Antonín Reicha and Sigismund Neukomm were contemporaries. Their time in Vienna, where both were students of Joseph Haydn, crossed from 1802–04, and from 1810 until the end of their lives both had their permanent residence in Paris. It is therefore easy to imagine that their paths crossed several times. In common was their striving to preserve the style of Viennese Classicism, fully expressed in the works presented here.

Antonín Reicha’s (1770–1836) Quintet for Clarinet and String Quartet Op. 89 is typical of his balanced, classical style. Overall, the work reflects Reicha's affinity with opera. The harmonic turns are subordinated to the clarity of the vocal melody and the specifications of the form; everything has its place and its good order. Yet, in spite of this seemingly rigid formula there are surprising moments, for example the long syncopated melodic line at the beginning of the development in the first movement. The clarinet responds to the brash overture-like beginning of the opening theme with lyrically contrasting vocal garlands, whose motives are immediately imitated by the strings; an artfully counterpointing exchange between the instruments unfolds. What at first glance looks like the schematic application of well-learned compositional skill turns out on closer inspection (and repeated listening) to be a successful musical testimony to its time with many hidden and sophisticated ideas.

In Sigismund Neukomm’s (1778–1858) Clarinet Quintet Op. 8, published in 1809, one can hear his desire to manifest admiration for his ‘three-leaf clover’ of influences: Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven. In its entirety, Neukomm's Clarinet Quintet radiates more noble elegance than original innovation, and one can well imagine that this expression corresponded perfectly to the composer’s own attitude to life.

Gottlieb Muffat’s oeuvre, dedicated almost in its entirety to keyboard instruments and skilfully straddling the stile antico and stile moderno, deserves more detailed attention than it has ever been afforded. The majority of sources containing music by Muffat are unpublished, with only two collections published at the composer’s own behest during his years in the Emperor’s service in Vienna. One of these is the Componimenti Musicali per il Cembalo (Augsburg, 1739).

This collection contains 6 Suites and a Ciacona with 38 variations for solo harpsichord. The composer describes these seven works as capricci or galanterie to be performed in the stile moderno and to suit modern tastes. Although arranged in the conventional order of Allemande–Courante–Sarabande–Gigue, Muffat also added various optional dances, displaying no shortage of innovation. The first movements are introductory in nature, often fugal in form and varying in style and pace: Ouverture (Suites 1 and 5), Prelude (Suite 2) and Fantaisie (Suites 3, 4 and 6). The seventh piece in the collection, the Ciacona con 38 Variazioni, is a special case. As Christopher Hogwood suggests in his introduction to the modern edition (Orpheus, 2009), the Ciacona could be another tribute to the imperial family, as the number of variations matches the age Charles VI’s niece, Maria Amalia, would have been on 22 October 1739.

Muffat’s interest in contemporary harpsichord composition is most clearly evident in his transcription and reinterpretation of works by George Frideric Handel, based on a manuscript copy of the Suites des pièces pour le clavecin he held in his library. Muffat reworked the suites in Handel’s collection, suggesting new ornamentation, distributing the notes differently between the hands, changing the clefs and sometimes note values, and adding slurs and cadenzas. He then applied everything he had observed while rewriting Handel’s suites to his own Componimenti musicali: including a table of ornaments, which the composer asks be played with ‘art and discretion’; he considers the positioning of the player’s hands on the keyboard in his writing and avoids using multiple clefs on one line to prevent confusion; he describes the optimum way to use the thumb for accidentals; and he provides the correct technical interpretation of trills and slurs.

Study of the Componimenti reveals what could be defined as a pedagogical intent, as well as a clear desire to make the score unambiguous and accessible by means of his introductory instructions. The collection contributed greatly to setting a new benchmark for keyboard writing in the lands of the Viennese Empire.

