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Recording

Hope soars above

Truro Cathedral Choir, James Anderson-Besant (Director of Music and Organist), Andrew Wyatt (Assistant Director of Music)
Regent REGCD599
56:38

Just when it seemed that the quatercentenary of Orlando Gibbons’ death would slip by with little discographical attention, two fine recordings featuring his choral music
have been released during November. A review of the disc consisting entirely of Gibbons’ music sung by The Choir of the Chapel Royal, Hampton Court Palace, was reviewed in EMR last month. The recording under review here features his music beside works by three of his most eminent contemporaries.

There are four works by Gibbons himself: a verse anthem, a fantasia for organ, and two evening Services, one a verse setting, the other full; both settings consist of the
usual two canticles, Magnificat and Nunc dimittis, providing six individual pieces. The verse anthem is O thou the central orb, the modern contrafactum of what was originally O all true faithful hearts but furnished with nineteenth-century words to offer a more general application, the original text having expressed thanks for King James I’s recovery from illness. Soloists from all four voices – treble, alto, tenor and bass – are required, as is an accompaniment for the organ. Similarly the expansive Second Service calls upon soloists from all voices with organ accompaniment. The Short (or
First) Service on the other hand is for voices alone and is a more succinct setting than the other. Gibbons’ piece for organ is the famous Fantazia of foure parts.

That was the easy bit. Now the controversy. Also attributed to Gibbons is the anthem for six voices Out of the deep. However, this is now considered to be an early
composition by Byrd. Three pre-Reformation sources provide attributions, of which two are to Byrd and only the third – merely an entry in an index – is to Gibbons.
There is also evidence within the music that the anthem is more likely to be an early work by Byrd. But the attribution to Gibbons has proved adhesive, and this is because the collected edition of Gibbons’ anthems (in Early English Church Music) was published several years before the similar volume of anthems by Byrd (in The Byrd Edition) and so the attribution to Gibbons took hold (three recordings, two predating the earlier recording attributed to Byrd) while the revised attribution to Byrd (two recordings) has taken time to seep through to general usage. Without going into
so much detail, the notes in the accompanying booklet, which are excellent throughout, by Alan Howard, reflect this dubiety surrounding the attribution to Gibbons. Notwithstanding the identity of the probable composer, and the early stage in his career when probably he composed it, the work is comfortable in this elevated company. It is the sort of piece which can be dismissed by some editors and
musicologists, whereas in performance it comes across effectively, and is anecdotally appreciated and enjoyed by singers – consider for instance the extended heartfelt outburst at “and with him is plenteous redemption”.

Incontrovertibly by Byrd is his anthem Sing joyfully, also for six voices, his most recorded sacred work in English, particularly popular in the USA, and as Alan Howard observes, an effective emotional counterweight to Out of the deep. The other (third!) work on this disc by Byrd is his well-known fantasia in C, A fancy for my Lady Nevell.

John Bull is enterprisingly represented not by one of his many fine works for keyboard but rather by his verse anthem Almighty God which by the leading of a star known to contemporaries as “the starre anthem”, a star anthem indeed, and one of only a handful of sacred works by him known to survive.

And to conclude the disc Truro includes two works by the greatest composer born in Wales, Thomas Tomkins. Both are sombre masterpieces: his great A sad pavan for these distracted times and one of the finest of all anthems in English Almighty God the fountain of all wisdom, its beautiful harmonies and melodies seasoned with a sudden profound and penetrating exploitation of dissonance, all followed by an Amen which can truly be described as divine.

Although all these works have received commercial recordings already, such is the quality of the music and, thankfully, of the performances that it is all worth hearing in these fine performances, however familiar one is with some or all of the works. For instance, Byrd’s Sing joyfully boasts no fewer than 35 current recordings on the Presto website, yet one would not want to be without Truro’s rousing yet sensitive rendition, with its resounding yet perfectly balanced final chord. The sleevenotes specify which treble line (14 boys, 13 girls) sings in which piece – both lines are excellent and they join for Out of the deep which has two treble parts, and for Gibbons’ Short Service. The 13 layclerks – five altos (two contraltos, three countertenors), and four each of tenors and basses – do a similarly good job on the lower parts. All three organists play a solo. Organ scholar Jeremy Wan plays Tomkins’ pavan – omitting the repeat of the second strain; assistant organist Andrew Wyatt plays Byrd’s fantasia; and in his first commercial recording as Cathedral organist James Anderson-Besant plays Gibbons’ familiar fantasia, but when it is played as well as this there can be no complaint about its inclusion. This is Anglican
cathedral music at its best, a credit to James’s predecessors, Andrew Nethsingha and Christopher Gray, in nurturing the tradition at Truro, and to the current choir and organists in sustaining it.

