Tag: Vocal music

Riccardo Pisani tenor, Ricercare Antico
66:41
Brilliant Classics 95794

Giulio Caccini’s Le Nuove Musiche, the first volume of which appeared in 1602, is for the most part better known by name than in performance. As every student of music history knows, it is a collection of solo songs composed over some two decades. It owes its name and existence to the experimentation and theories of the Count Bardi’s Florentine Camerata, an academic gathering of which Caccini was a member. Although not quite as ground-breaking as its composer suggested, this ‘new music’ played a fundamental role in the birth of a form that emerged at much the same time as publication of Le Nuove Musiche and which to this day plays a major role in musical life – opera.

Presciently, as if its author was unconsciously aware of its epoch-making importance, the volume was preceded by a lengthy forward that is part manifesto, part singing tutor that is essential study for any singer aspiring to sing the vocal music of the 17th century. Basically the songs fall into one of two forms: strophic songs with a number of verses, often punctuated by an intervening ritornello, and freer structures, sometimes in several sections responding to the verse. The former are generally of a lighter character, often dance-like and incorporating hemiola (syncopated) rhythms – what Caccini terms ‘airy musics’ – while the latter are used for more serious topics. Anyone familiar with Monteverdi’s Orfeo will realise that it includes examples of both.

Caccini’s prime prerequisites for the performance of these songs are recognition of the importance of the text and its communication to the listener. In the Preface he lays stress on realising the emotions, which may change rapidly and which, in Caccini’s words, require an ‘increasing and abating’ of the voice. He also has much to say on ornamentation, in particular the trill, repeated note decoration, and gruppo, which more closely resembles the later Baroque trill.

So how do these performances by the Italian tenor Riccardo Pisani measure up to such tutoring? Not too well, I’m afraid. On the credit side he has obviously taken the trouble to think about the text, while he also articulates and projects words well. But though the voice itself is agreeable enough it lacks the colour and personality to make enough of this music, even the most famous of the songs, ‘Amarilli’ failing to beguile as it should. In short, there is little in the way of responding to Caccini’s ‘increasing and abating’ of the voice. Technically, too, although Pisani shows a reasonable grasp of the style, the voice is not always evenly produced, there is a surfeit of vibrato and the singer’s handling of those all-important ornaments lacks confidence. Too often the need for decoration is passed over and embellishment that is attempted often sounds sketchy. It is sobering to recall that Nigel Rogers was singing this kind of repertoire with far greater style and grasp of the correct ornamentation nearly 50 years ago. Pisani is not helped by the over- elaborate and at times intrusive continuo contribution of Ricercare Antico (violin, harp, archlute and theorbo, violone and (sigh) Baroque guitar), who also intersperse rather more satisfying instrumental performances of items by Filippo Nicoletti, Frescobaldi and Stefano Landi, the last named rather curiously described in the notes as ‘a specialist in instrumental music’.

As is customary with Brilliant Classics you will have to go their website for the Italian/English texts, but be warned that if you print them off (as I did) you will get some odd spacing results.

Brian Robins

La Venexiana, Claudio Cavina
208:44 (3 CDs in a card triptych)
Glossa GCD920943

Claudio Cavina’s La Venexiana has hit on a good way of presenting the Selva morale e spirituale, Monteverdi’s late collection of music (largely) for the church, which they seem to have recorded way back in 2005, in the week-long festival of Church Music in Cuenca in Spain, but have only released in this form this year.

The music is divided between three CDs, the first two cast in the form of extended settings of Vespers and the third as a Missa Solemnis. This enables them to use almost all the religious music in the great compendium. I say ‘almost’ advisedly. For example, the seven-voice Gloria is substituted for that in the Missa for four voices, and the Credo has the fuller scored Crucifixus, Et Resurrexit and Et iterum substituted for those parts. The third Confitebor finds a place as the Offertorium in this third CD and Memento Domine David (Psalm CXXXI – 132 in the Coverdale scheme) is squeezed in as a kind of Post Communion, with a couple of Marian pieces – the extended Salve Regina – Audi cœlum verba mea and then the Pianto della Madonna doing duty for the Angelic salutation at the end of mass. There is no space for two of the hymns or Ab æterno but everything else religious is there in the three CDs that total 210 minutes.

