Tag: Classical

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Haydn: String Quartets, op 33: 4–6

CD cover Haydn op 33 4-6 Chiaroscuro BIS

Chiaroscuro Quartet
57:22
BIS-2608

This release marks the completion of Haydn’s opus 33 set of six string quartets by the Chiaroscuro Quartet, the first disc having been reviewed on this site. The quartet of course takes its name from the Baroque painting device in which a brightly-lit subject is strongly contrasted with a dark background. There is little dark background – or indeed darkness of any kind – in these quartets, which, apart from marking Haydn’s arrival as the first great composer in the mediu,m are particularly notable for their joyous nature and displays of fun and good humour. It is no surprise to find five of the quartets carrying the rare (for this period) marking ‘scherzo’, rather than ‘minuet’, and more than one observer has suggested that Haydn must have been particularly happy during this period of his life (the early 1780s) to have written such engagingly light-hearted music. It was however Haydn’s greatest biographer H C Robbins Landon who pertinently reminded us that this was also the period when Haydn was in the first flush of his love affair with the singer Luigia Polzelli; it is certainly not fanciful to see in these spirited and joyous pieces the work of a man in love.

Of the final three quartets, it is No 5 in G that is the most ambitious and striking. It is believed to be the earliest of the group to have been composed, but its opening Vivace assai is marked by a confidence and dramatic drive that suggest something far more mature. Although the material, like so much of that in op 33, has folk-like connotations, the development in particular has an animated dramatic drive, while the end of the movement finds Haydn experimenting with a full-blooded texture of the kind we associate more with the Beethoven string quartets. The following Largo e cantabile movement is perfectly paced, showing both here and in the Largo third movement of the Quartet no 4 that the Chiaroscuros well understand the 18th-century meaning of “Largo”, quite different to the much slower tempo implied by later use of the word. Equally impressive here is the beautiful shaping of the melodic line by leader Alina Ibragimova, the movement essentially being an operatic aria in which the singer has been replaced by the first violin. The succeeding Scherzo Allegro introduces one of Haydn’s many moments of sheer fun, the joke being that the music constantly sounds as if it is going somewhere significant but never does, always just petering out just as it finally seems to have got going. It hardly needs saying that The Chiaroscuros need no encouragement to make the most of it. The Finale is a set of variations on an irresistible siciliano theme, the variants giving the opportunity for all the members of the quartet to show off their considerable talents.

I’ve concentrated on the G-major Quartet particularly, but of course its delights are replicated in the other two quartets to some degree or another. Perhaps mention can be made of the whirlwind finale of No 4 in B-flat, one movement where it might be possible to raise an eyebrow about the very fast tempo (it is marked Presto) but the Quartet bring it off with such winning élan and make so much of the jokey ending – silences and the introduction of pizzicato – that any impending criticism is rapidly silenced.

Throughout these two reviews, it has been my intention to convey the fact that these are very distinguished performances indeed. The Chiaroscuro Quartet have had a change of personnel since recording the first three quartets, Charlotte Saluste-Bridoux taking over as second violin from Pablo Hernán Benedi and thus making the quartet now an all-woman group. To their balance and superb technique the change has not made one iota of audible difference. That’s to say the Chiaroscuros remain one of the most technically accomplished period instrument ensembles playing today.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Traetta: Rex Salomon

CD cover Traetta Rex Salomon Rousset

Suzanne Jerosme, Eleonora Bellocci, Marie-Eve Munger, Grace Durham, Magdalena Pluta SSSmSA, NovoCanto, Theresia, conducted by Christophe Rousset
111:37 (2 CDs)
cpo 555 654-2

We owe the existence of Tommaso Traetta’s oratorio Rex Solomon arcam faederis adoraturus in Templo to a single vote. That was the margin by which the governors of the Ospedaletto dei Derelitti in Venice decided in the spring of 1766 not to adopt a motion calling for the suspension of all musical activities in the institution. As a result, in June Traetta was elected as maestro di capella of the Derelitti, one of four Venetian orphanages for girls, the best known of which is course the Pietà. The oratorio was first given the same year on the occasion of the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary that year (August 15). A decade later, it was again taken up by Traetta shortly after his return from a period of service in Russia with Catherine the Great. It is the score of the revised 1776 version that survives today and is employed in the present recording, which therefore includes the changes made by Traetta to accommodate different singers in a couple of roles.