Richard Turbet

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Recording

Charpentier: Messe de Minuit

Choeur et Orchestra Marguerite Louise, directed by Gaétan Jarry (organ)
77:53
Versailles Spectacles CVS173

Few Christmas works have worked their way into the affections of music lovers to a greater degree than Charpentier’s Messe de Minuit. One of many sacred works composed by Charpentier while in the service of the Jesuits (1689-1698), the exact date of its composition is unknown; the composer’s biographer Catherine Cessac has suggested Christmas 1693 or 4 as likely possibility. Scored in four parts – soprano, alto, tenor and bass plus a string orchestra and organ, it resembles the idea of the ‘parody’ mass familiar in Renaissance sacred music but well out of fashion by Charpentier’s time. But unlike the ‘parody’ form it uses not one theme, but no fewer than eleven drawn from old French carols, employed by Charpentier with great skill and the addition of nothing more than a modest degree of ornamentation that allows them to retain their naive charm. ‘Joseph est bien marié’, for example, to which the opening ‘Kyrie’ is set, has a delightfully catchy tune that instantly draws the listener into the joyous spirit of Christmastide. It is also aggravatingly insidious and I hope other listeners have better luck getting it out of their head than I did! It was a good idea to include a number of the orchestral arrangements of these carols that Charpentier made several years prior to the Mass and which were collected in two groups, catalogued as H. 531 and H.534 respectively. The new recording was made in the wonderful acoustic of the Chapelle Royal at the palace of Versailles and is as idiomatic and as outstandingly performed as one would expect from Gaétan Jarry and his accomplished performers, among them a quartet of first-rate soloists (Caroline Arnaud soprano, Romain Champion haute-contre, Mathias Vidal tenor and David Witczak bass).

This would be an outstanding CD even without another major work being included, but Dialogus inter angelos et pastores Judae. In Nativitatem Domini, H. 420 is arguably a more important work than the Mass. ‘Dialogus’ here refers more to a type of work than any extended exchanges between the participants, being one of seven so-called dialogues composed by Charpentier. Taking its text principally from St Luke’s Gospel, the work falls naturally into two sections, each preceded by an orchestral introduction. The first lays the foundation for the opening tenor solo appealing to God: ‘How long will you turn your face to us’, the exquisite second an evocation of night with muted strings and delicate flute. That is followed by the shepherd’s wonder at the opening of the heavens – a translucently beautiful chorus – and the Angel’s announcement to the shepherds, a passage sung with radiantly pure tone by Caroline Arnaud.

Dixit Dominus, H. 202, composed around 1690, is one of six settings Charpentier made of the psalm, this one notable for a prelude of a breadth that surprises in the context of the relative brevity of the work. The writing, employing as usual alternating choruses and solos, is particularly notable for the florid, Italianate writing at passages such as ‘De torrente’. Finally on this generously filled CD there is the lovely Noel, ‘O Créateur’, H. 531 originally one of the orchestral arrangements made by Charpentier, but not employed in the Mass and here heard with its original text, the strophic verses sensitively ornamented.

The whole disc is a joy from start to finish; it is strongly recommended to anyone yet to encounter the delectable Messe de Minuit and is open to discovering some refreshingly different Christmas music.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Orlando Gibbons at the Chapel Royal

The Choir of HM Chapel Royal, Hampton Court Palace. The English Cornett and Sackbut Ensemble, conducted by Carl Jackson
Resonus Classics RES10375
67:00

Following the choir’s excellent discs of music by Tallis and Tomkins, this recording is all the more welcome for marking the quatercentenary of Orlando Gibbons’ premature death in 1625 at the age of only 42. The choral items are well chosen, and include hymns, full and verse anthems, and canticles. None of these are obscure or neglected items, with the possible exception of the morning canticles for the Second Service – the Te Deum and Jubilate – of which there have been few previous recordings. This pair makes for the heftiest contribution to the programme, emphasized by the use (seemingly warranted by contemporary documentation) of winds in the accompaniment, and inspired perhaps by the recording of Byrd’s Great Service by Alamire. They are also employed in the much more familiar evening canticles, and for those anthems which survive in versions as consort anthems.

