Ensemble: L'Arpeggiata. Conductor: Christina Pluhar. Soloists: Johannette Zomer, Pino De Vittorio, Hans Jörg Mammel.

Complete Track List:

1 Avrilla mia (2'58)
2 O fronte serena (2'35)
3 Occhi soli d'amore (3'28)
4 Sinfonia 9 (5'29)
5 Ite sospiri miei (1'56)
6 Sonino, scherzino (1'27)
7 Io parto (2'37)
8 O cor sempre dolente (2'10)
9 L'Arpeggiata (2'42)
10 Galliarda prima (2'02)
11 Passacaglia (1'26)
12 Alma mia, dove t'en vai (1'59)
13 Sinfonia 8 (1'46)
14 Lacrime estreme (1'14)
15 Sinfonia 15 (2'29)
16 Tu che pallido (3'52)
17 Senso fallace (1'40)
18 Che fai tu (2'47)
19 Sinfonia 18 (6'27)
20 Ai conviti, alle nozze (1'42)
21 Tarantella di Sannicandro (3'13)
22 Figlio dormi (7'13)

Although Lully never held any post in the Chapelle du Roi, his influence on the development of the grand motet, so emblematic of the Grand Si�cle, was of decisive importance. He wrote imposing motets celebrating the glory of God and the King for the great ceremonies at court. Of the many royal funerals, that of Queen Marie-Th�r�se in 1683 was among the most grandiose. Lully's Dies ir� and de profundis were sung there. But his most celebrated motet was undoubtedly his Te Deum, which rang out for the first time in 1677 and became the king's favorite. In 1687 Lully directed it once again, but struck his foot violently with the heavy walking stick he used to beat time. The wound became infected and the gangrene gradually spread, causing the surintendant's death on 22 March. Such was the tragic destiny of the man who was capable of conveying the most brilliant glory but also all the anguish of death in the same vein of grandeur. That theatrical grandeur is the characteristic of this version recorded in the Chapelle Royale of the Ch�teau de Versailles. Lully is in the limelight again in 2019, on the occasion of the 350th anniversary of the Acad�mie Royale de Musique (Paris Op�ra), of which he was director from 1672 until his death.

The fruitful partnership between the Alpha label, the Queen Elisabeth Music Chapel and the Palazzetto Bru Zane continues with this set of chamber music by Anton Reicha, performed by the musicians of the Chapel, young talents of an exceptionally high standard, ready and willing to take up the challenge of this music. A key figure of the early nineteenth century, this Czech composer who became a naturalised French citizen did not leave his contemporaries indifferent. Both his music and his theoretical writings set zealous partisans against fierce detractors. This three-part album, assembling pieces from different genres and periods, gives an insight into the richness of the composer’s extremely prolific output of chamber music, whose originality can still fascinate us nearly two centuries after his death: it illustrates the diversity of the instrumental genres he tackled (sonatas, fugues, études and variations for piano; piano trio, string quartet, string quintet) and a compositional art characterised at once by perfect mastery – as one would expect from someone trained by Haydn in Vienna between 1802 and 1808 – and by the greatest originality.

Versailles is remembered for its court, its atmosphere, its music, and its splendor which defined a monument with an incomparably rich history. The works associated with the palace have traveled down the centuries, and today represent a precious part of the Western music tradition. In this release, Alpha retraces the musical life of the unique and luminous universe of Versailles. Le Poeme Harmonique, Café Zimmermann, Capriccio Stravagante, and many others invite themselves into the company of Jean-Baptiste Lully, Marc-Antoine Charpentier, and Jean-Henry d’Anglebert and share with us for a few hours the sumptuous concerts that made Versailles a place like no other.

