Consort is the term used for a small instrumental ensemble in music written before 1700, according to New Grove. Such an ensemble could comprise various instruments, either from the same family (violins, viols, transverse flutes, recorders) or of different families. Although music for such a line-up was written across Europe in the Renaissance and the 17th century, the term 'consort music' has become especially associated with music for instrumental ensembles written in England. There consort music seems to have been more popular and more widespread among the music-loving community, and held in esteem much longer than elsewhere. The large repertoire and the fact that Henry Purcell composed the last consort music at the end of the 17th century, when the latest fashions from France and Italy had conquered England, attest to that. It was in particular the consort of viols that was popular in England. The first viols reached the country in the early 16th century, under the reign of Henry VIII.
For most of the 16th century consort music seems to have been intended for professional players, especially at the court and ecclesiastical institutions, such as the Chapel Royal. Early specimens of consort music were often based on plainchant subjects. A number of such pieces can be found in the oeuvre of Christopher Tye. John Dowland may have been one of the first who broke away from sacred connections, in particular with his collection Lachrimae These pieces, based on his song Flow my tears, reflect the melancholic fashion of his days. He added a number of other, mostly more cheerful pieces, some of which are also based on his own songs.
The Lachrimae have gained cult status in our time, and there is hardly a consort of viols that has these pieces not on its repertoire. They are also very well represented on disc, not only in the standard line-up of viols, but also on other instruments, even played with a larger ensemble. A performance on viols is the most satisfying, at least in the case of the Lachrimae pavans, as they are ideally suited to bring about their melancholic nature. The ensemble Musicall Humors [1], consisting of five viole da gamba and lute, recorded the entire collection for Alpha. It is an ensemble of highly qualified players, all of whom have made a name for themselves as soloists in other repertoire. That does not guarantee good ensemble, but here everything is right as far as that is concerned. The lute probably plays a more prominent role than in some other recordings, but that may also be due to the recording. Overall I am happy with these performances, which are rhythmically flexible and dynamically differentiated.
Ensembles may take different decisions with regard to the order of the pieces; here each Lachrimae pavan is followed by a lighter-weight dance. That creates much variation, and it is questionable whether Dowland expected the Lachrimae pavans to be played as a cycle. However, I prefer to hear them in succession. Others may feel differently. Whatever is the case, this is definitely a recording to investigate.
Dowland was undoubtedly one of the main composers of consort music, and his music is among the most frequently-performed and -recorded. Other famous composers of such music are of later generations, especially William Lawes and John Jenkins. The former figures in a programme recorded by Philippe Pierlot with his Ricercar Consort [2]. The title of the disc, "Distracted Tymes", refers to a piece by Thomas Tomkins, Sad Pavan: for these distracted times, which dates from 1649 - the year that Charles I was executed. It marks the end of the period that this recording covers. It was a time of great political turmoil, which also had far-reaching effects on the music scene. One of the prominent victims of the battle between the Royalists and the Parliamentarians was William Lawes, who, fighting on the side of the former, died in battle in 1645. He was one of the most prolific composers of consort music, and one of the most individual, for instance in the realm of harmony.
In the programme recorded by the Ricercar Consort he is represented with lesser-known pieces: six works for three 'lyra viols'. The lyra viol is basically the same as the bass viol, and most music written for the lyra viol was also played on that instrument. There are some small differences between the lyra viol and the bass viol, though. In The Division-Violist of 1659 Christopher Simpson writes that the lyra viol has lighter strings and that the bridge is less rounded. The strings of the lyra viol are fitted more closely to the fingerboard than those of the consort bass. Music specifically intende for the lyra viol was written down in lute tablature which allowed the use of different tunings and the playing of chords. That has a special effect in the performances of these pieces.
The programme also includes pieces by unfamiliar masters, such as Charles Coleman and Thomas Brewer. It is extended with two keyboard works by John Bull, played on the organ by Maude Gratton. Tomkins' piece mentioned above is also for keyboard, but - as in other cases - can be played as consort music. The organ also joins the viols in some pieces, which was common practice at the time. Such an accompaniment was especially used to keep the players in tune, which attests to the growing popularity of consort music among (aristocratic) amateurs. The Ricercar Consort covers a wide repertoire, from the 16th to the early 19th century, but here they return to their roots, and do so brilliantly. They produce a beautiful sound, the ensemble is immaculate, and the transparency remarkable. The perfect intonation makes the harmonic peculiarities, especially in Lawes, clearly discernible.
His very own idiom comes also to the fore on the next disc, in which Lawes appears alongside John Jenkins, one of the most revered and distinguished composers of 17th-century England, whose long life covered three different political stages and the changes from the style of the Renaissance to that of the Baroque. He played a major role in all of them. What is notable in all the pieces recorded by Roberto Gini and his Ensemble Concerto [3] is that the upper parts are not played on treble viols, but rather on violins. They were handled as alternatives, which indicates that the violin was treated as a consort instrument, not as a (virtuosic) solo instrument, as it was to become in the second half of the century.
In this programme we find again a piece referring to the political upheaval: in his Nuwark Seidge Jenkins depicts the clash of opposing sides in the siege of Newark in 1646, the mourning for the dead and the celebration of victory through a pavan and a galliard. The main part of the programme consists of four so-called Fantasia-suites, two by Lawes and two by Jenkins. The term 'fantasia-suite' is a modern invention; at the time of the two composers there was no particular term to describe pieces comprising a fantasia, followed by two other pieces, either dances (almain, corant, pavan, galliard) or airs. John Coprario, the teacher of Lawes, was the first who composed such works. Like Coprario, Jenkins and Lawes added an organ part to the violins and viols. Whereas Lawes specified the upper parts to be played on violins, Jenkins required treble instruments, leaving the choice to the performers.
The differences come to the fore especially in the use of harmony, where Lawes is more adventurous than Jenkins. That makes this combination of pieces all the more interesting, as it shows the variety within the genre. Roberto Gini and his colleagues deliver excellent performances, which are lively in the fast movements and have much depth and solemnity in the slower ones. The Nuwark Seidge is given a truly theatrical performance.
From Lawes to Matthew Locke is not a big step. When Lawes died, Locke was in his early twenties, and stylistically he was his own man as much as Lawes had been. The two recordings by the ensemble Phantasm [4/5] make that abundantly clear. There is also a structural connection between the two. In two of the three collections from which the pieces on these two discs are taken - Consort of four parts and The Flat Consort for my cousin Kemble - he opens with a fantazie; in the latter there are even two such pieces in the suite. In the Flat Consort the opening fantazie starts with a slow section, followed by a fugue. Therefore these suites can be considered an extension of Lawes' fantasia-suites.
In both collections the scoring is for viols; in the third collection, The Little Consort, from which some suites are played on the first of the two discs, violin and treble viol are mentioned as alternatives. In all three collections Locke added a basso continuo ad libitum. This part can be played on an organ or a plucked instrument; here Elizabeth Kenny plays this part on the theorbo.
The booklets include informative analyses of Locke's consort music; Laurence Dreyfus, the director of Phantasm, also puts him into his historical context. There are also interesting observations with regard to his stylistic idiosyncracies, which may well reflect his character. And his character may have been formed by experiences in his youth. Apart from that, Locke may have been aware that he was one of the last representatives of a style that was soon to come to an end.
Phantasm is one of the top-class consorts of viols in a world full of excellent ensembles of this kind. Its discography is impressive, and these two outstanding discs, which bring us as closely as possible to the unique musical idiom of Matthew Locke, are two further jewels in its crown. As Locke has left a considerable amount of consort music, it is to be hoped that Phantasm continues its exploration of his oeuvre.
In a way, this review ends as it started: with music that is very popular and frequently performed. Henry Purcell's fantasias have a kind of cult status, just like Dowland's Lachrimae. With these pieces Purcell bids the Renaissance farewell: although intended for viols, such instruments may not have been available for performance, with the exception of the bass viol. This may have been the motivation of some ensembles, such as the John Holloway Ensemble [6], to use violins instead, also keeping in mind that composers from the first half of the 17th century included parts for violin in their consort music, as we have seen, or indicated that it could be used as an alternative to the treble viol.
That said, it is important to keep in mind that these pieces are rooted in the tradition of consort music. Purcell was well aware of that. He was strongly influenced by Matthew Locke, whom he commemorated in an elegy. His influencec is discernible in his bold use of harmony, in his oeuvre in general, but certainly also in these fantasias. From that perspective the style of playing should be more in line with that which was common before the Restoration, when the new fashion from Italy had not yet conquered the country. In the recording by the John Holloway Ensemble the performers use a style that is more Italian than English, with strong dynamic differences. An telling example is the Fantazia III.
The ensemble consists of violin, two violas and cello. The latter is the most problematic part of it. In fact, its use has to be considered anachronistic. The fantasias are dated 1680, and at that time the 'baroque cello', as we know it today, only just made its appearance on the music stage in Italy. It is highly unlikely that Purcell knew it, or even has ever used it in his life. It was only about twenty years after his death that the cello started to become a common instrument in England. So, even when performers decide to play violins and violas rather than viole da gamba, the lowest part can only be played on the bass viol, probably with the bass violin as an alternative. This recording of the fantasias can hardly be considered an valuable addition to the discography. In that light, the short playing time - a little over 40 minutes - is not much of a problem.
[1] John Dowland: "[Complete] Lachrimae"
Musicall Humors
Alpha 944 (© 2023) details
[2] "Distracted Tymes"
Ricercar Consort/Philippe Pierlot
Mirare MIR648 (© 2024) details
[3] "Fantasia-Suites - John Jenkins and his 'most esteemed friend' William Lawes"
Ensemble Concerto/Roberto Gini
Aulicus Classics ALC 0087 (© 2022) details
[4] Matthew Locke: "For Lovers of Consort Music"
Phantasm/Laurence Dreyfus
Linn CKD 594 (© 2018) details
[5] Matthew Locke: "Consorts Flat and Sharp"
Phantasm/Laurence Dreyfus
Linn CKD 737 (© 2024) details
[6] Henry Purcell: "Fantazias"
John Holloway Ensemble
ECM 2249 (© 2023) details
Saturday, March 29, 2025
Saturday, February 8, 2025
The Italian keyboard, 1575 - 1725
Keyboard instruments have played a major role in European music history and continue to do so in our own time. They came and come in very different shapes, from the tiny spinet and the soft clavichord to the modern concert grand and large cathedral organs. Italy has played a key role in the development of some of the main genres of keyboard music during the renaissance and baroque periods, such as the toccata, the fantasia, the canzona and the ricercare. From the late 16th century to the early 18th century Italy experienced a kind of 'golden era' in keyboard music. In the first quarter of the 18th century a kind of decline seems to have taken place. The two most brilliant keyboard players, Giovanni Benedetto Platti and Domenico Scarlatti, left Italy to work elsewhere. Some of the main composers of the time, such as Vivaldi, Albinoni and Tartini, were no keyboard players and did not leave any music for keyboard solo. What was written is not that well-known, such as the sonatas by the likes of Benedetto Marcello, Baldassare Galuppi and Domenico Cimarosa. With the latter two we are in a different period: the galant idiom.
Thanks to Brilliant Classics our picture of the history of keyboard writing in Italy has been substantially extended. I have reviewed most of those recordings on my site and here on this weblog. In this article I want to pay attention to some recent recordings of Italian keyboard music spanning the about 150 years from 1575 to 1725.
Luigi Accardo [1] plays a programme under the title of "Harmoniae Varietates"; the subtitle indicates what he aims at: "Italian Music from the Golden Age of the Harpsichord". Obviously such a programme is a personal selection, but at least the main composers are represented: Girolamo Frescobaldi and Bernardo Pasquini had to be included. That said, the latter is not as well-known as he deserves to be (more about him later). A problem is that his large oeuvre for keyboard has not been catalogued. Ironically, Bernardo Storace is a somewhat mysterious figure, who has made a name for himself with just one collection of keyboard works, but these are probably more often played and recorded than Pasquini's music. Fortunately Accardo avoids the 'evergreen', the Ciaccona, but plays two different pieces instead, among them a nice Balletto. Domenico Zipoli is also pretty well-known, and another example of a composer who left Italy, this time for the New World. Alessandro Scarlatti is overshadowed by his son, but the complete recording of his keyboard works by Francesco Tasini (Tactus) showed that Domenico had inherited his skills from his father. Accardo includes two brilliant examples.
He closes the programme with specimens of later music. With Pescetti and Leo were are on the brink of a new era, in which the galant idiom conquers Europe. The former's Sonata IV included here is a good example. (His complete keyboard works were recorded by Paolo Bottini). Apart from organists, few keyboard players explore his oeuvre, and that also goes for Leonardo Leo, one of the main opera composers in 18th-century Naples, who has left a small keyboard oeuvre, among which the Trattenimento, which closes Accardo's recording.
He is an outstanding performer who does not show off, despite the often virtuosic nature of the pieces he has selected. It is telling that he mostly decides to end a piece not with a big bang, but rather arpeggiates the closing chord. If you look for a fine survey of Italian keyboard music in its golden era, this is a perfect choice.