A small but varied selection of Gibbons’ always attractive keyboard works is included, but the most significant items on the disc are those for consort played by the winds. Gibbons left us six such works in six parts which are definitely for instruments, plus two which are considered less likely to be instrumental and might be surviving wordless versions of choral works, plus one further which is considered even less likely to be instrumental. The six definites have all been recorded several times, and the ninth least likely one has been superbly recorded by the fine French consort of viols L’Acheron, but the intervening pair, numbers 7 and 8 (Musica Britannica v. 48, nos 37 and 38 in John Harper’s edition of Gibbons’ complete music for consort) had never received a commercial recording until now. Whether Gibbons’ individual pieces are familiar or not, all are unfailingly worth hearing, but the recorded premieres of these two works elevate this disc into the status of being essential for admirers of Gibbons, and highly recommendable for anyone interested in the music of this period.

The Hampton Court brand of Chapel Royal choir sounds in excellent voice, though the recording itself does no favours to the inner voices – countertenors and tenors – and favours trebles and basses. But all seems well for the winds, and the English Cornett and Sackbut Ensemble is of course a world leader in its field, a truism confirmed in its contributions to this exciting disc.

Richard Turbet

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Recording

Conti: Il trionfo della Fama

NovoCanto & La Stagione Armonica, Accademia Bizantina, directed by Ottavio Dantone
81:46 (2 CDs)
cpo 555725-2

Il trionfo della fama is one of three serenatas commissioned by the Habsburg empress Elisabeth Christina from Florentine-born Francesco Bartolomeo Conti (1682-1732) in honour of either the birthday or name day of her husband Charles VI. Conti, who served the Viennese court from 1701 until his death in 1732, was initially hired as associate theorbist, in 1708 becoming principal court theorbist. Today Conti is principally remembered as a composer of operas that came to dominate the Viennese Carnival season, the principal period in Vienna for the production of secular dramatic works at a court particularly devoted to sacred music.

Il trionfo was in fact not given in Vienna, but rather Prague on 4 November 1723, the name day of Charles. Cast in a single act, the serenata, typically for the genre, eschews dramatic development in favour of a panegyric text put into the mouths of a group of allegorical characters, here Fama (alto), Gloria (mezzo), Genio (alto), Destino (tenor) and Valore (bass). There is no ‘plot’, the ‘characters’ discourse simply revolving around the reiteration of the monarch’s qualities and achievements voiced in the customary alternation of recitative and aria. There is also a single duet, while the work opens and closes with grandiose double choruses that include trumpets and timpani. The work concludes with a licenza, a scenic representation illustrating the glory of the subject. In keeping with the lavish musical establishment maintained by the Viennese court, a total of 73 musicians in the Hofkapelle in 1721, the work is richly scored, to the point, for example, of ‘L’Asia crolla’, an aria for Valore (Valour) that includes a demanding concertante role for two bassoons. The arias, too, are invariably bravura pieces with extensive melismatic passages combining with the kind of rhetorical writing the verse of this kind of eulogy demands, ‘Asia crumbles, Africa fears this Emperor’s great valour’, and so forth. The singers who first performed Il trionfo were regular court singers and included the celebrated male alto Gaetano Orsini (Fama), who graced the Viennese musical scene over a period of nearly forty years. Conti’s writing is at times highly individual, as is apparent from quirkily fragmented passages in his three-part overture, but at other times there tends to be a reliance on sequential writing that can become predictable.

The present performance stems from the 2024 Innsbruck Early Music Festival. Full of vibrant life, it is typical of the kind of intensity and restlessness associated with the Innsbruck Festival’s new music director. At times, this can work to the disadvantage of the soloists, an aria like Valore’s declamatory ‘Io che regno’, with its wide range and multiple passaggi not made more comfortable for the fine bass Riccardo Novaro by Dantone’s arguably over-agitated direction. But in general terms, Dantone’s is a perceptive performance that reveals Il trionfo as a fascinating example of the occasional serenata. The palm for the best singing goes to Sophie Rennert’s Gloria. She gives a particularly fine account of the character’s second aria, ‘Spira il ciel’, one of the few to include any significant cantabile element. Here, the long winding sequential accompaniments support her evenly produced mezzo and fine mezza voce to provide a pleasing contrast to the prevailing bravura writing, largely coped with by the cast in as accomplished a manner as can be expected today, though diction is at times not exemplary.

