’ by Daniel Purcell, Henry’s younger brother. In this at-times fiery text about jealousy by Abel Boyer – the penultimate passage starts ‘I rage, I burn, my soul on fire, Tortured with wild despair and fierce desire’ – the demands on the singer are in stark contrast to the long cantabile of the earlier part, dramatically intense and full of rhetorical gesture. Charlston rises to these demands superbly, bringing the song to a terrifying peroration on the final word ‘destroy’.

This is, of course, an extreme example that takes us into a world of Italianate fervour and intensity, but this attention to the rhetorical detail of all the songs here is one of the striking details of the recital. One is given the impression that Charlston has thought deeply and carefully about every word she sings and never forgetting, or letting us forget, that in Purcell’s day this repertoire was often sung by actor-singers. Rarely, for example, in my experience has the Virgin’s fear in ‘Tell me, some pitying angel’ been so graphically expressed, each ‘Why?’, each ‘How?’ given a marginally different inflection, while the lack of a ‘vision from above’ at the ‘wondrous birth’ brings near panic in the repeated calls of ‘Gabriel, Gabriel’. The result is a compelling mini-drama. In ‘Music for a While’ Dryden’s snakes drop from Alecto’s head with languid perfection. And there are so many more examples to explore. I urge you to discover them for yourself.

Throughout the recital Charlston is supremely well supported by Sounds Baroque (Jonathan Manson, bass viol, William Carter, Baroque guitar and theorbo, and Julian Perkins, harpsichord and chamber organ); on their own account they contribute a set of Divisions by Christopher Simpson and John Blow’s Morlake Ground, the latter played by Perkins on a richly sonorous copy of a two-manual Ruckers Hemsch instrument by Ian Tucker.

At a time when I frequently have cause to compare the state of early music in the UK unfavourably with what is happening in several European countries, France in particular, this is pure manna from heaven. Here are British artists performing English music to as near perfection as one has any right to expect.

Brian Robins

Categories
Concert-Live performance

Les Talents Lyriques at Les Invalides

Les Talents Lyriques at Les Invalides

Given its history of rule by the Bourbons and Napoleon, neither averse to the limelight, it is no surprise that grandiosity plays no small role in French architectural and artistic history. Even so, the Hôtel des Invalides still has the power to overwhelm. It was the inspiration of the most brilliant of all the Bourbons, Louis XIV, who founded Les Invalides for all those that had seen service in his massive and long-time all-conquering army. The huge complex first opened to veterans in 1674, on one site housing a hospice, barracks, convent, hospital and factory. Home to some 4000 boarders in the 17th century, today it still serves its initial function, having needless to say gained additional fame as Napoleon’s burial place.

Among many spectacular aspects, the Grand Salon, the former council room, is especially impressive with its ornamental fireplaces, monumental chandeliers, weaponry, portraits of Napoleon III and Louis XIV and red velvet hangings. All combine to produce the elegant effect of an exceptional room. Today, Les Invalides plays host to a series of concerts, the majority of which are chamber concerts given in the opulent surroundings of the Grand Salon, thus keeping alive the institution’s long association with music, most notably as the venue of the first performance of Berlioz’s Requiem, the Grande Messe de Morts.

The concert given on 28 April by Christophe Rousset and members of Les Talens Lyriques was on a rather less ambitious scale. Entitled ‘Louis XIV au Crépuscule’(the twilight of Louis XIV) it consisted mainly of chamber works by François Couperin, concentrating particularly on three of the sonates en trio. Of these La Steinkerche was particularly appropriate in the context of Les Invalides, it having been written to celebrate the victory of Louis XIV’s forces over the Dutch in the eponymous battle in 1692, its witty evocation of the sounds of battle well portrayed by Les Talens Lyriques, as was La Superbe (1695) with its alternation of nobility and playfulness. The sonata La Visionnaire post-dates the king’s death in 1715, since it dates from 1726 and it demonstrates how far Couperin had travelled in his desire to unite elements of the French and Italian styles. All this music was played with the faultless command of idiomatic style long a hallmark of Les Talens Lyrique’s performances.

In addition to the instrumental music, the concert included vocal music sung by the exceptionally promising young bass Lysandre Châlon. The possessor of a richly rounded, well-projected bass-baritone, he impressed with his ability to communicate effectively text in cantatas and airs by Couperin and Monteclair’s striking cantata L’enlèvement d’Orithie, which relates the tale of the abduction and rape of the Athenian princess Orithyia by the north wind Boreas.

The combination of concert and introduction to Les Invalides made for an outstanding experience, but a word of caution to anyone who might think of going to a concert there. If you are not fully mobile, there is the walk across the courtyard then a considerable flight of stairs (no lifts in the 17th century) and further long corridor walks before reaching the splendour of the Grand Salon.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Georg Österreich’s resurrected treasures

CD cover Georg Österreich's resurrected treasures

Musica Gloria, directed by Nele Vertommen oboe, and Beniamino Paganini harpsichord/organ
79:06
Et’cetera KTC 1819

Rather disarmingly, the track listing for this generously filled CD notes at its conclusion, ‘All world-premiere recordings – as far as we know’. Well, here’s one listener happy to take the directors’ word for it, particularly given the meticulous research that has evidently gone into planning this recording. So who was Georg Österreich and what are his ‘resurrected treasures’? Well, for a start he was a very lucky man since he inherited a brewery. More importantly for our present concerns, he was a virtuoso singer born in Magdeburg in 1664. His early career was spent in Leipzig, Hamburg and Wolfenbüttel, but in 1689 Österreich was appointed Kapellmeister at the ducal court of Gottorf, now part of Schleswig-Holstein in northern Germany. There he made an extensive collection of German sacred music before the time of Bach along with Italian secular music. The former, now housed in Berlin and known under the name of Österreich’s pupil and its inheritor, Heinrich Bokemeyer (1679-1751), is the largest collection of north German sacred music in central Europe. The present CD, subtitled ‘North-German Cantatas around 1700’, is the result of intensive research on the collection by Baroque oboist Nele Vertommen.

