With this new release IDIS goes on in publishing the early years of Frans Brüggen, conductor and flautist. As a flautist he was one of the most famous scholars of the performance practice of the Baroque age. With Gustave Leonard (organist) he founded in 1981 The Orchestra du XVIII siécle that used only instruments of the baroque age; leading this orchestra he presented various recordings that are very important interpretations of the Baroque repertoire, even to this day. On this release, IDIS presents to the public the 1961 - 1962 studio recordings.
This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.
It's rare to experience the level of artistic rapport heard on this recording from [Petri and Esfahani]… In Petri's capable hands, the recorder becomes a medium through which she conveys a more vocal interpretation of thematic material than ever a violin could… Esfahani crafts the most imaginative and engaging accompaniments and repartee I have ever heard.
– Gramophone Magazine
Petri and Esfahani's is an invigorating ensemble effort, with each sparking off the other.
– BBC Music Magazine
Arcangelo Corelli was "world famous" even in the world of his day. Copies of Corelli's works appeared in St. Petersburg as well as in Constantinople, Stockholm and even in America, where Thomas Jefferson spoke of being charmed completely by Corelli's music.
Despite its popularity only a handful of his original manuscripts exist today and the Violin Sonatas Op. 5 have a place of honor. The pieces on this album were drawn from the second half of Op. 5 and in the original edition of 1700, published as "Parte seconda: Preludii, Allemande, Correnti, Sarabande, Gavotte, e Follia." Baroque sonatas having been inspired by dances, and playable on violin and harpsichord or ona variety of instruments, in this case, recorder and harpsichord.
The easy-held nature of the sonatas allows great freedom for ornamentation and improvisation, which Michala Petri and Mahan Esfahani savor with pleasure.
An enterprising and convincing set of performances; Naxos rescues another neglected composer.
I was somewhat lukewarm about Elizabeth Farr’s recording of the Bach solo harpsichord concertos (Naxos 8.572006-7), largely because I found the use of the 16' stop on her Keith Hill harpsichord obtrusive. I ended that review by fearing that there would be an even greater problem with the use of such an instrument on this Balbastre recording, since, by Hill’s own admission “no French harpsichords with 16' stops remain from [this] time.”
Since writing that review, I have read another review of the Bach which doesn’t even mention the offending stop, so, clearly, not everyone is going to be troubled by it. Paradoxically, too, though I dislike its use in Bach, where there is some historical evidence to support its use, I was less unhappy to hear it employed for Balbastre, where the evidence is non-existent. De gustibus non est disputandum.
We aren’t exactly well off for recordings of Balbastre: there seems currently to be only one other recording completely dedicated to his music, a 2-CD set of what Glossa call his ‘Salon Music’, another recital of his keyboard music by Mitzi Meyerson (fortepiano and harpsichord, GCD921803), on which much of the music, including the Marche des Marseillois et Ça-ira from Elizabeth Farr’s recording, are duplicated. Otherwise, we have just odd pieces by him on collections, especially on anthologies of that French Christmas phenomenon the instrumental Noël.
Naxos have on their website an interview with Elizabeth Farr, headed ‘My passion is my profession’, in which she speaks of her marvel at the creativity and individuality of the music of the eighteenth century. I’m not sure that I find Balbastre’s music quite as individual as that – perhaps you have to know it as thoroughly as Farr clearly does to distinguish it from that of Rameau or François Couperin – but her performances certainly make a strong case for its inventiveness and attractiveness. The interview was conducted before she set down the recent Bach recording and this of Balbastre, but her love of his music and her understanding of it are apparent from the CDs.
I queried some of Farr’s tempi on the Bach CDs: by comparison with Robert Woolley on Hyperion, some of them sound rather erratic. I wonder if I would have been as critical if I had not had Woolley’s recordings of some of those works for comparison, though I note that the reviewer who seemed untroubled by the use of 16' tone also referred to the problematic tempi.
Not having heard any rival recordings of any significant portion of Balbastre’s repertoire, I can’t make comparisons as I did with Bach. I can only say that I found the playing here much more convincing than I did before. I do just note en passant, however, that Farr’s timings seem to differ from Meyerson’s, sometimes considerably slower, sometimes faster. The brief excerpts which are all that I have been able to hear from those Glossa CDs serve as a reminder that Meyerson alternates between the fortepiano and the harpsichord, which you may find makes for more variety; equally, you may be irritated by repeated change from one instrument to the other. Also, Farr plays the pieces in the order in which they appear in print; Meyerson rearranges them.
