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Recording

Bach: The Trio Sonata Project

Tripla Concordia, Walter van Hauwe
63:08
Arcana A114
BWV527, 997, 1027-29

The five pieces presented on this CD are all transcriptions and arrangements of works by Bach; three of them are derived from sonatas for viola da gamba and harpsichord – BWV 1029, 1027 and 1028 put into keys that are easier for recorders after analogy with the version for two flutes (BWV 1039) of No 1 in G, which may well be the earlier version. The others pieces are an arrangement for recorder and harpsichord of the C minor lute partita BWV 997 and the D minor trio sonata for organ BWV 527.

The idea of re-scoring works so that novel combinations of instruments can play them – perhaps domestically for fun or for instruction – was something that Bach clearly did with his own compositions, so the idea is not new. This group is primarily of recorder players, who had a good time re-imagining these versions which sound pretty plausible.

Bach is always worth playing in any version you can: whether these arrangements will last remains to be seen. They are easy to listen to, the players are more than competent and I am consigning my copy to the car for a bit, as they provide novel but unchallenging listening.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Telemann: Chamber music treasures from Dresden and Darmstadt (2)

Les Esprits Animaux
64:13
Musica Ficta MF8029

This is the second review of this recording we have received. You can find the other here.

Those with knowledge of Telemann’s biography will know that he worked in neither Dresden nor Darmstadt, all the works recorded here linked with those centres by their inclusion in libraries in one or, in the cases of the popular Concerto alla Polonaise and the D-minor Concerto, both cities. Their diffusion testifies to the widespread popularity of Telemann’s works beyond the cities in which he worked. It must be added that his authorship of the concertos in B flat and D remains conjectural; on the evidence of the ear alone, I would certainly be inclined to suspect the former as a work of Telemann’s. It is much the least inventive of this group of works, with a Rococo-style opening Allegro that even at five minutes outstays its welcome. The four-movement D-major Concerto for flute and strings is another matter. Opening with an easy flowing Intrada with interesting ‘riffs’ for violin and cello periodically breaking out, it continues with an appealing Aria in which the flute takes the ‘vocal’ part, a brief, lively Gavotte and a graceful Minuet featuring a solo cello in the central section. The presence of three first recordings (TWV 43:G8; the B flat; and the Intrada) would commend the CD to the attention of Telemanniacs if nothing else did.

In fact there is a much more to it than that. For some years Les Esprits Animaux has shown itself to be one of the foremost Baroque chamber ensembles, its performances above all notable for a sense of spontaneity rarely encountered in this repertoire. Mention above of the word ‘riffs’, more frequently associated with jazz, was not accidental, for there is a strong feeling of the improvisatory about all Les Esprits do. The music lives from bar to bar, every gesture counting and contributing to an exhilarating sense of fantasy, of bizzarie. It is necessary to go no further than the beguiling opening Dolce of the Concerto alla Polonaise to hear the stylishly delicate manner in which first violinist Javier Lupiáñez embellishes repeats to know there will be nothing routine about these beautifully played and balanced performances. Caveats? Well, just occasionally I feel the animal spirits run away with the performers a little too much, leading them to excessively fast tempi, as in the Allegro ma non troppo finale of TWV43:G8. Other than that this a disc that conveys the sheer joy of music making to a degree rarely experienced. If you’ve yet to catch up with the unbounded pleasure of listening to Les Esprits Animaux this is the time to rectify the omission.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Mozart, Beethoven: Quintets for piano and winds

Ensemble Dialoghi
51:08
harmonia mundi musicque HMM 905296
K452, Op. 16

It is not often possible to place similar works by Mozart and Beethoven side by side and unequivocally assert that the Mozart is the greater, but for all the prevarication of the notes accompanying this new coupling it does apply to the E-flat quintets for piano and wind (oboe, clarinet, horn and bassoon). There is, of course, a reason. While the Beethoven is a relatively early work, composed in 1796 (the year before the C-major Piano Concerto), the Mozart dates from his high maturity, 1784, a period during which he was composing the six great string quartets dedicated to Haydn. Indeed, in an oft quoted passage from a letter to his father Leopold, Mozart wrote that at its first performance the quintet ‘called forth the very greatest applause: I myself consider it the best work I have ever composed’.

