Tag: Choral music

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Vivaldi: Musica sacra per coro e orchestra I

CD cover VIVALDI – MUSICA SACRA PER CORO E ORCHESTRA I

Soloists, Coro e Orchestra Ghislieri, conducted by Giulio Prandi
 73:01
Naïve OP8564

The mammoth undertaking that is the Vivaldi Edition moves on to another series within the series, this time devoted to sacred choral music. In this case, that is a bit of a misnomer given that the present CD includes three works that do not feature a chorus. While some elements of the Edition are unique documents – the complete operas particularly come to mind – intégrales of the sacred works have been undertaken previously by Philips and Hyperion. However, even on the first disc, there are two works that were not included in either of the earlier sets simply because they are recent discoveries. In a customarily scholarly note, Vivaldi expert Michael Talbot describes the Dixit Dominus, RV 807 as ‘the largest and most important new sacred work by the composer to have emerged in the last twenty years’. The last of the three settings of the Vespers psalm composed by Vivaldi, Talbot suggests a date of around 1732. He points to the high quality of the work, rightly drawing particular attention to ‘De torrente’, where the mimetic evocation of the constant murmuring of the brook acts as a foundation for the long cantabile lines of the alto soloist, Margherita Maria Sala, described here as a mezzo but more accurately a rich-toned contralto with a timbre not unlike that of the great French alto Lucile Richardot.

Sala also sings the other recently rediscovered work, the motet Vos invito barbaræ faces, RV 811. Scored for solo alto, strings and continuo it consists of two extremely contrasted arias placed either side of a plain recitative and is concluded by the customary bravura Alleluia. The opening is an aria agitata urging battle against the forces of evil, which are compared to wild beasts, while the second gently welcomes the worthwhile wounds sustained in the battle.

Sala also has a prominent role in the Magnificat in G minor, RV 611, a work composed for the Pietà in Venice originally around 1715, but later considerably revised; it is the final version that is recorded here. She is particularly effective in the exquisite ‘Sicut locutus est’, where the long, beautifully sustained cantabile line culminates in a cadential trill, an ornament otherwise sadly lacking. Overall RV 611 is a work fully deserving of its place as one of Vivaldi’s most popular sacred work. From the chromatically-inflected opening chorus through the exuberant and well-executed soprano solo ‘Et exultavit’ and the succeeding ‘Quia respexit’, also a soprano solo, the work exudes a heart-warming expression of humility.

It’s a quality that fits well with Giulio Prandi’s approach to this music, his performances particularly notable for their warm affection and the space he is prepared to allow the music, a welcome change from the driving rhythmic impetus and virtuosity so often sought by conductors in this repertoire. Of the works not so far mentioned, Sanctorum meritis, RV 620 is a hymn, alternate verses being set, it being assumed that the intervening verses were intoned by the priest. It is sung here by soprano Carlotta Colombo (not the alto, as claimed by Talbot), whose fresh, youthful-sounding voice and agile technique are a pleasure throughout, though on this evidence she needs to improve her articulation of ornaments. Confitebor tibi, Domine, RV 596, a setting of the Vespers Psalm 110, is unique among Vivaldi’s sacred works in being the only one scored for a trio of solo voices, here alto, tenor and bass, its main interest coming from the contrapuntal interweaving of the three soloists.

This is an excellent start to coverage of the sacred works, a mini-series to which I imagine that Prandi and his accomplished forces will contribute a major role.

Brian Robins

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Bach Cantatas

CD cover Bach Cantatas Oxford Bach Soloists

Nick Pritchard tenor, Yu-Wie Hu flute, Oxford Baroque soloists, directed by Tom Hammond-Davies
57:57
Signum Records SIGCD869

Tom Hammond-Davies had his formation at New College in the days of Edward Higginbottom, so the Oxford Bach Soloists which he founded were based there at first. Now they have taken wing, and after a few years as director of music at Wadham, he is now based in Dallas. Their first recording as a group is a programme of three Bach cantatas, which gives a good overview of their style and aims. Here I should confess a bias: I have worked with a number of his musicians, both singers and players.

First on this CD is BWV 82.2, Ich habe genung, is sung in the version Bach transposed up for traverso and soprano in 1731, elements of which found their way into Anna Magdalena’s Klavierbüchlein. Here it is sung by the tenor, Nick Pritchard, who is also the solo voice in BWV 55, Ich armer Mensch, the one cantata for solo tenor, which has an oboe d’amore paired with the traverso. In a quite different style which befits its earlier origin is BWV 4, Christ lag in Todesbanden, the cantata from Bach’s Mühlhausen trial on Easter Day 1707.