Duarte’s Partita was completed in 1974. It’s a substantial work in four movements, using all original material. As in the Variations on a Theme of Štepan Rak he adopts a four-note motif, which may be heard forwards, backwards, inverted and stretched. Variations on an Italian Folk Song Op. 139 was written in 2000. It draws on the second movement, “Canzona”, of Duarte’s prior Suite piemontese, which was based on a combination of two tunes: Il testamento dell’avvelenato and Re Gilardin. This gentle theme is characterised by simple movements of a step or a fourth. The six variations all begin with this stepwise movement but they quickly gain individual characters. Valse lyrique (2000) is one of the three short dances Duarte wrote late in his career. The second theme, clearly derived from the first, includes some hemiolas as well as combined harmonics and natural notes. The central section features the melody in the bass. Valse en rondeau was written in 1997 for the American guitarist David Starobin. Duarte stated: “I decided to make reference to my origin as a jazz musician and to my interest in early music (the Rondeau form) and to exercise my unshakeable belief in melody.” The origin of the Variations on a Theme of Štepan Rak Op. 100 is unique. In 1984, Rak was staying with Duarte when Vladimir Mikulka performed a lunchtime concert in London. At the end of the concert, Mikulka announced that he was going to perform an unusual encore – a theme, but without variations that had yet to be written. Afterwards he announced that Rak, Koshkin and Duarte should exchange themes with each other to create six new variation works, and he presented Duarte with Rak’s theme on a piece of manuscript paper. Andres Segovia, a supreme Anglophile, married his third wife in Gibraltar (“under the British flag, on Spanish soil”), and their son was born in London. Duarte’s 3 Songs without Words for Carlos Andres were a present to the happy couple. Danza eccentrica (2000) was dedicated to the Italian guitarist Domenico Lafasciano with the note, “Here is your dance. It may not be what you expected, but it’s what I’ve written – not another ‘cloned’ rumba, tango, waltz or whatever, but something with more individual character.” The unexpected aspects include dissonant harmonies, bass notes which move in ¾ against the treble in 6/8 and sections more reminiscent of a hurdy-gurdy. The Italian guitarist Angelo Gilardino wrote to Duarte about his Fantasia and Fugue on Torre Bermeja Op. 30: “…the melodic and rhythmic feeling is of the sort to easily produce the fascination of the public”. The Torre Bermeja in question is the piano piece by Isaac Albeniz, Op. 92 No. 12. Although it carries Op. 62 (1974) on its cover, the little Prelude en arpèges was written in 1954/5 and intended as the first movement of a Harp Suite Op. 18 that was never completed.

On this unique and originally programmed journey, the violist Massimo Piva takes the kind of fantasy journey (Fantasiereise) that forms one of the cornerstones of German Romanticism. It is in the context of highly wrought, fantastic tales that Schumann’s style is formed from a literary point of view: Hoffmann's short stories and Jean Paul's novels, inhabited by bizarre characters and surreal situations, are his polar stars. On the musical side, he had an 18th-century heritage of fantasies by composers such as Mozart or C.P.E. Bach to draw upon, in which the notion of the fantasy is still linked to the Baroque idea of improvisation.
This is the background to the Marchenbilder Op.113, which Schumann worked on feverishly in March 1851. As a masterpiece in his late style, the collection shivers with obsession and fevered dreams. Placing them side by side illuminates the degree to which Reinecke was inspired by Schumann’s example in his own Fantasiestucke Op.43. But this recital moves on into less familiar territory, where the viola’s personality as a melancholy guide takes us to repertoire by Vieuxtemps (an F minor Elegy), Wieniawski (Rêverie in F sharp minor) and Sibelius (Rondo in D minor) by composers much better known for their prowess as violinists, and as violinst-composers.
The recital reaches a natural chronological end with the pre-eminent poet of the viola in the early decades of the 20th century, Frank Bridge. No violist he, but inspired by the artistry of Lionel Tertis, Bridge came to write a good deal for the instrument such as the Two Pieces featured here, and found its mellow, soulful voice a natural fit for his own as a composer. As a former member of the Lucerne Festival Orchestra and Orchestra Mozart, Massimo Piva worked extensively with the conductor Claudio Abbado. As a member of the Quartetto Prometeo he has performed both modern and classic repertoire across Europe, working with composers including Sciarrino and Fedele, and recorded the complete works for string quartet by Hugo Wolf on Brilliant Classics (94166).