Ernest Chausson is a most unusual figure in French music, positioned at the crossroads where the romanticism of Berlioz and Franck meet the language of Wagner and the symbolism of the young Debussy. His Poème de l’amour et de la mer is a unique score for the period and certainly his greatest work; simultaneously a profane, naturistic cantata, a monologue, and a song cycle, it was composed between 1882 and 1892 to poetry by Maurice Bouchor, a longstanding friend of Chausson. Véronique Gens is recording this cycle for the first time, although she has already issued ‘Le temps des lilas’ with Susan Manoff at the piano for her album Néère, about which Ernst Van Bek wrote in Classiquenews: ‘Chausson’s “Le temps des lilas” mesmerises with the nuancing of its colors, the allusive precision of every sung word: this ecstatic, depressive prayer represents another peak of French post-Wagnerianism. The song uninterruptedly expresses the profound, accursed languor of overcharged spirits. The tact and sense of style that Gens displays, is proof of her remarkably acute understanding of the veiled references.’ Clément Taillia, in Forum Opera, spoke of ‘all the art of a song that desires to express itself…’ Véronique Gens’ talent is equally on display in this recording too, with the Orchestre National de Lille – an orchestra she already knows well – under Alexandre Bloch, its new chief conductor, whose appointment and first concerts and recordings have already caused a sensation. We can confidently predict that these two artists will be collaborating again in the near future… The Symphony in B flat major completes this programme: a summit of French symphonic writing, for some a milestone as important as the Symphony in D of Chausson’s teacher César Franck!

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REVIEWS:

A performance that ranks, unquestionably, among the finest to date. Superbly sung, and wonderfully well conducted and played by Alexandre Bloch and his Lille orchestra, this is an interpretation of great beauty and insight. Gens’s dark tone and her ability to fuse sound with sense allow her both to encompass the work’s rapturous lyricism and to map out the psychological subtlety of its depiction of the painful end of an affair.

– Gramophone

Lovers of French Romantic music will be in their element with this Chausson album. Eminent soprano Véronique Gens gives a quite stunning performance of the beautiful Poème de l’amour et de la mer and Alexandre Bloch and his players are in impressive form with the Symphonie.

– MusicWeb International

Classical Music

Classical Music

Includes motet(s) by Daniel Danielis. Ensemble: Pierre Robert Ensemble. Conductor: Frédéric Desenclos.

Jean-Marie Leclair, a pure product of the 18th century, was at the crossroads of styles, cultivating a virtuosic art combining melodies à la française and Italian virtuosity stemming from Corelli and Vivaldi. He was 49 when he undertook his first (and only) lyric tragedy: Scylla et Glaucus. A veritable masterpiece, revealing the obvious influence of Rameau, Scylla et Glaucus left a strong mark on French opera. First performed at the Académie Royale de Musique in 1746, this opera, which had a run of 17 performances and enjoyed great success, was only rediscovered in the 1980s (by John Eliot Gardiner in Lyon).

With this new series entitled ‘Salon de musique’, Alpha presents recordings made by artists who have enlivened the Fesival of Salon de Provence for some years now: the pianist Eric le Sage, who has made many recordings for Alpha, the clarinettist Paul Meyer, and others. With cellist Claudio Bohórquez, they have now recorded two Beethoven trios. By 1798, the year Ludwig van Beethoven composed his Trio for piano, clarinet and cello op.11, he was already well-known in Vienna as a remarkable improviser and an ambitious young composer. The piece was clearly aimed at the enlightened aristocracy, as well as competent musical amateurs. This did not prevent the critics, though universally positive, from judging the score to be over-complex in places. Dedicated to the Empress Marie-Theresa of Austria, the Septet was published in 1802 by Hofmeister, and upon being well-received it was then rearranged for various combinations. Beethoven himself made a version for clarinet, cello and piano, op.38 in E Flat major – the one recorded here.

Humor and reverence. With all the delicacy allowing humor and talent, Dominique Visse and his Ensemble Clément Janequin do mingle several faces of Christmas, between sacred vocal pieces and parodies the crisp text, with the young trio Musica Humana.

No entries show up in the Fanfare Archive for Benjamin Alard, which I suppose shouldn’t be surprising, since counting this new release his discography numbers only two recordings according to ArkivMusic; the other, also on Alpha, is a CD of Bach’s trio sonatas for organ. His official bio, however, cites two other CDs on a label, Editions Hortus, that may have limited distribution outside of France.

Born in 1985, the French Alard is both an award-winning harpsichordist and organist who studied at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. At 25, he has already performed with leading period-instrument ensembles, such as La Petite Bande under Sigiswald Kuijken and Capriccio Stravagante under Skip Sempé, and he has established himself as a leading presence as a keyboard artist on the early-music scene, participating in a number of international festivals.