Common to all three is a string band of 3.3.2.1.1 which might be expected in Leipzig, but feels a little unbalanced in the early BWV 4, which has a 5-part string band with the two viola parts commonly scored in 17th-century Germany. But the reason becomes clear, as this cantata is performed by a chorus of 17 voices throughout – including in the numbers marked ‘solo’ – and has a basso continuo line bolstered by not only a fagotto but a harpsichord as well as the organ. These purist cavils aside, this is wonderful singing by (almost entirely) young singers with that direct, un-plummy tone that allows Bach’s polyphony to ring out with a clarity and energy that few more established choirs can rival. This is a triumphant vindication of one of the OBS’s aims – to bring on younger musicians. The chorale that concludes BWV 55, sung by a smaller group of singers – none of whom sang in BWV 4, save for Nick Pritchard – reveals what choral talent is available in Oxford; any of them could have sung in the choir for BWV 4.

The solo cantatas have a quite different feel. Here Hammond-Davies coaxes suave playing from his players, giving prominence to the traverso of Yu-Wei Hu whose long phrases and blending, woody tone means that Nick Pritchard never has to over-sing. Their best pairing is in BWV 55iii. Pritchard has a more soloistic persona in these Leipzig cantatas than he was allowed to show in BWV 4, but the clean lines of the chorale indicate that he can change mode.
Unique to this CD in my experience is a fine note on the text of Bach cantatas by Henrike Lähnemann, Professor of Mediaeval German at Oxford for the past ten years. A musician herself, she introduces us to the theology and craft of Christoph Birkmann, a university student and a candidate for the ministry, who was trusted by Bach to fashion the libretti for BWV 82 and 55.

This is a splendid CD. If they manage to make more, I hope that Hammond-Davies will manage to try out solo singers from the ranks of his ‘chorus’. He is ideally placed to perform works with a ‘choir’ of Concertisten whose parts are doubled selectively by Ripienisten from time to time, and he should trust his youngest singers: Bach did.

David Stancliffe

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Monteverdi Testamento: Vespro della Madonna 1643

CD cover Monteverdi Vespro della Madonna Le Poème Harmonique Vincent Dumestre

Le Poème Harmonique, Vincent Dumestre
87:28
Château des Versailles Spectacles CVS145

Those familiar with the life and works of Monteverdi can be forgiven if they feel slightly confused by the title of this thrilling, pulsating issue. They are, of course, likely to be aware that 1643 is the date of Monteverdi’s death, not a date of publication for a setting of Vespers. There is, as many will also know, only one unified Monteverdi collection of the five Vespers psalms (Dixit Dominus, Laudate pueri, Laetatus sum, Nisi Dominus and Lauda Jerusalem) plus the Magnificat and attendant motets, that being the famous publication of 1610. This present set is therefore a conjectural Vespers put together largely from two much later publications, Selva morale e spirituale of 1640/41, which includes 38 sacred works, including two quite separate settings of the Magnificat and several of the Vespers psalms, in addition the Laetatus sum and Nisi Dominus from the posthumous 1650 collection. And this is where ‘testimento’ comes in, for Selva morale in particular does indeed represent a summation of the almost bewildering variety of styles Monteverdi employed during his long career as a composer of sacred music. Rather pretentiously termed ‘Monterverdi’s “other” Vespers’ at the heading of a detailed and fascinating note by Matthieu Franchin, it should be obvious from the above that this is not the only way an alternative Monteverdi Vespers can be performed and indeed it is not unique in that respect.

What it is, as the above spoiler implies, is an exceptional recording in which the glorious acoustic of the Chapelle Royale at Versailles plays its own role. Vincent Dumestre, now one of the doyens of the French early music scene, has never been one to eschew extremes or a grandiose approach. Here he not only employs large choral forces, 24 voices, plus a continuo section including two theorbos and a triple harp to help provide a ripe bed of arpeggiations that at times feels a trifle over-egged. But there is little music so suited to lavish gesture as much of this is, especially that written in the polychoral style founded in Venice by the Gabrielis. The first psalm, the 8-part Dixit Dominus secondo (SV 264) is a mouth-watering introduction to what is to come. The first entry of the full chorus is electrifying in its rhythmic vitality, while ‘Virgam virtutis’ introduces a first-rate team of soloists, firstly in solos, then as an ensemble drawing the first of many rich tapestries of sound evoked by Dumestre. At the opposite end of the spectrum, the words ‘De torrente’ bring a memorable moment of stillness before we are hastened to the doxology with its rapid iteration of words tumbling over each other.