La Venexiana in those days comprised three soprani and an alto (Cavina) with two tenori and two bassi, with SAATTB ripieni; two violini, four tromboni, violone, organ and two chitarroni complete the band.

Like Monteverdi’s better-known 1610 publication, the later collection exhibits Monteverdi’s dazzling ability to write in a wide variety of styles, to use parody techniques, and to provide music for virtually every kind of occasion. Selva is less coherent as a collection than 1610, but Cavina’s shaping of the material shows how versatile and useful his late assemblage proves to be. For the most part, his ‘scoring’ is exemplary, even if some of the voices – especially the soprani, with a pretty dramatic and so at times rather vibrato-laden tone – are probably not what everyone would choose 14 years later. If you were brought up – as I was – on Andrew Parrott’s Reflex/EMI recording of some of the Selva material in Vespers format with Emma Kirkby singing, nothing will quite replace the clarity and vivacity of that ground-breaking 1980s disc.

The performances, with a good deal of vocal OVPP singing, are stylish, if slightly dated. The broken voices blend well, and balance – including contrasts between florid solo singing and more substantial homophonic writing – are carefully worked out and executed. It is good to have (almost) the whole of the Selva available in a coherent form – I have reviewed other partial collections in the past few years – but this doesn’t quite set me on fire as I had hoped.

Partly it is the acoustic, which make much of the music sound too distant or just a bit foggy – it may well reflect the reality of Venice in the 1630s and 40s, but it is nowhere near as good as the continuing series of Schütz, for example, published by Carus to coincide with their new complete edition. Partly it is the feeling of sameness, which characterises the very different styles. Seconda prattica and various older styles rub shoulders and I was expecting a greater degree of differentiation.

But with these small reservations, I welcome this undertaking. I just wish that Andrew Parrott would gather today’s equivalent of his 1980s, and give us the rest!

David Stancliffe

Rowan Pierce, Richard Egarr, William Carter
59:47
Linn Records CKD 592

Approaching some of these well-worn Purcell songs must be a similar experience for singers as the prospect of a great Shakespeare soliloquy is for an actor. What to do with this familiar material? Rowan Pierce with her musical team decide to approach this music as if they were the first ever to perform it, and the resulting freshness and spontaneity are hugely engaging. Of course, to be able to present Purcell’s music as effectively as this demands consummate technique, but it is technique that must be worn lightly and the present performers do this very effectively. The accompanying texture of harpsichord with lute/theorbo works very well indeed, and variety is achieved by thinning this out occasionally. The success of this sort of recital relies of course ultimately on the solo voice, and Rowan Pierce has a beautifully flexible, sweet, and technically secure instrument at her disposal which she employs with musicality and intelligence to produce highly engaging accounts of her chosen songs. As ever, the Linn engineers capture every nuance perfectly, and the result is a charming and highly enjoyable CD which rewards repeated listening.

D. James Ross

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Airs sérieux et à boire vol. 2
Les arts florissants, William Christie
73:44
harmonia mundi HAF8905306

Gosh! Have LAF really been around for 40 years? Well since I first heard them live in the early 1980s they might well have been, and in that time they have immeasurably enriched our knowledge and appreciation of their core repertoire – the music of 17th-century France. A number of their recent releases have featured particularly fine programming and this second volume airs of continues that welcome trend by hanging music by Camus, Lambert and Moulinié on the framework provided by the separated scenes of Charpentier’s Pastoraletta H492. There are some moments in the more animated ensembles where collective intonation is not wholly centred but the solo songs with theorbo and gamba are exquisite in both musical content and sonority. Indeed, it is true throughout the recital that the performances that draw us in rather than project themselves onto us are the more rewarding. Yes, there are a few questionable performance practice decisions involving the continuo team but nothing that spoils the party, even for me.