The next disc focuses on one of the genres mentioned above, the ricercar(e) or ricercata. It is impossible to precisely define this form: New Grove mentions two forms, the 'preludial or rhapsodic' ricercar, and the imitative ricercar. The latter is the one which the three composers produced to which Ilaria Monticelli [2] devoted a disc on Da Vinci Classics. They are all from Naples, and their ricercares date from the last quarter of the 16th century and the first decade of the 17th. Despite the fact that all the pieces are specimens of the same genre, they are very different, as the artist explains in her liner-notes, which are very useful. These differences depend on the choice of mode and the way the thematic material is used. Some pieces show the influence of the madrigals of the time, which is not surprising, given the importance of this genre, certainly in Naples, and the fact that all three composers wrote madrigals themselves. De Macque was also in the service of Carlo Gesualdo, whose reputation is based on his madrigals.
Rocco Rodio, the earliest and also the least-known composer in the programme, was also associated with Gesualdo. He published two books of madrigals, one of which is lost. The five ricercate performed by Ilaria Monticelli are taken from his only printed edition of keyboard music, which also includes four fantasias, two of which on liturgical chants. The complete edition has been recorded by Luca Scandali on organ, and that makes Monticelli's performance on the harpsichord of the five ricercate a useful alternative.
She plays the copy of an anonymous Neapolitan harpsichord from around 1550, but is different from the original "by virtue of its broken octave and of its reconstruction of the original disposition, which had an added stop of 4’". It is the perfect tool for this repertoire and allows for an idiomatic interpretation of this compelling repertoire, under the hands of a player who shows a thorough understanding of the material. The polyphonic fabric comes perfectly off here, thanks to the clarity of the playing and the fine articulation, as well as the excellent recording.
Bernardo Pasquini was generally considered the most brilliant keyboard player in Italy in the second half of the 17th century, comparable with Frescobaldi in the first half. He was born in Pistoia and moved to Rome in 1650. Here he spent the rest of his life, although he made various appearances abroad. He performed for Louis XIV in Paris and at the imperial court in Vienna during the reign of Leopold I. His reputation crossed the borders of Italy: he attracted many pupils from all over Europe, such as Johann Philipp Krieger and Georg Muffat. He has left a large corpus of keyboard music which unfortunately has never been catalogued. That is especially problematic as his oeuvre includes a number of pieces with the same title or even without a title. That makes it very difficult to compare recordings or to identify a piece that is played.
The most - probably even all - of his keyboard works have been notated as pedagogical material, especially for the musical education of his nephew Bernardo Felice Ricordati. They have been preserved in two large sources: Ms. Landsberg 215, at the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek of Berlin, and the three books, at present bound into a single one, at the British Library in London.
The Italian keyboard player Roberto Loreggian [3], who has made many recordings for Brilliant Classics, recorded the complete Berlin collection. All the forms common in Italian keyboard music, as mentioned above, are represented, and to those Pasquini added variations (variazioni, partite), dances (sarabanda, alemanda), fugues, pieces on bassi ostinati and pieces with curious titles, such as bizzarria, tastata, as well as pieces whose titles may refer to situations or characters, such as Tastata per il Signor Melani per Genova. One wonders whether such a piece was also intended as 'pupil's fodder' (to quote New Grove about the keyboard works by Alessandro Scarlatti).
In most cases it is to the performer to decide which instrument to play. However, there are pieces which are undoubtedly intended for the organ, because of long-held notes; an example is the Toccata per Monaco, which opens the third disc.
The complete production comprises five discs, with a duration of almost six hours. That makes this project a mammoth undertaking, but the quality and variety of Pasquini's oeuvre justifies it. As I already suggested, there is much variety of forms and Loreggian has made sure that each disc includes a mixture of pieces of different kinds and size. Three discs are entirely played on the harpsichord (a copy of a harpsichord by Giusti), whereas two discs are filled with pieces performed at the organ by Bonatti (1713) in the Santuario Santa Maria in Valverde in Rezzato (Brescia, Italy). We have come to know Loreggian as an insightful and stylish player, and this is another testimony of his art. He fully explores the features of each piece, and thanks to the way he has put together the various discs and his engaging style of playing - and not to forget the two fine instruments - this is a set that no lover of baroque keyboard music should miss.
The second source of Pasquini's keyboard music, in the British Library in London, includes two sets of fourteen sonatas each, for one and two keyboards respectively. Instead of writing them out he provided only basso continuo lines which have to be worked out during performance. The latter have been recorded by Marina Scaioli and Francesco Tasini [4]. In their construction these sonatas show strong similarity with several forms of instrumental music, such as the trio sonata. They include contrasts between 'solo' and 'tutti', which is reminiscent of the concerto grosso, for example those of Pasquini's colleague Corelli. There are also passages in which the two keyboards are involved in a kind of dialogue. Each sonata consists of various movements. In his liner-notes Tasini refers to a number of movements, and therefore it is rather odd that these are not specified in the track-list.
This is not the first recording of these fourteen sonatas. The first that crossed my path is the one by Attilio Cremonesi and Alessandro de Marchi (Symphonia, 1992); that one may not be available anymore. Brilliant Classics released a new recording in 2013, in which Luca Scandali and Hadrien Jourdan play most of the sonatas on the two organs in the Basilica di Santa Maria della Misericordia in Sant'Elpidio a Mare (Fermo). These are fine instruments, but given that these pieces are intended as pedagogical material, performances on organs is not the most logical option. From that angle the recording by Scaioli and Tasini is to be preferred. They added a bonus: one of the sonatas for one keyboard (which, as far as I know, have never been recorded) indicates that "it can be done on two harpsichords". This results in a fifteenth sonata in A minor, which concludes the programme.
Marina Scaioli and Francesco Tasini have delivered excellent performances of these fine pieces, which are also historically interesting, in that they shed light on the Italian partimento practice - exercises in figured-bass playing, especially as self-contained pieces. The recording makes sure that the two instruments are clearly identifiable.
Agostino Tinazzoli (c 1660-1725) is an example of a composer whom hardly anybody may ever have heard of, before Brilliant Classics released a recording of his complete keyboard works by Simone Pierini [5]. Very little is known about Tinazzoli; in New Grove the article on Tinazzoli takes not even five full lines. The most remarkable fact is that in Rome he spent some time in prison for unknown reasons. He was released thanks to the cantata he had scratched on the wall of his cell. In later years he worked as an opera director, but did not compose any opera himself, but only arias to be inserted in operas by others. His oeuvre includes some sacred music, madrigals and keyboard works.
The latter come with three different titles: toccata, sonata and capriccio. Tinazzoli seems to have chosen those titles at random, because their forms seem to have little to do with those titles. All three can consist of only one movement or comprise several movements, either with tempo indications or the name of a dance. Stylistically they show quite some variety as well. A number of pieces remind me of the keyboard works by Alessandro Scarlatti, which is probably not surprising as they were exact contemporaries. However, there are also pieces that sound much more modern. In the Capriccio No. 15, which closes the programme, we hear drum basses in the left hand, which is a feature of the galant idiom. Even more surprising is the Sonata No. 13, whose addition Post Agnus indicates that it was intended for liturgical use. It is very operatic and points in the direction of liturgical organ music written in Italy in the late 18th century. The Partite sopra il Passagallo is the harmonically most daring work.
This should suffice to conclude that this is a remarkable recording of a remarkable composer, who deserves to be investigated by anyone with a special interest in early keyboard music. It is served very well by Simone Pierini, whose performances are impressive. He plays the copy of a Grimaldi harpsichord and an organ of 1999, which unfortunately is not specified in the booklet, but is well suited to this repertoire.
[1] "Harmoniae Varietates - Italian Music from the Golden Age of the Harpsichord"
Luigi Accardo, harpsichord
Dynamic CDS8036 (© 2024) details
[2] "Di voci affettuose - Neapolitan ricercars"
Ilaria Monticelli, harpsichord
Da Vinci Classics C00559 (© 2022) details
[3] Bernardo Pasquini: "Sonate per Gravecembalo - Manuscript S.B.P.K. Landsberg 215"
Roberto Loreggian, harpsichord, organ
Brilliant Classics 94826 (© 2020) details
[4] Bernardo Pasquini: "Quindici Sonate a due Cimbali"
Marina Scaioli, Francesco Tasini, harpsichord
Tactus TC 631804 (© 2021) details
[5] Agostino Tinazzoli: "Complete Keyboard Works"
Simone Pierini, harpsichord, organ
Brilliant Classics 96875 (© 2023) details
Thanks to Brilliant Classics our picture of the history of keyboard writing in Italy has been substantially extended. I have reviewed most of those recordings on my site and here on this weblog. In this article I want to pay attention to some recent recordings of Italian keyboard music spanning the about 150 years from 1575 to 1725.
Luigi Accardo [1] plays a programme under the title of "Harmoniae Varietates"; the subtitle indicates what he aims at: "Italian Music from the Golden Age of the Harpsichord". Obviously such a programme is a personal selection, but at least the main composers are represented: Girolamo Frescobaldi and Bernardo Pasquini had to be included. That said, the latter is not as well-known as he deserves to be (more about him later). A problem is that his large oeuvre for keyboard has not been catalogued. Ironically, Bernardo Storace is a somewhat mysterious figure, who has made a name for himself with just one collection of keyboard works, but these are probably more often played and recorded than Pasquini's music. Fortunately Accardo avoids the 'evergreen', the Ciaccona, but plays two different pieces instead, among them a nice Balletto. Domenico Zipoli is also pretty well-known, and another example of a composer who left Italy, this time for the New World. Alessandro Scarlatti is overshadowed by his son, but the complete recording of his keyboard works by Francesco Tasini (Tactus) showed that Domenico had inherited his skills from his father. Accardo includes two brilliant examples.
He closes the programme with specimens of later music. With Pescetti and Leo were are on the brink of a new era, in which the galant idiom conquers Europe. The former's Sonata IV included here is a good example. (His complete keyboard works were recorded by Paolo Bottini). Apart from organists, few keyboard players explore his oeuvre, and that also goes for Leonardo Leo, one of the main opera composers in 18th-century Naples, who has left a small keyboard oeuvre, among which the Trattenimento, which closes Accardo's recording.
He is an outstanding performer who does not show off, despite the often virtuosic nature of the pieces he has selected. It is telling that he mostly decides to end a piece not with a big bang, but rather arpeggiates the closing chord. If you look for a fine survey of Italian keyboard music in its golden era, this is a perfect choice.
The next disc focuses on one of the genres mentioned above, the ricercar(e) or ricercata. It is impossible to precisely define this form: New Grove mentions two forms, the 'preludial or rhapsodic' ricercar, and the imitative ricercar. The latter is the one which the three composers produced to which Ilaria Monticelli [2] devoted a disc on Da Vinci Classics. They are all from Naples, and their ricercares date from the last quarter of the 16th century and the first decade of the 17th. Despite the fact that all the pieces are specimens of the same genre, they are very different, as the artist explains in her liner-notes, which are very useful. These differences depend on the choice of mode and the way the thematic material is used. Some pieces show the influence of the madrigals of the time, which is not surprising, given the importance of this genre, certainly in Naples, and the fact that all three composers wrote madrigals themselves. De Macque was also in the service of Carlo Gesualdo, whose reputation is based on his madrigals.
Rocco Rodio, the earliest and also the least-known composer in the programme, was also associated with Gesualdo. He published two books of madrigals, one of which is lost. The five ricercate performed by Ilaria Monticelli are taken from his only printed edition of keyboard music, which also includes four fantasias, two of which on liturgical chants. The complete edition has been recorded by Luca Scandali on organ, and that makes Monticelli's performance on the harpsichord of the five ricercate a useful alternative.
She plays the copy of an anonymous Neapolitan harpsichord from around 1550, but is different from the original "by virtue of its broken octave and of its reconstruction of the original disposition, which had an added stop of 4’". It is the perfect tool for this repertoire and allows for an idiomatic interpretation of this compelling repertoire, under the hands of a player who shows a thorough understanding of the material. The polyphonic fabric comes perfectly off here, thanks to the clarity of the playing and the fine articulation, as well as the excellent recording.
Bernardo Pasquini was generally considered the most brilliant keyboard player in Italy in the second half of the 17th century, comparable with Frescobaldi in the first half. He was born in Pistoia and moved to Rome in 1650. Here he spent the rest of his life, although he made various appearances abroad. He performed for Louis XIV in Paris and at the imperial court in Vienna during the reign of Leopold I. His reputation crossed the borders of Italy: he attracted many pupils from all over Europe, such as Johann Philipp Krieger and Georg Muffat. He has left a large corpus of keyboard music which unfortunately has never been catalogued. That is especially problematic as his oeuvre includes a number of pieces with the same title or even without a title. That makes it very difficult to compare recordings or to identify a piece that is played.
The most - probably even all - of his keyboard works have been notated as pedagogical material, especially for the musical education of his nephew Bernardo Felice Ricordati. They have been preserved in two large sources: Ms. Landsberg 215, at the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek of Berlin, and the three books, at present bound into a single one, at the British Library in London.
The Italian keyboard player Roberto Loreggian [3], who has made many recordings for Brilliant Classics, recorded the complete Berlin collection. All the forms common in Italian keyboard music, as mentioned above, are represented, and to those Pasquini added variations (variazioni, partite), dances (sarabanda, alemanda), fugues, pieces on bassi ostinati and pieces with curious titles, such as bizzarria, tastata, as well as pieces whose titles may refer to situations or characters, such as Tastata per il Signor Melani per Genova. One wonders whether such a piece was also intended as 'pupil's fodder' (to quote New Grove about the keyboard works by Alessandro Scarlatti).