Throughout the performance, there are so many points of interest that it would be impractical to try to draw attention to many of them. Certainly, one is the six-part Laetatus sum primo (SV 198), scored primarily for Monteverdi’s favourite combination of pairs of voices. Here it is the two tenors (Paco Garcia and Cyril Auvity) especially that excel, as indeed they do throughout the performance, communicating strongly in a manner not quite achieved by their soprano and bass colleagues. The doxology, sung by the full choir, is a magnificent blaze of almost overwhelming glory. While on the subject of the doxology, it should be noted there is an error in the booklet’s text, where that of Laudate sum pueri (SV 270) is printed as the opening of the following Stabat Mater (SV 96)! That solemn motet is given a beautifully judged reading, mournful brass succeeded by the male voices of the choir joined by the lovely sound of the upper voices. This is ravishingly lovely, perfectly tuned choral singing. Finally, mention must be made of Pianto della Madonna, a solo motet in the stile rappresentivo that is a contrafactum (or sacred adaptation) of the famous Lamento d’Arianna from Monteverdi’s lost opera L’Arianna (1608). Here it is given great intensity by Perrine Devillers, passages done with organ accompaniment communicating more strongly than those where the lute and harp tend to be obtrusive.

Uplifting, spiritually refreshing, moving and exhilarating by turn, this joyous set is strongly recommended.

Brian Robins

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Handel: Israel in Egypt

CD cover Handel Israel in Egypt Jeannette Sorrell

A Dramatic Oratorio, adaptation by Jeannette Sorrell
Margaret Carpenter Haigh, Molly Netter, Daniel Moody, Jacob Perry, Edward Vogel, Apollo’s Singers, Apollo’s Fire, directed by Jeannette Sorrell
74:13
Avie AV2629

I should start by addressing the edition of Handel’s Israel in Egypt created by the director Jeannette Sorrell for this recording. She ‘restores’ the opening Lament of the Israelites for the Death of Joseph included by Handel in his 1739 version, but sometimes omitted from later editions and performances. This is indeed a worthwhile exercise, although not nearly as radical a move as Sorrell’s note suggests – in fact most of the recordings I consulted open with the Lament. However, her further concomitant decision to cut down the remaining two sections is much more controversial. Her stated aim ‘to keep the length of the oratorio manageable for modern audiences’ seems ridiculous – are we to trim other extended musical masterpieces in response to the shortening attention span of the modern public? This decision would seem to me to have much more to do with fitting the work on a single CD, and to run directly contrary to the group’s vision of an authentic performance on period instruments. The CD package does prominently announce that this performance uses an adaptation of the original score, but I doubt that any prospective buyers would suspect the extent that the music has been compromised. This is so disappointing as the singing and playing of the Apollo forces is compelling and utterly convincing and Sorrell’s direction crisp and insightful. What a pity they didn’t decide just to trust the composer’s dramatic instincts – he was hardly a man inexperienced in the arc of drama – and use their excellent forces to record the piece as he wrote it. I have recently encountered several  ‘adaptations’ of Baroque pieces, designed to ‘improve’ upon the original and which have proved disastrous. This recording is by no means a disaster, but it is ultimately a disappointing misrepresentation of Handel’s work – a missed opportunity. As a footnote, I should mention the extraordinary 1888 recording of the annual Handel Festival performance by 4000 singers of Moses and the Children of Israel from this oratorio (available online), one of the earliest recordings of Handel’s music and a remarkable insight into the performance practices of this period! I’m sure the Victorian audience was thrilled with this version…

D. James Ross

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Lambert de Sayve: Ad Vesperas

CD cover Lambert de Sayve Ad Vesperas

Ensemble Polyharmonique, Alexander Schneider; Concerto Imperiale, Fabien Moulaert
69:03
Musique en Wallonie MEW2201

The cathedral of St. Lambert in Liège was one of the richest and best-served ecclesiastical centres in Northern Europe in the 17th century, with sixty canons and connections to a large number of collegiate churches and abbeys from which it could call on musicians. The Grand livre de choeur de Saint-Lambert of c. 1645, which survives in the library of Liège Conservatoire, contains fifty-odd motets for from four to eight voices and includes five Vespers-related pieces performed on this recording. They are arranged as part of an extended Marian Vespers, with three psalms and a Magnificat for double choir by Lambert de Sayve, a fourth double-choir psalm by Matthieu Rosmarin, and motets by de Sayve, Lambert Coolen, Henri de Romouchamps and Léonard de Hodemont. The singers of Ensemble Polyharmonique, together with the wind players of Concerto Imperiale, provide a rich tapestry of sound, beautifully balanced and expertly recorded. There are plainchant antiphons and organ music by Andrea Gabrieli, Peter Philips and Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck, confidently played by Concerto Imperiale’s director, Fabien Moulaert. Sweelinck’s Écho, unique to the Grand livre, is a real tour-de-force, lasting nine and a half minutes (details of the organ are not provided). I was also particularly struck by de Sayve’s setting of the motet O admirabile commercium performed by male voices and low instruments. An extensive booklet in French, Flemish, English and German contains comprehensive liner notes by the musicologist Émilie Corswarem, an expert on the music of Liège. This recording is a real pleasure to listen to and shines a light on a neglected corner of the festive music which graced high holy days in Northern Europe in the early Baroque.