Going up against established masters in this repertoire—and for apples-to-apples comparison I cite only harpsichordists—such as Christophe Rousset, Pieter-Jan Belder, Ralph Kirkpatrick, Gustav Leonhardt, Trevor Pinnock, Igor Kipnis, and Blandine Verlet—the young Alard has stones; you’ve got to give him that. The question is does he have the goods to pull it off? And the answer, in a word, is “yes.”

The six keyboard partitas that comprise Part I of Bach’s Clavier-Übung (Keyboard Practice) in its totality are arguably the pinnacle of the composer’s works for solo harpsichord. Though they are among Bach’s earliest pieces to be published (they appeared in print between 1726 and 1730), they are actually the last of his three sets of keyboard suites to be written. (They were composed between 1725 and 1730–31.) The English Suites were composed sometime between 1715 and 1720, and the French Suites, between 1722 and 1725. We may therefore assume that the partitas are a summation, up to that time, of Bach’s compositional style and technique as applied to the harpsichord, for which they were written.

Speculation has it that Bach intended to write a seventh partita, perhaps as a tribute to his predecessor in Leipzig, Johann Kuhnau, who had published two volumes of his own Neue Clavier-Übung, each containing seven partitas. Bach’s choice of keys for his six partitas does suggest a planned seventh that would have had to be in F Major to complete the scheme; indeed, F Major is the key of the Italian Concerto that opens the Clavier-Übung, part II. Is it possible that the movements of the Italian Concerto would have been incorporated into the seventh, missing, partita? It’s an interesting theory.

In three out of the six partitas, Bach pretty much follows standard operating procedure vis-à-vis succession of movements. All six partitas, without exception, begin with an introductory movement, though fancifully, perhaps, Bach calls each by a different name: Praeludium, Sinfonia, Fantasia, Ouverture, Praeambulum, and Toccata. These are followed in Nos. 1, 3, and 5 by the customary stylized dance movements: Allemande, Courante (or Corrente, depending on whether Bach was in French or Italian mood), and Sarabande. Again, in all six partitas, one or more take-your-pick dance movements, such as Menuet, Gavotte, Passepied, etc., are inserted after the Sarabande. And in all but No. 2, the partitas end with the customary concluding Gigue. But No. 2, one of the three “irregulars,” ends with a movement Bach calls Capriccio, which is not in the usual 6/8 or 12/8 gigue meter, but in 2/4, so it’s not just another gigue by a whimsical name.

In the two remaining “irregular” partitas, Nos. 4 and 6, Bach gets cutesy with the standard layout of movements, inserting an Aria or Air in between the Courante and Sarabande, so that we end up with insertions both before the Sarabande and after it. To mix it up further, in No. 4, Bach calls his Courante by its French name, but the Aria that follows it by its Italian name; whereas in No. 6, he reverses himself, calling his Corrente by its Italian name and his Air by its French name. Whether this has some special significance or not, I don’t know, but is it too much to imagine that Bach wasn’t the stern wig he’s often portrayed as, and that he was just being mischievous? The aforementioned Capriccio movement offers ample evidence of the composer’s off-the-wall humor; it’s a real ear-tickler.

A final footnote to this whole business is that at one point the partitas came close to being called German Suites to complement the already written English and French Suites, which, technically speaking, are no more English or French, respectively, than are the partitas German. And who would know better than Christophe Rousset? Harpsichordist, Baroque music specialist, and Frenchman, he has observed that all of Bach’s keyboard suites follow a largely Italian convention.

Now, back in Fanfare 27:4, Patrick Meanor reviewed a recording of the partitas on the Satirino label performed by harpsichordist Kenneth Weiss. That was in 2004. Six years later, as inexplicably but often happens, the same album was sent to the magazine to be reviewed again, and this time, as recently as 33:5, it was assigned to Christopher Brodersen. The American-born Weiss has long been active on the Parisian period-instrument scene, having collaborated with William Christie and Les Arts Florissants for many years. In any case, both Meanor and Brodersen found much to rave about in Weiss’s readings, which the harpsichordist performs on a copy of a Gottfried Silbermann instrument built by Anthony Sidey. I missed Meanor’s earlier review, but based on Brodersen’s glowing account, I decided to acquire the Weiss on my own. Contra my colleagues, I found Sidey’s harpsichord, or Satirino’s recording of it, hard and metallic sounding and fatiguing to listen to. So, only in part for that reason, Weiss’s recording would not have received my recommendation had I reviewed it.