In most cases it is to the performer to decide which instrument to play. However, there are pieces which are undoubtedly intended for the organ, because of long-held notes; an example is the Toccata per Monaco, which opens the third disc.
The complete production comprises five discs, with a duration of almost six hours. That makes this project a mammoth undertaking, but the quality and variety of Pasquini's oeuvre justifies it. As I already suggested, there is much variety of forms and Loreggian has made sure that each disc includes a mixture of pieces of different kinds and size. Three discs are entirely played on the harpsichord (a copy of a harpsichord by Giusti), whereas two discs are filled with pieces performed at the organ by Bonatti (1713) in the Santuario Santa Maria in Valverde in Rezzato (Brescia, Italy). We have come to know Loreggian as an insightful and stylish player, and this is another testimony of his art. He fully explores the features of each piece, and thanks to the way he has put together the various discs and his engaging style of playing - and not to forget the two fine instruments - this is a set that no lover of baroque keyboard music should miss.
The second source of Pasquini's keyboard music, in the British Library in London, includes two sets of fourteen sonatas each, for one and two keyboards respectively. Instead of writing them out he provided only basso continuo lines which have to be worked out during performance. The latter have been recorded by Marina Scaioli and Francesco Tasini [4]. In their construction these sonatas show strong similarity with several forms of instrumental music, such as the trio sonata. They include contrasts between 'solo' and 'tutti', which is reminiscent of the concerto grosso, for example those of Pasquini's colleague Corelli. There are also passages in which the two keyboards are involved in a kind of dialogue. Each sonata consists of various movements. In his liner-notes Tasini refers to a number of movements, and therefore it is rather odd that these are not specified in the track-list.
This is not the first recording of these fourteen sonatas. The first that crossed my path is the one by Attilio Cremonesi and Alessandro de Marchi (Symphonia, 1992); that one may not be available anymore. Brilliant Classics released a new recording in 2013, in which Luca Scandali and Hadrien Jourdan play most of the sonatas on the two organs in the Basilica di Santa Maria della Misericordia in Sant'Elpidio a Mare (Fermo). These are fine instruments, but given that these pieces are intended as pedagogical material, performances on organs is not the most logical option. From that angle the recording by Scaioli and Tasini is to be preferred. They added a bonus: one of the sonatas for one keyboard (which, as far as I know, have never been recorded) indicates that "it can be done on two harpsichords". This results in a fifteenth sonata in A minor, which concludes the programme.
Marina Scaioli and Francesco Tasini have delivered excellent performances of these fine pieces, which are also historically interesting, in that they shed light on the Italian partimento practice - exercises in figured-bass playing, especially as self-contained pieces. The recording makes sure that the two instruments are clearly identifiable.
Agostino Tinazzoli (c 1660-1725) is an example of a composer whom hardly anybody may ever have heard of, before Brilliant Classics released a recording of his complete keyboard works by Simone Pierini [5]. Very little is known about Tinazzoli; in New Grove the article on Tinazzoli takes not even five full lines. The most remarkable fact is that in Rome he spent some time in prison for unknown reasons. He was released thanks to the cantata he had scratched on the wall of his cell. In later years he worked as an opera director, but did not compose any opera himself, but only arias to be inserted in operas by others. His oeuvre includes some sacred music, madrigals and keyboard works.
The latter come with three different titles: toccata, sonata and capriccio. Tinazzoli seems to have chosen those titles at random, because their forms seem to have little to do with those titles. All three can consist of only one movement or comprise several movements, either with tempo indications or the name of a dance. Stylistically they show quite some variety as well. A number of pieces remind me of the keyboard works by Alessandro Scarlatti, which is probably not surprising as they were exact contemporaries. However, there are also pieces that sound much more modern. In the Capriccio No. 15, which closes the programme, we hear drum basses in the left hand, which is a feature of the galant idiom. Even more surprising is the Sonata No. 13, whose addition Post Agnus indicates that it was intended for liturgical use. It is very operatic and points in the direction of liturgical organ music written in Italy in the late 18th century. The Partite sopra il Passagallo is the harmonically most daring work.
This should suffice to conclude that this is a remarkable recording of a remarkable composer, who deserves to be investigated by anyone with a special interest in early keyboard music. It is served very well by Simone Pierini, whose performances are impressive. He plays the copy of a Grimaldi harpsichord and an organ of 1999, which unfortunately is not specified in the booklet, but is well suited to this repertoire.
[1] "Harmoniae Varietates - Italian Music from the Golden Age of the Harpsichord"
Luigi Accardo, harpsichord
Dynamic CDS8036 (© 2024) details
[2] "Di voci affettuose - Neapolitan ricercars"
Ilaria Monticelli, harpsichord
Da Vinci Classics C00559 (© 2022) details
[3] Bernardo Pasquini: "Sonate per Gravecembalo - Manuscript S.B.P.K. Landsberg 215"
Roberto Loreggian, harpsichord, organ
Brilliant Classics 94826 (© 2020) details
[4] Bernardo Pasquini: "Quindici Sonate a due Cimbali"
Marina Scaioli, Francesco Tasini, harpsichord
Tactus TC 631804 (© 2021) details
[5] Agostino Tinazzoli: "Complete Keyboard Works"
Simone Pierini, harpsichord, organ
Brilliant Classics 96875 (© 2023) details
Saturday, December 14, 2024
Italian violin sonatas
The violin was one of the instruments that took central stage when in Italy the seconda pratica came into existence. Composers started to write virtuosic music for it, sometimes exploring its features in such a way that pieces were not playable on any other instrument. Italy remained one of the centres of composing music for violin solo during the 17th and 18th centuries. So much was written that today we know only the tip of the iceberg. This review discusses some recent recordings of sonatas for violin and basso continuo by composers from the first half of the 18th century, including some most music lovers may never have heard of.
Diogenio Bigaglia (1678-1745) [1] is one of many Italian composers who have remained largely unknown because they were so unlucky to be contemporaries of the likes of Antonio Vivaldi, Tomaso Albinoni and the Marcellos. Some of his vocal music has been recorded, such as a handful of cantatas, and a few sacred works. It seems that the set of twelve sonatas that were printed in Amsterdam around 1722 as his Op. 1 is his best-known work. However, I can't remenber ever having heard them, and it seems that no complete recording was available until the one to be reviewed here.
These sonatas were intended for recorder or violin which means that they omit the features that are connected to one of these instruments. That goes especially for the violin, as it has a wider range than the recorder and can play polyphonic passages, unlike the recorder. As the recorder was mainly popular among amateurs and there was no need for technically challenging music for it, the solo part does not require great technical skills. That does not imply that they are mediocre; they are well-written, but are probably more interesting for the performer than for an audience. It is advisable not to listen to them at a stretch. The physical production comes with two discs, which each take a little over 53 minutes. Listening to one disc at a time seems a good way to enjoy them.
I Solisti Ambrosiani play them well; the performances are as good as the sonatas are. I hope that some time we will see a thorough exploration of Bigaglia's oeuvre. Especially the sacred music that I have heard suggests that it has much to offer.
After 1700 quite a number of Italian performers and composers went abroad. One of them was Francesco Geminiani (1687-1762) [2], who was from Lucca and travelled to London in 1714. England was fertile soil for Italians: since the publication of Corelli's sonatas Op. 5, the country had come under his spell, and that may have been one of the reasons that Geminiani claimed to be his pupil. Although there is no documentary evidence of this, he certainly was of Corelli's school, and he emphasized the connection by arranging Corelli's sonatas Op. 5 as concerti grossi.
Only a few years after his arrival Geminiani published a collection of sonatas for violin and basso continuo of his own. This is notable as composers usually started by publishing trio sonatas, which were intended for amateurs. That was profitable, and also gave them the opportunity to demonstrate their skills in the field of counterpoint. Solo sonatas were usually written for advanced amateurs and for professionals, and were mostly technically too demanding for the common amateur. That is also the case with the sonatas Op. 1 by Geminiani, in which he frequently uses double stopping. Seven sonatas consist of four movements, the others have three. In the latter case, some movements are divided in several sections contrasting in tempo.
Geminiani is one of the best-known composers of the baroque period, but the interest in his oeuvre is rather one-sided. His concerti grossi after Corelli's Op. 5 and his cello sonatas are among his most frequently performed works, but his violin sonatas are not that well represented on disc. In fact, the recording by Igor Ruhadze and Alexandra Nepomnyashchaya is the first that has crossed my path, and it is a very good one. Ruhadze is a virtuoso on his instrument and shows a thorough understanding of the style of the period; his performances are nicely differentiated in articulation and dynamics. Alexandra Nepomnyashchaya plays the basso continuo in accordance with the ideals of the time, which require a strong and dynamic accompaniment. This is an entirely convincing interpretation of Geminiani's first collection of music, and the performers seem to plan to continue exploring his oeuvre, as this disc was followed by a recording of the Op. 4 (which I hope to be able to review later).
After 1700 France also opened up to the Italian style. Some French composers admired it, but until the turn of the century there was not much opportunity to write in that style. The violin, that typical product of the Italian style, played a minor role in France, and it took some time before French violinists were able to play Italian music. The fact that in the early 18th century several Italian composers settled in France attests to the changing climate. One of the best-known was Michele Mascitti, who has left a considerable oeuvre in which his own instrument, the violin, plays the main role. Far lesser known is Giovanni Antonio Piani (1678-1760) [3], who was from Naples. From 1704 to 1721 he was active in Paris, and then went to Vienna, where he entered the service of the imperial court; there he became the highest-paid instrumentalists. It is not known how much he has written; only a set of twelve sonatas Op. 1, published in Paris in 1712, has been preserved. They are intended for the violin, but six of them can be played on the recorder or the transverse flute.
The differences are clear: the sonatas which can be played on the latter are less technically demanding, and in the sonatas for the violin Piani does make use of double stopping, which makes them unsuitable for any other instrument. All but one of the sonatas open with a preludio. This is followed by three or four movements most of which are dances, which may well have been intended as a way to pay tribute to the French style, in which dances played a major role. The printed edition is especially interesting for the extended preface, in which Piani explains the meaning of the many markings in the music. That offers much information about performance practice at the time.
Single sonatas have been included in anthologies, but the recording of the complete set by the ensemble Labirinto Armonico seems to be the first. It is a big shame that the performances don't do them justice. First, the playing is often too straightforward. There is too much legato, too little dynamic differentiation, and too little contrast between good and bad notes. The violinist, Pierluigi Mencattini, uses more vibrato than is common in performances on the baroque violin these days. What is even worse is that in some movements percussion is added. This is ridiculous; it is not something one can imagine to have been used in the time these sonatas were written and performed. It is a gimmick, which has nothing to do with historical performance practice. The performance make it hard to assess the quality of these sonatas. I hope that some time a really good recording will be released.
Another violinist who settled in Paris was Pietro Gian(n)otti (?-1765) [4], who - like Geminiani - was from Lucca. It is not known when he was born, but as his first set of sonatas was published in Paris in 1728 he must have been there from pretty early in his career. He was not a professional violinist, but rather a double bass player, and acted in this capacity until 1759 at the Académie Royale de Musique. He was a prolific composer: seventeen collections with an opus number of his pen are known; some of them have been lost. He also published several treatises, such as Le guide du compositeur (1759). As the violin dominates in his works, it is reasonable to assume that he played the violin himself.
One of these is the set of twelve sonatas Op. 1. All but two of them consists of the usual four movements; one sonata has three and one has five movements. It is notable that most of the movements have the titles of dances, mostly with an additional tempo indication. The names of these dances are in Italian (allemanda, corrente, sarabanda), but it is likely that - like those in Piani's sonatas - were inspired by the French music scene.
In New Grove Michelle Fillion writes that Giannotti's compositions lack in originality. I always take these judgments with some scepticism, as they are mostly based on looking at the notes. For a fair assessment one needs to listen to them in a performance which does justice to the performance practice of the time. And here the recording by the ensemble Labirinto Armonico fails miserably. I was not happy with their performance of Piani's sonatas, but what we have here is even worse. All the notes are played the same way, there is no difference between good and bad notes, and there is little dynamic shading. The lack of articulation makes especially the fast movements, often played at breakneck speed, nearly unbearable to listen to.
Giovanni Battista Sammartini (1700/01-1775) [5] has become best-known for his symphonies, which are assumed to have influenced Haydn. However, there is more to him than the symphonies. His oeuvre is large, and includes works in every genre in vogue in his time. The Oinios Baroque Trio recorded six sonatas for violin and basso continuo, which have been preserved at the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek in Vienna; hence the title of this disc. They were never published; all the sonatas have come down to us in manuscript, not in the hand of the composer himself but that of a copyist. As was common, they are not dated, and it is on the basis of stylistic features that they are assumed to have been written before 1759, which is considered the beginning of Sammartini's 'classical' period. They are in three movements, except one, which is the most 'old-fashioned', as its first and third movements are marked grave.
Sammartini was not a violinist, but rather a professional oboist, like his brother Giuseppe and their father. This may well explain why the technical demands of these sonatas are modest. Danilo Prefumo, in his liner-notes, mentions that only now and then Sammartini makes use of double stopping. However, I have heard quite a number of moments where he uses it. It is true that it is not a dominant feature of these sonatas. As Sammartini is not known for his chamber music, that part of his oeuvre may have been overlooked. In 2023 Brilliant Classics released a disc with eight sonatas for cello and basso continuo, and these turned out to be fine works, written in the 'galant' idiom. That is also present in these sonatas for violin, although the basso continuo has more independence than in most galant music.