Noel O’Regan

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CAMPRA – MESSE DE REQUIEM

CD cover Campra Messe de Requiem Daucé

Ensemble Correspondances, directed by Sébastien Daucé
69:56
harmonia mundi HMM 902679

There are doubtless many like myself who first became aware of André Campra’s sublime Requiem through the recording made by John Eliot Gardiner in 1979. This new version, by one of today’s most renowned French ensembles, is very different, taking its point of reference not from Campra’s period as maître de musique at Notre-Dame in Paris (1694-1700), but a new theory as to the provenance of a work that has always been surrounded by mystery as to its original purpose and date of composition. That is explained in the scholarly note by Thomas Leconte in harmonia mundi’s booklet. It is too complex to go into detail here, but it makes a convincing argument for suggesting the Mass is unlikely to have been written for either Notre-Dame or the chapelle royale, where Campra became one of the sous-maîtres from 1723. That leaves open the suggestion that it was the Mass directed by Campra in 1700 at the Église des Mathurins for the funeral service of Louis Boucherat, Chancellor of France.   

That the Requiem was therefore most likely written for less grand surroundings than Notre-Dame or the Chapelle Royale probably explains the reasoning behind the substantially smaller forces in the present performance than are usually heard in the work. Given its nature, which chooses neither to stress the terror of death, nor to bathe in grief, but rather create an ambiance alternating between spiritual rest and the joy to be found in the light and peace attained in death, the more intimate forces are highly effective. This philosophy is clearly laid out in the opening words of the Introit, where the blissfully flowing polyphonic lines of ‘Requiem aeternam’ (Eternal rest …) give way at ‘et lux perpetua’ (and let perpetual light) to delicate dancing rhythms that remind us that Campra is today best remembered as the creator of the opéra-ballet. This dual approach dominates this infinitely touching work, which in keeping with the style of French sacred works of the 17th century flexibly alternates the chorus with a smaller petit-choeur that participates in solos or solo ensembles. It is one of the measures of the outstanding qualities of Sébastian Daucé’s performances that he has not only artists of the known stature of soprano Caroline Weynants and alto Lucile Richardot included in his petit-choeur, but less familiar names such as haute-contre Rodrigo Carreto and tenor François Joron also make distinguished contributions. The latter’s beautifully sustained line in Agnus Dei I is just one of the highlights of a performance that overall is of the highest quality.

It is something of a paradox that having persuasively convinced us that the Requiem has nothing to do with Notre-Dame, the subtitle of the CD is ‘& Les Maîtres de Notre-Dame de Paris’, the remainder of it being devoted to the 17th-century predecessors of Campra. Of these, the earliest is Jean Veillot (ca1600–62), composer of a simple, but effective Ave verum corpus, who succeeded his teacher Henry Frémart in the post in 1640, going on to become a sous-maître at the Chapelle-Royale, a familiar route for French composers. Veillot’s successor at Notre-Dame was François Cosset (ca1610–ca1673), substantial portions of whose six-part Mass ‘Domine salvum fac regem’ are included, as is the source motet by Veillot. The notes wax lyrical about the quality of the work, which seems to me a rather unremarkable setting largely employing old-fashioned Renaissance polyphony, but also syllabic homophony. The disc is completed by two fine motets by Pierre Robert (ca1622–99), one, ‘Tristis est anima mea’ being a brief setting of the words of Christ in the garden of Gethsemane, ‘My soul is sorrowful even unto death’, the closely-worked polyphony of the early part giving way to rhetorical emphasis at the point of Christ’s accusation to his disciples, ‘Vos fugem capietas’ (You shall run away).

A splendid addition to Ensemble Correspondances’ distinguished series of recordings of both sacred and secular music of the French Baroque.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Byrd: The Great Service & English Anthems

Alamire, His Majestys Sagbutts & Cornetts, Stephen Farr, David Skinner
77:20
INVENTA INV1015

This recording of Byrd’s mighty and magnificent Great Service and seven Anglican anthems has two purposes. It concludes Alamire’s project marking the quatercentenary of Byrd’s passing in 1623, after their two acclaimed albums of his complete secular song collections of 1588 and 1589 (INV1006, 2021 and 1011, 2023); and it celebrates the centenary of the first complete performance in three centuries of the Great Service, which was “rediscovered” just after the First World War.