Sung in Latin, the oratorio is in the customary two parts and is almost entirely without dramatic event, featuring only the visit of the Queen of Sheba (Marie-Eve Munger) to Solomon (Suzanne Jerosme ) and the conversion to Christianity of Adon (another visitor to Solomon’s court and a worshiper of the god Malach) (Magdalena Pluta). Otherwise, there is much in the way of obsequious praise of the wisdom of Solomon, the topic of the opening and closing choruses, which are well sung by NovoCanto, here being for women’s voices only composed of SAB parts, the bass part being sung an octave higher. Arias are of the da capo type, with the main section fully developed but generally a very brief central B section. They are spread evenly between the five singers in each half of the oratorio, it being testimony to the high quality of the tutelage received by the girls of the Derelitti that a number of the arias, in particular those for Solomon and the Queen of Sheba are extremely demanding, requiring coloratura displays. In addition to the choruses and arias, the final number is a duet between Adon and ‘his’ mentor Abiathar (the excellent Eleonora Bellocci), who also gets the most dramatic of several highly effective passages of accompagnato recitative.

The present performance stems from the Innsbruck Festival’s 2023 edition and in particular pays tribute to the festival’s wholly admirable policy of including one production featuring talented young artists. Often, they may have been prize-winners in the festival’s own prestigious Cesti Competition, as is the case here with Suzanne Jerosme and British mezzo Grace Durham (Sadoc). The latter was indeed the winner of the competition in 2019, the year I attended the final (see report) and I’m delighted to say that here she contradicts my prediction that although I appreciated ‘the warm, rounded quality’ of her voice, Durham’s future career was unlikely to involve much early music. Her opening aria, ‘In alto somno’ in particular is sung with affecting dignity, and includes well-managed passaggi, while she does full justice to that in part 2, one of the loveliest in the work.

The most breathtaking bravura displays come from Marie-Eve Munger’s Queen of Sheba aria in part 2, ‘Tuba Sonora in monte’ and Solomon’s ‘In pace respirando’ (part 2). The former is sung with a superb display of confidence and control across a range that requires some chest notes and inspires a cadential high trill as well as stylish and elaborate da capo ornamentation. The Solomon aria is an outburst of overwhelming emotion in contemplation of the love felt for God. Jerosme is the possessor not only of a gleaming soprano but a splendid technique, including a trill, and the ability to communicate text meaningfully.

There are many other moments to cherish in a performance that is not only a joy in itself, introducing a fine work to the catalogue, but also to be cherished for the excellence of the singing by an outstanding, fresh-voiced cast. The experienced hand of Christophe Rousset guides this uplifting rendition unerringly, while obtaining excellent playing from the young players of Theresia, an international period instrument orchestra based in Austria. Potential buyers, who ought to be numerous, should note that although the booklet suggests it includes German and English translations of the text, it doesn’t. For those, you have to go online, from where they can be downloaded.

Brian Robins

Categories
Festival-conference

Ambronay 2025

Ambronay Festival 2025

COMING SOON!

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

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

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Recording

Beethoven: Piano Trios

CD cover Rautio Piano Trio Beethoven trios vol. 2

Rautio Piano Trio
62:33
Resonus RES10337

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

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

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

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

Brian Robins

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Recording

W A Mozart: Fantasy

CD cover Mozart Fantasy Florent Albrecht

Florent Albrecht
78:24
Trihort 585

Playing a Baumbach pianoforte of 1780, Florent Albrecht presents a programme of Mozart’s four fantasies for solo piano, bringing under the same umbrella three preludes, as well as a further “Mozart Fantasy” reconstructed by himself. There is an interesting record from 1785 of Mozart playing fantasies for his fellow Masons, and it is highly plausible that this exploratory and improvisatory music would have appealed particularly to this inner circle of deep-thinking connoisseurs. Albrecht’s accounts emphasise the spontaneous nature of this music, managing to make it sound as if he is discovering its secrets alongside his audience. He makes imaginative use of the different textures available on his chosen instrument, a remarkable survivor from a bygone age – it was the property of the Abbé of Vermont, tutor and confessor to Marie-Antoinette, and unlike these two people who are very likely to have played it, it survived the French Revolution to be restored to its original state in 2013 by Olivier Fadini. It produces a remarkably rich array of timbres, which Albrecht exploits to the full in these flamboyant accounts of some of Mozart’s most imaginative piano music. With many composers from the Baroque era onwards, we are painfully aware of the wealth of improvised music, which took many composers to the very limits of their creative talents, but which by definition often existed only in the moment. Fantasies such as these are treasures, preserved by random chance, and the main strength of these recordings is the way in which Albrecht expressively unfolds each piece, much as Mozart may have done in the rarefied setting of his Masonic Lodge.

