With their poetic and energetic music, the three storytellers from Italy, France, and Switzerland create an unobstructed view of the Mediterranean across the narrow mountain valleys. The music of these three musical personalities thrives on it's poetry, it's beautiful sound, it's depth of thought, and the interweaving of composition and improvisation. Original compositions meet Radiohead and Monteverdi variations and merge on Fables of Time into soulful music full of energy and subtle wit. A trio with three leaders, all three at home in different musical languages and technically at their peak. Together they form a unity that is rarely found. Thirteen years after the two highly acclaimed CDs What is There What is Not and Mavi, the long-awaited third release from this extraordinary trio is here. "The path offered to the listener is full of surprises and joy - you never know what's waiting around the corner: a stroll through a stately Renaissance melody, a sudden jolt of energy from free improvised passages, an evocation of village dance from an imaginary country that borders the desert, the Alps and the countryside, a flash of funky, and sometimes all these things at the same time", writes Francesco Martinelli in the liner notes.

The heir to Brazilian tropicalism, Santtana marks 25 years of his career with Brasiliano, a true collective celebration that brings together prestigious collaborators: Gilberto Gil, Oxmo Puccino, Flavia Coelho, Piers Faccini, Chico Cesar, Paralamas do Sucesso, Cocanha, Dimartino, Karyna Gomes, Tainara Takua, Rachel Reis and Maria Lado. Sung in eight different languages, Brasiliano is both an ode to linguistic diversity and a testament to it's symbolic power. Carried by luminous and layered arrangements where voices intertwine like a polyphonic conversation, the album treats language as a musical instrument in it's own right, but also as a political tool. Santtana questions cultural heritage, identity, colonial memory, and the possibility of a shared language. With his singular approach-blending popular rhythms, contemporary soundscapes and vibrant melodies-he celebrates the love and exchange embodied in Romance languages, where music becomes fertile ground for encounters and reinvention.

The heir to Brazilian tropicalism, Santtana marks 25 years of his career with Brasiliano, a true collective celebration that brings together prestigious collaborators: Gilberto Gil, Oxmo Puccino, Flavia Coelho, Piers Faccini, Chico Cesar, Paralamas do Sucesso, Cocanha, Dimartino, Karyna Gomes, Tainara Takua, Rachel Reis and Maria Lado. Sung in eight different languages, Brasiliano is both an ode to linguistic diversity and a testament to it's symbolic power. Carried by luminous and layered arrangements where voices intertwine like a polyphonic conversation, the album treats language as a musical instrument in it's own right, but also as a political tool. Santtana questions cultural heritage, identity, colonial memory, and the possibility of a shared language. With his singular approach-blending popular rhythms, contemporary soundscapes and vibrant melodies-he celebrates the love and exchange embodied in Romance languages, where music becomes fertile ground for encounters and reinvention.

The music on this album, was written by John Rutter for a variety of choirs and occasions, over a period of many years. From ceremonial and uplifting, to quiet and reflective, this album features 14 classic tracks from Collegium recordings, plus two previously unreleased tracks.

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REVIEW:

The Cambridge Singers and City of London Sinfonia have the lion's share of this disc. They present amazing performances: very clear diction, tuning and a great sense of blend within the choir, as well as very expressive playing from the orchestra. One thing that this compilation album highlights is the choir's consistency over nearly twenty years.

– MusicWeb International

A very good and well-conceived musical celebration of Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee.

No doubt there will be plenty of recordings issued in 2012 to celebrate - or cash in on, the cynic might say - the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Elizabeth II. This is John Rutter’s contribution.
 