That is not the case with the sound of Alard’s harpsichord, which is also modeled after a German instrument by Sidey. It is captured perfectly at an ideal distance in the ambient and ever so slightly reverberant acoustic of the Chapelle Notre-Dame de Bon-Secours in Paris. Balanced throughout its registers, of crystal clarity in its voicing, and so dulcet of tone is this instrument that I found myself listening, enchanted, to all six partitas straight through without tiring of it.

If Meanor found Weiss’s performances “passionate,” “poignant,” “terrifying,” and “filled with existential dread,” I found them aggressive, driven, and in-your-face—other reasons, in addition to the aforementioned clangorous and clattering sound of the instrument, that Weiss is not to my liking. In contrast, I find Alard’s readings poetic, lyrical, filled with grace, and ultimately sublime. Perhaps it’s the difference between the American in Paris, Weiss, and the patrician elegance and refinement of the natural-born Frenchman, Alard.

In Alard’s playing, I hear a natural and logical connection to, and extension of, François Couperin and the French keyboard tradition, and I find it exquisitely beautiful. The style is manifested in Alard’s exceptionally imaginative, perfectly timed, and delightful agréments that he applies so tastefully in the binary repeats. Even in the fiendishly difficult Capriccio of the C-Minor Partita, which is already wacky enough as is with its oddball dissonances and harmonic excursions, Alard finds the time and space between the notes to add just the right zinger of an embellishment. Just listen to the mordents that trip by at 1:29 and again at 1:33 in the repeat of the A section. But there are other ways to embellish besides adding ornamental notes, and you can hear it in Alard’s playing of the repeated B section. Here the embellishing takes the form of coordinating the right and left hands differently than in the first time through, so that the syncopated and offbeat rhythms in the counterpoint take on a totally different emphasis.

The more I listened to these performances, the more I came to believe that there is as much genius in Alard’s conception of this music as there is in Bach’s creation of it. For me, this is now, and will be for the foreseeable future, the be-all and end-all of Bach keyboard partita recordings. The set is beautifully presented in a four-panel cardboard foldout with detailed, informative notes in French and English and enhanced by a wealth of photographs. If Weiss’s partitas show up on Brodersen’s 2010 Want List, Alard’s may well show up on mine. But whether it does or not (there are always hard choices to make), if you care about Bach on the harpsichord, you must not be without this release for another minute.

-- Jerry Dubins, FANFARE [9/2010]

This recording is a manifesto from the world of one man, Jo l Grare... evoking concepts like modernism, culture, temporality, style, and improvisation with a singular vision. Percussion) forms a rich musical base to this invitation to travel, and play magnificent themes stemming from Spain, Turkey, China, and ancient music like pro-jazzmen play standards.

At the end of the 15th century, a young Roman shepherd discovered by accident the remains of the ancient palace built by Emperor Nero, the Domus Aurea or golden house. Thereafter, all the great artists of what History today calls Renaissance (Raffaello, Michelangelo ...) would descend into these « grottoes » to admire the last remains of Ancient Rome's painting and would launch a movement aspiring to a return to the times of Latin splendour. Amazingly vigorous, the erudite and exciting disc recorded by Roberto Festa's Daedalus ensemble leads us to rediscover the musical side of this school, of which Virgil was the model, and which will leave its mark on the whole of 16th century Europe.

CHOPIN Ballades: No. 1 in g; No. 2 in F; No. 3 in A?; No. 4 in f. Nocturnes: No. 1 in b?; No. 2 in E?; No. 3 in B; No. 20a in c?. Prelude No. 25 in c? • Arthur Schoonderwoerd (pn) (period instrument) • ALPHA 147 (61:49)


There are two factors that set Arthur Schoonderwoerd’s Chopin disc apart from most others, and their importance is likely to vary significantly depending on your point of view. First, the four ballades are separated by individual nocturnes and preceded by a single prelude, the idea suggested in the notes being that the temporary change to smaller forms helps to reset the ears in preparation for the more complex and formally idiosyncratic ballades. Second, the instrument on the disc is not a modern concert grand, but an instrument contemporaneous with the composer, fashioned by Ignace Pleyel in 1839.


