Tag: Vocal music

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Arianna

Cover of Arcangelo's Arianna CD

Kate Lindsay, Arcangelo, Jonathan Cohen
72:13
Alpha Classics Alpha 576
Handel: Ah! crudel, nel pianto mio; Haydn: Arianna a Naxos; A. Scarlatti: L’Arianna

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Arianna, or Ariadne, is the archetypal classical femina abandonata –according to Hesiod, having sacrificed everything to accompany the hero Theseus, she is subsequently abandoned (can I get amen, sisters?) on Naxos, only to be ‘rescued’ by Bacchus. The secular Baroque cantata relied on the musical display of extremes of emotion, and Ariadne’s tragic story seemed ideal and was the subject of many such pieces – composers continued to be drawn to the legend, up to and including Richard Strauss. Kate Lindsey and Arcangelo have selected two such cantatas by Alessandro Scarlatti and Haydn – a third piece by Handel features a non-specific heroine in the Ariadne mold. Scarlatti’s L’Arianna from 1707 sets the standard, with a sequence of movements exploring Ariadne’s changing emotions, covering the whole gamut from melancholy to murderous rage. Mezzo-soprano Kate Lindsey is more than a match for the demands of this rapidly changing scenario, with a blistering account of “Ingoiatelo, lacerato” inciting the ocean to consume the treacherous Theseus and a deeply touching reading of “Struggite, o core”, where our heroine subsumes her audience into her own grief. The anonymous poet cleverly frames Ariadne’s story with narrative, so we conclude with a recitativo arioso imparting the happy ending. For Handel’s Ariadne-esque cantata Ah! Crudel, nel pianto mio, again of around 1707 when the composer was in his early twenties and resident in Rome, he chooses to feature an obbligato solo oboe (with a second in the orchestra) to cleverly and plangently enhance the suffering of his heroine. As in the Scarlatti, Lindsey’s expressive singing is beautifully supported by wonderfully sympathetic playing from Arcangelo. This Handel piece is relatively well known and probably the composer’s most prominent masterpiece until the appearance of Agrippina a couple of years later. It is fascinating to hear how times have changed in Haydn’s approach to the legend – oboes are replaced by clarinets and flutes and the whole mood is of classical restraint as opposed to Baroque excess. Lindsey is the mistress of this idiom too, while Arcangelo make the step into classical mode seem effortless. The piece dates from 1789, and while Haydn fully intended to orchestrate it, it fell to his pupil Neukomm to fulfil his master’s intentions in a delightfully colourful realisation.

D. James Ross

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Stradella: San Giovanni Battista

Cover of CD Stradella San Giovanni Battista

Le Banquet Céleste, Damien Guillon
80:42
Alpha 579

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Increasingly recognised as a major composer, Alessandro Stradella’s cause has benefited greatly from the conductor Andrea de Carlo’s ongoing Stradella Project, of which there are so far five volumes. Now from France comes a superlative performance of one of the oratorios de Carlo has yet to record. San Giovanni Battista, like all those of the composer, was composed for Rome, in this case in 1675 for the church of San Giovanni dei Fiorentini. In common with nearly all 17th-century oratorios the story of Herod’s beheading of St John the Baptist at the behest of his daughter (here called ‘The Daughter Herodias; although often known as Salome she is not named in the Bible) had a direct didactic purpose. Here however an outstanding libretto by the poet Ansaldo Ansaldi equally explores the more ambiguous aspects of the story, which ends with the question ‘E perché, dimmi, e perché’ (And why, tell me, why?) posed in a duet for Herod and his daughter, each from an entirely different motivation. In a score replete with telling musical dramatization, Stradella grasps the moment to leave the oratorio’s conclusion suspended in the air, unresolved.

Ansaldi’s libretto indeed concentrates strongly on the relationship between Herod and his daughter, in particular the stark contrast between the troubled soul of the king and youthful spirit and vitality of the girl. The role of Herodias is relatively restricted, while that of San Giovanni is almost detached in its other-worldly sublimity, fully engaged dramatically only when charging Herod with his sins. In its vision of his impending death, the baptist’s rapturous aria ‘L’alma vien’ conveys something of the same aura as Bernini’s sculpture The Ecstasy of St Teresa of a quarter century earlier. As remarkable is the supreme irony of the succeeding ‘sympathetic’ duet with Herod’s daughter, San Giovanni’s last words before death.