It is pleasing to report that, in contrast to a number of recent cpo releases, the booklet does include the Italian text and an English translation.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Lully: L’Idylle sure la Paix, Charpentier: La Fête de Rueil

Boston Early Music Vocal & Chamber Ensembles, directed by Paul O’Dette & Stephen Stubbs
75:50
cpo 555678-2

During the 17th and 18th centuries, it was customary to celebrate a major peace treaty or important victory with both sacred and secular music, in the case of the former a Te Deum, often freshly composed. Meanwhile, poets and composers would occupy themselves producing an ode in praise of the victor, or less frequently, a dramatic work crafted for the occasion. The present disc presents secular works from both these categories by the leading French composers of the 17th century, Jean-Baptiste Lully and Marc-Antoine Charpentier. Both were written to celebrate the same event, the Truce of Ratisbon (or Regensburg), which brought an end to the war Louis XIV had fought against the Holy Roman Empire and Spain. Signed in 1684, the Truce initiated what would be a short-lived period of peace that would be widely celebrated in a France increasingly wearied by Louis’s military exploits.

Such occasional works by their very nature present difficulties for modern performers and audiences. Laudatory and often sycophantic in the extreme, there is often little literary interest or emotional content to grasp. Lully’s Idylle sur la Paix is in this respect rather different in that it has a text written by no less than Jean Racine, which if not major Racine is by definition superior to the dozens of such texts churned out by hacks. The occasion of the lavish first performance of the Idylle was a fête attended by the king and his court and given by the Marquis de Seigneley in the orangery at his château at Sceaux, near Versailles in July 1685. Contemporary accounts – several quoted in Gilbert Blin’s long historical note in the booklet – testify to the glittering grandiosity of the occasion. What is not clear is the kind of forces likely to have been employed, but it seems unlikely it would have been the small chamber music ensemble employed in this new cpo. The recording is based on performances originally given by the Boston Early Music Festival in 2022 and subsequently recorded in Bremen. The Idylle consists of a sequence of brief airs and récitatives alternated with the odd ensemble number, choruses and dances, both the latter at times employed as ritornelli. Probably at least in part due to the reason given at the outset of this paragraph, the performances do little to present the work in a positive light, being vocally largely uninteresting and not helped by poor diction. But what really finishes them off is a familiar complaint against Boston Festival performances: the incessant, intolerable and a-historical continuo strumming on theorbo and – even worse – Baroque guitar by Boston’s joint directors, Paul O’Dette and Stephen Stubbs. Both are outstanding players – I count O’Dette’s set of the complete Dowland lute works to be one of the treasures of my collection – but their persistent intrusive contributions to Boston Festival recordings is highly regrettable.

It goes without saying that the same caveat applies to Charpentier’s La Fête de Rueil, but here the presence of a dramatic context does seem to have helped the singers to a higher level of communication and better, though not perfect, diction. The work takes its name from the château built by the statesman Cardinal Richelieu at a small town on the outskirts of Paris. According to Blin, the work was commissioned by Richelieu, who celebrated his 100th birthday this same year, but no contemporary performance of it has been recorded, which is extremely odd if it was indeed commissioned. That it was intended for Richelieu is not in doubt, since the anonymous text mentions his name twice. Catherine Cessac, Charpentier’s biographer, is more circumspect, suggesting only that it ‘may have been performed at Rueil’. Cessac also points to the work being planned on a ‘lavish scale’, for six solo voices, a four-part choir, and a sizable orchestra that includes a continuo section composed of bass violins, bassoons and harpsichord (NB – no mention of lutes of any kind). La Fête de Rueil is a staged dramatic pastorale featuring shepherds, among them a pair of reluctant lovers, Pan, and, incongruously, an ‘Egyptian Woman’, a fortune teller. The work certainly here makes a greater impression than the Lully, with some attractive singing from tenor Aaron Sheehan (Tirsi) and Danielle Reutter-Harrah (Iris), the possessor of a pure, youthful-sounding soprano.

In truth, neither of these occasional pieces adds anything significant to our understanding of its respective composer, but those tempted to explore the CD will need to go online to see the libretto, it seemingly having become cpo’s policy not to include texts in its booklets.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Love’s Labyrinth

Songs and Duets of Monteverdi and his Contemporaries
The Gonzaga Band (Faye Newton, Jamie Savan, Steven Devine)
deux-elles DXL1213
65:45

With the five-star artists of Jamie Savan’s Gonzaga Band, we know that the artistry of the players, their long history of working together in such small-scale projects and Savan’s meticulous scholarship in editing material will produce a programme that offers fine music in captivating performances.

To appreciate the interlaced threads that make up such a well-researched programme, you need to read Savan’s liner notes: these ten columns are a model for how to coax listeners into believing that they understand the nuances behind the choice of some obscure treasures, and to believe that we have been party to the way in which these pearls have been selected and strung together.