Two CDs of this repertoire may look like a case of over-egging the pudding, but I didn’t find it so. If you like the keyboard music of Rameau and Couperin, you should find these CDs to your liking. Indeed, the concluding tracks of CD1 (trs.13-16) offer music from Rameau’s 1748 opera Pygmalion, arranged by Balbastre for the keyboard. Such arrangements, like the wind-band conflations of Mozart’s operas, served as souvenirs for those who had heard the original and as tasters for those who had not. This is some of the most dramatic music on the CDs; the tone of the Overture is particularly well caught here.
Most of the rest of the music is as benign and affable as Balbastre’s second name would imply. I don’t wish to imply, however, that it sounds derivative or banal; as the notes point out, the French harpsichord tradition is modified by the influence of Scarlatti.
The pieces from Book I of the Pièces de clavecin are character portraits. The whole book is dedicated to his pupil Mme de la Caze and her portrait opens the collection and the first of these CDs. It’s a strong piece, though with moments of tenderness, and the contrast between it and its successor on track 2, la d’Héricourt, is well brought out by Farr. Indeed, such variety as there is in the music – probably more apparent to contemporaries than to modern listeners – is well conveyed in these performances.
The last of the aristocratic portraits here is la d’Esclignac of 1787 (CD1, tr.12). The revolution two years later put paid to Balbastre’s employment as a composer of salon pieces; he was to die in poverty ten years later. The final work on the second CD (tr.16) represents his attempt to come to terms with the new régime, a set of variations of the revolutionary tunes la Marseillaise and Ça ira (we will succeed). As played here, it makes a fine conclusion to a recommendable set; I was very happy to pardon the liberty which Elizabeth Farr admits in the notes of repeating la Marseillaise at the end. Meyerson plays the piece as written, which is less dramatic, though you may think her use here of the newer instrument, the fortepiano, more appropriate for music written after the demise of the ancien régime.
The Naxos recording is a little close for my liking, but it captures the big sound of the instrument well – at times in that final Marche the bass sonorities almost sound like those of a grand piano. The documentation is informative and readable and sets the seal on a recommendable pair of CDs.
Jean-marie Leclair: Violin Sonatas, Book 2 Nos. 6-7 And 9-12
Naxos
CD
$19.99Sep 24, 2013
Five years after the publication of his first book of sonatas, Jean-Marie Leclair, the great exponent of the emerging French violin school, released his second book. He had continued to be influenced by the lyricism and virtuosity of Italian models but, concerned that the technical demands of his writing might prove excessive, ensured that a handful could be played either on the flute or the violin. Yet he continued to make considerable advances and the level of melodic invention and expressive intensity remained untouched, the result of a fusion of Italianate fire and French elegance. Together with Naxos 8.572866 this is the first complete recording of Leclair’s Op 2 Sonatas.
Jean-marie Leclair: Violin Sonatas, Book 2 Nos. 1-5 And 8
Naxos
CD
$19.99Jul 30, 2013
LECLAIR Violin Sonatas, op. 2, Nos. 1–5, 8 • Adrian Butterfield (vn); Jonathan Manson (vdg); Laurence Cummings (hpd) (period instruments) • NAXOS 8.572866 (77:50)
Several years ago, the three Naxos discs comprising Adrian Butterfield’s performances of Jean-Marie Leclair’s first book of violin sonatas (Naxos 8.570888, 8.570889, and 8.570890) appeared, and I highly recommended them in Fanfare 35:3. Butterfield and harpsichordist Laurence Cummings have now returned, with Jonathan Manson rather than Alison McGillivray playing the viola da gamba, with an installment of six sonatas from the composer’s second book. Butterfield’s own notes relate that this set includes five sonatas for violin or flute (two occurred in the first book); and Butterfield emphasizes that Leclair intended these works for a wider group of performers.