Stradella employs a bewildering variety of forms ranging from plain recitative to recitar cantando and arioso through to arias sometimes through composed, others in two contrasting parts and, in one case, San Giovanni’s ‘Io per me’, a three-part aria foreshadowing da capo form. The opening section is another of those almost other-worldly numbers, the central quicker section more animated. It is sung with rapt concentration by countertenor Paul-Antoine Benos-Djian, who is excellent throughout, here keeping an excellent sense of line, an attribute made the more challenging by the very languorous tempo taken by Damien Guillon. One of my very few question marks over the performance would in fact be Guillon’s lingering over some of Stradella’s cantabile arias, though so beautiful are most of them that it is a sin not too difficult to forgive.

The arias for the daughter are well varied. In the playful ‘Volin’ pur lontan’, an exhortation to Herod to return to pleasure, her guileless words are articulated in fleeting, fragmentary motifs underlaid by a quasi-ostinato bass, one of several examples. It is sung with delightful freshness by soprano Alicia Amo, who is equally at home in the more strident demands to Herod for the head of the baptist. ‘Deh, che più tardi’ (Ah, why do you delay?), is a vivid example of Amo’s dramatic powers, the words ‘e discolora’ inspiring a quite breathtaking chromatic portamento leading to a surprisingly powerful chest note. Here too are examples of one of the singer’s greatest assets, her exquisite mezzo voce, which is capable of real beauty even in her higher register. Bass Olivier Dejean’s troubled Herod is equally distinguished, at its imperious best in the fury of ‘Tuonerà tra mille turbini’, but almost sympathetic in his conscience-stricken final recitative, the last line of which is delivered with almost motto-like purpose, Ah, for repentance is the heir to error. His wife is capably sung by mezzo Gaia Petrone, although there is too much vibrato for my taste, while in the small role of the Consigliero, Herod’s councellor, tenor Artavazd Sargsyan takes full advantage of the marvellous ‘Anco in cielo’, its depiction of the Phoebus’ laborious daily journey across the skies depicted in graphic terms by relentless bass ostinato.

The playing of Le Banquet Céleste is exceptional throughout, though the single double bass seems at times to have been over-miked and the sound produced at the Abbaye Royale de Fontevraud is arguably a bit over- resonant. But such detail pales into insignificance in the face of this unqualified masterpiece and a recording of it that only serves to further underline the outstanding strength of early music in France.      

Brian Robins

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Finger: Music for European Courts and Concerts

Finger: Music for European Courts CD cover

The Harmonious Society of Tickle-fiddle Gentlemen, Robert Rawson
66:47
Ramée RAM1802

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The most striking aspect of this fabulous recording is the amazing diversity of Finger’s music. Having previously only known his sonatas for two pairs of treble instruments and continuo, it was a revelation to hear him move from almost Purcellian in the opening vocal exhortation into a Schmelzer-like sonata for three choirs, then a much more modern sounding Sonata a5 with Handelian counterpoint, a Lullian Chaconne a4, some French-inspired but English-sounding music for The Mourning Bride, and so on. His Sonata 9 is a re-working of “How happy the Lover” from Purcell’s King Arthur. The final track, “Morpheus, gentle god”, is scored for four voices with recorder consort and continuo, and reveals how effective Finger was at setting English – no wonder he was shocked at coming fourth (of four!) in the competition based on The Judgement of Paris.

Throughout the recording, the Tickle -Fiddlers are in very fine form, vocally and instrumentally. The speeds seem ideal, the recording bright, and the booklet notes are informative without bcoming stodgy. All in all, a most enjoyable experience – I hope Rawson & Co. will seek out more gems and share them with us!

Brian Clark

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Immortal Beloved

Chen Reiss Beethoven Immortal Beloved CD cover

Beethoven Arias
Chen Reiss soprano, Academy of Ancient Music, Richard Egarr, Oliver Wass harp
58:52
Onyx 4218

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The Israeli soprano Chen Reiss starts an interesting note by addressing the much aired question of Beethoven’s writing for the voice. Is it awkward and unidiomatic or, as she writes, does it feature ‘sequences that are uncomfortable to sing, that don’t sit where the voice (or the audience) would like them to sit’? I think there are elements of truth in both viewpoints and there are surely also reservations to be made regarding Beethoven’s handling of larger scale vocal forms in his earlier works. Both in the case of the aria ‘Fliesse, Wonnezähre, fliesse’, set to an embarrassingly banal text as a part of an unperformed Cantata for the Accession of Leopold II, WoO 88 in 1790 and the large scale scena ‘Primo amore’ WoO 92 (1790-92), possibly associated with Beethoven’s own ‘first love’ (Reiss and the notes by Andrew Stewart disagree on the identity of the lady in question) show Beethoven producing overblown settings that display all the indiscipline of talented, over-reaching youth. It is perhaps not without significance that the most impressive aspect of ‘Fliesse’ is the concertante writing for flute and cello.

