Recent Researches in the Music of the Baroque Era, 201
Edited by Derek L. Stauff
xxxii + 209pp (plus a facsimile of the tenor part book)
A-R Editions, Inc.
ISBN 978-0-89579-879-4 $230.00
[dropcap]O[/dropcap]ne of the four earliest Leipzig prints of vocal music involving instruments (the others being by Schütz, Schein and the composer’s brother, Tobias), Samuel Michael’s 25 settings of verses from the first 25 psalms is a most important collection. Printed shortly after the liberation of Leipzig by the combined armies of Sweden and Saxony during the Thirty Years War, it contains music for between two and five parts above the basso continuo. These range from vocal duets, through solos or duets with obbligato instruments, up to five voices. They average around the 90 bars in length. The texts reflect the trials and tribulations of the inhabitants of Leipzig (and the German population in general) during the war, while the musical language reveals the increasing influence of Italian music, though really these interesting and worthwhile pieces would stand comparison with Schütz or Schein in concert (or church).
After Stauff’s informative introduction to the composer and the dedicatee of the original print (not something we hear enough about terribly often!), he discusses the context of its creation and publication, goes into some detail about its reception (which seems to have been far more widespread than you might imagine!) before no fewer than five pages of detailed footnotes and the full texts and translations of Michael’s chosen verses. Stauff reveals that a planned second instalment of 25 settings of extracts from Psalms 26-50 does not seem to have materialised – as if Leipzig had not had enough, the composer (and many of his family) fell victim to an outbreak of plague a year after liberation.
While Stauff’s Table 2 is interesting in showing where some of the texts were used in the liturgy of the Lutheran church in various places, the fact that he found no concordances at all for four of them would have been reason enough for me not to feel that this had been the reasoning behind Michael’s print. I would have thought it far more likely that cantors would have chosen pieces from the volume that matched the forces they had available or whose text resonated with a particular sermon or circumstance. Whatever his intentions, Stauff has done an excellent job of making this fine collection of modest works available in clear, practical editions. I hope A-R Editions will make imprints of the individual pieces available to performers who can undertake the next step of re-introducing this fine music to listeners!
Sarah Wegener, David Allsopp, Thomas Hobbs, Peter Harvey SATB, Kammerchor Stuttgart, Barockorchester Stuttgart, Frieder Bernius
Carus 83.282
49:03
+ Missa in G minor, BWV235
[dropcap]I[/dropcap] would like to hear Bach’s short masses recorded/performed alongside the cantata movements on which they are based (I’ve done this myself with the F major). There would certainly have been room for such an approach on this rather brief CD. In their own terms, these performances are splendid – the opening ritornello is just gorgeous (JSB is a factor in this, of course) and the star ratings reflect this.
The soloists (three of them English) are equally accomplished in some demanding music – Bach’s re-texting of the cantata arias is not always seamless. I must say that I miss the inauthentic trumpet parts from BWV 80! However, without them, the ear re-focuses from sheer sonic splendour to Bach’s astonishing contrapuntal skill which in these hands is still very much a rewarding musical experience. The booklet contains all that it should, though the English version of the main essay omits some of the interesting contextual information included in the German original.
But there will be those who would have been much happier to hear fewer performers than are on display here – a choir of 21 (7-5-5-4) and orchestra with strings 55321 – expert and impressively unanimous though these are. Conductor Frieder Bernius has been admired for several decades as ‘a pioneer of historical performance practice’. But is ‘historical performance practice’ really what he is offering? It sounds to me more like a modern performance practice using historical instruments.