The program, in order, opens with one of the sonatas in which Leclair offered the choice of violin or flute. Its four movements begin with an arch Adagio in which Manson displays the richness of the seven-string gamba made in 1978 by Curtis Bryant (Butterfield plays a violin made by David Rubio in 1996 after the 1734 Rode Guarneri del Gesù, while Cummings plays a 2000 harpsichord by Andrew Garlick based on a 1748 model). The book of sonatas appeared in 1728, after, according to Butterfield, Leclair had studied for a time in Turin with Corelli’s student, Giovanni Battista Somis. William S. Newman suggests that, through Somis, Leclair made the acquaintance of the music of both Corelli and Vivaldi; and later he would come under the spell of Corelli’s student Pietro Locatelli, whose devilish virtuosity appears, though restricted mainly to the lower positions, in Leclair’s later books of sonatas. Butterfield draws comparisons between Leclair’s allegros and Corelli’s, but Somis’s sonatas, at least the later ones of op. 4 (written in 1726, about the year Leclair visited him), fall into three rather than four movements, as all these do. Somis’s works also don’t push the technical envelope far beyond Corelli’s—they’re very tame, as these by Leclair, for the most part, prove to be. Nevertheless, the Second Sonata in Leclair’s set employs double stops freely, and represents generally a more advanced technique. But Butterfield and his ensemble find the commonalties in these works, whatever their instrumentation or technical demands, in the starchy French style in which they present what Leclair had absorbed of the Italian style from his travels. And in the Finale of that Second Sonata, they abandon themselves to an Italian energy that recalls Vivaldi’s, featuring cadenza-like passagework.
The Third Sonata returns to the instrumental choice offered by the First Sonata—violin or flute—and therefore to the more moderate technical demands such a choice implies. Butterfield points out in the notes the melodic affinities of the opening movement of the Fourth Sonata to Corelli’s style, a parallel he and the ensemble exuberantly draw in the performance itself. But those familiar with Somis’s sonatas may find that these works resemble his as closely as they do Corelli’s. In any case, the ensemble brings sonorous virtuosity to the third movement, a double-stopped “Aria: Gratioso.” The Finale combines Corelli’s melodic manner with technically more demanding swirling double stops.
The Fifth Sonata again suggests the simplicity of an arrangement for violin or flute, but its first movement offers Manson, again, an opportunity to display the richness of both his tone and his musical imagination. After a Corellian (or Somisian) Allegro of considerable melodic and rhythmic verve—at least in this performance—the Sonata proceeds through an elegant Gavotte to a piquant Finale, in which Butterfield’s tart ornamentation lends a brisk energy. Butterfield points out that Leclair conceived the Eighth Sonata as a sort of duet for violin and gamba, and his interaction with Manson in the first movement bears out this observation. Its imitative second movement takes advantage of the same manner of writing, even if it isn’t so thorough-goingly polyphonic as similar passages in Corelli’s church sonatas. But Corelli’s personality shines through this movement’s melodic contours as well as through its counterpoint. The Sarabanda offers particularly rich opportunities for conversation between the violin and gamba; the Finale contains chains of trills that enliven its melodic discourse.
Butterfield remarks that violinists have not taken up Leclair’s first two books of sonatas, perhaps because of their modest demands; perhaps his insightful and cleanly-recorded performances (along with those of the first book) will revive some interest in them. Strongly recommended—and not just for the violinistic moments.
It is safe to say that Giovanni Battista Somis has by now been completely forgotten, this despite the great profoundness of his works, rather highly regarded up to the first years of the 20th c. This edition unearths his second opus, formed of twelve three-part sonatas, each characterized by an initial slow movement followed by two fast ones. These compositions combine the great cantabile quality of the Italian style with a sparkling virtuoso inventiveness. Played and interpreted by violinist Roberto Noferini with the basso continuo realization of Chiara Cattani.
Sisto Reina is one of the many musicians from the Order of the Friars Minor Conventual who have greatly enriched the history of music. The diffusion of his music greatly exceeded the boundaries of the regions in which he was active: works of his are present in the archives of several Italian cities, and in Austria, Germany, Poland, Switzerland and England. The Armonia ecclesiastica, by Sisto Reina, published by Carlo Camagno in Milan in 1653 and dedicated to princess Angelica Luigia Mariana Gonzaga, nun in the convent of S. Paolo in Milan, is exemplary as regards the variety of forms, styles and languages that were typical of Italian seventeenth-century music, particularly in Lombardy. Michelangelo Gabrielli, Renaissance and Baroque repertoire specialist, directs the Concentus Vocum ensemble (from the Como Conservatory of Music) bringing this work to light in a world premiere recording.
