Pietro Antonio Locatelli's arrival on the musical scene of the first half of the eighteenth century was like a bolt from the blue. He wrote and performed things which had never been heard before on a violin; he was able to play in such acute regions "that a canary lost it's balance and fell off it's perch" according to an anecdote of the times. His contemporaries had nicknamed him "Earthquake", and he possessed great performing power and charisma. Reliable sources inform us that he used to wear a heavy, dark blue housecoat with a sword at his side for his performances, and that his concerts lasted three hours with no interval. His ability as a composer enabled him, moreover, to give a polished form to virtuosity, as yet uncommon; he gave it organisation and published it under the name of "Capricci" (is the first example of a sample range of bold dexterities for solo violin, and it was not until a hundred years later that Paganini produced his 24 Capricci, and still longer for Chopin's 24 Etudes and 24 Preludes). This is not all. Locatelli' 24 Capricci are also the cadences of 12 concertos for violin and strings, quite dissimilar, given that they were written over a long period of time; all together they take the name of "The Art of the Violin" (another title which appears for the first time in the history of music, but certainly not for the last.).The entire opera III is delivered within this triple album by the talent of Diego Conti, leading the Archi di Firenze ensemble and playing a precious violin of the Bolognese school.

Galuppi is an original and Napoli's performance makes this a good choice for connoisseurs of 18th century keyboard music.

Galuppi is an original and Napoli's performance makes this a good choice for connoisseurs of 18th century keyboard music.

Though Baldassare Galuppi is rightly famed for his huge contribution to opera buffa, he was also a prolific and popular composer of keyboard music, particularly sonatas. When British pianist Peter Seivewright released on the Divine Art label a programme of Galuppi's keyboard sonatas in 1999 it was the first volume in a projected complete set running to ten discs and 90 sonatas. So far, and possibly because of ill health (see footnote), Seivewright appears to have got no further than volume 3 but in the last decade more sonatas have been unearthed, and there are now known to be over 130. This is the first Naxos CD devoted to Galuppi's music, and volume 1 of his keyboard sonatas. Volume 2 has not yet been released on CD, but is available as a download.

One immediate question about this recording - major or minor, depending on individual sensitivities - is the choice of a modern pianoforte (Steinway D). There will doubtless be many who feel that Galuppi's sonatas belong on a period instrument - whether harpsichord or fortepiano. The sonorities, slender textures and delicate ornamentations of his alternately late-Baroque and forward-looking pre-Galant music are sometimes partially lost in the lush, deep sound of Napoli's piano. Nevertheless, within these self-imposed limitations, Napoli's performance here is creditable - plenty of sensitivity, no misplaced showmanship.

There is no question, however, about Galuppi's masterly, mellifluous musicianship. Sonata after sonata is packed with beautiful melody and fluent invention, and it comes as no surprise that it was not only his opera music that was in great demand. But though Galuppi was himself a keyboard virtuoso, this is idiomatic music written with an eye on, or an ear to, the amateur player - it is varied, beautiful and rewarding, without being technically overwhelming.

Often the music is quite reminiscent of Domenico Scarlatti - the outer movements of the superbly imaginative Sonata in D, for example (incidentally incorrectly catalogued by Hedda Illy in E), or the ebullient two-and-a-half minute, one-movement Sonata in C, Illy 98. There are also reverberations of C.P.E. Bach, as in the refined Sonata in F and the thoughtful Sonata in F minor, and even of J.S. Bach, as in the Sonata in G.

But Galuppi is an original, without doubt, and Napoli's performance makes this altogether a good choice for connoisseurs of 18th century keyboard music, particularly those for whom the idiosyncratic colour of the harpsichord or fortepiano holds little attraction.

Sound quality is generally high, although the Sonata in C, Illy 57 does have a couple of minor imperfections that sound suspiciously like edit joins.

-- Byzantion, MusicWeb International Footnote The reviewer refers to Peter Seivewright’s ongoing series having halted at volume 3 ‘possibly due to ill health’. I want to point out for the benefit of potential customers (and the music industry) that Peter is very well indeed – he did in fact undergo surgery not too long ago but is doing very well; his projects (which include several CDs of Bach, a Reger disc and a series of American Piano Sonatas, have also been held up due to his work commitments – he moved from Scotland to help set up and manage the new Department of Music at the University of Trinidad and Tobago. His fourth volume of Galuppi has been recorded and will appear in due course, hopefully with the other projected volumes to follow a little more quickly than heretofore. Stephen Sutton (Divine Art)

The Ensemble Dreiklang Berlin presents this light-hearted album entitled Badinerie. The album’s title comes from the baroque dance which was frequently paired with a Gavotte, Sarabande, Minuet, and other dance movements to form a suite. The ensemble performs these works on recorders.