D. James Ross

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Recording

A Bach & Abel Concert

CD cover A Bach and Abel concert

Catherine Zimmer Merlin square piano 1784
Music by K F Abel, J C & C P E Bach, Haydn, Lachnith, [Maria Hester] Park & Stanley
62:00
encelade ECL2401

The year is 1784 and in London the inventor John Joseph Merlin and the Gray brothers have come up with one of the more bizarre offshoots of the development of the piano – a square piano combined with an organ. There was a considerable taste for novelty at this time among the spoiled metropolitan musical public, with an account of one musician in fancy dress and on roller skates performing on the violin before destroying a valuable mirror, his instrument and himself! Remarkably the 1784 Merlin Organised Piano has survived, and it is on this fully restored novelty that Catherine Zimmer presents a recital of music from the time which might just have been played on it. In addition to the promised works by JC and CPE Bach and Abel, we have music by Haydn as well as more obscure repertoire by John Hook, Maria Hesther Park and Ludwig Wenzel Lachnith. Opinions will be divided as to whether a combined sound of piano and organ is even desirable, and some listeners may be distracted by the necessary clanking of the mechanism as Zimmer switches among the various available timbres. I have to say I found this inclusion of the ‘mechanics’ both honest and engaging, particularly when on one track they are joined by the chirping of sparrows, and I even found myself warming to the virtues of the ‘organised piano’. It is perhaps significant that prior to its extensive restoration in 2020, this remarkable instrument had been subjected to ongoing work, suggesting that it had never fallen entirely out of use. At any rate, it is fascinating finally to hear an instrument which hitherto had only been heard about, and particularly when it is in the hands of an expert pianist/organist such as Catherine Zimmer.

D. James Ross

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Recording

In Copisteria del Conte

CD cover In copisteria del conte

Musical delights from the Genoese palazzi
Jacopo Ristori cello and artistic director
136:00 (2 CDs in a card triptych)
Snakewood Editions SCD202401

The arrival of this set took me back to the good old days of the “early music revival” when almost every consignment sent for review contained at least one recording that explored completely new repertoire. These days, with groups driven to devise original “takes” on well-known music that set them apart from the crowd and far less financial support from recording companies, it is quite unusual to come upon a project such as this that champions the obscurity of its material: music from late-18th-century Genoa.

Pretty much the only composer most people will have heard of on the playlist is Boccherini, two of whose sonatas (G. 571 & 579)  open the second disc. Elsewhere, there are violin duets by Barbella (not the one recorder players know!), “contests” for two cellos by Ferrari, two sonatas for psaltery, violin and continuo by Arnaldi, and two string quartets attributed to Pietro Nardini in the sources (copies in the hand of the “conte” of the discs’ title) but most likely composed by Franz Anton Hoffmeister.

Cellist Jacopo Ristori is joined by fellow cellists Viola de Hoog and Gied von Oorschot, violinists Antoinette Lobmann, Giorgos Samoilis and Sara de Vries (who also plays viola in the quartets), Jesse Solway on contrabbasso, Anna Pontz on psaltery and Earl Christy on lute/theorbo. For me, the most musically satisfying pieces were the string quartets; the prominence of the violist in the second was surprising but indicative of advances in that genre at the time. The two psaltery sonatas are interesting for what they are, but the two treble instruments spent too long doubling one another for the material to make any lasting impression. The contests between two cellists are – I imagine – more entertaining in real life than on a recording, with each player trying to outdo the other. Barbella’s violinistic skills are evident from his duets, but they are not in the same league as Leclair’s or even Pleyel’s better contributions to the repertoire. If this all sounds like I’m damning the recording with faint praise, that is not the impression I would like to give; Count Federico Taccoli’s contribution to the dissemination (and, in some cases, survival) of music heard in Genoa in the second half of the 18th century is invaluable. These performances reveal some of it in the best possible light. Ristori and his colleagues are to be complimented and thanked for their pioneering endeavour!