For his recording of Bach's The Art of Fugue, harpsichordist Sébastien Guillot includes the composer's early autograph versions. Although Bach's more familiar revisions generally were for the better, his first thoughts make for fascinating comparison. Contrapunctus 1's first version contains alternate note readings and lacks the gorgeous coda Bach added as an inspired afterthought. If the piece often referred to as Contrapunctus 10 sounds as if it starts mid-stream, so to speak, that's because we're used to the 22 sublime bars Bach subsequently tacked on to the beginning. The early version of the canon in augmentation and inversion is fascinatingly florid, but without the revision's extraordinary chromatic tension and melodic humor that Guillot brilliantly conveys. Other differences involve ornamental more than compositional refinements.
In an era where a few too many harpsichordists embrace these pieces with fussy agogics, crawling tempos, and a reverential halo, Guillot's fleet, uncluttered, and enlivening interpretations are positively refreshing. Ornaments and cadenzas are infused with improvisatory joy, while Guillot's rolled chords contain more gestural and expressive variety than we often hear. Should you prefer more repose and austerity (and some listeners undoubtedly will), I'd stick with Robert Hill, Gustav Leonhardt, and Davitt Moroney. But if Guillot's extroversion entices, then by all means supplement your collection with this inexpensive, beautifully engineered release.
German harpsichordist and pianist Christine Schornsheim has been making CDs for many years now; I’m mostly familiar with her collaborations with non-period performers such as tenor Peter Schreier and the German oboist and conductor Burkhardt Glaetzner. In fact, the only decidedly “period” CD of hers in my library is a Harmonia Mundi recording of Mozart four-hand music made a few years ago with pianist Andreas Staier on a Stein Vis-à-vis piano/harpsichord. Based on this admittedly limited experience, I was not prepared for the excellence of this release, nor for the depth of her understanding of Bach.
Complete recordings of the Well-Tempered Clavier have been coming fast and furious of late; one need only scan the 70-plus listings of Book I on ArkivMusic to see that the music has attracted harpsichordists and pianists of every stripe and persuasion. Since joining the staff of Fanfare, I’ve personally surveyed four versions, the most exceptional of which is undoubtedly Rebecca Pechefsky’s recording of Book 1 on Quill Classics, reviewed in Fanfare 34:3. The first hint that Schornsheim’s version might be a cut above the ordinary comes in her personal observations about the project, contained in the liner notes: “The Well-Tempered Clavier has always had a healing effect on me. Whenever I felt bad, I sat down at the nearest keyboard and played fugues.” She goes on to say that despite being an immense challenge, recording the 48 plus 48 has cleansed her soul and given her inner peace. One could interpret this as mere advertising jargon, but I don’t think so. The sincerity of these statements is borne out entirely by the integrity and honesty of the playing on these CDs.
It may surprise you to learn that I don’t automatically subscribe to the early-music dictum that the WTC can be played only on the harpsichord. Like any instrument, the harpsichord has its pluses and minuses, and in the hands of a lesser artist, the harpsichord is ruthless in revealing weaknesses in phrasing and technique. (It’s also very easy to sound dull and mechanical on the harpsichord.) The modern piano, on the other hand, with its damper pedal and increased resonance, is less restricting for many artists, allowing for a freer interpretive approach—or so they think. The best artists, of course, can turn a handicap into advantage. Schornsheim capitalizes on the strengths of the harpsichord in ways that are often hard to verbalize, such as the almost imperceptible changes in articulation—which would be lost on the more resonant modern piano—that set one voice against another in a fugue, or the minute applications of rubato that make sense of the rhetoric of a prelude. It is a style of playing grounded in intense study of and appreciation for Bach’s music, but one that never sounds labored, forced, or unnatural. There is nary a misjudged tempo or instance of flagging inspiration here; throughout Books 1 and 2 the level of accomplishment is remarkably high. In the international arena of Bach performance, I predict that this release will enjoy immediate and widespread favor.