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Les Traversées Baroques, Etienne Meyer
72:28
Accent ACC 24345
Music by G. B. Bassani, A. & G. Gabrieli, C. Merulo
[dropcap]H[/dropcap]aving had the considerable honour and pleasure of rehearsing the music of Giovanni Gabrieli for days at a stretch, surrounded by the Tintorettos of San Rocco, the common sensibilities of these two contemporary artists become clear. This disc captures these parallels very well. Many of his pieces, and particularly the ones chosen to open this programme, start with low voices laying down the dark ground, the tenebrae, over which, layer by layer, voices of increasingly high tessitura build the mannerist drama of the brighter figures. Much of the energy of paintings at this time is communicated by the brush strokes, sometimes eliding apparently separate objects for the sake of pictorial rhythm, sometimes separating objects to clarify detail, where the story calls for it. There were points in the music where I felt that this aspect could have been emphasised, recognising Gabrieli’s absolutely mannerist use of the tensions between melodic and harmonic rhythm to create drama-in-the-moment. The wind playing is artfully crafted and the voices beautifully integrated. Occasionally the colouration used by the top soprano causes her to step apart from the ensemble, reducing rather than enhancing the dramatic tension. This feature was however turned to advantage in the Bassano divisions on Palestrina’s Veni delicte mi, where the mobility of the voice in the long notes becomes more of a piece with the divided notes, avoiding the awkward transitions between (too) static and (too) frenetic passages, which undermines many performances of this genre. This performance was a revelation, integrated in this way. Vocal and instrumental pieces are interspersed by organ solos. These had weight and momentum, played on a strong toned organ with needling quints, and the rhythm of the passagework carried very well over the chord changes. It was a nice touch to finish the disc with three large scale pieces by Bassano, the best player-composer in Gabrieli’s band at St Mark’s. So often eclipsed in modern times by his organ-playing friend, Bassano deserves a wider airing. His famous treatise has given us a window on their performance practices. Listen to this disc to hear them at their best.
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Recent Researches in the Music of the Classical Era, 108
Edited by Jane Schatkin Hettrick
xxv, 4 + 248pp. $360
ISBN 978-0-89579-859-6
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his is Jane Schatkin Hettrick’s fourth Salieri contribution to the RRMCE series, following a mass in D (vol. 39), one in D minor (vol. 65), and a Plenary Mass in C with Te Deum (vol. 103). Scored for SATB (solo and chorus), two oboes, English horn, two bassoons, trumpets, trombones, timpani, strings and organ, Salieri intended it to be performed at his own funeral (he started writing it in 1804…), along with one of the two motets of the title (Audite vocem magnum dicentem, which in the event was not part of the service; the other work in the volume, probably Salieri’s last, is a smaller-scale motet with string accompaniment only, Spiritus meus attenuabitur). The inclusion of music for English horn seems to follow a Vienna Hofkapelle tradition, since both Bonno and Eybler used it in their Requiem settings. As one would expect with the distillation of years of study of her subject, the editor presents a clear picture of the works’ histories and a very clean edition. Completists will probably disagree with me, but I don’t fully understand why the clarinet part (a contemporary alternative for the English horn) for the Requiem is printed separately, and even less so why it merits a whole page of critical notes to itself – could those seriously not have been integrated into the main commentary? That is such a minor quibble in the context of such a magnificent volume which will hopefully encourage more performances of Salieri’s neglected music. Perhaps the two smaller works could be made available as off-prints so choirs could have a taster?
[dropcap]F[/dropcap]ine performances of fine music are on offer here. The disc’s title is justified in the sense that the three leçons do take up more than half the programme but the preceding works are far more than mere starters. The Litanies, especially, show M-AC at his very best, imaginatively deploying a lush six-part vocal ensemble topped out by two instrumental parts, all under-pinned by continuo, of course. The first and third Tenebrae pieces are scored for baritone and small ensemble, the second for haute-contre and continuo, from which the gamba sometimes emerges as a melodic foil to the voice. Samuel Boden’s singing of this exquisite music is simply superb – just the right mix of passion and dignity. The booklet essay (Eng/Fre/Ger) tells us what we need to know but the sung Latin texts are translated into English only. This is a notable release.
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De Lalande: Grands motets
[Emmanuelle De Negri soprano, Dagmar Šašková soprano, Sean Clayton haute-contre, Cyril Auvity tenor, Andre Morsch basse], Ensemble Aedes, Le Poème Harmonique, Vincent Dumestre
74:32
Alpha 968
[dropcap]F[/dropcap]ew composers of grands motets did grand with quite the instinct for brilliance of Michel-Richard de Lalande. Even in these relatively early works he displays a sure structural hand as solo récits, ensembles and grand choruses succeed each other in subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) praise to and of kings both divine and earthly. The performing forces are large, though not implausibly so, and the orchestral strings correctly distributed across a single violin line above three viola voices and the basses de violon. Splendid though the two shorter pieces are, they are inevitably over-shadowed by the powerhouse that is the Te Deum – core repertoire at the Concert Spirituel as well as at court – in which the choral writing reminded me more than once of Handel in ceremonial mode. As usual I wish that the lady soloists could display a little more care over their use of vibrato but the gentlemen are splendid, especially in ensemble. I have in the past found this director a little free-and-easy in matters of performance practice in earlier music and here, too, this is a bit of an issue. I just don’t believe that Lalande ever deployed recorders at the pitch we hear at the opening of the Te Deum. They really don’t add further lustre to what is already a colourful sound: it’s just an annoying squeak to me. But as with pretty much any Lalande programme there is much here that both impresses and gives joy. The booklet offers Fre/Eng/Ger essays but the sung Latin texts are translated into Eng/Fre only.