Brian Clark

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Recording

Haydn 2032, no. 16 – The Surprise

CD cover Haydn Antonini Surprise vol 16

Il Giardino Armonico, Kammerorchester Basel, Giovanni Antonini
84:47
Alpha Classics ALPHA 698

Volume 16 of Giovanni Antonini’s integral Haydn symphony series introduces for the first time works from his finest group, the so-called ‘Salomon’ symphonies composed for his two visits to London (1791-2 and 1794-5). Along with Symphony No 94 in G (‘Surprise’) and Symphony No 98 in B flat the CD includes Symphony No 90 in C, the first of three works commissioned by Count d’Ogny for the Paris-based Concert da la Loge Olympique. And as if that were not enough for a disc of extraordinary length we’re given a closing encore in the shape of the overture to Rossini’s La scala di seta. I’m not sure what the context is here, but it doesn’t matter; it is given such an exuberantly scintillating performance that as is often the case with encores it threatens to steal the show.

It doesn’t of course for the simple reason that we’re here considering some of Haydn’s greatest symphonies and I’m including the neglected No 90 in that category. The Loge Olympique orchestra was known for being one of the largest concert orchestras in Europe, with a complement of 17 violins, four violas, six cellos and four (!) double-basses plus the usual pairs of winds and brass noted in 1786, just two years before Symphony 90 was composed. It is therefore highly appropriate that for the first time in this series Giovanni Antonini has combined the two chamber orchestras with whom he is alternating for this series. That gives him forces that accord very closely with those of the Loge Olympique. To the best of my knowledge, no precise figures exist for the orchestral forces that played in Haydn’s concerts at London’s Hanover Square Gardens, but Antonini’s are also close to those employed by opera orchestras in the city at the time. This raises the interesting point as to whether or not the entire string section played in more lightly-scored passages with such a large body, bigger than we characteristically hear playing these works. Unless I’m mistaken Antonini does not, reducing them to achieve the light rhythmic delicacy in appropriate passages of, for example, the enchanting Andante of Symphony 90. This is incidentally a work that makes a fine fellow for the ‘Surprise’ Symphony (No.94), given that it also includes a joke to keep an audience on its toes. This is the false ending of the final Allegro assai – a full four-bar silence that suggests we have reached the end before the music resumes briefly and wittily in a new key that takes us back to the tonic only for the final coda.

Antonini’s performances have reached a point where they need little individual comment, given that their considerable assets have by now been frequently observed by me and others. These are in general terms of course ‘bigger’ pieces than the earlier symphonies with which the series has been mainly engaged, characterised and enhanced by the same muscular masculinity, even at times peremptory approach that nonetheless never precludes warmth, wit and affection. Tempi are invariably well judged, those of the Minuets of Symphonies 94 and 98 reminding us that Haydn’s markings – Allegro molto and Allegro respectively – are taking us ever closer to the minuet’s eventual replacement by the scherzo. The freedom of the writing for wind, which Haydn himself – perhaps with a touch of false modesty – felt had taken him long to fully attain, is underlined by some outstanding vignettes. Also admirable is the balance and clarity achieved by the conductor, making passages such as the wonderful contrapuntal development of No 98’s opening Allegro an especially enlightening moment.

In all this is a marvellous bargain of a disc and I’m especially grateful to Antonini for reminding me of what I’ve been missing myself by reprehensibly neglecting the towering Symphony No 90.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Un clavecin pour Marcel Proust

CD cover Olivier Baumont Un clavecin pour Marcel Proust

Olivier Baumont
46:00
Encelade ECL2204

The idea of a harpsichord for Marcel Proust may at first glance seem like a bit of a historical mismatch between an essentially Baroque instrument and a writer of the late 19th and early 20th century. But of course this is an author in search of times gone by, and harpsichords and harpsichordists make regular appearances in his writings. Olivier Baumont has cleverly sought out these allusions and constructed a programme of the music mentioned as well as pieces ‘in the old style’ by Proust’s friends and fellow enthusiasts for earlier centuries, Reynaldo Hahn and Louis Diémer. Playing appropriately three impressive 20th-century copies of 18th-century original harpsichords, Baumont explores the 19th-century revival of this Baroque repertoire witnessed by Proust and included in his novels. Grouping the music by Rameau, Bach, Scarlatti and Couperin interspersed by pastiches by Anthiome, Hahn and Ravel under the heading of the Proust characters the music is associated with, Baumont constructs a concert programme for an event which never in fact took place on an instrument (Proust’s clavecin) which never actually existed – a very proustian questioning of memory! He is joined by soprano Ingrid Perruche, violinist Pierre-Eric Nimylowycz, and fellow clavecinist Nicolas Mackowiak for what turns out to be a very engaging sequence of music. This CD is very much a flight of fancy of harpsichordist Olivier Baumont and for all it hangs on what in Scotland we would call ‘a bit of a shoogly peg’, his beautiful playing and the thought-provoking juxtaposition of pieces makes for a satisfying and involving experience.