Another reason for the serious record collector to consider the acquisition of this set is the choice of instrument. It is the 1624 two-manual Ruckers (enlarged in France in the 18th century) housed in the Musée Unterlinden, Colmar. The instrument has been the subject of numerous recordings, most recently a Centaur CD of Couperin played by Lisa Goode Crawford (Fanfare 35:4). It is simply one of the most magnificent-sounding French harpsichords in captivity, and it has never been recorded more intelligently and realistically than it is here. Highest recommendation.
Giovanni Battista Gervasio was a significant personality in the musical scene of 'stile galante' of the second half of 18th century; composer, virtuoso and teacher, he studied and improved the four courses mandolin, which was first built in Naples in that period. Thanks to him this instrument became popular and technically refined as it is nowadays. The aim of this recording is to reproduce the tinkling sonorities of these compositions. In order to obtain thoroughly this particular natural sonority, we have decided to "capture" the natural reverberations of the environment without ignoring the sound of each single instrument, so that the phrasing is intelligible. We have played an original mandolin built in 1764 and an harpsichord copy of an Italian harpsichord of 18th century. We have chosen to play continuo only with harpsichord considering that these two instruments have a similar way to produce sound. This is the first complete recording of all the sonatas for mandolin by Giovanni Battista Gervasio and the first absolute world recording.
On this sixth volume of Alessandro Scarlatti's opera omnia for keyboard, once again the star is the eighteenth century Italian Anonymous Ferrarese harpsichord owned by Francesco Tasini. Toccatas, Arpeggi, Introduzioni, and even the famous "Folly of Spain," are contained in this volume featuring the brilliant and rich harmonics of the precious historical instrument. Extremely interesting is the interpretation by Francesco Tasini, that - absolute master of the period performance practice - succeeds in giving us a perfect understanding of the correct approach to the compositions by Alessandro Scarlatti, true founder of the Neapolitan keyboard School. Francesco Tasini studied at the Conservatories of Bologna and Milan, graduating cum laude in Organ and Organ Composition, and Harpsichord and Composition. He is a member of the Accademia Filarmonica di Bologna, and of the Diocesan Commissions of Sacred Music of the Archdiocese of Bologna and of the Diocese of Ferrara.
Though the origin of Bach's sonatas for flute and harpsichord is uncertain there has also been considerable debate about their genre. The first three are often called "Sonaten auf Concertenart" - sonatas in concerto style - a hybrid genre that became popular between 1720 and 1740, so Bach may have been deliberately experimenting with form in these works. The Sonata in E-Flat Major, BWV 1031, with its lovely Siciliano, is perhaps the most popular of the flute sonatas, holding a special place in the repertory, but all offer a fascinating insight into Bach's use of the sonata genre and a wealth of inventive music.
Cervetto: 6 Sonatas for 3 Violoncellos / Zeller, Frezzato
MV Cremona
CD
$19.99Jun 02, 2017
Six Sonatas or Trios for three Violoncellos or two Violins and a Bass, is the title of op. 1, published in London by Giacobo Basevi Cervetto between 1741 and 1745 circa. To the modern ear, it is curious to hear the terms sonata and trio referred to as synonyms: in fact, the genre – which in effect did experience a certain confusion regarding the terminology – is known today as the sonata a tre. As Cervetto was a cello concert musician, it is not surprising that his sonatas were composed for three violoncellos (two cellos and bass); the alternative of playing them with two violins was probably dictated by commercial reasons in order to interest a vaster public. We maintain that it is important to rediscover these sonatas who are little known to the public of today. These wonderful and unusual Sonatas are played on original instruments by Martin Zeller & Marco Frezzato.
Zani: Sonate a Violino e Basso / Rognoni, Ensemble L'Aura Soave
MV Cremona
CD
$19.99Oct 06, 2017
The ‘Sonate 12 a Violino e Basso intitolate "Pensieri armonici" Opus. 5’ clearly belongs to Andrea Zani's second post-Vivaldian style. Without a dedication, these sonatas are still stylistically tied to the baroque style, but there are hints of the gallant style in them, above all because of the frequent use of appoggiaturas and in the cantabile themes and their development. Each of them having three movements, in the initial and final Allegros the violin, the indisputable protagonist, giving vent, shows off with captivating virtuosity, supported by a precise and well constructed bass. The Adagios are superb, placed as a contrast between the two extreme quick movements where the cantabile nature of the writing for the violin is full of "melos" making these pages quite enjoyable. The quality of the composition of these sonatas makes one consider the unjust oblivion into which the musical work of Zani has fallen. It was previously so respected and is now practically unknown. Violinist Andrea Rognoni and the ensemble L’Aura Soave breathe new life into this forgotten work.