Vivaldi’s Sonatas for two violins, anco senza basso se piace (also without bass if preferred), represent one of the innumerable peaks of his compositional prowess. They are structured in three movements, each of which develops in a bipartite manner, making evident reference to concerto form, with only the internal bipartite structure alluding to sonata form. This distinguishes Vivaldi’s approach to the duo without bass from that of some of his European colleagues, namely Telemann (Sonates sans basse, 1727) and Leclair (Sonates à deux violons sans basse Op.3, 1730).
The palette of colours and expressive effects used by Vivaldi in these sonatas is truly impressive: arpeggios, double stops, high-register passages, extremely complex articulations requiring exceptional bow technique, ornate cantabile lines (to be further ornamented by the performer) and even more radical cantabile in the central movements. Here, Vivaldi’s mastery is evident in a sensitive use of lines that are disarming in their simplicity yet tremendously expressive, using a modest language of triplets, appogiaturas and Lombard rhythms in perfect amounts to maximum effect.
A handwritten inventory of the music collection of the noble Collalto family at Brtnice attests along with 15 concertos by Vivaldi to a Duetto, or rather, a Sonata for 2 violins in five movements by one Andrea Zani, a composer who emulated Vivaldi’s music and style to the degree that historians assume Zani studied under Vivaldi for a time. (That being said, Zani stands out as one of the purest and most interesting composers of instrumental music in Italy in the first half of the 18th century. His works – at once original and innovative – are largely yet to be studied and performed.) Sadly all that survives of the Collalto collection is that inventory, but Zani’s Duetto has come down to us via three sources preserved in Sweden. As in Vivaldi’s compositions, the movements in Zani’s work are bipartite in form. Zani, too, establishes the colour palette of his compositions with highly effective progressions, employing the whole expressive armoury fielded by his idol, Vivaldi. Zani’s writing also makes frequent use of a great rhythmic propulsion. Finally, and in contrast to Vivaldi, Zani did not provide a bass ad libitum, indicating his clear intent for duo rather than trio sonata performance.

From the outset of his career, Jean Sibelius was recognized as an outstanding representative of a musical language perceived as typically Finnish. In Finland, the dawn of the 20th century saw a veritable outbreak of nationally inspired artistic activities., It was a time of cultural and national self-discovery for Sibelius, too. He allowed himself be stimulated by the whole of Finland’s folklore tradition, without resorting to specific examples of folksong.

For many years, Carl Nielsen was viewed outside his native Denmark as the poor cousin of his more famous Scandinavian counterparts, Grieg and Sibelius. Yet his achievements as Denmark’s greatest symphonist of the 20th century were, if anything, even more remarkable than the successes of his geographical neighbors. Nielsen’s symphonic output is some of the most remarkable of its time.

The Norwegian conductor and composer Johann Svendsen was born in 1840 in Christiania (now Oslo). in 1867, he finished his Symphony No. 1, a work that Grieg later described as showing scintillating genius, superb national feeling and really brilliant handling of an orchestra. In 1872 Svendsen returned to Christiania beginning a fruitful period that saw the creation of his Symphony No. 2 in B flat major Op. 15.

Hugo Alfven's First Symphony (1897) has a melancholy Sturm und Drang mood that recurs at intervals in his later compositions, but there is also a life affirming side that flourished in his Second Symphony, two years later. Of his Third Symphony, he stated "it depicts neither concrete nor abstract. It is an expression of the joy of living, an expression of the sun-lit happiness that filled my whole being.”

Wilhelm Stenhammar's Symphony Op. 34  saw the light of day in 1907, dedicating it to “my dear friends, the members of the Goteborg Symphony Orchestra.” He was to remain its chief conductor until 1922. That symphony, which had its first performance under the composer’s direction in 1915, was in fact Stenhammar’s second and is today called Symphony No. 2, even if the composer himself never gave it that number.

Edvard Grieg’s Symphony in C minor, which the composer withdrew, saw scholar after scholar writing about it disparagingly, with much discussion of the its style, all too often based on the question: what are its unoriginal or unsuccessful features? But it was Grieg himself who began the tradition with his admonition that it “must never be performed”. Now, however, very few feel, on moral grounds, that the work should not be performed.