Far superior is the more modestly proportioned (and therefore more effective) scena ‘No, non turbati’, WoO 92a, one of several texts by Metastasio that Beethoven set or worked on while he was studying vocal composition with Salieri around the turn of the century. Here Beethoven responds to the lover’s turmoil in the stormy recitative, while finding Mozartian eloquence in the succeeding aria. Mozart – in the form of Die Entführung’s Blondchen – also comes to mind in the delightful aria ‘Soll ein Schuh’, an insert in the Singspiel Die schöne Schusterin by Umlauf. And talk of Blondchen leads to Marzelline in Fidelio, whose ‘O wär’ ich schon’ finds her daydreaming of an imagined future life with ‘Fidelio’.

In addition to the works mentioned above Reiss includes another rarity in the shape of the Romanza, WoO 96, one of four pieces of incidental music Beethoven wrote for the Johann Duncker’s tragedy Leonora Prohaska in 1815, in addition to better known fare in the shape of Clärchen’s songs from the incidental music to Egmont and the great scena ‘Ah, perfido’, op 65.

Chen Reiss has built up a considerable reputation in Europe in recent years, where she is currently a member of the Vienna State Opera. Her vocal quality is unusual in that it has a warm, burnished beauty that has made her an admired interpreter of Richard Strauss, while equally owning a tonal security, purity and flexibility that allows her to sing earlier music (I heard her as a sensitive Ginevra in Handel’s Ariodante in Vienna at the end of 2019). This applies particularly to a middle register that is sumptuous yet also refined, though the upper register can have a tendency to become shrill when pushed. Her singing of all the music on the present CD is extremely rewarding, with considerable sensitivity brought to ‘Ma tu tremi’, the aria from WoO 92a, the humour of the Singspiel aria about the pleasures of a new pair of shoes nicely caught. Above all Reiss rises splendidly to the greater challenges of ‘Ah, perfido’, the words ‘Ah no!, ah no! fermate’ in the recitative inflected with real meaning, while in the succeeding aria the mezza voce at the words ‘io d’affano morirò’, the last carrying a hint of portamento, is deeply touching.

The Academy of Ancient Music under Richard Egarr provide unfailingly sympathetic support, as does Oliver Wass’ solo harp in the song from Leonora Prohaska, to which Reiss appropriately gives a more intimate feel.

With its unusual repertoire and excellent performances this bids fair to become one of the more attractive offerings of the Beethoven anniversary.

Brian Robins

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Kuhnau: Complete Sacred Works Vol. 5

Cover of Kuhnau CD

Opella Musica, camerata lipsiensis, Gregor Meyer
67:33
cpo 555 260-2
Erschrick mein Herz vor dir, Gott sei mir gnädig, Ich habe Lust abzuscheiden, Singet dem Herrn, Weicht ihr Sorgen

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This CD continues this outstanding series in which all of Kuhnau’s surviving choral music is presented. The booklet promises that Breitkopf & Härtel will publish the material, which is good news for performers. Their counter tenor, David Erler, is working on editing the material for Breitkopf.

In many ways, the first cantata Gott sei mir gnädig nach deiner Güte – a setting of Luther’s translation of Psalm 51, Miserere mei Domine – is the richest. The texture is enhanced by 5-part strings and the dense chromatic word painting marks it out as one of Kuhnau’s masterpieces. The singers sing equally well as a group and individually, and the emerging arioso/recitative gives an indication of where expressive text-setting in the period before discrete recitative. By contrast the jolly Singet dem Herrn ein neues Lied seems less exciting: it is an ingenious composition, but the trumpets and drums stray little beyond the tonic/dominant fanfare style, and certainly there is no hint here of the amazing melodic trumpet parts that were to transform Bach’s more celebratory cantatas.

But all the music here is well worth hearing, and there is much to learn from the way in which these cantatas are performed. There is a single choro of singers, one-to-a-part; and the same of strings. Behind this edifice of sound rises the rich voice of the organ – again the Silbermann organ in the Georgenkirche in Rötha (where the recording was made) which Kuhnau inspected in 1721, the year before he died. Other voices – an oboe, a traverso and the pair of trumpets – add colour, and the fagotto as a bass instrument with the string choir as well as the lute hark back to the favoured bass line of Schütz before the violoncello assumed such a dominant role in the developing Baroque orchestra and the 16’ violone became a sine qua non.