One of the most prominent Bohemian composers working in Vienna during the late 18th and early 19th centuries, Leopold Kozeluch was a prolific composer of instrumental music including seventeen symphonies. They are notable for mellifluous themes, sophisticated structures and, at times, a lyricism that seems to foreshadow the youthful works of Schubert. This unique recording draws on the original sources and corrects a number of mistakes encountered in previously published versions. This second volume of the complete edition of the symphonies of Leopold Kozeluch follows a first that was released in March 2017 and given a 9/9 score by ClassicsToday.com with plaudits for both conductor and orchestra: “Marek Stilec leads lively, smartly paced performances, and gets fine playing from the ensemble.”
Antico: Frottole intabulate da sonare organi, libro primo (R
Tactus
CD
$21.99Jul 21, 2017
Organist and harpsichordist Maria Luisa Baldassari leads us to discover the singular figure of Andrea Antico da Montona, a musician and printer of the early Renaissance. His great ability as an engraver allowed him to compete with no one but Ottaviano Petrucci - the undisputed prince of musical printers - and his soul as a ‘cultural entrepreneur’ led him to the courageous and pioneering operation of proposing the intavolatura (the reduction of Vocal or instrumental polyphonic compositions) for the keyboard, instead of the lute as it was in vogue at the time. For the recording of the “Frottole Intabulate” (the frottola is the most popular Italian folk song in use between the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries), Maria Luisa Baldassari takes advantage of performing original period instruments: the spinetta, the spinetta Harpsichord, clavichord, the rare and archaic “clavisimbalum”, and the magnificent 1533 Vincenzo Colombi organ of the Chiesa del SS. Corpo di Cristo in Valvasone (Udine - Italy).
Bach: The Art Of Fugue / Sergio Vartolo, Maddalena Vartolo
Naxos
CD
$29.99Jul 28, 2009
BACH The Art of Fugue • Sergio Vartolo (hpd); Maddalena Vartolo (hpd) • NAXOS 8.570577 (2 CDs: 102: 13)
Some recordings deserve high praise, some deserve faint praise, and some earn their fair share of ridicule. Then there is the category of those that earn your respect over time, if you have the stamina to hang in. Bach’s The Art of Fugue, BWV 1080, usually considered an intellectually “dry” work, as played on the harpsichord by Sergio Vartolo (with Maddalena Vartolo on the final two pieces for two harpsichords), won me over after a struggle. The first time through, I experienced a rash of negative judgments: the tempo was too slow, the beat was too regular, the dynamic range was too narrow (only from p to f, while the piano could cover from ppp to fff), the soloist is an academic (and you know how they are), and there was no exhilaration by acceleration. Everything was too risk free, too free of passion. I was under the spell of the modern piano readings of Bach’s music. But after putting these discs aside for about a week, I asked myself: “If the disc is all that, why did Naxos offer it?” I concluded that I must not have been listening with both frontal lobes of my brain operating. Or, maybe the first time through I’d put too much Kirsch in the fondue for lunch, and it affected my judgment. In any event, I didn’t “get it.”
So I listened to all 102:13 of it, again. This time I realized what I’d forgotten in my prejudice. Of course, the harpsichord had a limited dynamic range with each string being plucked by a leather plectrum under uniform pressure each time its keyboard note was struck (no matter how heartily or delicately). That is one of the limiting factors of its design, which became an incentive in the development of the forte piano. As for the tempo and the rhythm, I realized these were likely a secondary concern to Bach, a champion of well-tempered tuning, in these contrapuntal but equally harmonic exercises. The metronome had not yet been developed, so there couldn’t have been exact instructions from the composer as would become the later practice. There were likely “conventions,” probably issued verbally on the signature score, as to the approximate tempo the composer recommended for each section.