For the Cordas et Bentu Duo, Sardinia has always been a source of inspiration; the ensemble’s name, Sardinian for “strings and wind”, is an homage to the island’s culture. Apeddu and Luciani’s mission to find original compositions connected to their roots began after hearing the stunning Acabbadora for guitar by Francesco Morittu, and the Duo would commission a new work from him: Attítus for alto flute and guitar. That was the first step in a project that went on to see them commission a range of composers from Sardinia and beyond to write music celebrating Sardinia. Traditionally, families would gather in front of the fire after dinner to tell each other stories from legends and ancient myths. Contos de foghile (Tales from the fireside), by the Sardinian composer Roberto Piana, is divided into four short episodes, each dedicated to a different story. The island’s fascinating mythology includes epic tales, monstrous creatures and legendary beings, and without a doubt the key players in these fables are the Janas, beautiful little creatures with a dark side – at times fairies or witches – who have extremely delicate skin that must avoid sunlight. These five short compositions depict a few moments from the lives of these mythological creatures, from the moment they wake until the dawn, when they go back into their caves to avoid being burned. According to Sardinian tradition, the Attítus are laments sung by wailers at a funeral. These dirges are highly repetitive in nature but can change suddenly and take on a very different tone depending on what the singer wants to express about the deceased. This piece is made up of four episodes. Composed at the height of lockdown in March 2020, it came from the need to give grant some mental space to death, understood in cultural rather than biological terms. As the title suggests, Memorie di Nora is a piece that takes inspiration from the archaeological site of the same name and is intended to evoke a possible imagined past for it. The composition, formally a fantasia, is made up of several parts that flow seamlessly from one to the next, invoking ancient rituals and dances as if to celebrate their survival in the traces of temples and mosaics overlooking the sea. Ammentos de siddhàdos et janas (Memories of treasures and fairies) is a short suite, originally titled Three Sardinian impressions, that expresses the composer’s emotions, thoughts and memories from his brief stay on the island. A unique piece inspired by the birthplace of the musicians to whom it is dedicated, Concertino di Alghero is an homage to Maria Chessa Lai, a primary school teacher and poet who wrote predominantly in Algherese. This dialect, an ancient branch of Catalan, is a linguistic island within an island. The work’s three movements trace a musical outline of one of many possible readings of Maria Chessa Lai’s Algherese poem En Dins De Mi.

The pianist Ekaterina Litvintseva won critical praise for her solo album on Piano Classics (PCL10226) of piano music by Dora Pejačević: ‘You owe it to yourself to make the acquaintance of Dora Pejačević if you haven’t done so already.’ (Fanfare, May 2022)

With her colleagues in Trio RoVerde, she now turns to the Croatian composer’s chamber music. The Cello Sonata dates from 1913, the same year as Pejačević wrote the first piano concerto by any Croatian composer. Like Brahms’s First Cello Sonata and Elgar’s Cello Concerto, it is cast in a moody E minor, with a yearning character are established from the outset by a long-limbed cantabile melody for the cellist. Pejačević proceeds to develop a passionate dialogue between cello and piano through an assured handling of sonata form.

The following sequence of miniatures for violin and piano evokes the world of the salon in their titles, but the Schumannesque warmth of the Romanze Op.22, from 1907, is replaced by a style at once more wistful and refined by the time of the Elegie, which she wrote in the same pivotal year (1913) as the Cello Sonata. From seven years later, the Meditation Op.51 makes no retreat into solipsism but paints a three-minute sketch of a new and uncertain world.
From 1910, the C major Piano Trio returns us to safer ground. Pejačević demonstrates a notable sensitivity in writing for a tricky combination of instruments: strong melodic writing for the string instruments counterbalances the weight of the piano part, which is in any case deftly pointed and touched by the composer’s experience as a performer. If Pejačević’s chamber music has not taken its place in the standard repertoire of late-Romanticism, it is our loss, and one that an increasing number of performances and recordings such as this one are belatedly redressing.