But the attention of the players and singers to each other – the way phrases are tossed between singers and players – gives the music both the intimacy and the clarity that is a hallmark of their style.

I reviewed Vol III of this project in March 2018, and I think that the soprano tone is better than it was – less 20th century in style. That’s a plus in my book.

David Stancliffe

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Ockeghem: Complete Songs volume 1

Cover of Blue Heron Ockeghem CD

Blue Heron, Scott Metcalfe
76:49
Blue Heron BHCD 1010 (6 45312 49963 2)

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This is the first of two CDs which will include all Ockeghem’s surviving chansons. Following hard on the heels of their fine recording of Rore’s first book of madrigals (see my review in EMR November 10, 2019), and ever mindful of their series of discs containing music from the Peterhouse partbooks,  the final one of which won the prestigious Gramophone early music prize, expectations could not be higher: will Blue Heron’s performances complement the greatness of Ockeghem’s music?

Two of the thirteen songs are not attributed to him. The anonymous rondeau En atendant vostre venue is included because it quotes from his Quant de vous seul which is sensibly placed to precede it on the disc; and Au travail suis is attributed to both Ockeghem and Barbingant in different sources, but because it similarly quotes Ma maitresse it is attributed here to Barbingant and likewise included after the work it quotes. Two other works survive anonymously but in circumstances that point to Ockeghem as their likely composer. All this is explained in scrupulous detail by Sean Gallagher in the excellent accompanying booklet, which also contains a fine essay by Scott Metcalfe about performing the songs, with sections on instruments, interpretation of surviving underlay, and pronunciation.

Those of us listening to or performing Ockeghem’s music have the benefit of perspective. Specifically: his contemporaries could hear his songs simply as the music itself and/or as it had been influenced by the work of his predecessors. They would also have noticed elements that were original, and perhaps some that reflected a personal style. From the 21st century we have the additional benefit of hearing how his music influenced and affected subsequent musical developments, not only among his disciples, but also over the centuries up to the 20th and 21st. While we have expectations of what late mediaeval or early Renaissance composers’ music will sound like, we could not reasonably expect Ockeghem’s songs to sound in some places so remarkably prophetic, even modern. Admittedly the listener has to rely on the editor to have reproduced accurately what Ockeghem intended to be heard 500 years ago but, taking this on trust, many passages in these songs reach effortlessly across the centuries. Even as soon as the first three words of the opening track Ockeghem is shaking hands with later generations and there is another striking passage in Fors seullement contre ce qu’ay promis at “une belle aliance”. (Philip A. Cooke’s recent book about James MacMillan mentions his subject’s assimilation of Ockeghem’s technique.) While such passages might not be unparalleled in music of this period, their placing by Ockeghem is so assured as to seem that he is, so to speak, setting an agenda for musicians of the future. Like all the greatest composers he is able to combine exquisite melodies with the highest technical accomplishment, so that however many verses a song possesses, each one is welcomed anew by the listener, who at the conclusion is left wanting more.

The performances are superb, serving this music with the perfect balance of restraint and commitment. Just occasionally, as in the taxing discantus part of Fors seullement contre ce qu’ay promis, there is just a hint of insecure intonation, but Blue Heron live up to their reputation as among the finest interpreters of early music on the planet. There are recordings of Ockeghem’s music which are as good – one thinks of the masses sung by The Clerks’ Group under Edward Wickham – but this is only to be demanded when performing music of this quality.

Instrumental participation, so often the Achilles heel of this sort of recording, is limited, capable, judicious and discreet. Conductor Scott Metcalfe plays the contratenor parts on the harp on four of the thirteen tracks, the vielle on another (Au travail suis attributed to Barbingant) and duets on the vielle with Laura Jeppesen on the setting of O rosa bella a2 with a discantus attributed to each of Bedyngham and Ockeghem.

A second disc of Ockeghem’s songs, again sung by Blue Heron, is in place. And in the case of Ockeghem, more of the same means more of his wonderful difference.