Schoonderwoerd’s accounts of these classics are marked by slower tempos and less rhythmic flexibility than those of most other pianists. The dynamic range is also narrower than what we are accustomed to, although this trait could be the result of his choice of the Pleyel keyboard. The instrument might also be at least partly responsible for his relatively intimate readings, a characteristic that is often quite fetching in lower dynamic levels but is less convincing in grander moments.


This emphasis on metric clarity over excessive rubato is especially noteworthy in the Fourth Ballade, which begins with a waltz almost steady enough in pulse to serve as accompaniment to a dance. The G-Minor Ballade is the slowest I’ve heard, rivaled in length only by Krystian Zimerman among major pianists on disc. His patience can be frustrating at times, lending a certain cautious calculation to music that benefits from at least a measure of impetuosity and an illusion of risk. On the other hand, there is a clarity to textures and rhythms that can be quite illuminating, even if momentum tends to be in short supply.


The four nocturnes and the single prelude are treated with a shade more flexibility, but again somewhat less than is the current norm. Here the delicacy of the instrument pays dividends, although the reduction in sustaining sound gives these beauties a skeletal aura that may not be to everyone’s liking. Tempos are closer to standard, a wise strategy given the thinner sustainability.


My favorite recordings of the ballades (Ax, Rubenstein, and Kissin) and nocturnes (Moravec and Pollini) haven’t been supplanted by Schoonderwoerd, but his view is a legitimate one, and well worth a listen by Chopin devotees. If you have an interest in hearing this music on a keyboard from the composer’s era, all the more reason to give it a shot.


FANFARE: Michael Cameron

Composed in 1944 and first performed at the Salle Gaveau in Paris on 26 March 1945 by Yvonne Loriod, this is the second great pianistic cycle by Olivier Messiaen: a major work indeed, not only in the composer's oeuvre but in the entire repertoire for solo piano. As we know, it's origin is in the faith and spirituality of Olivier Messiaen, who described it as: 'The Contemplation of the Child-God in the cradle, and the gazes fixed upon Him: from the inexpressible Gaze of God the Father to the multiple Gaze of the Church of love, also taking in the unheard Gaze of the Spirit of joy, the tender Gaze of the Virgin, of the Angels, of the Magi, and of those creatures that are immaterial or symbolic (Time, Extreme Height, Silence, the Star, the Cross).' He continues: 'It is a complex of sounds destined for perpetual variations, pre-existing in the abstract as a series, but very concrete and easy to recognize by their colours: a steely grey-blue traversed by bright red and orange, a mauve-tinted violet spotted with leather-brown and encircled in deep purple.' The vision of this work transmitted by Martin Helmchen - a great piano virtuoso who is himself marked by a strong sense of spirituality - is another substantial contribution to the Messiaenic monument.

Edouard Ferlet has already explored intriguing byways for the Alpha label: in 2015 he and Violaine Cochard recorded ‘Plucked Unplucked’, an album associating piano and harpsichord – a successful venture that will soon see a follow-up. The bassist Stephane Kerecki has already made several recordings for Outhere, including ‘Nouvelle Vague’, a prizewinner at the Victoires de la Musique. The career of the trumpet player Airelle Besson has been on a high since 2015, when she won both the Prix Django Reinhardt of the Academie du Jazz and the ‘Revelation’ Award at the Victoires du Jazz. These three jazz musicians met and decided to form a trio in order to combine their universes and their ambitions. Here is the fruit of their first year of companionship, a programme presenting compositions by each of them, an album wearing the colours of jazz but featuring several tracks directly inspired by great standards of the classical repertoire, including ‘Es ist vollbracht’ from Bach’s St John Passion, the Pavanes of Ravel and Faure, the Valse sentimentale of Tchaikovsky, and Khachaturian’s Sabre Dance, which can be recognised behind the ‘Stances du sabre’. The refinement of the compositions and the playing and the musicians’ capacity for listening to each other are a source of endless pleasure and fulfilment.