Given a work of this quality and quantity – seven movements for ten voices, the most for which Byrd ever composed – it is surprising that there has been so little inquisitiveness about why he wrote it. Certainly it is not the sort of work anyone would write on a whim, or on the off chance of a random performance, or because they couldn’t sleep. The liturgical context – the Church of England’s services of Mattins (three movements), Holy Communion and Evensong (two each) – and the resources that are required suggest some major celebration. In fairness, because it was not printed at the time, there is no evidence from surviving manuscript sources or contemporary writings, and we are left clutching at circumstantial straws, such as the likely dating of the earliest sources, which renders the fortieth anniversary of the Queen’s accession a possibility. Unsurprisingly surviving sources can be located to only a limited number of major choral establishments.

In a piece that is simply so good throughout its entire length, selecting certain passages for appreciation gives an impression that other passages are not worthy of such attention. This is misleading, as every phrase and passage and movement warrants appreciation, but even in this work of such consistent excellence, there are a few passages of transcendent quality. Two will suffice here. The closing text of the Te Deum (the second canticle at Mattins) is “Let me never be confounded”. Byrd does not eschew repetition in his settings during this work, but nowhere else does his setting become not only so emphatic, but also so emotional, exuding both pathos and passion. Was he even expressing guilt and seeking forgiveness from his God over his employment as a known Roman Catholic within the Protestant Established Church? The second passage is the Amen to the Magnificat (the first canticle at Evensong). Usually it is the Amen to its partner, the Nunc Dimittis, which receives the plaudits, led by E.H. Fellowes, the work’s putative rediscoverer and first editor, and this indeed rounds off the work majestically. But perhaps because of the association of the Magnificat with the Virgin Mary, this might have piqued the interest of the Catholic Byrd more profoundly, and one wonders whether he was showing these Protestants, who were more sceptical about the Virgin, a thing or two about the heights to which the mother of Christ could inspire him as a Catholic composer.

The seven anthems selected from the relatively small number that Byrd composed for the Church of England cover most of Byrd’s composing career, from the early Out of the deep with its debt to Byrd’s mentor Sheppard, to the almost madrigalian Exalt thyself O Lord and O God the proud are risen against me. All differ from one another within the constraints of decorum required for the Elizabethan Church, and a point has been made of including those least served by commercial recordings, notably the understated but exquisite O God whom our offences have justly displeased. Most familiar is what is best known as O Lord make thy servant Elizabeth which became performed with increasing frequency during the reign of the late Queen Elizabeth II. The original version had its text adapted several times up until the reign of Queen Anne in the eighteenth century, twice to reflect Charles I and II; past and present come together for its presence on this recording as O Lord make thy servant Charles its sonorous and beautiful Amen bringing the proceedings to an appropriate conclusion.

Also included are Byrd’s three keyboard settings of the plainsong Clarifica me pater in successively two, three and four parts. They are among his finest and most popular pieces for organ and are played here by Stephen Farr, surely the finest living exponent of Byrd’s music on the organ. His accompaniments to the Service and anthems are faultless both in execution and in what is currently known of Elizabethan practice.

This leads to a consideration of the use of winds to accompany the Service. There is no specific evidence for this in the surviving manuscripts nor in any contemporary writings, but there is evidence of the use of cornetts and sackbutts at certain grand services, and of the numbers employed here. Given the grandeur of the music in the Great Service, it seems credible that if winds were used anywhere, it would be for a work such as this, and His Majesty’s Sagbutts & Cornetts make the best possible case for their inclusion.

The actual signing is in the hands, or rather the voices, of Alamire, themselves a roll call of Britain’s finest exponents of vocal music from this period. In both verse and full passages their blend is excellent, and they are directed cogently by David Skinner, himself a former cathedral layclerk and nowadays a prominent musicologist specializing in the Renaissance whose recent and current academic projects feature Sheppard and Tallis. The recording quality is ideal, with just the right amount of resonance from the venue, All Hallows, Gospel Oak in London. Very occasionally the highest and lowest notes in a passage are lost: the booklet draws attention to a fleeting but significant dissonance early in the Venite at the words “in the strength” but the bass is indistinct at this point; and in the Magnificat the very high note atop the chord at the climactic word “hearts” is almost inaudible. Otherwise, this is a sonic triumph, complementing the majesty of Byrd’s musical creation.