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[dropcap]D[/dropcap]uring the baroque period, it was customary for composers to set the same psalm texts many times as demanded by the liturgical requirements of Vespers services. This typically enterprising recording from Weser-Renaissance under Manfred Cordes brings us seven of the surviving settings of “In you, O Lord, I put my trust”, an especially poignant text for Rosenmüller, whose seemingly meteoric career in Leipzig was cut short in the early 1650s by scandal, and he was forced to live for nearly thirty years in exile. There are three solo versions (one each for soprano and tenor with a pair of violins and continuo, and one for alto with an additional pair of violas), two duets (soprano & alto, alto & tenor, each with violins and continuo), one for pairs of sopranos, tenors and violins, and finally a larger setting for five voices with five instruments. As always with this ensemble, the singing and playing are top notch, and the understanding of the architecture of the music, the pacing, the balance of individual voices and instruments is perfect. On the latter point, Cordes opts for violas da gamba for the middle parts with dulcian on the bottom and organ and chitarrone continuo. For all the praise I’ve lavished on the performances, however, the sources of the music (readily available online) reveal, for example, that the largest setting on the disc should have been much larger – two four-part choruses, one doubled by strings and crowned by a free violin line, the other reinforced by brass with a cornetto on top; perhaps the re-working was necessary on purely financial grounds, but surely it should be mentioned in the booklet notes. Would I rather have this rendition than none? Absolutely!
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Yale Schola Cantorum, David Hill
70:24
hyperion CDA68210
+Benedicta sit sancta Trinitas,* Confitebor tibi Domine, Introduxit me rex,* Loquebantur variis linguis,* Magnificat primi toni & Ricercar del quinto tuono* (*played by Bruce Dickey cornett, and Liuwe Tamminga organ); Ricercar del sesto tuono (organ solo)
[dropcap]I[/dropcap] can still remember being stunned by the 1996 Dorian CD (DIS 80146) of polychoral music by Victoria sung by Saint Clement’s Choir, Philadelphia – I had no idea that American choirs could and did sound so good. We ignore the American choral scene at our peril, as it is a sophisticated and well-financed sector which produces excellent results. Under the direction of David Hill, Yale Schola Cantorum produce a truly beautiful performance of the ordinary of Palestrina’s double-choir Missa Confitebor tibi Domine, preceded by the motet he based it on, the eight-part Magnificat primi toni and various instrumental goodies. The instrumental works are played by the legendary Bruce Dickey on the cornett and Liuwe Tammingo on the organ, the latter also contributing a solo organ Ricercar. These instrumental tracks were recorded in Bologna, allowing Tammingo access to what sounds like an appropriate period instrument although no details are given, whereas the choral music was recorded in the lavish acoustic of Christ Church, New Haven, Connecticut. Built upon a clearly very dynamic church music tradition at Yale, the Schola Cantorum produce a beautifully refined sound and with David Hill at the helm give an intelligent and thoroughly musical account of Palestrina’s music. Add to this admirable package a cogent and very readable note by the authoritative Noel O’Reagan and the result is extremely impressive in every respect.
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[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his account of Schütz’s Historia der Auferstehung Jesu Christi intercut with items from Johann Hermann Schein’s Israelsbrünnlein is not without its controversial aspects. Firstly the idea of presenting the music by the two composers in alternating numbers, one piece often emerging seamlessly from the previous one, is a radical idea. I can’t think the music would ever have been performed in this form at the time, but to my mind it works very well. Also controversial is the choice of the Lebanese singer Georges Abdallah for the Evangelist in the Schütz. He is described as a ‘chantre Byzantin’ and decorates Schütz’s simple recitative with an encrustation of decorative ornaments in the manner of Byzantine chant. Again, there will be those for whom this crosses a red line, but I have to say I found that Schütz’s rather long workaday recits were remarkably animated by this unorthodox (or rather orthodox in its truest sense) approach. The accompanying instruments in both the Schütz and Schein were wonderfully sonorous and expressive, and not backward in decorating their lines and even graphically evoking the dramatic quakes, storms and other circumstances of the text. This is an account which has been much thought about and meticulously prepared and, while I can see that certain aspects are difficult to justify academically, I found the resulting performance powerful, expressive and musically convincing. The wonderfully warm acoustic of the Chapel Royal at Versailles enhances the sound, and I found myself drawn into a remarkably involving account of this great music. My only two gripes are that the Schütz is not performed in its entirety, and that the programme note is in the annoying form of an interview with the director – I find that the disembodied interviewer never asks the questions I would like to have answered.
