Combining the vigorous forces of the Insula Orchestra and Insula camerata, Laurence Equilbey revives a historic tradition: that of the double orchestra. Beethoven, who was familiar with this principle, composed with the great festivals in mind at which orchestras could muster large numbers, often exceeding a hundred players. A unique musical experience.

From TV theme tunes to a folk-inspired 'circle dance on seven notes' by Villa-Lobos, Laurence Perkins-aided by a wide variety of accompanists-presents another pleasing miscellany of composers and works (no fewer than fourteen of each) demonstrating the many moods and expressive potential of the bassoon.

The soundtrack of the 1978 movie version of Stephen Sondheim’s Broadway masterpiece, A Little Night Music finally finds its way to CD. Directed by Hal Prince, the all-star cast features Elizabeth Taylor, who sings the famous “Send in the Clowns,” Diana Rigg, Lesley-Ann Down, Len Cariou and Hermione Gingold. This newly-remastered CD is transferred from the original stereo masters, and includes a previously unreleased instrumental cue, along with two other instrumental cues taken from the mono soundtrack of the film. The complete version of "Every Day a Little Death" is also included from the mono soundtrack, as the carriage ride verse written for the film was not included on the stereo master. Featuring liner notes by Sondheim archivist Peter E. Jones.

MUSICAL NUMBERS

1 OVERTURE / NIGHT WALTZ (LOVE TAKES TIME) 4:20
Orchestra, Company
2 THE GLAMOROUS LIFE 4:52
Chloe Franks
3 NOW / SOON / LATER 7:53
Len Cariou, Lesley-Anne Down, Christopher Guard
4 YOU MUST MEET MY WIFE 3:51
Len Cariou, Elizabeth Taylor
5 EVERY DAY A LITTLE DEATH 2:28
Diana Rigg, Lesley-Anne Down
6 NIGHT WALTZ 1:06
Orchestra
7 A WEEKEND IN THE COUNTRY 6:04
Company
8 IT WOULD HAVE BEEN WONDERFUL 4:20
Len Cariou, Laurence Guittard
9 SEND IN THE CLOWNS 4:17
Elizabeth, Taylor, Len Cariou
10 POOR OLD FREDERICK 1:53
Orchestra Previously unreleased
11 SEND IN THE CLOWNS (REPRISE) / FINALE 4:31
Elizabeth, Taylor, Len Cariou, Company

BONUS TRACKS

12 EVERY DAY A LITTLE DEATH (FILM VERSION) 4:00
Diana Rigg, Lesley-Anne Down
Previously unreleased, mono recording
13 NIGHT WALTZ (FILM VERSION) 1:47
Orchestra
Previously unreleased, mono recording
14 END CREDITS (FILM VERSION) 1:27
Orchestra
Previously unreleased, mono recording

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

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More Sampson and delight: first-class Purcell like this is much too rare

-- Gramophone [12/2007]

A fine flowing line, great virtuoso technique yet also expressive feeling.

Purcell’s song output is extensive. Zimmerman, in his analytical catalogue of his music, the Z numbers in the heading, identifies five categories. All are represented in the nineteen songs of this anthology from Carolyn Sampson.