There are six other recordings of the complete Great Service currently available: three by mixed adult choirs and three by ecclesiastical choirs. Musica Contexta (Chandos CHAN 0789) is the only other one to use winds, and their disc is valuable for the inclusion of two of Byrd’s elusive and neglected festal psalms, one of which is otherwise only on an LP long deleted. Also they were the only choir until Alamire to include the passage “O Lord let thy mercy lighten upon us as our trust is in thee”, which survives in just two sources, originating from Worcester and Gloucester. The Odyssean Ensemble use an organ accompaniment in a wiry rendition which omits the Kyrie (Linn CKD608). The Cardinall’s Musick (Hyperion CDA67937) are disappointingly pared down from a live performance double the size prior to the making of this recording. Of the ecclesiastical choirs, the version by King’s College, Cambridge (EMI CDC 7477712, 1987, now available as a download 9029532656 on Warner Classics) was hailed at the time in one daily broadsheet newspaper as what King’s choir “is all about”. They used an edition by James Wrightson that took into account new research about surviving indications of full and verse passages, similar to those subsequently adopted by Craig Monson for his edition of the work as volume 10b of The Byrd Edition published by Stainer and Bell. Westminster Abbey (Hyperion CDA67533) includes a fine selection of filler anthems and distinguished organ playing by Robert Quinney. Historically the most intriguing of all these, and arguably the finest, is the recording originally from 1981 by The Saint Thomas Choir of Men and Boys, Fifth Avenue, New York, the only Episcopalian (Anglican in England) church with its own choir school. This version was reissued as a download in 2023 and on CD as a double album early this year to mark the quatercentenary of Byrd’s passing in 1623 (Signum Classics SIGCD776). It is paired with the current choir (2022) singing his Mass for Four Voices and Propers for Corpus Christi (see my review for EMR dated 17 January 2024). Focusing on the 1981 choir, this is the only ecclesiastical version that is unaccompanied, The layclerks of the day included the likes of Drew Minter among the countertenors, and the boys were stunning. Reassuringly today’s choir is just as fine. This is a recording to cherish.

Alamire’s version emerges as the most distinguished among the chamber choirs, being the only one to field the vocal resources adequate to reflect surviving evidence regarding full, verse, and antiphonal (decani and cantoris halves of the choir alternating) passages in contemporary performances. The ecclesiastical choirs exude a different ethos and timbre. They are of course more authentic in performance (and in numbers), but it has been argued that since treble voices in Byrd’s day could last until boys were towards the end of their teens, they would not have sounded dissimilar to those of the adult females in mixed chamber choirs of today. As ever, choice lies with the customer. You would be well served by Alamire and, within an appropriate level of engagement with the text for the singing of Anglican liturgical music in the Elizabethan Church, you will find consummate artistry giving forth a simmering account of Byrd’s sublime music.

Richard Turbet

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Recording

Bach: St John Passion

CD cover Bach St John Passion Cantata Collective McGegan

Cantata Collective, Nicholas McGegan
114:41 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Avie AVIE 2605

This performance of the Johannes-Passion from the Cantata Collective under Nicholas McGegan was recorded live in Berkley in Passiontide 2022, and bears the hallmarks of what to many people is their essential annual Passiontide experience: singing or playing in a live Bach Passion. Throughout its performance history from the year in which it what first written – 1724 – till the final performance in 1749, Bach used the same set of parts – revising them each time. So – apart from the second performance on Good Friday 1725 when, in the year devoted his second, chorale-based, cantata cycle – Bach made a considerable number of changes which he never used again. All subsequent performances were essentially similar and we have no means of knowing whether changes were dictated by constant trial in search of perfection, changes of circumstance, or some other external circumstance as McGegan says in his liner-notes.

The band has two upper strings to a part, so numbers fifteen in all, playing period instruments. The Collective is 12 singers, to which are added six ‘soloists’ with an independent Evangelist and Jesus in addition to those who sing the arias, none of whom – as far as I can judge – takes part in the choruses: in this sense, it is an old-style performance, with McGegan directing from the sparingly used harpsichord.

The Evangelist Thomas Cooley is ideal – nimble, and with a story-teller’s command of the German narrative; the bass who sings Jesus is clearly articulated and the basso continuo when he sings is suitably weighted. The chorus in the turba parts are a bit careful so some of the interchange in the central section before Pilate lack that edge some professional singers can bring to it, but their Lasset uns den nicht zerteilen is splendidly managed, as is the chorale in Mein teurer Heiland.