While we must probably allow for the understandable enthusiasm of the moment in this verdict, the quintet is a work of sublime qualities that surely unquestionably acted as the inspiration and model for Beethoven’s work a dozen years later. Not only is the key and layout of each work the same, with three movements, the first of which opens with a slow introduction, but there are also thematic similarities between the two works. Yet Beethoven at the age of 26 was already very much his own man and there are also significant differences between the two, which can immediately be heard in the contrasts between the two slow introductions, where Beethoven gives us an improvisatory, fantasia like preamble introduced by hunting calls that differs significantly from Mozart’s more structured opening. The latter, at once more contrapuntal and already reaching for the sublime by the time we reach the wind’s imitative descending figure (ff bar 9), transports us to quite a different world. As do the slow movements. Beethoven’s Andante cantabile is based on a song-like theme introduced by the piano, continuing as a quasi-rondo with concertante opportunities for the four wind instruments in the course of its dreamily romantic discourse. Mozart’s Larghetto is again more highly structured, its translucent theme given to the wind to instigate an exploration of dynamics and colour, much of it over the piano’s bed of arpeggiated figuration.

It is, I think, the greater directness of the Beethoven that for me makes its performance by the Barcelona-based Ensemble Dialoghi the more satisfying of the two. But there is no doubting that this fine group of players, all members of leading European period instrument orchestras, are technically outstanding and have obviously worked hard to achieve an excellent balance. That is no easy matter in such works, though it does help to have a fortepiano, here a copy of a Viennese instrument made Walter’s firm around 1800, which in the hands Cristina Esclapez produces some beguiling tone in quieter passages. This is especially notable in the beautiful playing of the lovely Beethoven central movement mentioned above. If I’m a little less happy about the Mozart it is because I don’t find the Dialoghis make enough of Mozart’s often extremely subtle dynamic contrasts. Again we can turn to the central Larghetto for an illustration: The first wind motif marked p is immediately answered by a more assertive f for full ensemble before continuing with a dialogue between piano and wind again marked p. Yet we hear little of those contrasts here or throughout the movement, where tension built and released through crescendos answered by piano is too often ironed out by uniformity.

This perhaps sounds hypercritical and many listeners will probably not share my concerns, but I feel there is more to the Mozart than is revealed here. Notwithstanding, there can be no gainsaying the expertise and general musicality of these engaging performances, which have been very well recorded. The notes – which include a somewhat pretentious and unnecessary ‘hypothetical narrative’ for both works – are unusually extensive.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Giacomo Facco : Master of Kings

Turino, Boix, Matsuoka
51.03
Cobra 0063

One of the myriad Italian composers who travelled throughout Europe in the first half of the 18th century, Giacomo Facco seems to have specialised in music for and featuring the cello. The present recording alternates cantatas for soprano and continuo from throughout his life with three of his Sinfonias for solo cello. If Eugenia Boix’s singing in the cantatas occasionally sounds a little detached emotionally, it is always technically impeccable, while cellist Guillermo Turino and harpsichordist Tomoko Matsouka provide a wonderfully imaginative continuo support. The Sinfonias for cello and continuo are to my ear more musically interesting, and are beautifully played by Turino and Matsouka. Most intriguing is the Spanish cantata Cuando en el Orient, dating from Facco’s years in Madrid, which is in a markedly more advanced melodic style than the other cantatas and which features a prominent obligato cello part throughout. It is always fascinating to see a spotlight shone on an individual composer, who represents the lives and work of so many, whose reputations and compositions have sunk into obscurity. Facco’s mature work is as good as anything being composed in Europe at the time, and it is a shame to think that it has been squeezed out of the familiar canon.

D. James Ross

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Recording

Tilting at Windmills

Mico Consort
74:58
Son an ero 12

The Mico Consort, based in France, consists of three violists and an organist. This would not seem an ideal combination for playing a programme such as this, a proportion of which consists of music for viols, much of it in four or five parts, by Byrd and his English contemporaries Tye and of course Mico. Of these only Tye’s Sit fast is performed by the forces, three viols, for which it was composed. They also play pieces by Locke, Coprario, Jenkins and Baltzar appropriate to their personnel, and the organist Anne-Marie Blondel plays four pieces.