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The Cardinall’s Musick, Andrew Carwood
77:39
hyperion CDA68250
[dropcap]T[/dropcap]his piledriver of a disc consists of the six votive antiphons – mighty works, most of which clock in at well over ten minutes – extracted from the Tallis Edition which The Cardinall’s Musick, aka TCM, recorded on five discs between 2005 and 2016, as a successor to the thirteen discs of their prizewinning Byrd Edition. Also present is the ubiquitous and incongruously tiny hymn O nata lux. This was included presumably as a reassuring lure to buyers well disposed to Tallis but unfamiliar with the longest works on the album, or perhaps simply because there was room for such a short item; in any event, I wish that the less familiar but equally fine Euge caeli porta had been given the nod.
The quality of all the performances is very high, though not entirely consistent. On a few occasions the solo voices in the duets or trios that open these antiphons are, if not actually flat, on the underside of the notes. That said, Andrew Carwood’s interpretations are consistently and unfailingly perceptive. Also these interpretations respond to the acoustic of the recording venue, Fitzalan Chapel, Arundel Castle, so that pacing and balance between the parts is ideal, never so brisk as to obscure individual detail yet maintaining a pulse appropriate to the texture and indeed the texts themselves. There are some formidably fine alternative versions of all these pieces; the USP (unique selling point) of this disc is of course that all six votive antiphons are, so to speak, here under the one roof.
The first surviving reference to Tallis is as organist of Dover Priory in 1531, after which he joined the musical staff of Canterbury Cathedral. One of the earliest pieces on this album is Ave Dei patris filia. David Allinson, from whose Antico edition it is sung, has established that Tallis owes much to Fayrfax’s setting (recorded by TCM on Gaudeamus CD GAU 142) and it required some serious reconstructive surgery by the editor to render it performable. Most alternative versions of these works are by fellow adult chamber choirs, but the most significant comparison for this and the two other earliest works is on Thomas Tallis: the Canterbury Years performed by The Choir of Canterbury Cathedral (Metronome MET CD 1014). This outstanding release also includes Ave rosa sine spinis and Salve intemerata. Here is truly a case where anyone with a penchant for this repertory should definitely possess both recordings. TCM has all the virtues of a specialist and experienced adult chamber choir, as delineated in the previous paragraph. Canterbury take nearly three extra minutes over Ave Dei patris filia, exploiting their cathedral’s generous acoustic, while showcasing their remarkable trebles and expert lay clerks; the delivery by the latter of the first half of the concluding Amen is one of the most memorable and gripping passages of singing in any recording of this repertory. It has been suggested that the relatively shorter Ave rosa sine spinis was composed for the more modest resources at Dover. Yet again Canterbury provide a penetratingly committed and perceptive performance of another slightly rambling master piece (in the old sense of a piece of work presented by a journeyman in order for it to be evaluated as being worthy of a craftsman), as they do the more musically concise but much longer Salve intemerata which they hold together through a combination of passionate commitment and sheer beauty in response to Tallis’s tighter construction, allied again to a sensitive response to the cavernous acoustic in which they are performing. For their part TCM provide an almost forensic response to Tallis’s music, with not an harmonic moment or incident overlooked, but then again, neither do Canterbury miss a trick with their more leisurely though equally purposeful gait. If one were focusing on just the Canterbury works, with the Missa Salve intemerata an added attraction, this luminous recording by Canterbury Cathedral Choir, which seems to exude their pride in having Tallis as one of their predecessors, is an essential consideration.
Another male liturgical choir, that of King’s College, Cambridge under David Willcocks, provides the most interesting comparison with TCM’s rendering of the more compact Sancte Deus for higher voices. Sir David’s recordings of Tallis were revelatory in their day and set the benchmark, either to be emulated or reacted against. In any event, as demonstrated by King’s recording of this antiphon, they possess the timeless virtues of sensitivity to recording location, to the meaning of the text, and to internal balance in relation to overall sound. Meanwhile TCM’s version is as good as it gets when sung by an adult professional chamber choir populated by specialists.