These works are of unmistakable quality, and we have to be grateful to these three artists for bringing them to light in such a convincing manner. These are differentiated performances, well articulated, even in the fastest passages. The tempi are well-judged as is the use of dynamics. In four sonatas the basso continuo is played on he harpsichord, alongside the cello, and in the two remaining sonatas on the fortepiano, which works well.
[1] Diogenio Bigaglia: 12 Sonate a violino solo opera prima
I Solisti Ambrosiani
Tactus TC 670291 (© 2023) details
[2] Francesco Geminiani: "Violin Sonatas Op. 1"
Igor Ruhadze, violin; Alexandra Nepomnyashchaya, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96524 (© 2022) details
[3] Giovanni Antonio Piani: 12 Sonate a Violino solo e Violoncello con Cimbalo, 1712
Labirinto Armonico
Tactus TC 671690 (© 2022) details
[4] Pietro Giannotti: 12 Sonate per violino op. 1
Labirinto Armonico
Tactus TC 690790 (© 2024) details
[5] Giovanni Battista Sammartini: "Six Viennese Sonatas"
Oinos Baroque Trio
Dynamic CDS7959 (© 2022) details
Diogenio Bigaglia (1678-1745) [1] is one of many Italian composers who have remained largely unknown because they were so unlucky to be contemporaries of the likes of Antonio Vivaldi, Tomaso Albinoni and the Marcellos. Some of his vocal music has been recorded, such as a handful of cantatas, and a few sacred works. It seems that the set of twelve sonatas that were printed in Amsterdam around 1722 as his Op. 1 is his best-known work. However, I can't remenber ever having heard them, and it seems that no complete recording was available until the one to be reviewed here.
These sonatas were intended for recorder or violin which means that they omit the features that are connected to one of these instruments. That goes especially for the violin, as it has a wider range than the recorder and can play polyphonic passages, unlike the recorder. As the recorder was mainly popular among amateurs and there was no need for technically challenging music for it, the solo part does not require great technical skills. That does not imply that they are mediocre; they are well-written, but are probably more interesting for the performer than for an audience. It is advisable not to listen to them at a stretch. The physical production comes with two discs, which each take a little over 53 minutes. Listening to one disc at a time seems a good way to enjoy them.
I Solisti Ambrosiani play them well; the performances are as good as the sonatas are. I hope that some time we will see a thorough exploration of Bigaglia's oeuvre. Especially the sacred music that I have heard suggests that it has much to offer.
After 1700 quite a number of Italian performers and composers went abroad. One of them was Francesco Geminiani (1687-1762) [2], who was from Lucca and travelled to London in 1714. England was fertile soil for Italians: since the publication of Corelli's sonatas Op. 5, the country had come under his spell, and that may have been one of the reasons that Geminiani claimed to be his pupil. Although there is no documentary evidence of this, he certainly was of Corelli's school, and he emphasized the connection by arranging Corelli's sonatas Op. 5 as concerti grossi.
Only a few years after his arrival Geminiani published a collection of sonatas for violin and basso continuo of his own. This is notable as composers usually started by publishing trio sonatas, which were intended for amateurs. That was profitable, and also gave them the opportunity to demonstrate their skills in the field of counterpoint. Solo sonatas were usually written for advanced amateurs and for professionals, and were mostly technically too demanding for the common amateur. That is also the case with the sonatas Op. 1 by Geminiani, in which he frequently uses double stopping. Seven sonatas consist of four movements, the others have three. In the latter case, some movements are divided in several sections contrasting in tempo.
Geminiani is one of the best-known composers of the baroque period, but the interest in his oeuvre is rather one-sided. His concerti grossi after Corelli's Op. 5 and his cello sonatas are among his most frequently performed works, but his violin sonatas are not that well represented on disc. In fact, the recording by Igor Ruhadze and Alexandra Nepomnyashchaya is the first that has crossed my path, and it is a very good one. Ruhadze is a virtuoso on his instrument and shows a thorough understanding of the style of the period; his performances are nicely differentiated in articulation and dynamics. Alexandra Nepomnyashchaya plays the basso continuo in accordance with the ideals of the time, which require a strong and dynamic accompaniment. This is an entirely convincing interpretation of Geminiani's first collection of music, and the performers seem to plan to continue exploring his oeuvre, as this disc was followed by a recording of the Op. 4 (which I hope to be able to review later).
After 1700 France also opened up to the Italian style. Some French composers admired it, but until the turn of the century there was not much opportunity to write in that style. The violin, that typical product of the Italian style, played a minor role in France, and it took some time before French violinists were able to play Italian music. The fact that in the early 18th century several Italian composers settled in France attests to the changing climate. One of the best-known was Michele Mascitti, who has left a considerable oeuvre in which his own instrument, the violin, plays the main role. Far lesser known is Giovanni Antonio Piani (1678-1760) [3], who was from Naples. From 1704 to 1721 he was active in Paris, and then went to Vienna, where he entered the service of the imperial court; there he became the highest-paid instrumentalists. It is not known how much he has written; only a set of twelve sonatas Op. 1, published in Paris in 1712, has been preserved. They are intended for the violin, but six of them can be played on the recorder or the transverse flute.
The differences are clear: the sonatas which can be played on the latter are less technically demanding, and in the sonatas for the violin Piani does make use of double stopping, which makes them unsuitable for any other instrument. All but one of the sonatas open with a preludio. This is followed by three or four movements most of which are dances, which may well have been intended as a way to pay tribute to the French style, in which dances played a major role. The printed edition is especially interesting for the extended preface, in which Piani explains the meaning of the many markings in the music. That offers much information about performance practice at the time.
Single sonatas have been included in anthologies, but the recording of the complete set by the ensemble Labirinto Armonico seems to be the first. It is a big shame that the performances don't do them justice. First, the playing is often too straightforward. There is too much legato, too little dynamic differentiation, and too little contrast between good and bad notes. The violinist, Pierluigi Mencattini, uses more vibrato than is common in performances on the baroque violin these days. What is even worse is that in some movements percussion is added. This is ridiculous; it is not something one can imagine to have been used in the time these sonatas were written and performed. It is a gimmick, which has nothing to do with historical performance practice. The performance make it hard to assess the quality of these sonatas. I hope that some time a really good recording will be released.
Another violinist who settled in Paris was Pietro Gian(n)otti (?-1765) [4], who - like Geminiani - was from Lucca. It is not known when he was born, but as his first set of sonatas was published in Paris in 1728 he must have been there from pretty early in his career. He was not a professional violinist, but rather a double bass player, and acted in this capacity until 1759 at the Académie Royale de Musique. He was a prolific composer: seventeen collections with an opus number of his pen are known; some of them have been lost. He also published several treatises, such as Le guide du compositeur (1759). As the violin dominates in his works, it is reasonable to assume that he played the violin himself.
One of these is the set of twelve sonatas Op. 1. All but two of them consists of the usual four movements; one sonata has three and one has five movements. It is notable that most of the movements have the titles of dances, mostly with an additional tempo indication. The names of these dances are in Italian (allemanda, corrente, sarabanda), but it is likely that - like those in Piani's sonatas - were inspired by the French music scene.
In New Grove Michelle Fillion writes that Giannotti's compositions lack in originality. I always take these judgments with some scepticism, as they are mostly based on looking at the notes. For a fair assessment one needs to listen to them in a performance which does justice to the performance practice of the time. And here the recording by the ensemble Labirinto Armonico fails miserably. I was not happy with their performance of Piani's sonatas, but what we have here is even worse. All the notes are played the same way, there is no difference between good and bad notes, and there is little dynamic shading. The lack of articulation makes especially the fast movements, often played at breakneck speed, nearly unbearable to listen to.
Giovanni Battista Sammartini (1700/01-1775) [5] has become best-known for his symphonies, which are assumed to have influenced Haydn. However, there is more to him than the symphonies. His oeuvre is large, and includes works in every genre in vogue in his time. The Oinios Baroque Trio recorded six sonatas for violin and basso continuo, which have been preserved at the Österreichische Nationalbibliothek in Vienna; hence the title of this disc. They were never published; all the sonatas have come down to us in manuscript, not in the hand of the composer himself but that of a copyist. As was common, they are not dated, and it is on the basis of stylistic features that they are assumed to have been written before 1759, which is considered the beginning of Sammartini's 'classical' period. They are in three movements, except one, which is the most 'old-fashioned', as its first and third movements are marked grave.
Sammartini was not a violinist, but rather a professional oboist, like his brother Giuseppe and their father. This may well explain why the technical demands of these sonatas are modest. Danilo Prefumo, in his liner-notes, mentions that only now and then Sammartini makes use of double stopping. However, I have heard quite a number of moments where he uses it. It is true that it is not a dominant feature of these sonatas. As Sammartini is not known for his chamber music, that part of his oeuvre may have been overlooked. In 2023 Brilliant Classics released a disc with eight sonatas for cello and basso continuo, and these turned out to be fine works, written in the 'galant' idiom. That is also present in these sonatas for violin, although the basso continuo has more independence than in most galant music.
These works are of unmistakable quality, and we have to be grateful to these three artists for bringing them to light in such a convincing manner. These are differentiated performances, well articulated, even in the fastest passages. The tempi are well-judged as is the use of dynamics. In four sonatas the basso continuo is played on he harpsichord, alongside the cello, and in the two remaining sonatas on the fortepiano, which works well.
[1] Diogenio Bigaglia: 12 Sonate a violino solo opera prima
I Solisti Ambrosiani
Tactus TC 670291 (© 2023) details
[2] Francesco Geminiani: "Violin Sonatas Op. 1"
Igor Ruhadze, violin; Alexandra Nepomnyashchaya, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96524 (© 2022) details
[3] Giovanni Antonio Piani: 12 Sonate a Violino solo e Violoncello con Cimbalo, 1712
Labirinto Armonico
Tactus TC 671690 (© 2022) details
[4] Pietro Giannotti: 12 Sonate per violino op. 1
Labirinto Armonico
Tactus TC 690790 (© 2024) details
[5] Giovanni Battista Sammartini: "Six Viennese Sonatas"
Oinos Baroque Trio
Dynamic CDS7959 (© 2022) details
Friday, November 22, 2024
Josquin and his followers
2021 was Josquin year: he died exactly 500 years ago. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic that did not really come off, but Josquin hardly needs a special occasion: he is one of the most frequently-performed composers of the renaissance period. However, several discs have been released which were connected to the commemoration, and one of them is the recording by The Gesualdo Six on Hyperion [1]. The title, "Josquin's legacy", is a little confusing: a legacy is something of later generations, but in the programme we also find pieces by contemporaries, such as Heinrich Isaac, and the programme starts with a work by Johannes Ockeghem, who was of a previous generation, and is considered the father of the Franco-Flemish school. The liner-notes even open with Carlo Gesualdo, the composer from whom the ensemble's name has been derived. The reason is that he spent some time at the court in Ferrara, and that is the thread of this programme: the composers included in it worked for some time at that court too, but then much earlier. That does not go for Ockeghem; the inclusion of his motet Intemerata Dei mater may have been inspired by his state as the start of an impressive school of composers. It is followed by Josquin's famous lament on his death, Nymphes des bois. Such tributes were quite common: there is another one in the programme: Jean Mouton's chanson Qui ne regrettoit on the death of Antoine de Févin, following the motet Nesciens mater which is attributed to the latter. Another way of paying tribute to a colleague was quoting one of his pieces, as is the case in Josquin's motet Tu solus qui facis mirabilia, in which he quotes one of Ockeghem's chansons.
Ferrara was also the birthplace of Antonio Savonarola, who played a crucial role in Florence, where he was executed in 1498. Adrian Willaert's Infelix ego is a setting of a text by Savonarola, and a part of one of his meditations is set by Isaac in Esto mihi.
Otherwise, there are also connections in the field of composition techniques, such as the use of canons - sometimes double canons - as well as various imitation techniques, the use of canti firmi and the writing of duets. To what extent such techniques were of Josquin's making is hard to decide. It seems that they were just in the air, and applied by several composers at the same time. However, there can be little doubt that Josquin was widely admired among his peers and certainly inspired some of them, and certainly composers of a later generation.
The Gesualdo Six strictly perform with one voice per part, and this results in an optimum transparency, which makes it possible to follow the lines of the polyphonic web. The performances are well thought-over, such as the decision to perform Absalon fili mi, attributed to Josquin, but probably written by Pierre de La Rue, at the low pitch at which it is written, which emphasizes its mournful content. The ensemble consists of beautiful voices, which blend perfectly. This is a disc no lover of renaissance polyphony should miss.
The second disc, "The Golden Renaissance: Josquin Desprez", has also been released at the occasion of the commemoration of Josquin's death. It seems that Stile Antico [2] aimed at presenting a musical portrait of the master. This may explain the inclusion of two secular works. They represent a part of renaissance music that is not exactly the ensemble's core business. That shows: the performances of the chanson Vivrai je tousjours and the Italian song El grillo are not very convincing. The first is too solemn, also due to the acoustic. In both several voices are not free of audible vibrato. The choice of these pieces is unlucky too: the chanson is, according to David Fallows in the New Josquin Edition, "a work of extremely dubious authenticity", and there are also strong doubts about the authorship of the Italian song. Stile Antico should have confined itself to the sacred part of Josquin's oeuvre.