Three of Byrd’s five-part In nomines and his Browning are played by 3 viols and organ. Why? The textures are all wrong, impeding and unbalancing Byrd’s narrative. The same is true regarding the two fantasias and, especially, the pavan by Mico. Byrd’s two In nomines in four parts fare better, because the organ plays the cantus firmus and the three viols the contrapuntal parts. Gibbons’ fantasia a6 (MB48/33) is played on the organ. Again, why? Is it because a short score survives and is interpreted by the musicians as indicating the possibility of contemporary performance on the organ alone? Mme Blondel follows this short score in places, and expands upon it in others. The number of surviving fantasias for keyboard by Gibbons runs well into double figures, and their textures differ from this example. Some of them have had all too few recordings. The other three performances on the organ are a vivacious rendition of Tomkins’ Ground (MB5/40); an impressively engaged version of Byrd’s The Bells,surprisingly one of the first commercial recordings of the work to be played on the organ; and to conclude the disc, a radiant performance of Bull’s Salve regina (MB14/40). Here is also a modern piece by Geraud Chirol which gives the disc its title, an incongruous work for the forces of the ensemble.

The presentation is unsatisfactory. Some works are identified merely as ”Ground”, “Fantasia/e” or “Ayre”. There is also a weird piece of translation in the booklet, where a Pavane en la mineur by Jenkins, played on the instruments for which it was intended (see below), is described in the English translation as “a rather tamely written piece” while the original French says “une piece de facture assez sage”. Sage = tame? And if it is tame, why record it? Jenkins’ pavan is not tame, nor is anything in his vast and distinguished oeuvre. This piece also provides a good illustration of the inadequate identifications mentioned above. A search of the Viola da Gamba Society’s thematic index under Jenkins for a pavan in A minor among his hundreds of works proved initially fruitless. By sheer good fortune, on the Presto website there is a “Pavan for 2 bass viols in A minor” listed on a disc of Jenkins’ music performed by Fretwork, with recorded incipits of each track. This turned out to be the same piece. Returning to the VgGS thematic index, I went again to the section on music for bass viols and, having previously scanned the index looking for pieces titled “pavan”, I found the work under the title “[Ayre]”. This took the best part of an hour. It was interesting before it became frustrating, after which I emerged triumphant, albeit rather fortunately, but it was also a huge waste of my time. The item is no 1 in the VdGS listing of Jenkins’ music for two bass viols, and is available from Fretwork Editions and Dovehouse Editions.

This is a curate’s egg of a disc.  Performances by the ensemble tend to be uninspiring and, in the case of the works by Byrd and Mico, are unnecessary. One of the pieces played as an organ solo is a waste of a track but, to conclude on a positive note, the other three organ solos are all estimable.

Richard Turbet

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Recording

Schubert: String Quartets

Chiaroscuro Quartet
62:47
BIS-2268 SACD
D173, D810

I confess that on hearing ‘Death and the Maiden’ now I cannot help but think of Woody Allen’s Crimes and Misdemeanors, where it accompanies the scene in which we see the contract killer on his way to murder the tiresome ex-mistress played by Anjelica Houston. The juxtaposition is done without signalling and I’ve often wondered how many film goers have been aware of the relevance of the apparently incongruous emergence of a string quartet on the soundtrack.

But I digress. The Quartet in D minor, which takes its name from the use of Schubert’s song of 1817 as the theme of the variations that form its second movement, was composed in 1824 – not as the notes claim ‘between 1824 and 1826’ – and is the composer’s penultimate string quartet. A massively proportioned work, it explores a gamut of emotions from fear and stark grief to tender expressions of regret. From the fiercely trenchant opening chords that emotional world is explored by the Chiaroscuro Quartet (Alina Ibragimova and Pablo Hernán, violins; Emilie Hörnlund, viola; Claire Thirion, cello) with an all-embracing totality that is ultimately overwhelming. It is rare to hear period instrument playing of such technical accomplishment and perfect sense of balance. When those fortissimo opening chords are answered with real pianissimo playing, delicately articulated and perfectly chorded, we start to suspect that we might be in the presence of something special. And so it proves to be. Throughout all four movements the listener is treated to a compass of sonority ranging from near orchestral power – try the third variation of Andante con moto for just one of the most spectacular examples – to a Mendelssohnian lightness of touch. The second half of the initial statement in the same movement is an especially magical case of the latter. Neither is lyricism neglected, the profound sadness and sensitive phrasing of the distant, haunted dance in the Trio section of the Scherzo making for yet another unforgettable moment. Yet above all it is the epic drama of this beautifully structured performance that leaves so strong an impression.