The fullest coverage is of the seven songs from Purcell’s semi-operas, four from The Fairy Queen. ‘Now the night is chas’d away’ (tr. 9), the first song in Act 4, is given pacy, gleeful treatment by Sampson and, while there’s no chorus on hand to supply the choral repeats, the concluding instrumental ritornello has matching verve. The first song in Act 5, ‘Thrice happy lovers’ (tr. 11), Juno’s blessing, is delivered smilingly yet with enough virtuoso display to impress, the aria section, “Be to one another true” (1:40) quieter as befits its more serious manner yet still with pleasingly varied, regal application of ornamentation in repeated phrases. Sampson’s style throughout has absolute assurance. The first song in Act 3 (tr. 17), is of a more philosophic nature, with an instrumental version as prelude so you can admire its courtly progress, climax and gentle falling away. The music and performance perfectly mirrors the bittersweet ambivalence of the text exemplified in the opening line, ‘If love’s a sweet passion, why does it torment?’. Lastly ‘O let me weep’, the Plaint (tr. 4), a self-contained little scena added to Act 5 in the 1693 revival where the mourning for the departed lover and isolation of the singer is echoed by obbligato solo violin. Sampson and violinist Sarah Sexton maintain a delicate balance between stark plainness, as in the violin’s first echo of the singer’s “sighs” and the naturally florid embellishment of the melodic line, in particular at cadences. So after a display of this kind by the violin from 4:21 the quiet voice entry is more affecting and the sotto voce pathos of the closing section, “He’s gone”, punctuated from 6:30 by one note violin sighs, are the more effective. Emma Kirkby’s 1982 recording in her Purcell song anthology (L’Oiseau-Lyre 475 9109), timing at 6:32 in comparison with Sampson’s 7:23, is more urgent and plangent against which the steady ground bass makes for tension through contrast. Sampson presents a more savoured, Italianate outpouring of grief.

There are three other semi-opera items. From Act 3 of The Indian Queen ‘I attempt from love’s sickness to fly in vain’ (tr. 13) is treated by Sampson as a light, soubrettish sort of song, comely enough, with a fluent, airy delivery, graceful ornamentation and an effective pause at the beginning of the final refrain, enjoying mulling over the experience. However, the animation of ‘They tell us that you might powers above’ (tr. 5) from Act 4 is, I feel, overdone for this more serious song whose second strain seems thrust forward so that its closing semiquaver clusters, however delicately delivered by Sampson, seem breathless. The instrumental version which follows, timing at 1:15 against the comparable opening verse’s 1:04, has more suitable breadth. Nancy Argenta’s opening verse in 1995 in her Purcell song anthology (Virgin 5 61866 2) is 6 seconds slower than Sampson’s, which gives it a somewhat more intent nature. Sampson’s last semi-opera item, from Act 5 of King Arthur, is ‘Fairest isle’ (tr. 15), Venus’ song with a nicely graced instrumental prelude that sets the tone for the luxuriant smooth, flowing, serene singing with intimate continuo and more elaborate ornamentation for the second verse tempered by quieter delivery. I find the effect beautifully jewel-like though some might feel it excessive.

Another Zimmerman category is songs in incidental music for the theatre of which there are three on this SACD. The disc takes its title from the upbeat concluding section (tr. 1 2:30) of ‘Sweeter than roses’, exuberantly delivered after the soft opulence of the vocal opening enhanced by sultry theorbo and expressive bass viol, all finely controlled with vivid “trembling” and focus on the keyword “kiss”. ‘Music for a while’ (tr. 8) also begins softly, the tone here notably clean, opening out at “wond’ring” and with sensitively added ornamentation for the repetitions of “eas’d” so that very addition seems part of the relaxation expressed. ‘Man is for the woman made’ (tr. 6) is performed by Sampson as a party piece, including a tipsy rising glissando on “liquor” and an outrageous but terrific virtuoso roulade on “serenade”.

Of the category songs in odes comes just ‘The bashful Thames’ (tr. 12) from the Yorkshire Feast Song. Two violins take the original obbligato accompaniment for two recorders here which makes for a more refined backing to which Sampson provides a stylish front, making the contrast tell between the cowed descents of “drooping” and confident ascents of “tow’ring”.