The thread is the Missa Pange lingua, based on the plainchant hymn for the Feast of Corpus Christi, whose text is attributed to Thomas of Aquino. Masses can be performed in different ways. An ensemble like The Tallis Scholars, which recorded Josquin's complete masses, usually performs them as a unity, without any liturgical elements. Here the sections of the mass are separated by other pieces, but not in a way to suggest a liturgical setting. In the mass, Kyrie and Gloria are always performed without any interruption. Here they are separated by the motet Ave Maria ... virgo serena, without any doubt Josquin's most famous work. There are also motets between Gloria and Credo, and between Sanctus-Benedictus and Agnus Dei. The two secular pieces are placed between Credo and Sanctus, which is very odd.
The disc ends with two laments on Josquin's death, by Hieronymus Vinders (O mors inevitabilis) and by Jacquet de Mantua. The latter's content is rather hard to interpret; the text it is a mixture of sacred and secular elements.
The singing of the sacred music is of the usual high level. It is remarkable how the ensemble has been able to keep its standard in the course of its existence. From that angle this disc is an attractive proposition for each lover of renaissance polyphony. As mentioned, I am less happy with some features of this disc. The title is a little confusing: it seems to suggest that it is referring to a series of recordings, apparently marking the switch from Harmonia mundi to Decca. I am not sure that it is an improvement.
The oeuvre of Josquin attracts much attention and a concert with his works guarantees a full house. I don't think that a concert entirely devoted to music by Nicolas Gombert [3] causes as much excitement. He was a prolific composer and highly admired in his time; he also greatly influenced other composers. However, in our time he is certainly not neglected, but seldom makes the headlines in programmes of festivals, for instance.
One reason may be - apart from the fact that he shares the fate of others that he is overshadowed by Josquin - that his music is very dense. New Grove says: "Gombert’s phrases frequently overlap, and his dense-textured style allows each voice only short rests at the ends of phrases; Finck was probably referring to Josquin’s familiar technique of alternating pairs of voices and thus giving extended rests to the inactive pair. Gombert's name is now practically synonymous with pervading imitation, which he used more consistently than anyone else of his own or any earlier generation." The result is a lack of transparency, which makes it hard to discern individual lines, and less differentiation in the scoring. That may make listening to his music a rather demanding, probably even tiring affair. The singers don't have many opportunities to relax, and neither have the listeners. Another factor may be, as Bernard Trebuch states in the liner-notes to the recording reviewed here, "the almost total absence of any relationship between music and text". It is used as an argument not to include the lyrics, which is disappointing.
The label fra bernardo has given much attention to Gombert: the production reviewed here is the third, like the previous two consisting of two discs. This label's predecessor, as it were, was the ORF Edition Alte Musik, and this also released three discs with music by Gombert. In all productions, the motets are dominating. They are, according to New Grove, his most representative works, and also consitute the largest section of his oeuvre: over 160 motets are attributed to Gombert. They attest to the characteristics mentioned above. In my experience it is advisable not to listen to a whole disc at a stretch. A careful selection of motets for one sitting may help to appreciate Gombert's motets.
It is a bit odd that the latest release includes several motets that are also part of one of the previous volumes. The recordings in Vol. 3 are new, but some motets take more time here than in the previous volumes, although the ensemble is the same. I am generally happy with these performances. The singers (ATTTTBarBarB) show a good command of legato, and the voices blend well. Whereas in other ensembles the upper voices are often dominating, here the lower ones grow to full stature. It is just that sometimes the singing is marred by little dynamic swellings on single notes, something one would expect in baroque music. Given the overall quality of the performances, it is a minor issue.
Each year sees the release of discs with polyphony from the renaissance period. The discography of this part of the repertoire is impressive, but there are still many white spots. Now and then a disc with music by a relatively unknown master is released, but even in the oeuvre of the best-known composers there are pieces that are not available on disc. The masses by Jean Mouton are a case in point. Stephen Rice, the director of The Brabant Ensemble [4], in the liner-notes to his recording of Mouton's Missa Faulte d'argent, mentions that the majority of his extant fifteen masses have not been recorded as yet. The same undoubtedly goes for his more than 100 motets. He also composed 25 chansons, which seem to be nearly overlooked. Rice returned to Mouton, having recorded another disc about ten years before. That is against his principles: "[We] have only rarely returned to a composer, if only because so much Renaissance music of high quality still remains unheard." This is praiseworthy. However, the commemoration of Mouton's death in 1522 was a good reason to make an exception. And if we take into account that most of Mouton's masses still wait to be recorded, the addition of the Missa Faulte d'argent to the discography is most welcome. It is based on a chanson, which has been attributed to Josquin Desprez, but his authorship is questionable. The first four notes are a motif that returns regularly in different shapes and in different parts in this mass. A very clear disposition of it can be heard at the beginning of the Sanctus. The listener is well advised to read the liner-notes, which give much information about the way Mouton has set the text.
That also goes for the motets. Interesting are, for instance, the motets Confitemini Domino and Benedicam Dominum, which are both based on two canons. In Gaude virgo Katherina, written in honour of St Katherine of Alexandria, Mouton often writes duets, whereas in O quam fulges in aetheris he applies a device that often turns up in his oeuvre: the refrain. Although text expression was not the aim of composers of his generation, here and there one can find traces of it. Returning to the mass: whereas composers often add a voice in the Agnus Dei, Mouton does not; even so, he gives this part of the mass special attention. The ending is quite impressive, with a very long pedal point in the soprano, starting seven breves before the end. That is a challenge to the singers, but they succeed with flying colours. It is an indication of the level of singing here. Despite the density of the counterpoint, the transparency is such that one can follow individual lines. The variety within Mouton's sacred works also comes off convincingly. This disc is an impressive testimony of the quality of Mouton's sacred oeuvre.
[1] "Josquin's Legacy"
The Gesualdo Six/Owain Park
Hyperion CDA68379 (© 2021) details
[2] "The Golden Renaissance: Josquin Desprez"
Stile Antico
Decca 4851340) (© 2021) details
[3] Gombert: "Motets 3"
Beauty Farm
fra bernardo fb 2231711 (© 2022) details
[4] Mouton: "Missa Faulte d'argent & Motets"
The Brabant Ensemble/Stephen Rice
Hyperion CDA68385 (© 2022) details
Ferrara was also the birthplace of Antonio Savonarola, who played a crucial role in Florence, where he was executed in 1498. Adrian Willaert's Infelix ego is a setting of a text by Savonarola, and a part of one of his meditations is set by Isaac in Esto mihi.
Otherwise, there are also connections in the field of composition techniques, such as the use of canons - sometimes double canons - as well as various imitation techniques, the use of canti firmi and the writing of duets. To what extent such techniques were of Josquin's making is hard to decide. It seems that they were just in the air, and applied by several composers at the same time. However, there can be little doubt that Josquin was widely admired among his peers and certainly inspired some of them, and certainly composers of a later generation.
The Gesualdo Six strictly perform with one voice per part, and this results in an optimum transparency, which makes it possible to follow the lines of the polyphonic web. The performances are well thought-over, such as the decision to perform Absalon fili mi, attributed to Josquin, but probably written by Pierre de La Rue, at the low pitch at which it is written, which emphasizes its mournful content. The ensemble consists of beautiful voices, which blend perfectly. This is a disc no lover of renaissance polyphony should miss.
The second disc, "The Golden Renaissance: Josquin Desprez", has also been released at the occasion of the commemoration of Josquin's death. It seems that Stile Antico [2] aimed at presenting a musical portrait of the master. This may explain the inclusion of two secular works. They represent a part of renaissance music that is not exactly the ensemble's core business. That shows: the performances of the chanson Vivrai je tousjours and the Italian song El grillo are not very convincing. The first is too solemn, also due to the acoustic. In both several voices are not free of audible vibrato. The choice of these pieces is unlucky too: the chanson is, according to David Fallows in the New Josquin Edition, "a work of extremely dubious authenticity", and there are also strong doubts about the authorship of the Italian song. Stile Antico should have confined itself to the sacred part of Josquin's oeuvre.
The thread is the Missa Pange lingua, based on the plainchant hymn for the Feast of Corpus Christi, whose text is attributed to Thomas of Aquino. Masses can be performed in different ways. An ensemble like The Tallis Scholars, which recorded Josquin's complete masses, usually performs them as a unity, without any liturgical elements. Here the sections of the mass are separated by other pieces, but not in a way to suggest a liturgical setting. In the mass, Kyrie and Gloria are always performed without any interruption. Here they are separated by the motet Ave Maria ... virgo serena, without any doubt Josquin's most famous work. There are also motets between Gloria and Credo, and between Sanctus-Benedictus and Agnus Dei. The two secular pieces are placed between Credo and Sanctus, which is very odd.
The disc ends with two laments on Josquin's death, by Hieronymus Vinders (O mors inevitabilis) and by Jacquet de Mantua. The latter's content is rather hard to interpret; the text it is a mixture of sacred and secular elements.
The singing of the sacred music is of the usual high level. It is remarkable how the ensemble has been able to keep its standard in the course of its existence. From that angle this disc is an attractive proposition for each lover of renaissance polyphony. As mentioned, I am less happy with some features of this disc. The title is a little confusing: it seems to suggest that it is referring to a series of recordings, apparently marking the switch from Harmonia mundi to Decca. I am not sure that it is an improvement.
The oeuvre of Josquin attracts much attention and a concert with his works guarantees a full house. I don't think that a concert entirely devoted to music by Nicolas Gombert [3] causes as much excitement. He was a prolific composer and highly admired in his time; he also greatly influenced other composers. However, in our time he is certainly not neglected, but seldom makes the headlines in programmes of festivals, for instance.
One reason may be - apart from the fact that he shares the fate of others that he is overshadowed by Josquin - that his music is very dense. New Grove says: "Gombert’s phrases frequently overlap, and his dense-textured style allows each voice only short rests at the ends of phrases; Finck was probably referring to Josquin’s familiar technique of alternating pairs of voices and thus giving extended rests to the inactive pair. Gombert's name is now practically synonymous with pervading imitation, which he used more consistently than anyone else of his own or any earlier generation." The result is a lack of transparency, which makes it hard to discern individual lines, and less differentiation in the scoring. That may make listening to his music a rather demanding, probably even tiring affair. The singers don't have many opportunities to relax, and neither have the listeners. Another factor may be, as Bernard Trebuch states in the liner-notes to the recording reviewed here, "the almost total absence of any relationship between music and text". It is used as an argument not to include the lyrics, which is disappointing.
The label fra bernardo has given much attention to Gombert: the production reviewed here is the third, like the previous two consisting of two discs. This label's predecessor, as it were, was the ORF Edition Alte Musik, and this also released three discs with music by Gombert. In all productions, the motets are dominating. They are, according to New Grove, his most representative works, and also consitute the largest section of his oeuvre: over 160 motets are attributed to Gombert. They attest to the characteristics mentioned above. In my experience it is advisable not to listen to a whole disc at a stretch. A careful selection of motets for one sitting may help to appreciate Gombert's motets.
It is a bit odd that the latest release includes several motets that are also part of one of the previous volumes. The recordings in Vol. 3 are new, but some motets take more time here than in the previous volumes, although the ensemble is the same. I am generally happy with these performances. The singers (ATTTTBarBarB) show a good command of legato, and the voices blend well. Whereas in other ensembles the upper voices are often dominating, here the lower ones grow to full stature. It is just that sometimes the singing is marred by little dynamic swellings on single notes, something one would expect in baroque music. Given the overall quality of the performances, it is a minor issue.
Each year sees the release of discs with polyphony from the renaissance period. The discography of this part of the repertoire is impressive, but there are still many white spots. Now and then a disc with music by a relatively unknown master is released, but even in the oeuvre of the best-known composers there are pieces that are not available on disc. The masses by Jean Mouton are a case in point. Stephen Rice, the director of The Brabant Ensemble [4], in the liner-notes to his recording of Mouton's Missa Faulte d'argent, mentions that the majority of his extant fifteen masses have not been recorded as yet. The same undoubtedly goes for his more than 100 motets. He also composed 25 chansons, which seem to be nearly overlooked. Rice returned to Mouton, having recorded another disc about ten years before. That is against his principles: "[We] have only rarely returned to a composer, if only because so much Renaissance music of high quality still remains unheard." This is praiseworthy. However, the commemoration of Mouton's death in 1522 was a good reason to make an exception. And if we take into account that most of Mouton's masses still wait to be recorded, the addition of the Missa Faulte d'argent to the discography is most welcome. It is based on a chanson, which has been attributed to Josquin Desprez, but his authorship is questionable. The first four notes are a motif that returns regularly in different shapes and in different parts in this mass. A very clear disposition of it can be heard at the beginning of the Sanctus. The listener is well advised to read the liner-notes, which give much information about the way Mouton has set the text.