The String Quartet in G minor dates from nearly a decade earlier, 1815, a year of extraordinary fecundity for Schubert that witnessed, among other things, the composition of some 150 songs and Symphonies 2 and 3. As might be expected, the quartet belongs far more to the world of Haydn and Mozart than as a relation to ‘Death and the Maiden’. Here the potent key of G minor is used not as a highly personal expression of tragedy as was the case with Mozart, but more as a vehicle for drama in the sense it was employed by Haydn. Indeed, the opening theme of the Allegro con brio first movement introduces a spirit of Haydnesque poise, while the second idea, with pizzicato cello, seems to consist of a passage that might have consisted of discarded fragments from the act 2 finale of Le nozze di Figaro. Not until the development, the most striking part of the movement, do we encounter hints of real discomfort. The performance, naturally scaled down from the heights stormed in the D-minor Quartet, is nonetheless as satisfying in its own right, again being skillfully structured; listen, for example, to the wonderfully graded and nuanced dynamics in the closing pages of the Andantino second movement.

BIS’s splendid SACD engineering enables these marvellously accomplished performances to realise to the full their powerful but also often extraordinarily subtle impact.

Brian Robins

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Sheet music

New from G. Henle Verlag

The first title in the most recent batch we received from this publisher is a piano reduction of Neruda’s Horn (or trumpet) concerto (Henle 561, ISMN 979-0-2018-0561-0, €15) by Dominik Rahmer (editor) and Christoph Sobanski (piano reduction). Famed for his stratospheric playing, Neruda was one of the outstanding Bohemian hornists at the Dresden court. The set includes three parts for a variety of brass players – one notated in C for a natural horn player (presumably playing an F horn to be in tune with the piano?), one for trumpet in E flat (the music in C an octave below the horn part) and for the concert trumpet in B flat (the music in F). All three have the same idiomatic (though virtuosic for the natural instrument!) cadenzas by Reinhold Friedrich. An excellent and very reasonably priced addition to the horn player’s repertoire.

Mozart’s Erste Lodronische Nachtmusik is a sequence of dances, written for the name day celebrations of Countess Antonia of that ilk in 1776. Felix Loy’s Urtext edition sensibly pairs it with a March written for the same celebrations and, based on his belief that it was performed by the musicians (strings with two horns) as they assembled for the divertimento, it comes first in the volume (Henle HN7150, ISMN 979-0-2018-7150-9 study score, €14, Henle 1150, ISMN 979-0-2018-1150-5 parts €32), although that causes the two Köchel numbers to be reversed. As you would expect, the edition is meticulous with succinct critical notes, and the parts are beautifully laid out, with fold-out pages when movements are too long to be accommodated on a two-page spread. First class attention to detail.

The remaining two editions sent are from the on-going Beethoven piano sonata series from Norbert Gertsch and Murray Perahia (who is credited as joint editor and for supplying the fingerings). There is not much I can say that I did not already cover in my previous review – same beautiful engraving with carefully planned page-turns, and the same footnotes providing on-the-page important information or insights. The A major sonata op 2/2 (Henle 772, ISMN 979-0-2018-0772-0, €12) and that in C major, op 2/3 (Henle 1222, ISMN 979-0-2018-1222-9, €10) were dedicated to Haydn – even relatively early in Beethoven’s career, we must wonder what his former teacher made of them when he heard the composer play them in 1796.

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Sheet music

New from Peacock Press

We recently received a bulky packet containing volumes from this publisher. I will go through them as they emerged. All are neatly printed and professionally finished in A4 format with nice covers.