Richard Turbet

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Sheet music

Manuel de Sumaya: Villancicos from Mexico City

Cover of Recent Researchs 206 Sumaya Villancicos

Edited by Drew Edward Davies
Recent Researches in the Music of the Baroque Era, 206
xliii, [6 plates] + 231pp.
A-R Editions, Inc. ISBN 978-1-9872-0202-1 $275 (Violin parts available $14)

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Manuel de Sumaya (c. 1678-1755) was chapel master at the cathedral in Mexico City from 1715-39 and the 32 complete works in this impressive volume (plus transcriptions of two further fragments) date from this period.

The villancico form has a verse and refrain basis. Sumaya’s Mexico city pieces include 14 for one “choir” (of between two and four voices, two with added violins), 14 more for two “choirs” (four to eight voices, again two with strings), and four for three “choirs” (11-12 voices). It is difficult to look at music for choirs where the bottom line of each is called bass and the rhythm mostly matches the voices above (and thus diverges from the basso seguente at the bottom of the texture) and not assume that these lines must have been sung too; but that is superimposing European expectations – played by the instruments Davies suggests in his detailed introduction, the lack of a texted bass part might be irrelevant.

Some of his translations of the texts are a little less literal than they could be, but a great help for performers is the fact that all of the verses are underlaid so there is no need for the mental gymnastics required with other editions on how to elide the various words ending and beginning with vowels so that the text is properly stressed! One of the strangest pieces is no. 20, for the feast of the Assumption, Hoy sube arrebatada. As well as a tenor voice, it features two violins with bass, as well as untexted treble and bass parts that make up “choir one”. As elsewhere, the string writing is more elaborate than that for voices; Davies’s suggestion that the untexted treble be played on a wind instrument (and the bass, too, presumably) might make sense of something that just looks quite odd!

In all honesty, I cannot see choirs queueing up to pay so much for what is a very worthwhile volume of interesting music, so I sincerely hope that A-R Editions can be persuaded to authorise off-prints for inclusion in concerts.

Brian Clark

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John Eccles: Europe’s Revels for the Peace of Ryswick

Cover of A-R Editions John Eccles Peace of Ryswick

Edited by Michael Burden
Recent Researches in the Music of the Baroque Era, 209
xxvii, [6 plates] + 97pp.
A-R Editions, Inc. ISBN 978-1-9872-0306-6 $180

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For those whose historical knowledge of the late 17th century is a little sketchy, the Treaty of Ryswick was signed at the conclusion of the Nine Years War, fought between France under Louis XIV and a Grand (and somewhat unusual) Alliance between Protestant England and Holland on the one hand and Catholic Spain and the Holy Roman Empire on the other.

Kathryn Lowerre (one of the General Editors of this “complete works of Eccles” sub series from A-R Editions) has written extensively about the piece and both its background and contents. Michael Burden’s fine edition supplements that with illustrations, a fully annotated (and, when necessary, translated) libretto (with those sections of Motteux that were omitted from performance in one of three appendices) and a thorough but remarkably short Critical Report.

As usual, my only reservation about the edition is the sometimes impractical layout; numbers 8 and 9, for example, cover two pages but they both have page turns – in the case of number 9, that means turning to play five bars and then turning back. Someone should think about the possibility that these volumes may not be destined to languish on scholars’ shelves and that musicians might be inspired by Anthony Rooley’s foreword to the edition and actually stage a performance; then all the hard work would finally be shown to have been worthwhile.

Brian Clark

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Purcell?: Oh that my grief

Cover of D109 Purcell Oh that my grief

Edited by Rebecca Herissone
viii + 16pp.
Stainer & Bell D109, £8.50

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In her extensive introduction to this 106-bar devotional song for three male voices, Rebecca Herissone makes a convincing case for re-assessing Philip Hayes’ role as a collector and copyist of Purcell’s music in general and for re-instating this to the catalogue of the composer’s canon in particular.

Given the amount of detail she gives, it is surprising that she decided to omit the figured bass symbols on the grounds that it was impossible to distinguish between Hayes’s 18th-century additions (as witnessed in his other transcriptions of Purcell sources that still exist) and what might have been in the original; I should have thought making that statement would have been enough explanation had she left them in rather than (rather shadily) using them “to inform choices in the editorial continuo part”.

She casts the piece as a “homosocial” duet for high and normal tenor voices with a bass joining in for a refrain (in which it really does very little that add text and rhythm to the continuo line). The angular melodies and piquant harmonies are typical of the composer’s style. It is a pity that the three-part section (which neatly fits on to two pages) could not have been laid out on a spread rather than have a page turn in the middle of it both times.