You may ask, what have Schubert’s psalm setting or a movement from the Brahms Requiem to do with the British royal family? It may be similarly objected that a piece such as the one by John Tavener has little to do with jubilee celebrations. After all, its sole connection with royalty is that it was sung at the funeral of Diana, Princess of Wales in 1997. The answer to such questions lies in the title of the disc. “Music on Royal Occasions” allows John Rutter to cast his net wide. In fact, all but two of the pieces included here have been performed either at a royal wedding or funeral between 1947 - the marriage of the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh - and 2011 - the wedding of the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge. The two exceptions are the piece by Richard Rodney Bennett, which was written for the diamond wedding anniversary of the Queen and Prince Philip, and the extract from Britten’s opera, written to celebrate Queen Elizabeth’s coronation. In case you were wondering, the Schubert was sung at the 1960 wedding of Princess Margaret and Anthony Armstrong-Jones while the Brahms was heard at the funeral of Queen Elizabeth the Queen Mother in 2002: I didn’t know those last two facts but the booklet helpfully tells us which piece was heard at which royal event.
 
Both of the new pieces written for the 2011 Royal Wedding are included. Rutter’s own offering is a nice, readily accessible piece. To be frank - and I speak as an admirer of Rutter’s music - it’s a trifle disappointing in that it’s pretty predictably Rutter-ish. Then, to be fair, an occasion such as the Royal Wedding is one when a composer probably ought to write something that is readily appreciated by a worldwide audience. As I wrote recently, when reviewing a disc of music by Paul Mealor, I’ve revised my view of his Ubi caritas since I first heard it. At the Royal Wedding I thought it a somewhat grey piece but hearing it again on the Mealor disc I thought it came over better. However, I clearly recall thinking when I first heard it that it wasn’t a patch on the Maurice Duruflé setting and hearing the two one after the other merely confirms that view. The Mealor piece is nice and sincere but Duruflé’s fluent setting is simply inspired.
 
New to me was the Richard Rodney Bennett piece and I’m delighted to make its acquaintance. Written for unaccompanied choir it’s a very fine setting of the famous passage from St. Paul’s Epistle to the Corinthians - ‘If I speak with the tongues of men and angels …’ It receives a v ery fine performance, as do all the other pieces on the programme. It’s enterprising to include this unfamiliar piece and it’s equally enterprising to include the extract from Britten’s Gloriana.
 
Soprano Elin Manahan Thomas is on hand to sing the solos in the Mozart and Handel selections. She sings both very well, though, to my taste, her ornamentation in the Handel is a bit too florid. Incidentally, the Handel is also distinguished by excellent silvery trumpet solos by Simon Cox.
 
The Brahms piece is given in English. I’d much rather hear it in German but I can understand why it’s done in English here since that’s how it’s done as a separate Anglican anthem - and, presumably, that’s how it was given at the Queen Mother’s funeral. The Elgar piece that follows is the prologue to the oratorio The Apostles and it, too, is often heard as a separate anthem. I was mildly disappointed to hear it done here with organ accompaniment - though Andrew Lucas plays splendidly. It’s a bit illogical to do the Brahms with orchestra and the Elgar without; I can only think that the Aurora Orchestra isn’t sufficiently big for Elgar’s scoring.
 
So, to anyone who might glance at this CD on a shelf and dismiss it as ‘just another Jubilee potboiler’ I’d say: think again. I must honest and say that’s what I expected when I saw the disc advertised but I was wrong. This selection is a bit different and a bit more thoughtful and reflective than one might expect. Perhaps one should coin a phrase and say ‘don’t judge a CD by its cover’. The performances are all expertly done and the recorded sound and documentation are very good. This is a very good and well-conceived musical celebration of Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee.
 
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

ARIOSTI “Stockholm” Sonatas: No. 15 in f; No. 16 in G; No. 17 in B?; No. 18 in d; No. 19 in a; No. 20 in g; No. 21 in a. Pur alfin gentil viola 1 • Thomas Georgi (vda); Lucas Harris (lt, gtr); Mime Yamahiro Brinkmann (vdg); Emma Kirkby (sop) 1 (period instruments) • BIS 1675 (63:57 Text and Translation)