The aria tempi are moderate, and of the aria singers, the soprano is too wobbly for my taste, as is the chorus member who sings the Maid (and that goes for the top line in the chorus throughout); but the others are splendid – the Arioso Betrachte and the aria Erwege lyric and rhythmic, Eilt is well balanced and the Alto in Es ist Vollbracht sustains his line with the gamba well. The best of the arias is Mein teurer Heiland. Here the lyrical 12/8 cello obbligato is truly matched by the bass, Harrison Hintzsche, whose experience as a consort singer makes him for me the star among the solo singers.

What makes this performance so distinctive is the energy and commitment of the ensemble. We hear not just one more concert performance, but a radiant Good Friday liturgy, where John’s Gospel comes alive. From early times, it has been John’s account of the Passion that has formed the centre-piece of Good Friday’s worship, so underlining the theological truth that in the crucifixion and death of Jesus the work of redemption has been triumphantly concluded and new life has been freely offered. Bach understood this, so immediately after Jesus dies on the cross, a jaunty cello obbligato in 12/8 launches the aria Mein teurer Heiland in D major, the key of trumpets and resurrection. This sense that the crucified Christ reigns from the cross as he inaugurates his new creation pervades the whole of this recording, and McGegan’s infectious energy is almost tangible throughout. As a modern HIP version, it will not please the purists on every page, but as a record of the power of the Johannes-Passion to inspire and move, it scores highly.

David Stancliffe

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DVD
DVD cover Mozart Don Giovanni Jarry

Robert Gleadow (bs), Arianna Vendittelli (sop), Florie Valiquette (sop), et al, Ballet, Choeur & Orchestre de l’Opéra Royal de Versailles, conducted by Gaétan Jarry
184:00
Versailles Spectacles CVS115 (DVD & BlueRay)

This video stems from performances of a new production of Don Giovanni given by the Opéra Royal in the ravishing 18th-century court theatre in the palace of Versailles in November 2023. Generously both a DVD and a Blu Ray disc are included in the package; I viewed the DVD. Having been present on the opening night, I’m disappointed that on my admittedly not-wonderful TV, the picture of the stage is considerably darker than it was in the theatre. Of course, much of Don Giovanni takes place at night or least evening so that is to be expected to some extent but this stage picture frequently lacks clarity. The set itself, unchanging but for backdrops that aid in identifying the action as interior or exterior, is a town square in roughly star shape, the buildings including a couple with galleries for such scenes as Giovanni serenading Elvira’s maid. In general, it all works well, though the Commendatore’s statue turning up on Elvira’s doorstep seems a little incongruous.

The delightful multi-hued and busily decorated costumes owe an obvious debt to the commedia dell’arte tradition and interestingly both the Don and Leporello wear near-identical clothing, maybe as a suggestion that the latter is merely a more plebeian copy of his master. The link with commedia dell’arte was also apparent in the direction by Marshall Pynkoski, whose stated intention had been to make the piece fun. And indeed much fun was elicited, notable for the sheer exuberance and dynamism of such numbers as Leporello’s ‘Catalogue’ aria (although would he have behaved toward Elvira with quite that degree of familiarity?) or the finale of Act 1, which also benefitted from the spirited choreography of Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg. Yet paradoxically the scenes that remain lodged in the mind are some of the more dramatic and serious moments. The supper scene, notoriously difficult to bring off convincingly, is outstandingly done, the swirling silvery mists around the magnificently authoritative statue of the Commendatore chilling in effect. Less commendable is the decision to allow the raucous laughter of the Don to have the final word. It contradicts the ultimate message of the opera, articulated in the words of the final ensemble: ‘This is the end that befalls evildoers’.

That the opening scene has a thrilling dramatic verve, can be not least attributed to the strongly projected Donna Anna of Florie Valiquette, who also responded to the recognition that Don Giovanni was her father’s killer with an accompagnato and succeeding aria ‘Or sai chi l’onore’ with real intensity and thrilling tone. In act 2 ‘Non mi dir’ and its preceding accompagnato bring another special moment, an oasis of stillness in the midst of manic activity. The Elvira of Arianna Vendittelli was also a performance of outstanding quality, culminating in a ‘Mi tradi’ that, with its preceding accompagnato brought another scena of interior and touching quality, a revelation of the vulnerability of a woman hopelessly in love.