The same can be said about their reading of Gaude gloriosa dei mater, a mature work to set beside Tye’s psalm setting Peccavimus cum patribus or William Mundy’s Vox patris caelestis “for substance” as Thomas Tomkins might have said. Here the most intriguing comparison is with the recent recording by Alamire (Obsidian CD716) directed by David Skinner, co-founder with Andrew Carwood of TCM. Divergent career exigences necessitated his withdrawal from TCM’s Byrd Edition after disc nine of the thirteen, and while Andrew became Master of the Choristers at St Paul’s Cathedral, David fetched up at Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge in the same role, and founded his own choir, Alamire. The USP of the disc on which his recording of Gaude gloriosa appears – Thomas Tallis, Queen Katherine Parr & Songs of Reformation – is that the work appears twice: beginning the disc as a votive antiphon, and concluding it as an English contrafactum with words provided by Henry VIII’s final queen who seems to have commissioned Tallis to set her words to the music of his antiphon. Alamire’s Latin version is 28 seconds shorter than TCM’s, and feels it, while the English contrafactum is a further three seconds shorter but – probably appropriately given the politico-religious agenda behind it – feels even more driven. If Alamire’s version occasionally glosses over some of the internal details that are more audible in TCM’s recording, it is nevertheless still a fine achievement and provides a fascinating insight into an aspect of Tudor history. There is also a recording by a male liturgical choir, that of New College, Oxford, which is perfectly acceptable if one has a preference for such ostensibly more authentic choirs over those consisting of female and male adults (CRD3429). For all that this is a work of Tallis’s maturity, and therefore composed well into what we now call the Renaissance, there is an intriguing suggestion of the mediaeval at the words “quae corpore et anima” sung by a trio of inner parts.
Probably the latest of Tallis’s votive antiphons is Suscipe quaeso in which all of his compositional expertise – including the manipulation of textures, strong melodies, striking harmonies, rhetorical use of homophony within a mainly polyphonic framework – is encapsulated within a work half the length of the longest of his earliest attempts in this form, and is illustrated in microcosm by his setting of the word “peccavi” towards the end of the first section. Although no recordings by male liturgical choirs are currently available, there are some varied approaches from the adult chamber choirs. Again there is an alternative version by Alamire on their recording of the complete Cantiones sacrae published by Tallis and Byrd in 1575 (Obsidian CD706) here sung, perhaps a little too briskly to the occasional detriment of the audibility of inner parts, by single voices where TCM employ two per part. Another fine version, different in character from Alamire in being more sinewy, is provided on Thomas Tallis’s Secret Garden by Ensemble europeen William Byrd directed by Graham O’Reilly (Passacaille 963) who also include both Gaude gloriosa and Salve intemerata. The most radical version is by Clare Wilkinson and the Rose Consort of Viols on Four Gentlemen of the Chapel Royal (Deux-Elles DXL1129) which, given artistes of this outstanding quality, works well: one soon forgets that one is listening to a single voice (singing the superius part) and six viols rather than seven vocal parts.
It remains to say that TCM’s version of the ubiquitous O nata lux is the best and most satisfying (that final cadence … twice …!) that this reviewer has heard since when, as a schoolboy, he first heard it on the first of those two famous recordings of Tallis, mentioned above, by King’s College, Cambridge under David Willcocks. No doubt TCM will be happy to be mentioned in the same sentence as King’s in this context, and suffice to say (tongue now removed from cheek) that the compliment is sincere.
Whether one purchases this disc depends on the purchaser’s attitude to Tallis, Tudor music, owning duplicates, time, and money. Personally I own multiple versions of all these pieces, many of which I have had the pleasure of playing while researching and writing this review. I would not wish to be without any of those that I have mentioned, and if, in the tradition of Desert Island Discs, I had to make do with only one such recording, it would be the wonderfully atmospheric Canterbury disc containing the three earliest antiphons. If you already own recordings of all these pieces, you would still encounter fresh approaches to, and insights into, each one on TCM’s disc. If you own some of the works, it is worth purchasing this disc for those that you are missing. And if you have none of these pieces yet on disc (or the equivalent) do not hesitate to purchase it.
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