Attilio Malachia Ariosti (1666–1729) led an amazingly varied life, one that could only have played out amid the opulence of the Baroque era. He started out as an altar boy in Bologna and later took monastic vows, possibly also entering the priesthood. All along he assiduously pursued his musical studies, eventually assuming the post of organist at the basilica of Santa Maria dei Servi. There he attracted the attention of the Duke of Mantua, for whom he began composing operas. Ariosti’s first opera, Tirsi (1697), was such a success that the Duke was encouraged to lend him out to the Berlin court, whose ruler was Sophie Charlotte of Hanover, Electress of Brandenburg and sister of the future George I of England. Ariosti quickly became Sophie’s favorite court musician (Bononcini was employed at the court as well), and became friends with the great Gottfried Leibniz. After Sophie died in 1705, Ariosti declared his (reluctant) desire to return to his monastery, by way of Vienna. The Vienna sojourn at the court of Joseph I stretched to seven years, where he composed operas, oratorios, and cantatas. After Joseph’s widow, Wilhelmina, kicked him out of Vienna (for his ostentatious, non-ecclesiastical behavior) in 1711, Ariosti found employment at the court of the Duke of Anjou (the future Louis XV), in Munich, Württemberg, Durlach, Baden, Lorraine, and at the court of the Duke of Orléans. In 1716 Ariosti sailed for England, where his opera Almahide had been staged in 1708, albeit with two-thirds of the numbers replaced by arias of Bononcini. Ariosti’s first appearance on the London stage was on July 12, 1716, when he played his “New Symphony … upon a New Instrument call’d Viola D’Amour,” between the acts of a Handel opera. Subsequently, the Royal Academy was to commission several operas, but Ariosti was still preoccupied with his diplomatic intrigues and had trouble meeting the deadlines; only one of the operas, Caio Marzio Coriolana (1723), was an unmitigated success, thanks in part to the participation of Cuzzoni and Senesino.


Exactly 21 viola d’amore sonatas survive from the pen of Ariosti; 15 of them owe their existence to Ariosti’s contemporary Swedish musician Johan Helmich Roman, who copied them down while on a visit to London. These survive in manuscript form in a Swedish library, hence the designation. The concluding cantata, Pur alfin gentil viola , is a valedictory work that survives in manuscript in a Darmstadt library. Written in an idiom reminiscent of Handel, the sonatas are remarkable for their brevity. Most movements are less than two minutes; only two of the Adagios are more than three. The structure is usually simple bipartite: AABB, or even ABa (the lower case indicating a brief restatement of the opening theme). The suites typically consist of four movements, in the traditional slow-fast-slow-fast grouping of the Italian sonata da chiesa.


The viola d’amore is one of those colorful “accessory” instruments so popular with Baroque composers. Played under the chin like the violin, it has six or seven sympathetic strings running under the fingerboard that are responsible for the instrument’s characteristic silvery sound. Like the oboe d’amore and the voice flute, the viola d’amore was newly invented; it came into use during the second half of the 17th century, but never became a permanent member of the orchestra. Bach, Telemann, Vivaldi, and Quantz wrote sparingly for the viola d’amore, but it dropped out of sight during the Romantic era. Surprisingly, the instrument has persisted until the present day; composers as diverse as Strauss, Janá?ek, Hindemith, Martin, and Villa-Lobos have been attracted to its gentle, ethereal sound.


Thomas Georgi is an American who performed with the Queensland Symphony Orchestra of Australia for many years, and since 1989 has been a member of the Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra of Toronto. After joining that group he began to champion the viola d’amore, and has recorded two previous volumes of Ariosti for BIS. Apparently those CDs were never received by Fanfare for review. Georgi is joined by two excellent instrumentalists, lutenist Lucas Harris and gambist Mimi Yamahiro Brinkmann, and the renowned English soprano Dame Emma Kirkby. The performances are models of their kind, with colorful, expressive playing from Georgi, and first-rate contributions from the two continuo players. I applaud the decision to employ archlute (theorbo) and guitar as continuo instruments; a harpsichord would have overwhelmed the delicate sound of the viola d’amore. Of particular interest is the cantata—it demonstrates that Dame Emma’s voice is as beautiful and controlled as ever, even after nearly 40 years before the public.


When the pressures and madness of modern life press in, I can think of nothing better than to retreat into the delicate sound world of Ariosti for rejuvenation. Highly recommended.