They perform this programme at A=440, and the keyboard instruments are tuned in ¼ comma mean tone. They include a harpsichord by Dennis Woolley after an original by Hieronymus Bononiensis (Rome 1521) in the V & A, a single-strung harpsichord by Colin Booth after a 1533 instrument by Domenico da Pesaro in Leipzig and an ottavino of his after a 17th-century original in the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. The organ is a digitally sampled keyboard after the Goetze and Gwynne St Teilo Tudor Organ.

Faye Newton has a beguiling voice: clear as a bell, yet delivered with a technical mastery that makes her the ideal singer for this Italian repertoire that spans the cusp of the 16th to 17th centuries. Her neat Italian diction coveys the changing emotions of the poems perfectly and the choice and arrangement of material, ranging from solo songs through duets to four- and five-voice madrigals, explores every possible combination of instruments, and, as with the Gonzaga Band’s other programmes, we are left marvelling at how so much rich music can be contrived with such minimal resources. As Savan’s note suggests, ‘If Monteverdi’s five-voice madrigals were performed in the context of the musica secreta in the 1590s, with its emphasis on female vocal virtuosity, they would likely have been so in some kind of arrangement for upper voices with keyboards, as exemplified by Luzzaschi.’

This is a delightful programme, and a very good introduction to the power of song as it was being rediscovered in those formative years for modern music.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Clérambault: Te Deum, Histoire de la femme adultère

Choeur de Chambre de Namur, A nocte temporis, directed by Reinoud Van Mechelen
58:36
Versailles Spectacles CVS163

Member of a family with a long musical association with the French court, Nicolas Clérambault (1676-1749) is today remembered principally as arguably the finest composer of the French secular cantata. However, he was also a distinguished organist who held the post of organist of Saint-Sulpice in Paris from 1715. Commenced in the mid-17th century, the building of the church of Saint-Sulpice (a replacement for a much smaller original church) was not completed until a century later. It is likely that Clérambault’s Te Deum was one of a number of his works given at the lavish opening celebrations in July 1745. Although designated ‘à grand choeur’ and according to reports originally performed by 100 musicians, it is overall less ostentatiously spectacular than familiar examples of the hymn by Lully and Charpentier. While the scoring includes the expected trumpets and drums, they are used sparingly, while in keeping with the custom for French settings the work is colourfully multi-sectional, contrasting solo passages with full choral passages. The composer makes the hub of the work the verse ‘Tibi Cherubim et Seraphim’ (To thee Cherubim and Seraphim), at once the most extended and elaborate passage in the work. Opening with the ethereal high voices of the angels’ praise of God, the section segues into dramatic contrast with the outburst of trumpets and drums at ‘Pleni sunt caeli’ (Heaven and earth are full). Other notable moments include the exceptionally lovely choral devotional passage at ‘Te ergo’ (We therefore pray).

While not aspiring to the use of 100 performers – the forces are fewer than half that number – the intimacy of so much of the writing makes for a highly satisfying reading of the work. The many solos and duets, often involving quite florid melisma, are well taken by a fine team, with haute-contre Reinoud Van Mechelen, tenor Guy Cutting and bass Lisandro Abadie particularly distinguishing themselves. The choral singing and orchestral playing are equally satisfying.

If the Te Deum is something of a discovery, I’m tempted to say that here it must give way to an even more exceptional work. As French Baroque music expert Catherine Cessac notes in her customarily valuable notes, L’Histoire de la femme adultère is something of an anomaly, an oratorio after the style of those of Charpentier, composed well after such works had passed into history. Like those of Charpentier (and his model Carissimi), it employs a narrator to tell a biblical story, in this case one of the most touching of those involving Christ’s ministry on earth. The story of the adulterous woman comes from the Gospel of St John, and tells of Christ’s forgiveness of a woman accused of adultery, a crime for which she would of course have been put to death. The story revolves around the famous words by which He puts her accusers to shame – ‘He that is without sin among you, let him cast the first stone’. Unsurprisingly, Clérambault’s setting puts these words at the heart of the oratorio, with a sublime passage of wonderment for the Narrator and chorus. But the work’s remarkable quality is apparent from the outset, a darkly sombre ‘simphonie’. In addition to the Narrator (Abadie) there are roles for Jesus (Van Mechelen), the Adulterous Woman, beautifully sung with sensitive insight by Gwendoline Blondeel, and two Jewish accusers.

Anyone yet to discover Clérambault is urged to hear this exceptional recording. Then go on to explore some of the composer’s secular cantatas, starting with Orphée.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Charpentier: Les Arts Florissants

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

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

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

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

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

Brian Robins

* The answer may lurk somewhere on their website

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Festival-conference

Ambronay 2025

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

Northern Light

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brian Robins