The performance of Robert Gleadow as the object of that love, his first Don, occasions a more mixed reaction. Characterful and strongly and securely sung, Gleadow’s  Giovanni projects a predator of animal energy. It was much in keeping with the kind of Don most producers tend to encourage these days. Yet it is a creation that not only overlooks the fact that Don Giovanni is a nobleman, not a slob that puts his feet on the table when eating dinner but, equally importantly that Francesco Benucci, the singer for whom Mozart created the role, was renowned for the finesse and grace of his singing and acting. Interestingly, when Don Giovanni was repeated in Vienna (it was of course written for Prague), Benucci sang Leporello; it is easy to imagine Riccardo Novaro’s outstanding Leporello stepping into the Don’s shoes. As indeed also applies to Jean-Gabriel Saint Martin, whose richly rounded Masetto was a revelation, one of the best I have seen. A more general observation regarding the singing is the tasteful and appropriate decoration added. Not the least aspect of the generally favourable impression of the cast was the manner in which it responded to Pynkoski’s long experience as a director who seeks to work with gesture and historically informed theatre, much in evidence in the highly effective groupings of the ensemble numbers – the production of the great act 2 sextet was a special highlight in this respect.

It is sad to have to report that amidst this truly excellent performance a large fly lurked in the ointment. In his fine book on the birth of conducting, Peter Holman has convincingly argued that the piano never superseded the harpsichord as a continuo instrument, yet opera conductors continue to employ it. Yet rarely can the piano have been put to such damaging use as it is here, where trite teashop tinkling pervades not only recitatives but at times also the orchestral texture, most ludicrously in the Don’s canzonetta, ‘Deh, vieni’, where what is supposed to be his mandolin accompaniment enters into a forlorn duel with the fortepiano.

Notwithstanding this blot on the performance, this was a splendid achievement all round, thoroughly enjoyable and insightful. Although not always in full agreement with Pynkoski’s work, I do admire without reservation the rare integrity he brings to all he does. This Don Giovanni is no exception.

Brian Robins

Categories
Recording

JS Bach & JC Bach: Motets

CD cover Solomon's Knot Bach motets

Solomon’s Knot
Prospero PROSP0073

This recording of the Bach Motets (BWV 225-230) also includes Ich lasse dich nicht (BWV 1164 – or Anhang 159) and four by Johann Christoph Bach: Lieber herr Gott, Der Gerechte, ob er gleich, Fürchte dich nicht and Herr, nun lässet du deinen Diener in Friede fahren. These motets from the Alt-Bachisches Archiv, known to have been performed by Johann Sebastian in the last decade of his life, are performed at A=440 with a higher pitched organ, while the motets by Johann Sebastian are sung at A=415 with a slightly more substantial instrument and occasionally a large violone.

These performances are committed, with Solomon’s Knot’s characteristic off-copy style of singing, meaning that their ensemble is faultless. Their admirers will love these readings recorded in the generous acoustic of the Bachkirche in Arnstadt. There are no instrumental doublings such as Johann Sebastian provided for the funeral motet Der Geist hilft (BWV 226). Lobet den Herrn (BWV 230) is sung with the voice parts doubled, and the liner-notes refer to the possibility that the genesis of this motet (whose authenticity has sometimes been questioned and the only one where a basso continuo line is absolutely essential) may be a movement from an early cantata, re-purposed for this new use. For the rest, all is much as you would expect.

But not everyone will be content with some of the individualistic mannerisms of each singer. The continuing tradition of formation in boys’ choirs in Germany like the Thomanerchor and the Tölzer Knabenchor ensures a seamless unanimity of sound which few mixed groups of professional singers can emulate. While the two sopranos of Solomon’s Knot give their parts a controlled and pure line in Johann Christoph’s Fürchte dich nicht, in Johann Sebastian’s more complex setting they, with most noticeably the tenors, revert to the ‘one-size-fits-all’ type of voice as their fall-back mode. Notes tied over the bar-line are given a push rather than being left to float in the air, and the squeezing of long notes in a 20th-century manner give a very different overall sound to that produced by groups like Vox Luminis. Listen to the first soprano and the tenor in the Aria section of BWV 225, Singet dem Herrn, for example. Sometimes their obvious enjoyment of this great music unfetters the soloistic inner self that lurks beneath the corporate discipline demanded of all consort singers, as in bars 29ff of BWV 228, Fürchte dich nicht. BWV 229, Komm, Jesu, komm seems to fare a little better than Singet dem Herrn in this respect, perhaps because the singers are in more reflective mode. Perhaps the best performance is in Jesu, meine Freude (BWV 227) where the OVPP lines and the robust organ playing combine to give both a sense of the inherent drama and also a more convincing ensemble.

This is classic singing by highly disciplined professional singers at the top of their game. Whether you think it is a suitable vehicle for the closely wrought, highly ornamented and imitative style of Johan Sebastian’s concerto-style writing in the motets is a different question. For me, the high quality of Solomon’s Knot’s musicianship does not outweigh my sense that this style of singing often fails to deliver the clarity and unanimity of vocal sound that Bach’s intricate and instrumental style of polyphonic writing demands.

David Stancliffe