Alan Howard has recreated Sampson Estwick’s Trio Sonata in A minor from the sole surviving Violin 1 part (catalogue number PEMS 33 V, costing £7). It is a continuous movement with alternating sections in different styles and will be a welcome addition to any chamber group’s repertoire, with both upper parts fleixble in their instrumentation.

Hotteterre’s Deuxième Suite de Pieces (op. 6, 1717) has long been popular with flautists. Gordon J Callon has now transposed it for treble recorders (PEMS 048, £7). After six pages of performance advice come 17 of music. While the musical notation is clear enough, a lot more effort might have been invested in the layout; simple things like having six systems on pages 2-3 rather than seven on the first and five on the second, of spreading out the music on pages 4-5 rather than having far too cramped seven staves on the first and only two (with LOTS of blank space) on the other would certainly help. Why does the Contrefaiseurs not reach the bottom of pages 16-17? These might be thought of as aesthetic considerations, but actually the easier one can follow the shape of music on the page (with petites reprises, Da Capos, Dal Segnos and whole-movement repeats to take account of) the more enjoyable the players’ experience. Personally, if there have to be blank pages, I prefer them to be on the left – I don’t know if I’m alone in this… somehow it seems odd to me to have a blank right page; it’s like a sign saying “you’ve finished – no need to turn the page”.

Thalia, A Collection of Six Favourite Songs was originally printed in 1767. Simon D. I. Fleming has produced a new edition (PEMS 079, £13.50) of settings of the famous actor David Garrick’s words by Thomas and Michael Arne, Barthélémon, Battishill, Boyce, and the younger John Christopher Smith (an index would have been useful, and could easily have been provided by squashing up the overly spacious “Editorial method”. The paper is different from the two preceding publications, but it nice that the performing set includes a second copy of the score without the thick cover. The typesetting is neat though, given that the scoring (soprano/tenor, 2 violins and continuo) never changes, I wonder why every staff on every page needs to be labelled. Although I understand why having a keyboard part that is more of a reduction than anything else facilitates the performance of these attractive songs without the extra instruments, it makes it more difficult for non-specialists if they are unable to play from a figured bass. I’m not sure why the editor felt the need to add a second violin part to the Boyce song; I would also suggest that the second figure in bar 35 should have been interpreted literally, giving a far neater temporary shift to A minor than Fleming’s explicit F sharp!

“Purists will hate this – but they don’t have to buy it,” writes Moira Usher in her introduction to two volumes entitled Introduction to Unbarred (Book I ATTB, PEMS 075, £10.50, Book II SATTB, PEMS 076, £12.50). In fact, this purist thinks it quite a sensible idea, even though he didn’t immediately twig that the music she has chosen to present this way is not intended for use by singers. Once again, an index would have been useful. The works are by Lassus, Byrd, Morley, Palestrina and Victoria (Book I) and Byrd, Guerrero, Weelkes and Palestrina (Book II). In a world where more people want to play from original sources, I see this as an excellent starting place. Starting with relatively easy repertoire (and with a score to hand to check if someone can’t quite “get it”), groups can, first of all, see the shapes of phrases (with the aid of the natural rhythm of the texts – what a great idea to choose vocal music!) and liberate themselves from the tyranny of the barline. Next step, learn to read C clefs. Far from rubbishing Usher’s editions, I’d encourage her to go further – if a part ends with a lunga, use that notation (there must be a way!), and similarly use multi-bar rests. Or maybe these are developments planned for Books III and IV and the whole endeavour is a great learning experience?

Andrew Robinson’s Rameau Duets – Volume Two (PAR 465, 8.50) includes 16 movements mostly for a pair of trebles (three of the pieces in this volume require a descant, too). The typesetting and layout are nicely done (even the page I would typically object to where the music doesn’t fill the page, the systems are spaced out and carefully aligned so I respect the typesetter’s effort). Having a common index for the three volumes is fine, but if you are also going to use the same “here’s how to play (or avoid) difficult high notes” advice, at least put them in volume and page order. Small gripes for a book that is bound to bring a lot of fun to Rameau-loving recorder players!