FANFARE: Christopher Brodersen

This CD is the continuation of viola d’amore specialist Thomas Georgi’s The Stockholm Sonatas I (BIS-CD-1535), resurrecting the neglected music of Attilio Ariosti. The first volume consisted of the music published by Ariosti in London as a set of ‘Lessons for the Viola d’Amour’. The works were preserved in Stockholm in a manuscript entitled ‘Receuil de Pièces’ and copied by the Swedish composer Johan Helmich Roman in the late 1710s during his studies in London. Based on the Stockholm manuscript, Georgi has made his own edition of the works. This recording comprises the first 7 of the 15 ‘sonatas’ contained in the Receuil, leaving the remainder for a final, third volume in the series.

Highly regarded by his contemporaries as a singer, organist, cellist and dramatist, Ariosti has been more or less forgotten for more than two centuries. In his liner notes Georgi underlines Ariosti’s “remarkable twists of harmony, his witty way with silence as well as with notes, his preference for juxtaposition of contrasting material over development of a single idea”; wondering if these qualities would have found him “as wide an audience as Corelli’s”, had the viola d’amore remained popular as an instrument. As on the first disc, Georgi is joined by lutenist Lucas Harris, and this time by different cellist, Mime Yamahiro Brinkmann, another product of that excellent Early Music Department at my place of work, the Royal Conservatoire in The Hague.

Thomas Georgi has used the title ‘Sonata’ for these works even though the word is never used in the manuscript source. “They sound like sonatas to me” is his almost belligerent declaration, and I admire his pioneering spirit in cutting through a potential quagmire of nomenclatural red tape. His expertise and scholarly research mean that his treatment of embellishments in this music is based on the historical examples of contemporary performers. Citing Corelli as a model, the scores are taken as a framework from which a player of the time would have used partially as a springboard on which their own technical and expressive abilities would have had a significant effect with regard to the final result. In his review of the fist disc of this series, Gary Higginson describes these works as ‘second-rate music’ – in which I would agree that they don’t really plumb great emotional depths to our modern ears. For the purpose that they were no doubt intended they are however ‘first-rate’, as your gigging reviewer can confirm. A composer writing to satisfy players and a mixed audience walks a narrow line between being over-demanding and dull. Ariosti is neither of these things, providing plenty of interesting music for all of the musicians involved, enough wow factor and variety to keep the elderly aunts and uncles awake in the front row, and keeping enough in reserve not to annoy the wealthy patrons at the back who are having a boozy chat through the whole thing. The handkerchief waving bewigged gentry of the time swooned hopelessly at anything too dissonant in any case, so Ariosti knew exactly what he was doing with these works.

Thomas Georgi’s Viola d’amore has an ‘alto’ pitch range, but while the general tessitura is lower than a violin, the colour is in fact quite bright. The strings have a thicker, more throaty texture in tone, but the overall effect is highly attractive, and the balance between violoncello and lute, the glue which links the two, is nicely struck. I note that these have been recorded in a different acoustic to volume one, but Bis’s reliably wonderful recording techniques have created another winning balance between close detail and spaciousness. It may well be that the CDs from this series end up being used as background music to chic dinners, but now all those embarrassing pauses can be filled with at least one sensible question: “…mmm, I like this music, what is it?”

-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International

Bach's concertos for multiple harpsichords and orchestra are beloved by some and drive others crazy. Perhaps no other music so graphically illustrates Beecham's famous description of the sound of the solo instrument as "two skeletons copulating on a tin roof." The performers must exercise great care in selecting instruments that are not too "clangy" sounding, and the recording has to balance a need for warmth and roundness of tone with contrapuntal clarity. In fact, most of this music was originally composed for melody instruments (violin and oboe, principally), and Naxos has obligingly reconstructed the original versions on another disc in this excellent series. One of the nicest things about this particular disc is the presence of the original version (by Vivaldi) of the Concerto for Four Harpsichords, an impossible work that is performed here about as well as it ever has been. In fact, all of these performances are uniformly propulsive, tasteful, and above all genuinely comfortable to listen to. A good listen, then, but best enjoyed one work at a time. --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com