New Czech recordings of perennially popular serenades from the pen of Dvorak at a turning point in his career, full of freshness, Bohemian charm and flowing melodies. The Serenades for Strings and Winds never get old, and never lose their appeal, especially in the hands of musicians who feel this music in their bones. The opening of the Serenade for Strings issues the warmest welcome to a world poised between the 18th and 19th centuries, looking back in terms of its reassuring character as music for nocturnal entertainment, yet also unmistakably belonging to the Czech composer’s own place and time – Prague, 1875 – with its Bohemian turn of harmony and yearning cantabile. Composed three years later as a counterpart, the Serenade for Winds marks a development in the composer’s technique – more elegant handling of counterpoint and melodic development – from the earlier work. At the same time, the Mozartian air of good-natured humour is even stronger. Both serenades relax into slow movements of poetry without pathos, and each of them was composed within less than a fortnight’s work, testifying to the inspiration felt by the composer as he worked at his material. The melodies seem to come, as Richard Strauss later said of himself, as easily as a cow giving milk.

The Czech Philharmonic Chamber Orchestra Pardubice has made several albums of Czech repertoire for Brilliant Classics and Piano Classics, most recently the neglected Piano Concerto of Dvorak (PCL10272), as well as the complete piano concertante works of Chopin with Ekaterina Litvinseva, and the Cello Concerto of Dvorak (95696). The recording was made under studio conditions in the orchestra’s home concert hall, yielding a warm, transparent sound which is ideally suited to these intimate pieces.

The legendary pianist and conductor joins his clarinettist son and Italian musicians in music by one of Italy’s most powerfully individual living composers. Born in 1971, Francesco Antonioni studied in Rome with Azio Corghi and then in London with Julian Anderson and George Benjamin: a formidable pedigree of teachers testifying to the strength of both his technique and his creative voice, which became internationally known in 2001 with a string quartet written for the Venice Biennale. Since then, Antonioni has gone on to assemble a substantial catalogue of fastidiously crafted works for both the stage and the concert hall.

This collection features two pieces for string orchestra, Ballata and Sull’ombra, alongside his concerto for clarinet and viola, Lights after the Thaw. Premiered in 2009, Ballata arose from a commission of the Birmingham Contemporary Music Group, to be conducted by Benjamin, and takes its initial inspiration from an anonymous lullaby, and a ballad by the 14th-century composer Francesco Landini. These are songs about love, seen from two opposite points, near the beginning and the end of life, and their meeting-point in this modern Ballata is bittersweet and charged with tension.

The origins of Sull’Ombra are no less distinguished. Yuri Bashmet conducted the Moscow Soloists in the premiere in 2014. Antonioni found himself moved to write it by lines of John Donne, which themselves reminded him of poetry by Eugenio Montale. The shadows here are dark indeed, though always lit with imagination, and harmony that leads the listener on, just as the concertante Lights after the Thaw draws out the intrinsically songful character of both solo instruments, in search of a point of reference amid a pervasive melancholia. There is a refined ear for harmony and texture evident in all three works, which reward attentive listening by anyone interested in the music of today.