That also goes for the motets. Interesting are, for instance, the motets Confitemini Domino and Benedicam Dominum, which are both based on two canons. In Gaude virgo Katherina, written in honour of St Katherine of Alexandria, Mouton often writes duets, whereas in O quam fulges in aetheris he applies a device that often turns up in his oeuvre: the refrain. Although text expression was not the aim of composers of his generation, here and there one can find traces of it. Returning to the mass: whereas composers often add a voice in the Agnus Dei, Mouton does not; even so, he gives this part of the mass special attention. The ending is quite impressive, with a very long pedal point in the soprano, starting seven breves before the end. That is a challenge to the singers, but they succeed with flying colours. It is an indication of the level of singing here. Despite the density of the counterpoint, the transparency is such that one can follow individual lines. The variety within Mouton's sacred works also comes off convincingly. This disc is an impressive testimony of the quality of Mouton's sacred oeuvre.
[1] "Josquin's Legacy"
The Gesualdo Six/Owain Park
Hyperion CDA68379 (© 2021) details
[2] "The Golden Renaissance: Josquin Desprez"
Stile Antico
Decca 4851340) (© 2021) details
[3] Gombert: "Motets 3"
Beauty Farm
fra bernardo fb 2231711 (© 2022) details
[4] Mouton: "Missa Faulte d'argent & Motets"
The Brabant Ensemble/Stephen Rice
Hyperion CDA68385 (© 2022) details
Saturday, October 26, 2024
A Vivaldi discovery by Javier Lupiáñez
In 1973 Peter Ryom published his catalogue of the oeuvre of Antonio Vivaldi. Catalogues of musical compositions can be set up in different ways: according to scoring, or chronologically, to mention just two options. Ryom chose the former option: he started with sonatas for one instrument and basso continuo, followed by trio sonatas and 'other sonatas', among them what are often called concerti da camera. Then come the concertos and sinfonias for strings, solo concertos and concertos for two and more instruments. The result was a very logical catalogue, where one can easily find what one is looking for.
However, if one looks at more recent recordings of music by Vivaldi, one will find numbers which seem out of place. Some sonatas bear numbers in the 800s. The reason is that since Ryom published his catalogue, quite a number of hitherto unknown pieces by Vivaldi have been found, or pieces that were known, could be identified as authentic works from his pen. It is thanks to the fascination for his oeuvre that researchers and performers don't stop looking for something that we may not know yet.
In 2019 I reviewed a disc by the recorder player Inês d'Avena and the harpsichordist Claudio Ribeiro which included an unknown recorder sonata which they believed to be a composition by Vivaldi. They are examples of artists who are not satisfied with the repertoire that is available to them and try to find unknown stuff. Javier Lupiáñez is another one. Some years ago this violinist and his ensemble Scaramuccia surprised the music world with a recording of anonymous sonatas which he believed to be written by Johann Georg Pisendel. That discovery was most welcome, as Pisendel, although a brilliant violinist, has left little of his own pen.
From Pisendel to Vivaldi is a small step. The German was a great lover of Italian music, and particularly admired Vivaldi. Would he have been able to play the sonata that Lupiáñez recently discovered in a volume of sonatas by various authors, which in one way or another are connected to Bologna? It seems that the set of sonatas was known. The liner-notes don't say that it was found in some obscure archive. It is an example of a collection which was probably overlooked because it is just one of so many collections of violin sonatas by Italian composers, even though some of the composers are of high stature, such as Giuseppe Torelli, Giacomo Perti and Giuseppe Maria Jacchini. One thing is remarkable in this collection: most sets of sonatas or concertos comprised six or twelve pieces. This collection included a thirteenth sonata, and exactly that is the one which attracted Lupiáñez's attention. "It was completely different from the other pieces, with some extremely virtuosic passages, cadenze above long pedal notes and double stopping, and it was written in a language that I was tremendously familiar with." He decided to consult his colleague and Vivaldi specialist, Fabrizio Ammetto, who shared his assumption, and together they wrote an article which they submitted to the scientific committee of the Istituto Italiano Antonio Vivaldi. "The verdict was unanimous: this was a hitherto unknown work by Antonio Lucio Vivaldi."
The third chapter of the liner-notes in the booklet which accompanies the recording of this sonata bears the title "Vivaldi's visiting card". This gives some indication as to what Lupiáñez thinks of this sonata. Vivaldi composed music for a variety of people he knew, among them the girls of the Ospedale della Pietà, especially violin concertos. Sonatas for violin and basso continuo were often written to be used by the composer himself, and that seems also to be the case here. The opening of the sonata, which is in three movements, has an improvisatory character, with arpeggios over a pedal note. "I would not be at all surprised if Vivaldi were to improvise variations and extend the arpeggio passage as he often does in cadenze in his concertos, just as we have done in our performance by adding a cadenza of chords." Lupiáñez then describes various features of this sonata which confirm that this is a piece by Vivaldi. The second movement is relatively simple, and invites the player to add ornaments. The sonata ends with another pedal note and a virtuosic cadenza with double stopping.
Vivaldi offered Pisendel some of his sonatas. Would the German have been able to play this particular sonata? Given what we know of his skills, the answer is probably: yes. But there are good reasons to believe that in this sonata we can hear Vivaldi playing his own sonata for himself, or in a recital where he wanted to show what he was made of. Whether one calls it a 'visiting card' or something to show off (which in Vivaldi's case may have been the same), this is a great discovery, which may bring us as close to Vivaldi the virtuoso as is possible.
The performance by Javier Lupiáñez and his ensemble is excellent, as one may expect on the basis of previous recordings. The discovery of this piece is exciting as is the piece itself and the way it is performed. This sonata may well appear on a disc with other music some time, but lovers of Vivaldi's music should not wait and add this single recording to their collection.
Vivaldi: "Violin Sonata RV 829"
Scaramuccia/Javier Lupiáñez, violin
Snakewood Editions SDIG202401 (© 2024) details
Saturday, June 15, 2024
French keyboard music of the rococo
The Italian harpsichordist Fernando De Luca likes to leave the trodden paths. In the course of his career he has frequently explored unknown harpsichord repertoire from the 18th century. In recent years he has been making recordings for Brilliant Classics. Since 2006 De Luca has made available private recordings of a wide range of repertoire at El Sala del Cembalo. It seems that some of the recordings released by Brilliant Classics were first published on that site, where they have been removed. This way they become available for a wider audience and in a better sound quality (the website offers recordings only in mp3). In 2021 this label released his complete recording of the harpsichord oeuvre of Christoph Graupner, which was followed by recordings of the harpsichord works by Charles Moyreau and Charles-Alexandre Jollage respectively. The latest recordings, which are the subject of this review, are again devoted to little-known French masters of generations after François Couperin. He can be considered the first main representative of what is known as the rococo, which is basically a pejorative term, originating from the late 18th century. The style is close to what is known as the galant style, which conquered most of Europe from the 1730s onwards.
Pierre-Claude Foucquet (1694-1772) [1] was born into a musical family. In New Grove we learn that it was a family of organists, whose members occupied the post of organist at St Eustache in Paris from 1681 to 1783. He himself obtained this post in 1712, and in 1758 he was appointed organist of the royal chapel, as successor to François Dagincourt, and in 1761 he became organist for the fourth quarter of the year at Notre Dame, where his colleagues were Louis-Claude Daquin, Claude-Bénigne Balbastre and Armand-Louis Couperin. As these were all prestigious masters of the organ, Foucquet must have been a man of repute, but today he is nearly forgotten. As far as I know, none of his harpsichord works has been recorded before.
Apart from a single minuet which was included in a German collection published in Berlin in 1763, his complete output was published in three books between 1749 and 1754. The first book includes a preface, a method of learning the keyboard in one lesson, tables of ornaments and scale fingerings. What is notable in all three books is the fact that nearly every piece is either a character piece or a piece of a descriptive nature, and that Foucquet frequently uses the form of the rondeau, which was very popular in France in his time.
As is so often the case, it is mostly impossible to interpret the character pieces. The first book is a suite of connected pieces with the collective title Les Caractères de la Paix. It is a kind of battle scene, which opens with a march, followed by a fanfare, including a depiction of the roaring of cannons. The closing sections are Les Ris and Les Jeux, which may refer to the celebrations after the victory. The second book opens with a march, called Marche des Pèlerins de Cythère. This may well refer to a painting by Jean-Antoine Watteau, Le Pèlerinage à l'île de Cythère. "The painting portrays a "fête galante"; an amorous celebration or party enjoyed by the aristocracy of France after the death of Louis XIV, which is generally seen as a period of dissipation and pleasure, and peace, after the sombre last years of the previous reign." (Wikipedia) In the third book we find some pieces which reflect the idealization of the countryside, a feature of 18th-century France.
In the second production we meet Pierre Thomas Dufour (c1721-1786) [2], who does not have an entry in New Grove. Very little is known about him. Like many French composers of harpsichord music, he was active as an organist: the printed edition of his harpsichord works, dating from around 1770, describes him as organist of the churches Saint-Jean-en-Grève and Saint-Laurent in Paris. The booklet mentions c1750 as the date these pieces have been written.
The book comprises 33 dances and character pieces (32 in the recording, as De Luca plays two of them as one), two concertos and a single piece with the title Carillon. They are divided into groups according to key, but that is ignored in the track-list. The book opens appropriately with a prélude. In the 18th century the higher echelons of society, especially in France, idealized 'natural life' at the countryside. Two instruments were associated with it: the musette and the hurdy-gurdy (vielle). Not surprisingly, Dufour included two pieces referring to them; for the performance De Luca uses the buff stop. Full chords are to be expected in air en choeur as well as in La Majestueuse. De Luca does not make an attempt to explain the titles, so one has to use one's own imagination. One of them is Gigue - Suitte de la Chasse (the original edition includes a separate piece, called La Chasse). The runs may be an illustration of the hunt; there is a sudden descending figure which could be interpreted as the falling of the prey. And then we have Les Matelots, meaning "sailors". It includes a passage with octave jumps the right hand, resulting in a sequence of high notes. Could that be a depiction of a ship's bell? The left hand plays Alberti basses, a feature of music in the galant idiom. Badine means "riding whip"; this piece includes a fast legato episode, which may depict a gallop. Notable is the very free treatment of the dance rhythm in the petitte sarabande.
In the first half of the 18th century the Italian style had grown in popularity. In the oeuvre of Moyreau we encountered several pieces entitled concerto, and in Dufour's oeuvre we find also two, both in three movements. The two middle movements are rondeaus; like Foucquet, Dufour uses it frequently: apart from these two, twelve pieces are in rondeau form (again, not indicated in the track-list). The Carillon, which closes the book, is another specimen of a popular genre at the time.
Jean-Jacques Beauvarlet-Charpentier (1734-1794) [3] enjoys a certain reputation among organists and lovers of organ music. He was active as organist in Lyon and also played the organ at the Concert Spirituel in Paris. Organ pieces by him have been recorded and are included in organ recitals and recorded anthologies. He has also left some instrumental music, especially pieces for harpsichord and violin. His Livre de Pièces de Clavecin was published around 1770, but has remained largely unknown. In the work-list in New Grove it is not even mentioned.
"Towards the end of his stay in Lyons the programmes grew increasingly trivial, and Jean-Jacques played chiefly comic-opera tunes and overtures", writes New Grove, and those who know something about organists and composers of organ music in 18th-century France may now immediately think of one of his contemporaries, Claude-Bénigne Balbastre. He did the same, and his harpsichord music - which is far better-known than Beauvarlet-Charpentier's - is often considered a token of the demise of keyboard music in France in the second half of the 18th century. Some of his harpsichord works are rather trivial indeed, and that also goes for the pieces by Beauvarlet-Charpentier.
The book includes sixteen pieces; all but one have titles, which seem to refer to personalities, concrete or imaginary, like La Cécile and La Suzanne, but also La Redmond, La Bressol and La Motet. One won't find any of the titles in a dictionary. The exception is a pair of minuets. Eleven of the pieces have a tempo indication: nine are marked allegro, one presto and one andante. "[A] salient feature of this music is the use of textures and progressions typical of orchestral writing", Fernando De Luca writes in his liner-notes. As a result many pieces are quite noisy, and full of effects. It is fair to say that subtlety is not one of the features of Beauvarlet-Charpentier's harpsichord music. The pieces that - as far as I am concerned - are the most enjoyable are those that have the addition aria: La Siran and La Bressol. Given the nature of the book as a whole, one won't probably be surprised that the last piece, La Delarouë, is marked La Chasse.
Those who don't appreciate Balbastre, do better to stay away from this recording. Those who do enjoy his oeuvre may also like these pieces by Beauvarlet-Charpentier. And for those who are interested in the development of keyboard music in France this release is certainly one to investigate, as it is such a perfect illustration of what indeed may be considered the demise of the French harpsichord school.
A sceptical reader may think that music that seemingly never has attracted the attention of today's performers must be of mediocre quality. That is questionable. History is not always fair, and too many performers confine themselves to the standard repertoire. Fortunately, there are artists who look beyond the obvious, and Fernando De Luca is one of them. We should be thankful for him and performers like him. Obviously, the appreciation of music is partly a matter of taste. I certainly was not enthusiastic about every piece by the above-mentioned Moyreau. Overall I rate the music of Fouquet and Dufour higher than his. I am less enthusiastic about Beauvarlet-Charpentier: like the oeuvre of Balbastre, it moves between good and trivial.