A Baroque West Side Story, Tancrède tells of the absolute but impossible love between two young people brought together by their passion but separated by their origins. • We are in the time of the Crusades: Tancredi is the champion of the Frankish army, and Clorinda the passionaria of the Saracen troops. • In the labyrinth of sentiments, sorcerer Isménor’s magic wand confuses the issues, luring the two heroes into the enchanted forest to better prepare their downfall. • With Tancrède, André Campra (1660-1744) established himself as one of the great opera composers between Lully and Rameau.

The Belgian group Vox Luminis, directed by the bass Lionel Meunier, is now acknowledged as belonging among the world’s elite vocal ensembles, especially for its interpretations of German Baroque sacred music. The group's program of Bach cantatas are among the composer’s earliest, having been written in 1707/1708. Notable among them is the poignant cantata ‘Gottes Zeit ist die allerbeste Zeit’ (God’s time is the best of all times) BWV 106, also known as the ‘Actus tragicus’, which was composed by the 22-year old composer for a funeral ceremony.

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REVIEWS:

There are many beautiful moments in this program of four early cantatas by Bach. The seriousness with which Lionel Meunier and Vox Luminis approach these works is evident, and the forces are ideal.

– BBC Music Magazine

Vox Luminis live up to their name with clear, soft textures redolent of 17th-century devotional rhetoric. The single voices and instruments constitute a remarkably crystalline landscape. Emotional restraint also offers some ear-pricking moments.

– Gramophone

Les Ambassadeurs launch a series of recordings devoted to the repertory of the Dresdner Hofkapelle at the time of Bach, with the aim of rediscovering the splendid sound of an ensemble then regarded as the orchestral ideal. Although the concertos compiled by Les Ambassadeurs bear no explicit dedication to the Dresden orchestra, they feature the instrumentation typical of the court Kapelle.

In Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach’s catalogue, the music for solo keyboard and the chamber music occupy central positions. In his youth, Carl Philipp Emanuel, who was left-handed, did not play string instruments such as the violin or viola, but rather the harpsichord and organ (not to overlook the flute). It was as a harpsichordist that, in 1738, he joined the entourage of the future King of Prussia, Frederick II, before following him to Berlin upon his accession two years later and then formally entering his service. In 1767, he was offered the succession of his godfather, Telemann, as director of music in Hamburg. He arrived in the Hanseatic city in March 1768, and for the last twenty years of his life, it was church music that occupied much of his time and effort. The symphonies of Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach are all in three movements, quite often linked without a break. Highly original and typical of north Germany, the symphonies turn their back on the style gallant, on Johann Stamitz, founder of the Mannheim School, and on the Viennese style. The Concerto in A major was originally written for harpsichord and strings, but was later transcribed for cello by the composer, likely for the cellist Christian Friedrich Schale, who hosted a Musikalische Assemblee in his Berlin home every week.

The tenor Julian Pregardien joins ALPHA for several recording projects that will showcase every facet of his talent, notably lieder and oratorio. His first album on the label is devoted to one of the greatest masterpieces in the history of music, Winterreise, but in a version with orchestra composed by Hans Zender in 1993. He scored the work for orchestral forces very differently from the ensembles used in the nineteenth century. Hans Zender describes his work as a ‘creative transformation’: “My own reading of Winterreise does not seek a new expressive interpretation, but systematically takes advantage of the freedoms that performers normally allow themselves in an intuitive way: slowing down or accelerating the tempo, transposition into different keys, emphasizing and nuancing colors.” Following a staged production of this version of the work, Christian Merlin wrote in Le Figaro in 2018: “A spellbinding Winterreise . . . The tenor Julian Pregardien, at once an exceptional singer and a committed actor, gives an incendiary performance combining vocal expressiveness, loving attention to the words and theatrical presence with sensitivity and intelligence in equal measure.”