Giovanni Battista Viotti was a man of humble origins who studied with Gaetano Pugnani in the tradition of the Corelli school. By the age of 20 he was already an esteemed violinist, performing concerts in Geneva, Bern, Berlin and Saint Petersburg, and he eventually chose to settle in Paris. However, as a court musician for Marie Antoniette, he was forced to flee to London in 1792, where, a short while later, he was accused of spying on behalf of the Jacobins. He returned to Paris and was celebrated during the Restoration period, but eventually came back to London, where he died in poverty. Compositionally he serves as a bridge between the Classical period and the first signs of Romanticism, and he wrote an impressive 29 concertos for his own instrument, the violin. The 22nd, in A minor, shows his renowned compositional intelligence at it's peak. Brahms, by no means known for the generosity of his opinions, wrote in a letter to Clara Schumann: "This concerto... is a magnificent piece, of remarkable freedom in it's invention; it sounds as if [Viotti] were fantasising, and everything is masterfully conceived and executed". The work is divided into three movements: the first of these, an Allegro moderato, abandons the tradition of an energetic and virtuosic opening, and instead introduces a meditative, highly refined atmosphere. The cantabile violin theme soon evolves into a flourish that pre-empts the subsequent bright and complex dramatic beauty of the cadenza. Only the third movement, Agitato assai, is Classical in it's inspiration, featuring a nimble dialogue between soloist and orchestra, albeit with strong contrapuntal hints, while the vibrant central Adagio's echoes of Mozart are pulled in the direction of pre-Romantic angst. Luigi Maria Cherubini, perhaps best known today for his monumental Requiem, like Viotti suffered the consequences of being culturally close to an overthrown ancien r�gime, in his case that of Napoleon. The arrival of King Louis XVIII gave him respite, and indeed he became one of France's greatest musicians, despite his Italian origins. His Symphony in D major's four movements convey that "dual compositional nationality" right from the initial Moderato, straying at times into pomposity but with plenty of moments of progressive expressive intimacy. Cherubini was admired by Haydn, and even by the moody Beethoven, who appreciated the "dramaticism" of his work. The coupling on this album reflects a real-life acquaintance: Cherubini directed a theatre in Paris with Viotti for a period. The two were also both initiated into French masonic orders, joining the ranks of many other freemason musicians from Haydn and Mozart to Duke Ellington and Louis Armstrong. Both men were significant figures in the history of music, producing a wealth of content and materials yet to be fully explored.

Pedro de Araújo (c. 1630-1707) is an important figure in Portuguese keyboard music of the late 17th century. His oeuvre consists of a total of 13 keyboard works, one of them with merely attributed authorship. These have come down to us through two manuscript sources in Portuguese collections: the Livro de obras de Orgaõ juntas pella coriosidade de Fr. Roque da Conceição, a source dated 1696, and the Livro de Obras de Órgão, a source compiled in the 17th and 18th centuries and originating in the Bouro Monastery (Braga). De Araújo’s output covers the genres that were in vogue in his day on the Iberian Peninsula (e.g. Batalha, Tento, Meio Registo, Fantasia) and which constituted the traditional repertoire of Iberian keyboard players in the service of ecclesiastical institutions.
The Batalha do 6º Tom and the [Susana] do 2º Tom hark back to the 16th century tradition of intabulating existing vocal works, the former based on the chanson ‘La Guerre’ by Clement Janequin, the latter on ‘Susane un jour’ by Orlando di Lasso, a famous vocal work throughout Europe and the target of many other composers’ intabulations.
The Phantasias, Obras and Tentos fall within the stylistic sphere of the tento (Spanish: tiento), an Iberian genre characterised by contrapuntal writing and multiple contrasting sections. In them De Araújo displays his mastery at weaving contrapuntal lines and varying the thematic material. The Consonâncias de 1º Tom corresponds stylistically to a tento de falsas (Sp.: tiento de falsas / It.: durezze e ligature), with the work developing in a succession of dissonances. The Passo solto de 7º Tom is a work entirely in triple meter with a succession of iambic rhythms reminiscent of the vilancico style.

The most comprehensive survey ever made of Reger’s organ music, on a range of superb Austrian, German, and Swiss instruments: a fitting tribute to the composer on the 150th anniversary of his birth.

Roberto Marini's feat of performing Reger's entire output for organ in Italy within a single year (2002) was followed in 2011-13 by this remarkable achievement on record. On the basis of authoritative new critical editions compiled by the Max Reger Institute, Marini recorded the works on historical instruments of Reger's time, which with their orchestral richness of color and dynamic possibilities correspond to the soundworld of an epoch that believed in progress in every dimension and embodied a kind of striving heroism as an attitude to both life and art.

First released in individual albums on the Fugatto label, this box compiles Roberto Marini’s Reger albums complete for the first time, together with an authoritative essay by Suzanne Pepp on Reger’s output for organ.

The forgotten figure of a 17th-century Dutch recorder virtuoso, illuminated by a unique synthesis of art history, scholarship and modern musicianship.