De Luca does not give much away about his assessment of the music he has recorded. I don't know if he sometimes decides to ignore certain repertoire because a lack of quality, and in his liner-notes he quotes the rather negative assessment of Beauvarlet-Charpentier's organ music in New Grove without comment. It seems to me that it is a good thing that he just brings this repertoire to the attention of lovers of keyboard music. Let them judge for themselves. From a historical point of view these recordings are certainly interesting: they give the listener a good insight into the development of French keyboard music in the course of the 18th century, and De Luca is the perfect advocate of these composers. In these recordings he shows his great skills, both technically and stylistically. He does more than just play the notes; his performances are imaginative, for instance in the addition of ornamentation, and he is not afraid to display the eccentricities. At the same time, the lyrical pieces also come off very nicely. If there are some dull moments in these recordings, that is not his fault.
With Jean-Baptiste Parant (c1730-c1780) [4] we meet another unknown quantity: he has no entry in New Grove, and very little is known about him. Like the composers discussed so far, he was active as organist. It seems very likely that he was blind, as he was organist at the Quinze-Vingts, a hospital established by Louis IX in Paris in the mid-13th century with beds for 300 of the city's needy blind. "Those members of the community who had rudiments of music were assigned to play the church organ", we read in the booklet; Parant was likely the resident who in 1760 applied for the post. His Premier Livre de Pièces de Clavecin, published in Paris around 1762, was dedicated to Louise Angélique d'Harcourt, daughter of the fourth duke of the Harcourt dynasty and later to become the mother superior at the Convent of the Visitation in Bayeux. Several of the 16 pieces in the book refer to her, such as thr first, La d'Harcourt.
With this collection of pieces we take a step back, so to speak, not so much chronologically, but stylistically, coming from Beauvarlet-Charpentier. The effects we find in the latter's oeuvre (and that of Balbastre) are not entirely absent here; especially the last two, La De Beuvron and La Lionoise, include some percussionistic effects that would not be out of place in the oeuvre of the two just mentioned, but overall Parant's music is closer to that of Fouquet and Dufour. Given the popularity of the form of the rondeau it does not surprise that Parant uses it frequently. Character pieces are dominating, but there are also four dances: three minuets and a pair of gavottes.
Given the nature and the quality of this book it is surprising that it has never been recorded before. Fernando De Luca did record it, and one can find the entire book on his site, but it is the Spanish harpsichordist Eva del Campo who recorded it for Brilliant Classics. She delivers a very good and enjoyable performance, with nice ornamentation and a good use of the various registration options of her harpsichord, a copy of a Ruckers in a ravalement of Taskin. This is an excellent addition to the impressive collection of harpsichord recordings released by Brilliant Classics.
[1] Pierre-Claude Foucquet: Pièces de clavecin
Fernando De Luca, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96772 (© 2024) details
[2] Pierre Thomas Dufour: Pièces de clavecin
Fernando De Luca, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96771 (© 2024) details
[3] Jean-Jacques Beauvarlet-Charpentier: 1er livre de Pièces de Clavecin
Fernando De Luca, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96774 (© 2024) details
[4] Jean Baptiste Parant: Premier Livre de Pièces de Clavecin
Eva del Campo, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96854 (© 2024) details
Pierre-Claude Foucquet (1694-1772) [1] was born into a musical family. In New Grove we learn that it was a family of organists, whose members occupied the post of organist at St Eustache in Paris from 1681 to 1783. He himself obtained this post in 1712, and in 1758 he was appointed organist of the royal chapel, as successor to François Dagincourt, and in 1761 he became organist for the fourth quarter of the year at Notre Dame, where his colleagues were Louis-Claude Daquin, Claude-Bénigne Balbastre and Armand-Louis Couperin. As these were all prestigious masters of the organ, Foucquet must have been a man of repute, but today he is nearly forgotten. As far as I know, none of his harpsichord works has been recorded before.
Apart from a single minuet which was included in a German collection published in Berlin in 1763, his complete output was published in three books between 1749 and 1754. The first book includes a preface, a method of learning the keyboard in one lesson, tables of ornaments and scale fingerings. What is notable in all three books is the fact that nearly every piece is either a character piece or a piece of a descriptive nature, and that Foucquet frequently uses the form of the rondeau, which was very popular in France in his time.
As is so often the case, it is mostly impossible to interpret the character pieces. The first book is a suite of connected pieces with the collective title Les Caractères de la Paix. It is a kind of battle scene, which opens with a march, followed by a fanfare, including a depiction of the roaring of cannons. The closing sections are Les Ris and Les Jeux, which may refer to the celebrations after the victory. The second book opens with a march, called Marche des Pèlerins de Cythère. This may well refer to a painting by Jean-Antoine Watteau, Le Pèlerinage à l'île de Cythère. "The painting portrays a "fête galante"; an amorous celebration or party enjoyed by the aristocracy of France after the death of Louis XIV, which is generally seen as a period of dissipation and pleasure, and peace, after the sombre last years of the previous reign." (Wikipedia) In the third book we find some pieces which reflect the idealization of the countryside, a feature of 18th-century France.
In the second production we meet Pierre Thomas Dufour (c1721-1786) [2], who does not have an entry in New Grove. Very little is known about him. Like many French composers of harpsichord music, he was active as an organist: the printed edition of his harpsichord works, dating from around 1770, describes him as organist of the churches Saint-Jean-en-Grève and Saint-Laurent in Paris. The booklet mentions c1750 as the date these pieces have been written.
The book comprises 33 dances and character pieces (32 in the recording, as De Luca plays two of them as one), two concertos and a single piece with the title Carillon. They are divided into groups according to key, but that is ignored in the track-list. The book opens appropriately with a prélude. In the 18th century the higher echelons of society, especially in France, idealized 'natural life' at the countryside. Two instruments were associated with it: the musette and the hurdy-gurdy (vielle). Not surprisingly, Dufour included two pieces referring to them; for the performance De Luca uses the buff stop. Full chords are to be expected in air en choeur as well as in La Majestueuse. De Luca does not make an attempt to explain the titles, so one has to use one's own imagination. One of them is Gigue - Suitte de la Chasse (the original edition includes a separate piece, called La Chasse). The runs may be an illustration of the hunt; there is a sudden descending figure which could be interpreted as the falling of the prey. And then we have Les Matelots, meaning "sailors". It includes a passage with octave jumps the right hand, resulting in a sequence of high notes. Could that be a depiction of a ship's bell? The left hand plays Alberti basses, a feature of music in the galant idiom. Badine means "riding whip"; this piece includes a fast legato episode, which may depict a gallop. Notable is the very free treatment of the dance rhythm in the petitte sarabande.
In the first half of the 18th century the Italian style had grown in popularity. In the oeuvre of Moyreau we encountered several pieces entitled concerto, and in Dufour's oeuvre we find also two, both in three movements. The two middle movements are rondeaus; like Foucquet, Dufour uses it frequently: apart from these two, twelve pieces are in rondeau form (again, not indicated in the track-list). The Carillon, which closes the book, is another specimen of a popular genre at the time.
Jean-Jacques Beauvarlet-Charpentier (1734-1794) [3] enjoys a certain reputation among organists and lovers of organ music. He was active as organist in Lyon and also played the organ at the Concert Spirituel in Paris. Organ pieces by him have been recorded and are included in organ recitals and recorded anthologies. He has also left some instrumental music, especially pieces for harpsichord and violin. His Livre de Pièces de Clavecin was published around 1770, but has remained largely unknown. In the work-list in New Grove it is not even mentioned.
"Towards the end of his stay in Lyons the programmes grew increasingly trivial, and Jean-Jacques played chiefly comic-opera tunes and overtures", writes New Grove, and those who know something about organists and composers of organ music in 18th-century France may now immediately think of one of his contemporaries, Claude-Bénigne Balbastre. He did the same, and his harpsichord music - which is far better-known than Beauvarlet-Charpentier's - is often considered a token of the demise of keyboard music in France in the second half of the 18th century. Some of his harpsichord works are rather trivial indeed, and that also goes for the pieces by Beauvarlet-Charpentier.
The book includes sixteen pieces; all but one have titles, which seem to refer to personalities, concrete or imaginary, like La Cécile and La Suzanne, but also La Redmond, La Bressol and La Motet. One won't find any of the titles in a dictionary. The exception is a pair of minuets. Eleven of the pieces have a tempo indication: nine are marked allegro, one presto and one andante. "[A] salient feature of this music is the use of textures and progressions typical of orchestral writing", Fernando De Luca writes in his liner-notes. As a result many pieces are quite noisy, and full of effects. It is fair to say that subtlety is not one of the features of Beauvarlet-Charpentier's harpsichord music. The pieces that - as far as I am concerned - are the most enjoyable are those that have the addition aria: La Siran and La Bressol. Given the nature of the book as a whole, one won't probably be surprised that the last piece, La Delarouë, is marked La Chasse.
Those who don't appreciate Balbastre, do better to stay away from this recording. Those who do enjoy his oeuvre may also like these pieces by Beauvarlet-Charpentier. And for those who are interested in the development of keyboard music in France this release is certainly one to investigate, as it is such a perfect illustration of what indeed may be considered the demise of the French harpsichord school.
A sceptical reader may think that music that seemingly never has attracted the attention of today's performers must be of mediocre quality. That is questionable. History is not always fair, and too many performers confine themselves to the standard repertoire. Fortunately, there are artists who look beyond the obvious, and Fernando De Luca is one of them. We should be thankful for him and performers like him. Obviously, the appreciation of music is partly a matter of taste. I certainly was not enthusiastic about every piece by the above-mentioned Moyreau. Overall I rate the music of Fouquet and Dufour higher than his. I am less enthusiastic about Beauvarlet-Charpentier: like the oeuvre of Balbastre, it moves between good and trivial.
De Luca does not give much away about his assessment of the music he has recorded. I don't know if he sometimes decides to ignore certain repertoire because a lack of quality, and in his liner-notes he quotes the rather negative assessment of Beauvarlet-Charpentier's organ music in New Grove without comment. It seems to me that it is a good thing that he just brings this repertoire to the attention of lovers of keyboard music. Let them judge for themselves. From a historical point of view these recordings are certainly interesting: they give the listener a good insight into the development of French keyboard music in the course of the 18th century, and De Luca is the perfect advocate of these composers. In these recordings he shows his great skills, both technically and stylistically. He does more than just play the notes; his performances are imaginative, for instance in the addition of ornamentation, and he is not afraid to display the eccentricities. At the same time, the lyrical pieces also come off very nicely. If there are some dull moments in these recordings, that is not his fault.
With Jean-Baptiste Parant (c1730-c1780) [4] we meet another unknown quantity: he has no entry in New Grove, and very little is known about him. Like the composers discussed so far, he was active as organist. It seems very likely that he was blind, as he was organist at the Quinze-Vingts, a hospital established by Louis IX in Paris in the mid-13th century with beds for 300 of the city's needy blind. "Those members of the community who had rudiments of music were assigned to play the church organ", we read in the booklet; Parant was likely the resident who in 1760 applied for the post. His Premier Livre de Pièces de Clavecin, published in Paris around 1762, was dedicated to Louise Angélique d'Harcourt, daughter of the fourth duke of the Harcourt dynasty and later to become the mother superior at the Convent of the Visitation in Bayeux. Several of the 16 pieces in the book refer to her, such as thr first, La d'Harcourt.
With this collection of pieces we take a step back, so to speak, not so much chronologically, but stylistically, coming from Beauvarlet-Charpentier. The effects we find in the latter's oeuvre (and that of Balbastre) are not entirely absent here; especially the last two, La De Beuvron and La Lionoise, include some percussionistic effects that would not be out of place in the oeuvre of the two just mentioned, but overall Parant's music is closer to that of Fouquet and Dufour. Given the popularity of the form of the rondeau it does not surprise that Parant uses it frequently. Character pieces are dominating, but there are also four dances: three minuets and a pair of gavottes.
Given the nature and the quality of this book it is surprising that it has never been recorded before. Fernando De Luca did record it, and one can find the entire book on his site, but it is the Spanish harpsichordist Eva del Campo who recorded it for Brilliant Classics. She delivers a very good and enjoyable performance, with nice ornamentation and a good use of the various registration options of her harpsichord, a copy of a Ruckers in a ravalement of Taskin. This is an excellent addition to the impressive collection of harpsichord recordings released by Brilliant Classics.
[1] Pierre-Claude Foucquet: Pièces de clavecin
Fernando De Luca, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96772 (© 2024) details
[2] Pierre Thomas Dufour: Pièces de clavecin
Fernando De Luca, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96771 (© 2024) details
[3] Jean-Jacques Beauvarlet-Charpentier: 1er livre de Pièces de Clavecin
Fernando De Luca, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96774 (© 2024) details
[4] Jean Baptiste Parant: Premier Livre de Pièces de Clavecin
Eva del Campo, harpsichord
Brilliant Classics 96854 (© 2024) details
Saturday, March 2, 2024
Sopranos in opera - male and female
From the late 17th century until the beginning of the classical era, composers and audiences had a strong preference for high voices. Sopranos and altos were dominating operas and other dramatic works. Often these were castratos, but some of their female counterparts also earned quite some fame. No wonder, then, that there are more discs with baroque opera arias by sopranos and altos than by tenors and basses. Three are reviewed here, and it is notable that two of them are by male sopranos, although only one of them specifically manifests himself as such. However, let me start with a 'conventional' soprano.