BACH Missa 1733 • Raphaël Pichon, cond; Eugénie Warnier (sop); Anna Reinhold (sop); Carlos Mena (alt); Emiliano Gonzalez Toro (ten); Konstantin Wolff (bs); Pygmalion • ALPHA 188 (56:57 Text and Translation)

The disc title is a bit misleading to the uninitiated—is this a newly discovered Bach Mass setting? No; it is instead the original version of the Kyrie and Gloria movements for the Mass in B Minor. The work is referred to in the booklet notes as a “fifth Missa Brevis” setting, but is on a far grander scale than those of the four Lutheran Masses, BWV 233-236. Frustrated by his continual difficulties with the Leipzig town council, Bach wrote the work to apply for a position as court composer in Dresden to Augustus III, the newly crowned Elector of Saxony and King of Poland. While the actual position went to Johann Adolf Hasse (already well established there), in 1736 Bach was belatedly granted an emeritus title, the prestige of which gave him greater leverage in his dealings with the Leipzig authorities. Upon compiling the entire B-Minor Mass in 1749, Bach made numerous minor revisions to the original versions of these movements. The rationales for this recording are thus twofold: to make available to the public this earlier version and to complete a set of “Missa Brevis” settings.

In 32:4 and 34:4 George Chien gave enthusiastic reviews to the recordings of the Lutheran Masses by the forces of Pygmalion, a combined period instrument-choral ensemble based in Paris, whose conductor Raphaël Pichon sang in ensembles under the direction of Ton Koopman and Jordi Savall. In the first of those reviews, he complained that “Unfortunately, the notes for this disc have a lot to say about Breugel the Elder’s painting The Fall of the Rebel Angels (which is not reproduced), but precious little about Pichon and/or Pygmalion.” That fault has been modestly rectified here, but unfortunately in the wrong direction. Here the digipak provides color reproductions of the subject painting for this release, the 1445 Creation and Expulsion from Paradise of Giovanni di Paolo di Grazia (1403–c.1482), including more detailed close-ups of two sections, to accompany a four-page essay devoted to it; but apart from a complete list of the instrumentalists and choral members, once again not a word is provided about the ensemble and its conductor.

Even more frustratingly, Pichon provides over eight pages of notes in which he discusses in detail the history of this Missa, the determination from historical evidence of the size of forces to employ for his recording, numerous details about interpretive decisions with respect to tempos, phrasing, articulation, etc., which is all to the good. However, he has next to nothing to say about the matter of single greatest import, which is the primary raison d’etre for this project: the actual differences between this version and that of 1749. Instead, airily referring to information provided by recently published critical editions, he only says: “They show a number of differences compared to the version that is commonly played today, and thus give rise to minor variants....For the first time, the different versions of the Mass in B Minor have been identified and compared, thus giving us a better understanding of the genesis and history of the work. The original aria for bass voice, horn, and two bassoons, ‘Quoniam tu solus sanctus,’ in particular, reveals many differences in the vocal parts.” Somebody ought to smack him upside the head!

Fortunately, as suggested by the more informative aspects of Pichon’s notes, far greater thought has been devoted to the performance than to the booklet contents, and overall it is quite a fine version. Be warned that this is the period-instrument approach with a vengeance. Both the strings and choral voices have a rigorously “straight” tone and total absence of vibrato to the maximum degree; the horn part is performed solely by overblowing rather than using any hand stopping in the bell in order to alter pitches; the timpani is played with the explosive aggressiveness of a howitzer; tempos in the faster sections are brisk indeed (the closing “Cum sancto Spiritu” is a mad dash to the finish line); and so on. However, Pichon makes a very satisfying unity of what in lesser hands would degenerate into an exercise in hidebound pedantry. I am particularly taken with the exquisitely delicate use of the theorbo in accompaniment passages, such as for the alto-tenor duet “Domine Deus,” which dances with airy lightness. Of the soloists—who do sing with vibrato!—the two sopranos, male alto, and tenor are excellent; the bass has a somewhat diffuse and unfocused vocal emission, but not to a degree that is a serious detriment. The chorus and instrumentalists are first-rate, as fine as those of any other top-tier period-performance group; the recorded sound is up close and has a welcome degree of resonance that takes the edge off the astringency of this ensemble’s sonic palette. Quite needlessly, the brief Latin text (with English and French translations) is spread out over three pages.