Sampson sings six of Purcell’s secular solo songs. The second, more elaborate setting of ‘If music be the food of love’ (tr. 10) is one of contemplative virtuosity, taking in thrumming demisemiquavers to illustrate “joy”. ‘O solitude’ (tr. 16) is plainer but kept flowing and intense because of its remorseless ground bass. Sampson’s soft close is movingly evocative of the title and subject of the song’s veneration. But Argenta’s 1992 recording here is calmer, with a little more space, timing at 5:26 against Sampson’s 5:18, with just archlute accompaniment more inward and contemplative, a quieter, plainer delivery, the wide vocal range from middle C to high G effective enough without further emphasis. Sampson’s account has bass viol too, making the ground bass more prominent while Sampson makes the text more dramatic, partly through more ornamentation which shows both more imagination and artifice. ‘From silent shades’ (tr. 7) is the mad song of Bess of Bedlam with contrasting tempi mirroring mood swings, slowing at the vision of the dead loved one, then from Sampson a display of warbling elegy with an electrifying octave glissando rising at “forth”, but in the main coming across as a crafted, almost documentary study of a sad state. She isn’t as wonderfully direct or has such touchingly naïve brightness of tone and simplicity of presentation as Emma Kirkby who is pacier, 3:43 against Sampson’s 4:31, lighter yet more dramatic. Sampson offers us a more lingering experience with fine shaping of line and more contrasted sections. ‘The fatal hour’ (tr. 2) begins in elaborate declamation but after Sampson’s poised and tender “Sure when you go, my heart will break” is transformed into a more flowing love song. ‘Oh! fair Cedaria’ (tr. 14) is supremely crafted and sung as it moves from an opening section of swooning admiration, through a central happy contemplation of the loved one’s beauty and charms to a closing “pity me” appeal. Based on a jig, ‘When first Amintas sued for a kiss’ (tr. 3) is a jolly, racy piece allowing singer and harpsichord to let their hair down with tempi artfully varied to point the story. Sampson is more forthright and dramatic, with denser and busier accompaniment than Emma Kirkby’s lute alone. Kirkby is quieter but with a very knowing manner and subtler variation of pace.

Finally Sampson gives us two of Purcell’s sacred songs. ‘Tell me, some pitying angel’, the Blessed Virgin’s expostulation (tr. 18) is a scena tracing Mary’s emotions when the 12-year-old Jesus goes missing. Sampson’s opening well conveys the initial flood of anxiety soon tempered by a more contemplative hoping he is safe. Then there’s a more intimate manner of tender care questioning why he disappeared. But I felt Sampson’s repeated calls to Gabriel a touch too swift for full dramatic and anguished impact. Sampson makes the second section, “Me Judah’s daughters once caress’d” a happy recollection and the contrast at the close of trusting the God but fearing for the child is finely poised. Nancy Argenta’s 1992 recording isn’t as varied and tender early on as Sampson’s but does give the calls to Gabriel more urgency and space, more contrast to the third section, “Now fatal change” and a more vivid questioning perplexity to the fourth, “How shall my soul its motions guide”. Lastly from Sampson, an Evening Hymn, ‘Now that the sun hath veil’d his light’ (tr. 19), with just theorbo accompaniment, is presented as an intimate nocturne, the voice softly complementing, smooth yet flowing, the presentation much plainer than hitherto with not a trill in sight, a refreshing close which shows Sampson and her accomplices still have the capacity to surprise.

To sum up, this is a well varied selection, as stylishly sung as those by Argenta and Kirkby. The inclusion of the ‘authentic’ instrumental versions of some songs is a welcome bonus. The SACD recording brings both intimacy and spaciousness, placing you in vivid proximity to the singer and players. Moreover, in a fascinating booklet note Elizabeth Kenny refers to an intention to make the disc different with flexibility in interpretation and use of instruments reflecting the way Purcell’s music was transmitted in the half century after his death rather than seeking a more chaste, urtext manner. As I’ve noted above, where Sampson is at her most daring she’s most striking. Not everything comes off: in ‘They tell us that you mighty powers’ and the Blessed Virgin’s expostulation I feel the momentum sometimes impairs the emotive impact. But mostly there’s a fine flowing line, great virtuoso technique yet also expressive feeling fully revealing Purcell is one of the greatest English song writers.

-- Michael Greenhalgh, MusicWeb International

Close your eyes, and try to imagine: 300 years ago, in a very dark, forbidding church, the service goes on and on. Fifteen candles are extinguished, one by one, at the closing of each psalm. Shadows enfold the congregation, and in the midst of this eerie backdrop, two high voices sing their lament. The music is solemn, pure, and deeply moving.