Brian Clark

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Charpentier: Histoires sacrées

CD cover of Charpentier Histoires sacrées Daucé

Ensemble Correspondances, Sébastien Daucé
160:51 (2 CDs + Bonus DVD)
harmonia mundi HMM 902280.81

There is a cornucopia of riches packed into this slim-line presentation, so much so that its full worth will surely only became apparent after it has been lived with rather longer than the demands of reviewing time allow. At its heart lie three of the Latin oratorios, or histoires sacrées (neither incidentally terms used by Charpentier himself), biblical or historical religious dramas that follow the format of a narration – which might be sung solo, by a small vocal ensemble or even a chorus – into which characters are given their own voice. It’s a model Charpentier adopted from the three years he spent in Rome (1662 to 1665) and particularly from what he learned from his close contact there with Giacomo Carissimi. The three works are Judith, sive Bethulia liberata, H 391 (1674-76), Cæcilia, virgo et martyr, H 397 (1677-78) and Mors Saülis et Jonathae, H 403 (1681-82). The two former, along with works appertaining to Mary Magdalene, form the contents of the DVD. This presents staged versions recorded in a concert held in the sumptuous surroundings of the Chapelle Royale at Versailles, providing a theme of three greatly admired women whose moral strength was held up as exemplary by the Counter-Reformation, a strong influence via the Jesuits on the works of both Charpentier and Carissimi.

There is no evidence that the Latin oratorios were staged, but strongly dramatic writing and, at times, content makes them a tempting proposition for a producer. The Versailles performance employs a single set with large Roman arches left and right of the back of the stage and two (rather too easily) movable rocks on which some rather ungainly clambering takes place. The same costumes, a mix of vaguely middle-Eastern influence and modern dress are used for both works. There is no attempt at period production, perhaps fortunately given that much of what action takes place is not convincingly projected. Not infrequently what we see conflicts with the text, most obviously at the critical moment of Holofernes’ decapitation, where the Biblical text tells us the Assyrian King ‘lay on his bed fast asleep, being exceedingly drunk’, but we see Judith pawing a half-naked figure who is very much awake. Conversely there are moments, often helped by excellent lighting, that are highly effective, the union of the martyred Cecilia with the crucified Christ creating a Bernini-like image totally in accord with the Counter-Reformation spirit of the piece. The performances of both oratorios feature outstanding solo and ensemble singing, Charpentier’s at times piquant or tortuously dissonant harmonies emerging in the latter with unusually telling force. The eponymous protagonists of the two oratorios, Caroline Weynants (Judith) and Judith Fa (Cecilia) are especially good, the former finding real sensitivity in the prayer before the extraordinary night scene in which she visits the camp of Holofernes. The highest praise also goes to the richly-toned alto Lucile Richardot, a deeply affecting Mary Magdalene in the tender elevation motet O sarcramentum pietatis, H 274 and Magdalena lumens, one of three motets composed by Charpentier for Mary’s feast day. To complete the programme’s dramatisation all three women are brought together in the three-part a cappella motet ‘Sub tuum praesidium’, in actuality an antiphon to the Virgin

Although the audio recording also includes the two oratorios, the motets are only on the DVD. The major addition to the CDs is Mors Saulis, a masterpiece on the subject of the death of Saul and his son Jonathan, the latter deeply mourned by David. It’s a topic to which Charpentier would return in his 5-act tragédie lyrique David et Jonathas, H 490 (1688). Despite not having a dramatic context the oratorio carries extraordinary theatrical power, most spectacularly in the scene between Saul and the Witch of Endor, superbly carried off here by bass Étienne Bazola and, again, Lucile Richardot. The mourning of David, ‘Doleo super te’ is in the tradition of the great 17th-century laments and done with great sensitivity by tenor Davy Cornillot.

Among the smaller works on the CDs are the impressive 8-part funeral motet ‘Plaintes des âmes du purgatories’, and three works belonging to the dialogus type, smaller dramatic works generally cast for two or three characters and continuo, the most impressive here being between Christ and Mary Magdalene (H 423), an exquisite little masterpiece than makes great use of Jesus’ famous words ‘noli mi tangere’ (touch me not).

As I said at the outset, such are the riches here that they demand much greater acquaintance; Charpentier is one of those rare composers to maintain an astonishingly high quality over the course of a large output. These marvellous performances – and I realise I’ve said nothing about instrumental playing (employing 17th-string technique) of the highest quality and completely idiomatic direction – will unquestionably repay deeper investigation and could well take their place at the core of a Charpentier collection.

Brian Robins