D. James Ross

Categories
Festival-conference

The Innsbruck Early Music Festival and Haydneum Festival, Eszterháza

Although principally undertaken on opera duty, brief successive visits to two European early music festivals also allowed time to take in a chamber music concert in both venues. While the Innsbruck Early Music Festival is well-established and familiar to early music enthusiasts, that at the palace of Eszterháza, Haydn’s principal place of employment for thirty years, is not. Despite a somewhat isolated location that caused Haydn to complain of feeling cut off from the world, I suspect that it being the home of the Haydneum, a centre for early music recently established on the model of the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, will soon result in it having a higher profile.

The first stop was Innsbruck, where the evening after a triumphant first performance of Graupner’s Dido, Königin von Carthago festival-goers were transported up to Ambras Castle, a Renaissance jewel situated above the city. It is there that the majority of the festival’s chamber concerts are given in the spectacular Spanish Hall, that on 26 August being devoted to an intriguing and well-designed programme featuring two composers that at one time or another in the early 18th century might have contributed to making Innsbruck a rival to London. Handel (represented by his Italian cantata Il duello amoroso) seemingly rejected the possibility of employment in Innsbruck, but Mannheim-born Jacob Greber (d. 1731) having failed spectacularly in London did not, becoming Kapellmeister in Innsbruck in 1707. On the evidence of the three cantatas presented, he was a competent if not especially inspired composer, here unkindly cast into the shadows by Handel’s infinitely superior work. In addition to the vocal works, the programme included chamber works featuring recorders by two other German immigrant composers working in London, J C Pepusch and Gottfried Finger.

The vocal performers were the soprano Silvia Frigato, and the French (despite her name) mezzo Mathilde Ortscheidt, a past prizewinner of Innsbruck’s prestigious Cesti Competition and a singer who recently much impressed me in Cimarosa’s L’Olimpiade at Versailles. The instrumental works and support for the singers were provided by members of the Akademie für Alte Musik, Berlin. Without being entirely sure of the reason, the concert came over as a rather flat. Was it perhaps a hang-over from the remarkable Dido of the previous day? Both singers sang well enough, although Frigato’s tone sounded at times shrill and thin. By contrast, Ortscheidt produced a rich tone and some impressive chest notes, but neither appeared sufficiently involved in communicating texts or producing interesting embellishments. Much the same might be said of the instrumental playing, which was as competent as would be expected from such an eminent ensemble but rarely arrested the listening ear.

What was missing was vividly illustrated five days later in the course of the concert given by the Capricornus Consort Basel in the magnificent and beautifully restored Apollo Room in the palace of Eszterháza. The instrumental works included the fine B-flat Concerto (no 2) from van Wassenaer’s set of Concerti Armonico and three works by F X Richter that provided a pertinent reminder of just how excellent a composer he is. The only vocal work in the programme was the sacred cantata Il pianto di Maria by G B Ferrandini, Venetian-born but long employed in Munich. At the conclusion of the text, a scribbled note of mine reads, ‘good on one level but there is another’ and indeed the singing of mezzo Olivia Vermeulen seemed curiously uninvolved for such a searing text, underscored as it is by painful chromaticism. Chromaticism emerged almost as the keyword of the programme, nearly all the music being inflected by it, sometimes heavily. This feature induced a strong emotional response in the shape of technically accomplished and fully committed playing from the Capricornus players. However, they also produced playing of delightful lightness and great delicacy in the second movement of Richter’s Trio Sonata in A minor, op 4/6 and some affecting cantabile playing from the muted strings in the second movement of the B-flat Sinfonia, VB 59. It was overall a concert that provided an immensely satisfying conclusion to my mini tour of festivals.

Brian Robins