The booklet (French, English & German) includes a concise though very informative note and full texts and translations, and the recording quality is very good indeed.

I wonder if Lambert’s allusion to Dowland (track 14) was deliberate. In the context of a text reading ‘Let my tears flow’ it’s hard to think otherwise.

David Hansell

Alicia Amo S, Giuseppina Bridelli mS, Filippo Mineccia cT, La Ritirata, Josetxu Obregón
66:02
Glossa GCD 923107

As the notes for this CD pertinently remind us, the chamber cantatas of Alessandro Scarlatti represent a quite staggering achievement. It is not only the sheer number – some 800 in all – that overwhelm the imagination, but also, and more importantly, the extraordinarily high musical quality found in such a high proportion of them.

Notwithstanding the success of the modern early music revival in unearthing so much forgotten treasure, only a relatively small number of Scarlatti’s cantatas have so far been recorded. Of the five on the present disc, only one, Quella pace gradita, has been previously recorded (by Nancy Argenta). The works have in common their instrumentation, a rare combination of violins and recorders in addition to the usual continuo. All conform to the subject matter of the overwhelming majority of chamber cantatas, that of the lives and loves of the shepherds and shepherdesses that inhabit an idealised Arcadian world. Thus the first on the CD, E perché non seguite, o pastorelle, for mezzo, two violins, two recorders and continuo, speaks in the course of its three brief da capo arias and alternating recitative of woodland streams and flowery banks unable to provide solace to the absent Chloris. Not surprisingly the presence of recorders is employed to evoke mimetic images of birdsong, in the case of the enchanting single-movement Sconsolato rusignolo for soprano and strings the ‘disconsolate nightingale’, whose role is played by a flautino, while in the final aria of Quella pace gradita a turtledove provides consolation ‘where the forest is most beautiful’. The imagery of the wildness of nature is perhaps most potently evoked in the wonderful Filen, mio caro for alto, recorder, two violins and continuo, where the shepherdess Phyllis reassures her lover that mountains, rocks, streams and trees will all echo the sound of her love. Perhaps only in Tu sei quella, che al nome, a lover’s complaint (for alto) does the text concerning the cruelty of the loved one depart from the pastoral, at times being more than a little reminiscent of the poetry of medieval courtly love.

The recitative in all these cantatas testifies to the high regard in which Scarlatti was held in this aspect of composition, while arias invariably achieve that juxtaposition of the learned and the appealing for which the composer was equally renowned. Inevitably some stand out, none more so than the exquisitely lovely ‘Chiedi pur ai monti’ (from Filen), sung with a real command of line and sustained shaping by countertenor Filippo Mineccia, though his vibrato can be a little obtrusive at times. But the overall standard of singing is very high indeed. Particularly praiseworthy is the recognition by all three singers (or perhaps credit should go to the director?) that these are chamber works, not miniature operas that need projecting into a theatre. So we hear pleasingly nuanced singing that maintains intimacy and in which there is no forcing of tone. Ornamentation might have been articulated more precisely at times and, as usual, we hear little in the way of the trill at cadences or the employment of messa di voce, though several obvious invitations are passed up. While both mezzo Giuseppina Bridelli, whose mezzo moves with admirable ease between head and chest notes, and Mineccia are a known quantity, soprano Alicia Amo was not, at least to me. I count her as a real find, the voice being one of pure vernal freshness, but of a sweet quality that is not at all ‘white’ and does not neglect nuance and colour. Throughout her attention to text and the shaping of line is exemplary, while the beautifully executed repeated note ornament at the end of the final recitative of Quella pace leaves one regretful that it was a decoration that had been virtually abandoned by the time of Scarlatti.

Given the rare moments of insecure intonation in the violins, the instrumental support is excellent. The whole production is indeed a near-exemplary demonstration of how chamber cantatas should be performed.

Brian Robins