Der Fluyten Lust-hof (The Flute's Pleasure Garden, or Garden of Delights) is the largest collection of music for a single wind instrument ever published by a single composer, and has supplied recorder players, amateurs and professionals, with music for reflection and entertainment ever since the publication of its initial volume in 1644.

An overlooked detail is the dedication of the first volume, to one Adriana vanden Bergh. Who was she? This book and CD tells the full and fascinating story, shedding light along the way on many aspects of culture, religion and everyday life in Amsterdam during the 17th century. As both a musicologist and art historian, Thiemo Wind is uniquely placed to tell this story. He has identified Adriana as the subject of a famous painting by Jacob Adriaensz Backer (1608/09–1651), hitherto anonymous but considered one of the most beautiful portraits of the Dutch Golden Age.

Through original research, Thiemo Wind has assembled an eventful biography, which moves in short and lively chapters, each of them illustrated with a telling image, from her family background to her birth in 1631, her complex religious inheritance of both Protestant and Catholic observance, her apparently rapid mastery of the recorder, her participation in Amsterdam’s lively performing culture and her status as a musical celebrity even as a teenager, to her marriage in 1650, which probably occasioned the commission of Backer’s portrait. Thereafter the story turns darker, with a tale of bankruptcy, child-birth and -death, family splits and reconciliations, obscurity and ultimately Adriana’s death in 1668, having given birth to her ninth child.

The accompanying CD takes its cue from Der Fluyten Lust-hof, and from the music publications featured in Backer’s portrait, to present new recordings of music with which Adriana would have delighted audiences in her time. Performed by the internationally renowned virtuoso Erik Bosgraaf, in company with his Cordevento ensemble, the recording complements Thiemo Wind’s scholarship to present Adriana’s life and music in the round."

Admiration for the French composer, harpsichordist and organist, Louis Couperin continues to grow steadily today, but it was not so during his lifetime. The first important edition of his work in modern times, in its latest revision by Thurston Dart (used for this set), catalogues 129 pieces as authentic. Collectively, they help to place Couperin among the greatest composers of the 17th century alongside Frescobaldi, Chambonnieres, Froberger, and D’Anglebert.

Though he wrote religious works as well as chamber music, harpsichord music forms the lion’s share of Louis’s nephew François Couperin’s output: 235 pieces in all, most of them published in the four volumes (or Livres) of Pièces de Clavecin, divided into 27 ordres.

Like the better-known Jacques Duphly and Claude Balbastre, Armand-Louis Couperin belongs to the last generation of French harpsichord composers. The modesty and success which profited Armand-Louis handsomely during his lifetime rather dimmed the light of his creative legacy. He published little during his own lifetime. One of only a few opuses, the magnificent volume of Pièces de clavecin deserves consideration alongside the viol fantazias of Purcell and the Lachrymae of Dowland, examples of lateness in music, where the fruit has ripened beyond high summer, yet there is much of interest in these pieces, beyond their historical value at the end of a distinguished family line.

Armand-Louis’s son, Gervais-François Couperin, studied with his father then replaced him at the Sainte-Chapelle organ. His keyboard compositions reveal a profound understanding of the delicate nuances and expressive capabilities of the harpsichord, characterized by elegance, refinement and meticulous attention to ornamentation. Yet Gervais-François was also a virtuoso on the new instrument of his day, the fortepiano, and this set features his music performed on that keyboard of greatly expanded expressivity.

REVIEW:

Brilliant Classics’ Couperin Dynasty collection usefully gathers together François’s four dazzling books of harpsichord pieces (Michael Borgstede), Massimo Berghella playing harpsichord suites by Louis (historically the first important member of the Couperin family), harpsichord pieces by Armand-Louis (cousin of François) played by Yago Mahugo and catchy, vivacious fortepiano music by Gervais-François (a son of Armand-Louis and a contemporary of Beethoven) adeptly performed by Simone Pierini. The range of music on offer stretches from Gervais-François’s feisty variations to François’s majestic Passacaille, one of the finest masterpieces in the genre. It’s a musical feast to relish, more varied than you might expect. Excellent sound, too, and informative notes by Michael Borgstede, Peter Quantrill, Brigida Cristallo and Massimo Berghella.

— Gramophone