It is always nice to be able to listen to a singer's debut recording, as it tells much about what he or she is about and has to offer. Jeanine De Bique [1] seems to have been active at the music scene for some time before she was given the opportunity to make a solo recording. She is not a baroque specialist, but as so many opera singers, she was keen to record some Handel arias. However, she "was adamant not to do a Best of Handel Arias for soprano", as the musicologist Yannis François writes in the booklet. Therefore they developed a concept which is summarized in the disc's title: "Mirrors". On the reverse we read: "For her debut album (...) Jeanine De Bique unveils the different reflections of the same female characters of Handel and his contemporaries, as though looking through a broken mirror". It resulted in a programme which includes arias by composers whose operas are little-known, especially Carl Heinrich Graun, Gennaro Manna and Riccardo Broschi, but also gives an interesting insight into the world of 18th-century opera. It is known that some librettos were set by several composers. Interestingly, we find here arias from two operas, called Rodelinda, but Handel and Graun used almost completely different librettos. Equally interesting is that the same aria is not always sung by the same character. Only in one case the same text is performed in two different settings: 'Mi restano le lagrime' from Handel's Alcina and Broschi's L'isola d'Alcina, but whereas in Handel it is Alcina herself that sings it, in Broschi's opera it is given to Morgana. It demonstrates that the connection between text and character in baroque opera was rather loose. I already mentioned Broschi as one of the composers included here whose opera oeuvre is little-known. I did not mention Vinci and Telemann, as their operatic output has received some interest in recent years. That does not mean that it has become familiar, and that makes the inclusion of an aria by each of them most welcome.
Obviously one is curious about what a singer brings to the table in such arias. I have mixed feelings. As is mostly the case, we should not expect a way of singing that comes close to the baroque aesthetic ideals. Jeanine De Bique is a product of a very contemporary style of singing baroque opera. I noted with satisfaction that she takes quite some freedom in the ornamentation department (although I am not sure that they are of her invention - were they written-out by Luca Quintavalle?), but does not exaggerate in that she competely rewrites, as it were, the dacapo sections; the original is still recognizable. I also noted that her performances are differentiated according to what an aria is about; there is no doubt that she has quite some dramatic talent. Unfortunately she uses too much vibrato nearly all the time. That goes especially for the more dramatic stuff, such as the aria fro Graun's Cesare e Cleopatra, which opens the programme. However, there are also much more restrained arias, where she reduces her vibrato, and that makes things so much better. There she shows to be an expressive interpreter. Those are the arias I enjoyed most. She definitely has many possibilities, and it is probably dependent on the people she is working with, which of these are explored. The way the programme has been put together and the inclusion of unknown arias is what makes this disc attractive to opera-lovers, independent of what they think about the way they are performed.
Nicolò Balducci [2] is a singer, who is labelled an alto (the cover says 'countertenor'), but is able to sing in the soprano range. Therefore I marked him as 'male soprano' in my review of his recording debut ("Castrapolis"). His programme was quite interesting in that it included arias by composers one does not often encounter on recital discs, let alone that their operas are recorded at full length. Among them are Giuseppe Porsile and Domenico Natale Sarro (or Sarri). The second disc is a little different: it includes arias by two little-known composers - Riccardo Broschi and Egidio Romualdo Duni - but the largest part of the programme is devoted to Handel and Vivaldi, by far the most popular baroque opera composers of today. In the Handel section we even find some evergreens: 'Lascio ch'io pianga' and 'Ombra mai fu'. The title of his disc nicely sums up what baroque operas are about: love and sadness - often connected. The unknown composers are undoubtedly the most interesting part of the programme. Broschi - who also appears on Jeanine De Bique's disc - is a relatively unknown name, but he was the brother of a famous singer, Carlo Broschi, better known as the castrato Farinelli. The arias performed here may have been sung at first by castratos, and Broschi's aria was even performed by his brother, during a performance of an opera by Johann Adolf Hasse. It attests to the habit of famous singers at the time to include their favourite arias in whatever opera they were singing, whether they fit into the work or not. Vivaldi's operas are regularly performed these days, but single arias have not reached the evergreen status as some of Handel's. Therefore the Vivaldi part of the programme is an interesting section of this disc as well. I would have liked some lesser-known arias by Handel, but I can live with the evergreens performed here, if they are sung as nicely as here by Nicolò Balducci. My positive impressions of his debut are confirmed here. He has what it takes to bring opera arias to life, and I am sure he will do well in complete opera performances too. There are many things to enjoy, such as the freedom in the recitatives and the fact that he does not exaggerate in the addition of ornamentation and cadenzas. He uses a bit too much vibrato to my taste, but it did not spoil my enjoyment. Balducci is a singer to keep an eye on, and I am curious to hear how he is going to develop.
In contrast to Balducci, Samuel Mariño [3] is a real soprano. The booklet tells us that his speaking voice is the same as his singing voice. That sets him apart from those singers who are able to sing well into the soprano range, but through vocal technique. Mariño's recital is also different from most recital discs of his peers in that it focuses on later repertoire: all the pieces are from the classical era, probably with the exception of Christoph Willibald von Gluck's Orfeo, which is not quite classical, but also not baroque, and was an important trailblazer for the classical style in opera. It is Mariño's mentor Barbara Bonney, who stimulated him to explore the music by Mozart and contemporaries. The programme includes arias from Le nozze di Figaro, Il re pastore, La clemenza di Tito and Mitridate. In addition we get arias from two operas by Domenico Cimarosa, who is almost exclusively known for Il matrimonio segreto, and from the only extant opera by Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges. The latter arias are what makes this disc interesting, although those who have a special liking of Mozart's operas may well be curious to know how arias they know very well, are sung by a male soprano, something that very seldom happens in live performances.
Before I heard this disc I had heard some of Mariño's live performances, and I wondered what the fuss was about. I did not like what I heard, and thought: another soprano who ignores what we know about the aesthetics of the time the music was written. Especially his heavy vibrato and exaggerated ornamentation and cadenzas put me off. Some of that is noticeable here as well, and that is the reason that I don't particularly like this recital. However, it is not as bad as I had expected on the basis of live performances. There is too much vibrato, but it is not as wide as I had heard before, and the whole is not as extravagant as I had feared. Opera lovers may investigate this disc, because of the lesser-known arias, and just to experience the singing of a natural soprano. One can only hope that Mariño is willing to turn to a more 'authentic' way of singing 18th-century opera.
[1] "Mirrors"
Jeanine De Bique, soprano; Concerto Köln/Luca Quintavalle
Berlin Classics 0302017BC (© 2021) details
[2] "Amore Dolore"
Nicolò Balducci, soprano; Baroque Academy Gothenburg Symphony/Dan Laurin
BIS 2645 (© 2023) details
[3] "Samuel Mariño, sopranista"
Samuel Mariño, soprano; La Cetra Barockorchester Basel/Andrea Marcon
Decca 4852943 (© 2022) details
It is always nice to be able to listen to a singer's debut recording, as it tells much about what he or she is about and has to offer. Jeanine De Bique [1] seems to have been active at the music scene for some time before she was given the opportunity to make a solo recording. She is not a baroque specialist, but as so many opera singers, she was keen to record some Handel arias. However, she "was adamant not to do a Best of Handel Arias for soprano", as the musicologist Yannis François writes in the booklet. Therefore they developed a concept which is summarized in the disc's title: "Mirrors". On the reverse we read: "For her debut album (...) Jeanine De Bique unveils the different reflections of the same female characters of Handel and his contemporaries, as though looking through a broken mirror". It resulted in a programme which includes arias by composers whose operas are little-known, especially Carl Heinrich Graun, Gennaro Manna and Riccardo Broschi, but also gives an interesting insight into the world of 18th-century opera. It is known that some librettos were set by several composers. Interestingly, we find here arias from two operas, called Rodelinda, but Handel and Graun used almost completely different librettos. Equally interesting is that the same aria is not always sung by the same character. Only in one case the same text is performed in two different settings: 'Mi restano le lagrime' from Handel's Alcina and Broschi's L'isola d'Alcina, but whereas in Handel it is Alcina herself that sings it, in Broschi's opera it is given to Morgana. It demonstrates that the connection between text and character in baroque opera was rather loose. I already mentioned Broschi as one of the composers included here whose opera oeuvre is little-known. I did not mention Vinci and Telemann, as their operatic output has received some interest in recent years. That does not mean that it has become familiar, and that makes the inclusion of an aria by each of them most welcome.
Obviously one is curious about what a singer brings to the table in such arias. I have mixed feelings. As is mostly the case, we should not expect a way of singing that comes close to the baroque aesthetic ideals. Jeanine De Bique is a product of a very contemporary style of singing baroque opera. I noted with satisfaction that she takes quite some freedom in the ornamentation department (although I am not sure that they are of her invention - were they written-out by Luca Quintavalle?), but does not exaggerate in that she competely rewrites, as it were, the dacapo sections; the original is still recognizable. I also noted that her performances are differentiated according to what an aria is about; there is no doubt that she has quite some dramatic talent. Unfortunately she uses too much vibrato nearly all the time. That goes especially for the more dramatic stuff, such as the aria fro Graun's Cesare e Cleopatra, which opens the programme. However, there are also much more restrained arias, where she reduces her vibrato, and that makes things so much better. There she shows to be an expressive interpreter. Those are the arias I enjoyed most. She definitely has many possibilities, and it is probably dependent on the people she is working with, which of these are explored. The way the programme has been put together and the inclusion of unknown arias is what makes this disc attractive to opera-lovers, independent of what they think about the way they are performed.
Nicolò Balducci [2] is a singer, who is labelled an alto (the cover says 'countertenor'), but is able to sing in the soprano range. Therefore I marked him as 'male soprano' in my review of his recording debut ("Castrapolis"). His programme was quite interesting in that it included arias by composers one does not often encounter on recital discs, let alone that their operas are recorded at full length. Among them are Giuseppe Porsile and Domenico Natale Sarro (or Sarri). The second disc is a little different: it includes arias by two little-known composers - Riccardo Broschi and Egidio Romualdo Duni - but the largest part of the programme is devoted to Handel and Vivaldi, by far the most popular baroque opera composers of today. In the Handel section we even find some evergreens: 'Lascio ch'io pianga' and 'Ombra mai fu'. The title of his disc nicely sums up what baroque operas are about: love and sadness - often connected. The unknown composers are undoubtedly the most interesting part of the programme. Broschi - who also appears on Jeanine De Bique's disc - is a relatively unknown name, but he was the brother of a famous singer, Carlo Broschi, better known as the castrato Farinelli. The arias performed here may have been sung at first by castratos, and Broschi's aria was even performed by his brother, during a performance of an opera by Johann Adolf Hasse. It attests to the habit of famous singers at the time to include their favourite arias in whatever opera they were singing, whether they fit into the work or not. Vivaldi's operas are regularly performed these days, but single arias have not reached the evergreen status as some of Handel's. Therefore the Vivaldi part of the programme is an interesting section of this disc as well. I would have liked some lesser-known arias by Handel, but I can live with the evergreens performed here, if they are sung as nicely as here by Nicolò Balducci. My positive impressions of his debut are confirmed here. He has what it takes to bring opera arias to life, and I am sure he will do well in complete opera performances too. There are many things to enjoy, such as the freedom in the recitatives and the fact that he does not exaggerate in the addition of ornamentation and cadenzas. He uses a bit too much vibrato to my taste, but it did not spoil my enjoyment. Balducci is a singer to keep an eye on, and I am curious to hear how he is going to develop.
In contrast to Balducci, Samuel Mariño [3] is a real soprano. The booklet tells us that his speaking voice is the same as his singing voice. That sets him apart from those singers who are able to sing well into the soprano range, but through vocal technique. Mariño's recital is also different from most recital discs of his peers in that it focuses on later repertoire: all the pieces are from the classical era, probably with the exception of Christoph Willibald von Gluck's Orfeo, which is not quite classical, but also not baroque, and was an important trailblazer for the classical style in opera. It is Mariño's mentor Barbara Bonney, who stimulated him to explore the music by Mozart and contemporaries. The programme includes arias from Le nozze di Figaro, Il re pastore, La clemenza di Tito and Mitridate. In addition we get arias from two operas by Domenico Cimarosa, who is almost exclusively known for Il matrimonio segreto, and from the only extant opera by Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint-Georges. The latter arias are what makes this disc interesting, although those who have a special liking of Mozart's operas may well be curious to know how arias they know very well, are sung by a male soprano, something that very seldom happens in live performances.
Before I heard this disc I had heard some of Mariño's live performances, and I wondered what the fuss was about. I did not like what I heard, and thought: another soprano who ignores what we know about the aesthetics of the time the music was written. Especially his heavy vibrato and exaggerated ornamentation and cadenzas put me off. Some of that is noticeable here as well, and that is the reason that I don't particularly like this recital. However, it is not as bad as I had expected on the basis of live performances. There is too much vibrato, but it is not as wide as I had heard before, and the whole is not as extravagant as I had feared. Opera lovers may investigate this disc, because of the lesser-known arias, and just to experience the singing of a natural soprano. One can only hope that Mariño is willing to turn to a more 'authentic' way of singing 18th-century opera.
[1] "Mirrors"
Jeanine De Bique, soprano; Concerto Köln/Luca Quintavalle
Berlin Classics 0302017BC (© 2021) details
[2] "Amore Dolore"
Nicolò Balducci, soprano; Baroque Academy Gothenburg Symphony/Dan Laurin
BIS 2645 (© 2023) details
[3] "Samuel Mariño, sopranista"
Samuel Mariño, soprano; La Cetra Barockorchester Basel/Andrea Marcon
Decca 4852943 (© 2022) details
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