The selection chosen by Vertommen and Beniamino Paganini, her co-director of the vocal and instrumental ensemble Musica Gloria, reflects the links to Österreich’s circle, including as it does two works by the man himself, one by his elder brother Michael (1658-1709), one by his teacher Johann Theile (1646-1724), one by Bokemeyer, and one by his singing teacher Giulio Giuliani (? – ?), the two last named being Latin settings. Also included is the more modern style of cantata by Johann Philipp Förtsch (1652-1732), one-time resident composer of the Hamburg Opera and later court physician at Gottorf to Duke Christian Albrecht of Schleswig-Holstein and then the Bishop of Lübeck. The works included are particularly notable for the wide variety of instrumentation and vocal forces required, the latter quite properly restricted to one-voice-per-part (OVPP). It is a general and welcome feature of the performances that the young singers of Musica Gloria bring a robust and strongly rhetorical performance style to all the music, singing also with generally excellent diction.

Arguably the most imposing and impressive of the works included is Georg Österreich’s own motet in the concertato style Weise mir Herr, deinen Weg, scored for four voices (SATB) plus ripieni and instrumental forces including two oboes, two violins, two violas, bassoon obbligato, cello and continuo. Worth noting is that the organ continuo is played on an Arp Schnitger instrument dating from 1690 and sited in the recording location, the Mauritiuskirche in Hollern-Twielenfleth on the banks of the Elbe. A setting of verses from Psalm 85 (86), it takes full cognisance of the potent and dramatic text, the solo trio at the supplicatory words ‘Wende dich …’ (Turn to me and have mercy on me) being especially telling, as is the beautiful bass solo ‘Denn deine Güte ..’ (For great is your love toward me).

Also impressive is brother Michael’s setting of the Lord’s Prayer for two sopranos, alto and tenor with instrumental parts for two violins, two violas, bassoon and continuo. But in truth there is nothing in the collection that is not without merit and worthy of these searching, communicative performances, which are not only worth discovering in their own right but provide valuable clues as to where Bach’s early sacred works come from.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Beethoven: Piano Trios

CD cover Rautio Piano Trio Beethoven trios vol. 2

Rautio Piano Trio
62:33
Resonus RES10337

The Rautio Piano Trio earned the highest praise from me for the first of what we can now safely assume will eventually be an extremely welcome complete set of the Beethoven Piano Trios. You can read the review of the last issue, which involved the first two trios of op 1 here. A particular joy of that disc was the success with which the Rautio Trio (Jane Gordon violin, Victoria Simonsen cello and Jan Rautio fortepiano) captured the sheer exuberance of the young Beethoven on their period instruments. Those include 17th-century string instruments whose splendid tonal qualities are enhanced by outstanding playing, for proof of which there is no need to go further than the exquisitely lovely opening of the Adagio of op. 11, perfectly shaped and played with gorgeous tone first by the cellist, then the violin counterpointed by the cello. The fortepiano is a copy of an 1805 Walter Viennese fortepiano built by Paul McNulty; as I noted in the earlier review, it boasts exceptional tonal quality across the range, with a silvery top and (when required) a surprisingly powerful bass. This raises another highly important aspect of these performances, which are throughout balanced to near perfection. To some degree, this is of course down to the performers – Rautio seems to have an instinctive feel for dropping out of the limelight when he needs to – but equally to the greater ease of finding the right balance when instruments appropriate to the period are employed.

Like its companions from op 1, the C-minor Trio is an ambitious four-movement work, the big-boned, muscly characteristics of its opening and closing movements apparent from the urgency of the first movement, with its bold opening, chunky sonorities and, particularly in the development, more than a hint of Sturm und Drang. But perhaps its most remarkable movement is the big Finale: Prestissimo, the energy and bravado of which are superbly conveyed by the Rautios. Throughout all three works, one notes the distinctive little hints of portamento and rubato that give the performances a distinctive character.

Op 11 dates from 1797 and is sometimes known as the ‘Gassenhauer’, a nickname referring to the popularity of the theme of the variations that form the last of its three movements. This was taken from a popular drama giocosa by Joseph Weigl, and was apparently so infectious that it was sung throughout the lanes (or “Gassen”) of Vienna. I can well believe it – the first time I heard the Rautio’s performance, it stuck in my head for days. It seems Beethoven had second thoughts about using such a low-brow ‘pop’ tune, but eventually decided he would use it. I’m glad he did, not least because it gave the Rautio Trio the opportunity to play the tune and its variations with such a sense of vitality and fun. Op 44 originates from 1792, but did not appear in its final published version until 1804. Based on a very simple tune presented in unison, Beethoven gradually works through a variation scheme to give each instrument prominence, the virtuosic demands of the writing increasing gradually. The Rautios, both individually and as a unit, grasp the many opportunities it offers but perhaps for me most memorably of all in the barcarolle-like variation 5 (I think!), where there is some wondrous sotto voce playing.

In sum, bravi tutti! – again. I await the ‘Archduke’ with impatience.

Brian Robins