Cantiones sacrae is the long-awaited follow up to Magnificat’s critically acclaimed 25th anniversary recording, Scattered Ashes. The Cantiones sacrae is an unusual work that stands quite apart from Schütz’s other published sacred music in both scale and style. The collection comprises forty Latin motets for four voices, plus a figured bass for continuo accompaniment (realized on this recording by lute, violone and organ), which was added later by the composer. The perfectly crafted works are composed in a learned, contrapuntal style rich in dissonance and range of expression. Schütz cleverly mirrors the intensely intimate nature of the texts using a musical language that looks to inward expression rather than to external effect. Schütz takes every opportunity to exploit vocal timbre and technique in the service of word-painting, with the virtuosic vocal lines ranging from a conservative imitative style to the most avant-garde, chromatic style of the Italian madrigal. Magnificat’s performance of the Opus 4 motets reveals Schütz to be a composer with an imagination of extraordinary variety.

Naxos' so-called "house pianist" Jeno Jandó is on top form in Bach's Goldberg Variations. He takes after Glenn Gould's perky tempos, dry-point articulation, and blueprint clarity, but on his own terms. For starters, Jandó does not link up variations without pausing or adapt a common pulse to unify groups of variations, opting instead to treat each one as a separate entity. Furthermore, Jandó takes all of the repeats, including the rare one in the Aria Da Capo that Weissenberg and Gavrilov observe. He embellishes some repeats more than others do, or simply phrases differently on the second go-rounds, albeit not to Murray Perahia or András Schiff's elaborate specifications.


If Jandó doesn't set records for speed, scintillation, and absolute rhythmic steadiness in the cross-handed variations, they still manage to swing, with plenty of breathing room to boot. Jandó takes a harder-nosed look than usual at the minor-key variations, as if he weren't interested in the canon at the fifth's melodic profundity or the canon at the seventh's wrenching chromatic zingers. And next to the inner drama and extraordinary harmonic tension Perahia illuminates in the famous "black pearl" 25th Variation, Jandó is relatively reticent. He also tends to scale his dynamics between mezzo-forte and mezzo-piano, although this may result from the close, somewhat airless, though not unattractive microphone placement. All in all, Jeno Jandó's Goldbergs add up to a solid, recommendable bargain alternative to the reference versions listed above.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Dorothea Seel brings us on this recording a historically informed performance of Handel’s flute sonatas. Performing on flauto traverso, Ms. Seel is accompanied by Luca Gugliemi on Cembalo. Dorothea Seel is a critically acclaimed performer. “…Dorothea Seel was a graceful and gentle flute soloist” (New York Times) “…with quite breathtaking athletic playing and hauntingly elegiac moments.” (Gramophone Magazine, Awards Issue 2014)

Giuseppe Tartini was born in Pirano d’Istria in 1692 but spent the majority of his life in Padua. He was not a lover of fame: indeed, it took Padre Martini a great deal of time and convincing before managing to obtain a portrait of Tartini for his private collection (this original portrait, painted by Vincenzo Rota, is the only one we have today). Despite all this, however, young musicians arrived from all over Europe to study with this musician who, essentially self-taught, had dedicated his life to perfecting the violin from both a technical and theoretical standpoint. In the not insignificant output of this “Master of Nations” (as he was called), the violin predominates, for Tartini composed few works other than the concertos and sonatas dedicated to this noble instrument. The justification for this choice may be found in his theoretical writings, which represented for the eighteenth century a new moment of discovery and evolution. Implored by many to compose for the opera in Venice, he responded that “a throat is not a neck of a violin,” and this comment was followed by a strong criticism of Vivaldi, who instead tried his hand at virtually every genre. This album features the concertos for flute, for strings, and various sonatas including the famous “Trillo del Diavolo.” The two soloists Massimo Mercelli and Marco Rogliano are accompanied by the Ensemble Respighi from Bologna.

Frescobaldi’s book of Capricci from 1624 was intended as a continuation of his 1615 Book of Ricercari. It was clearly conceived, however, for the keyboard, an idiom for which this work is a masterpiece, both in regard to contrapuntal technique and to the exceedingly refined art and skill of harpsichord and organ writing. The interdependence of these two books is underlined by their publishing history already beginning with the second edition of the Capricci of 1626, and continuing for the later ones of 1628 and 1642. The first editions of the Ricercari (1615 and 1618) included five canzonas, after which the planned “second book” in actuality took on such particular characteristics that Frescobaldi decided to give the work its own title, that of “Capricci”: “In these compositions entitled Capricci, I have not kept to as simple a style as in my Ricercari.” Once again, by Frescobaldi’s own admission in his dedication to the Modenese prince Alfonso d’Este, the guiding hand of Luzzaschi is to be found at the origin of this work: “I owe to Your Highness, as Prince, who from birth has retained from his ancestors the ancient and hereditary protection of the arts, the fruit of these musical labors to which I dedicated myself in my early years under the discipline of Signor Luzzasco, most rare organist and dearest servant of the Most Serene House of Este.”