Simple divisions in quavers is the title of Robinson’s editions of four madrigal’s by Cipriano de Rore which appeared in Girolamo dalla Casa’s Il vero modo di diminuir of 1584 (PAS 501, £12.50). The set includes a score, a part with the original de Rore lines, another with dalla Casa’s diminutions, the same transposed up an octave, and finally a mini guidebook to dalla Casa’s advice (and exercises) on tonguing. I was left a little confused about the target audience; if there is a tonguing guide, why do lots of the passages spend so much time below the clef where recorder players cannot reach? Should that not have been printed an octave higher, too? If the editor suggests performing the pieces as four-part madrigals, shouldn’t there be parts for the three lower voices, too? Which could double as parts for a recorder (or other) consort? Since the diminutions always start on the melody note from the original voice part, would it not have been better to omit the voice version from the score and added the text to the instrumental part, thus saving space and (in theory) helping the player see where the textual stresses lay? I think it is a noble project, but it could have been thought through a little better.

Brian Clark

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Recording

Telemann: Chamber music treasures from Dresden and Darmstadt

64:13
Les Esprits Animaux
Musica Ficta MF8029

It is straight away obvious when an ensemble has taken due care and attention over what they choose to present on their recording. Here Javier Lupiáñez and Les Esprits Animaux are to be commended for their smart choices. Straddled by two fairly familiar works, opening with “Concerto alla polonese” (TWV43:G7) tackled with just enough rustic flair, and ending with the beautiful D-minor work (TWV43:d2) here in the earlier string version, composed circa 1711-15 (aka one of the 4th Book of Quartets, Leclerc Paris 1752) we find two of those “deest” works, that is to say, absent, not to be found in any known catalogue listings; the first of these in D major, seems to my ear to contain more departures from Telemann’s usual musical “modii” than commonalities, but the second (in B flat major) seems to passingly quote from one of the cantatas from the Harmonischer Gottesdienst (TVWV1:447) in the 2nd movement “Adagio”. Interspersed we have two fine premieres: TWV43:G8, which brings us back to some familiar fleetness , and dynamic expression; the 3rd movement “Grave” has a kind of vocalised effect, not overdone by the ensemble’s leader Javier Lupiáñez with his embellishments. Finally, mention goes to the quite excellent TWV42:D10, a marvellous five-movement work, which has a typical mellifluence and design we recognize in other Telemann pieces; even the blending of stylistic elements from Italy and France strike the ear, with movements running from Menuet to Balletto, in this accomplished hybrid, all wonderfully captured by this vivacious and alert ensemble. We feel back on firm, idiomatic ground. This is a most worthy exposition, and we can only hope for more insightful, well-researched explorations to appear in the future. On page 10 of their fine CD Booklet, a neat explanation of the ensemble’s name is provided, coming from a philosophical term used in the Baroque period; we live and learn!

David Bellinger

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Recording

Pour la Duchesse du Maine

ensemble La Française
55:00
Polynie POL 503 314
Music by Bernier, Bourgeois & Mouret

Praise be! A soprano whose vibrato is not the most prominent feature of her sound!! Marie Remandet sings the splendid cantatas by Bernier and Bourgeois with plenty of dramatic commitment but also some welcome self-control so that she does inhabit the same tonal and stylistic world as her instrumental colleagues. Her trills are not always perfect but that’s a price I’m more than willing to pay for what she does the rest of the time. The Duchesse that gives the programme its title was the colourful Louise Bénédicte de Bourbon, who maintained a rich socio-cultural milieu at the Château de Sceaux. None of this music can be directly associated with her, though Berbier’s fifth book of cantatas was entitled Les Nuits de Sceaux and Mouret was for a while ordinaire de la Musique da la duchesse du Maine. His Concert de Chambre is a suite (overture and dances) with unspecified instrumentation which suits the ensemble’s resident flute and violin (I’ll just about forgive them the piccolo in the Tambourin). Here as everywhere else they play with an impressive unity of purpose, with enough life in the continuo when needed, and make a strong case for this relatively unfamiliar repertoire. They do, however, need a better graphic designer (white print on a yellow background is doomed to illegibility) and translator: the English version of the essay struggles.

David Hansell