All things considered, this disc is something of a curiosity, primarily of interest to the Bach completist. However, if you have the curiosity and the funds to investigate it, and are partial to this type of interpretive approach, the rewards are considerable, and so I commend it to your attention accordingly. It will be interesting to see where Pichon and Pygmalion choose to go from here.

FANFARE: James A. Altena

This was L’Opéra Harmonique’s first production at Opéra de Rouen. It is a singularly thought-provoking take on Purcell’s famous piece. The extended duration is due to various inserts along the way in the manner of the period. The orchestra, using period instruments, is wonderfully polished throughout, making the pointed dances a particular delight.

Here, the sea is the ‘matrix of the action’, to quote the booklet notes. As a “reflection of the protagonists’ souls”, it shadows the fluidity of the action and the characters’ response to the travails of doomed love. Cécile Roussat and Julien Lubek have done a sterling, hyper-imaginative job of direction, choreography, sets and costumes. The stage deliberately seems to invoke the mythic, a magical time before ours, artificial in its immediate effect but, via this distancing, allowing the core emotions of the drama to shine forth. The production sets out to depict all characters involved in the action, even those merely mentioned in the libretto (like Diana). Also Cupid draws his bow in stylised movements onstage during the course of the dramatic and beautifully expressive Overture. The excellent choir is offstage throughout, a disembodied Greek chorus capable of the greatest delight as well as the deepest pathos (“Great minds against themselves conspire”). Replacing them onstage, perhaps, are the dancers and acrobats. Prepare for a raft of the interpolations mentioned above; gird yourself for example, also for trapeze artists, swing from the ceiling as the lovers’ hands seek to touch, a scene that moves effortlessly into “Let the triumphs of love and of beauty be shown”.

Vocally, the first thing to note is that this international cast delivers the English text astonishingly well. As much care has gone into diction as has been lavished on any other performance aspect and indeed on the production.

The Dido is Alaskan soprano Vivica Genaux, stunning in her expressivity and decidedly feisty in her final scene with Aeneas. Yet she is truly touching in her Lament, beginning with her arms fully extended as if to reflect the length and beauty of her phrasing. Finally, she is enveloped by the sea, the sea that has provided such a powerful metaphor throughout. At last, also, we the DVD viewers see the chorus, now in the orchestra pit. Feathers fall at the end — traditionally a sign of angelic presence – is this the reference?

Portuguese soprano Ana Quintans is a fresh-voiced, charming Belinda, wondrously nimble at “Haste, haste to town”. Perhaps the surprise is a male singer for the part of the Sorceress, a high baritone, Marc Mauillon, who also takes the role of the Sailor. The use of a male voice was suggested by a 1706 prompt book, and 'hir' (to use a conflation of “his” and “her”) scenes are augmented by dancers. S/he is a sort of camp octopus. Don’t buy the DVD on this information alone, but I admit that it sounds intriguing.

As Aeneas, Henk Neven is vocally superb although perhaps his stage presence does not quite suggest Aeneas’ magnetism. However, this is altogether a most fascinating DVD, superbly performed. The camera-work is good, if not excellent — sometimes sudden close-ups can seem rather random. Not by any means your run-of-the-mill Dido, but for those that already own the William Christie Glyndebourne on Opus Arte (or that same conductor’s version on Fra Musica with Hilary Summers), or Hogwood’s ROH DVD (Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment with a cast that includes Sarah Connolly), this DVD still acts as a necessary complement.

-- Colin Clarke, MusicWeb International

With their poetry, their passionate and intimate lyricism, their refined style that gradually reveals hidden depths, the thirteen Nocturnes of Gabriel Fauré are the most significant group of works in his oeuvre for solo piano. Composed over a period of forty-six years (between 1875 and 1821), they bear witness to the composer’s remarkable stylistic evolution. From a form of expression rooted in romanticism, to an aesthetic fully aligned with 20th-century modernity, Fauré can be said to have shaped his musical personality like a sculptor. His Nocturnes are not all of equal importance, but as a whole their diversity and development offer a perfect panorama of his art. Éric Le Sage, one of the French piano school’s main representatives, whose many recordings for Alpha include the complete chamber music of Fauré, here interprets the repertoire closest to his heart.