In my bifurcated Oblomovian mind, I decided to concede the tempo to the performer, especially as Vartolo is a highly prolific recording artist, a regular medal winner, as well as a professor at the Accademia Filarmonica of Bologna, where, in 1770, a new member—W. A. Mozart—was installed. I reasoned if there were existing instructions from Bach, or conventions that were observed concerning tempo, rubato, syncopation, etc., Vartolo (as scholar) would know them. And this time I enjoyed my listening much more. But I still wasn’t sold.
During my third trip through the Art of Fugue with Vartolo, I got so into the music I could forget about dynamic range and tempo and appreciate the gorgeous sound of the harpsichord, the skill of the Naxos recording engineers, as well as the spellbinding quality of Vartolo’s playing. I’ve taken to putting it in my CD player first thing in the morning, and (setting it on automatic repeat) letting it play all day while I am at my computer. The presentation of the music is so inevitable, the playing and recording so clean, that I’ve come to hear the clarity of the argument for original instruments, something I had thought too doctrinaire. Certainly, this music—when played on a modern piano, even by soloists who loved Bach (like Glenn Gould)—takes on a quite different mode of presentation. But I can hear the case for equally expert playing on the harpsichord.
In conclusion, I’m not too proud to climb down off my high horse and recommend this two-CD set. It has won me over by overcoming my knee-jerk reactions. If you are interested in Bach, or the fugue, or the harpsichord, or the body of work known as The Art of Fugue, I recommend this recording with high praise. Both the playing and the recording are damn fine. The lesson I’ve learned here, and hope to share with you is that in judging music, it seems best to admit your prejudices to yourself. If you can keep aware of your own preferences, education, music you exclude on specious grounds, you might discover the value of music that is new to you. As I have. Music loving ought to be inclusive. It depends on how you do it. I recommend that you Zen yourself out with Vartolo’s The Art of Fugue during a rainy weekend. You could be pleasantly surprised! And for you harpsichord players out there, you already knew all this. But isn’t it cool to see it in print?
Buxtehude: Harpsichord Music Vol 3 / Lars Ulrik Mortensen
Naxos
CD
$19.99Sep 30, 2008
The names Bach and Buxtehude are inextricably linked in that the young German was deeply influenced by the older Danish keyboard virtuoso and Werkmeister. In fact, following his visit to Denmark in 1705, he allowed that, in retrospect, he had gone to hear Buxtehude "in order to comprehend one thing and another about his art". That this is in itself rather striking commentary from arguably the greatest composer in the history of Western Classical Music cannot be denied and speaks volumes on the importance of Buxtehude in evaluating the early Baroque period. Diapason d'Or winner Lars Ulrik Mortensen, well known for his collaborations with John Holloway and Jaap ter Linden, among others, brings to Buxtehude's music a unique blend of virtuosity and scholarship in the area of performance practice. His playing, while astonishingly accurate and controlled, never gives the impression of being a calculated affair. His informed music making is inspired and breathes fresh life into every bar of this oeuvre. Worthy of note is Mortensen's handling of the cadenza-like arpeggio section in the Prelude in G Major; the building effect is breathtaking, the resolution exultant. Gramophone (1/00, p. 85) - "...[Mortensen] arranges his programmes effectively to illustrate the wide range of Buxtehude's art, though the contrapuntal facility that drew Bach to trudge 200 miles to hear him is everywhere apparent....enthusiastically recommended..."
The eldest son of Johann Sebastian Bach was hailed as the greatest organist in his time. Living in a time of transition, Wilhelm Friedemann Bach forged his own highly original style, combining the traditional writing learned from his father.
Byrd: Complete Fantasias For Harpsichord / Glen Wilson
Naxos
CD
$19.99Oct 25, 2011
The fantasia was in the process of being adapted for keyboard from lute and consort music during William Byrd’s youth, and his formidable mastery of counterpoint brought the form to a pinnacle equivalent to his matchless vocal works. These splendours combine with lively dances and virtuoso display and quotations from songs of love and death. They also may hold fascinating symbols which mark secret Catholic allegiances, a gift for Elizabeth I, and a memorial to the tragic Mary, Queen of Scots. Our cover image shows the only possible contemporary impression of Byrd, as a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal at the funeral of Elizabeth I.