Beautiful? Most certainly. But also very distant from our own busy, frivolous reality.


Unlike a lot of the Baroque repertoire, these are pieces that require getting used to, or at least the willingness to spend some tranquil time immersed in a world of devotion. So be prepared: this is not music that grabs you right away, that makes you feel like singing or dancing. But for all who need to pray (religiousness aside!), this might be just the right Easter gift (the careful production by BIS is an added bonus: excellent liner notes by Jean-Paul Vachon, sound engineering that effectively captures the aural atmosphere of a church, and apt graphic design).


Originally, the Tenebrae lessons for the Holy Week were intended to arouse feelings of the deepest contrition. Held in the middle of the night (at around 3 :00 am), when darkness was complete (hence the Tenebrae ), the lessons were sung to very sad texts attributed to the prophet Jeremiah, as part of a mass performed with great dramatic flair, including the flickering light of candles which were then put out, symbolizing Jesus?s abandonment by his apostles. But humanity is mundane, of course. Little by little, the ceremony gained more earthly overtones. First, it was held at a more convenient time?in the afternoon. Then it became a showcase for the famous singers of the day, who could thus show off their piousness (and their beautiful tone!) to a very large audience.


In the 18th century, many important composers wrote versions of Leçons . Couperin´s remaining three pieces (of a group of nine) are the best known nowadays, and with good reason. In the intimate setting of a chamber work, Couperin achieves what a more grandiose-minded composer might not have: to convey true solitude, true repentance, and true sorrow.


For a long time, Couperin?s Leçons de ténèbres remained the province of the aficionado. In the past decades, however, they seem to have gained a surprising popularity, and some beautiful recordings have come to light, including excellent ones by Gerard Lesne/Steve Dugardin and James Bowman/Michael Chance, which, as in the present version by Theatre of Early Music, also resort to the unusual voices of two countertenors (normally, the leçons are sung by two sopranos). The advantage: a darker tone, sweeter and less lyrical, without the sharper edge we find so often in women?s voices. This, in itself, would be a point of interest. Notwithstanding the tough competition, the Theatre of Early Music holds its own, and manages to create a very moving rendering of the work, as well as of the sublime Magnificat included in the package. Both singers are first-rate, and although their individuality is always retained, their voices blend beautifully. Blaze and Taylor show their intimacy with the style?no mechanical vibrato here, or extravagant feats of virtuosity. They sing with simplicity and fluency, and with an austerity that fits the text without ever becoming frigid. The accompanying instrumentalists are equally masterful and discreet, each calmly serving the music.


For a long time, theologians spent their days discussing the sex of the angels. After hearing this CD, I am inclined to agree with those who held that heavenly creatures must have been male.


FANFARE: Laura Rónai

A few years ago, the name of Johann David Heinichen (1683-1729) came out of the blue as a wonderful surprise. Baroque music lovers around the world were amazed to discover an obscure composer who, in his best works, was second to none--easily comparable to Vivaldi in terms of originality, rhythmic exuberance, and boundless imagination. A half decade and a few recordings later, Heinichen has become a popular name, and rightly so. These Dresden Wind Concertos display treasures of passionate invention, energized by a spectacular use of dynamic contrasts and poetized by delicate touches of lyricism in the solo writing for woodwinds. Just listen to the dialogue (an obbligato figure in Heinichen's style) between traverso flute and pizzicato strings in the Concerto S. 225's last movement, or the biting orchestral outbursts in the G minor oboe concerto. Examples of Heinichen's vivid, sometimes unpredictable inspiration abound in every page of these extraordinary works. The Fiori Musicali ensemble, on period instruments, plays with enthusiasm and poetic commitment. The virtuosity may not be as extreme as that of Concerto Köln (on Capriccio), but each performance reaches a perfect balance between expressive ardor and precision--a quality mirrored by the accurate and natural sonics of the Radio Bremen engineers. --Luca Sabbatini, ClassicsToday.com