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 allegro s 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.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

In the work of Johann Sebastian Bach, two groups of sonatas composed for violin and harpsichord can be distinguished. The first group features the harpsichord performing only the role of basso continuo. The second group includes the harpsichord as an equal partner to the violin. This release features six sonatas of the latter category. Aleksandra Bryla is a versatile violinist with rich artistic achievements. She performs as a soloist and chamber musician, cooperating with prominent figures of the international music scene. She is a laureate of several violin and chamber music competitions around the world. In 2007 she cofounded the Meccore String Quartet, with which she carries out dynamic international concert activity. As a soloist, she has achieved major success at the National Zdzislaw Jahnke Violin Competition in Poznan, the Michael Hill International Competition in New Zealand, the International Violin Competition Valsesia-Musica in Italy and the International Violin Competition in Avignon in France. Maria Banaszkiewicz-Bryla is a graduate of the Ignacy Jan Paderewski Academy of Music in Poznan, where she studied in the harpsichord class of Z. Brencz-Budny and E. Mielczarek-Poprawa and in the organ class of R. Sroczynski. She has taken numerous courses in the interpretation of early music, and is founder and director of the early music ensemble Brill'ante.

Lively, tonally varied performances … a very attractive sound.

This is volume two of the Naxos reissue of Lars Ulrik Mortensen’s Buxtehude series. It previously appeared on Dacapo. This particular volume was Dacapo 8.224117.

Mortensen is a fine musician, whose approach to Buxtehude is vivacious and dignified in equal proportions. His Buxtehude has both passion and seriousness - but not solemnity - of mind. Mortensen makes sparkling use of the resources of his instrument, a copy by Thomas Mandrup-Poulsen of an original by Ruckers. Though the notes to this present CD give no further details, it sounds like the beautifully-toned instrument, made in 1984, which Mortensen played on some of his Bach recordings (CPO 999 989-2) and Froberger (Kontrapunkt 32040). It sings delightfully – at least it does when played by Mortensen! The use of mean-tone tuning will surely disturb very few modern listeners.

The theme of the set of variations on More Palatino (not More Palantino as printed on the back cover) is a student drinking song, though the rather stately form in which Buxtehude presents it is not especially redolent of the tavern. Still, it is an attractive and melodically various set, Mortensen’s varying use of registration producing some charming effects and some insistently dancing rhythms. The same is true of a second set of variations played here, those on Courant Zimble – a title we might translate as ‘Simple Courante’, and aptly so, since it is an uncomplicated piece which invites – and gets – some direct and appealing variations from Buxtehude. Mortensen resists the temptation to over-inflate these or make any excessive claims for them.

Each of the two Suites is made up four movements, in the order Allemande-Courante-Sarabande-Gigue. In each work the allemande is the most substantial movement, considerably longer than any of the other three movements. The allemandes also tend to have a greater musical gravity, that which opens Bux WV 242 being particularly grand in manner and phrasing; the courantes have, by way of contrast, a rippling vitality, that in Bux WV 25 being full of pleasant twists and turns. Buxtehude’s sarabandes have a graceful simplicity about them, a quality heard to perfection in Mortensen’s performances of the two in these suites, especially that in the E minor suite, where the registration is beautifully judged and employed. The gigues of the two suites make more much use of counterpoint, especially in comparison to the simpler lines of the sarabandes which precede them. But these are by no means academic fugues and in both suites the final movements very forcefully remember the dance origins of the gigue.

All of the shorter pieces in this programme have their genuine attractions and all are well characterised by Mortensen. The chorale ‘Nun lob, mein Seel, den Herren’ is more often heard on the organ, although it makes no requirements that the harpsichord can’t fulfil – as Mortensen persuasively demonstrates. Indeed there is a particular sprightliness to this reading that is distinct from anything that can be achieved on the baroque organ and which offers an alternative, equally valid, view of the music. Bux WV 170, 171 and 174 are pieces which survive amongst the manuscripts of Buxtehude’s organ music but which, again, are eminently playable on the harpsichord. The fugal writing here is more ‘correct’ than in the gigues of the suites, but don’t let that make you imagine that these are unduly staid pieces. Here they have the same vivacity which characterises this programme as a whole and they are played with the same loving care for the aptness of instrumental sound and tone.

Without wanting to claim Mortensen’s as the ‘best’ recordings of Buxtehude’s harpsichord works – if one had to pick I suppose the vote might go to Ton Koopman – there is not the slightest reason to feel in any way dissatisfied with this fine recital. If you don’t know Buxtehude’s writing for harpsichord – this is an excellent value-for-money place to start; if you are already an aficionado of this repertoire you will surely be just as keen to add this to your collection.

-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International

Diogenio Bigaglia, a composer who at present is unknown to most people, was active in Venice in the first half of the eighteenth century, so he was a contemporary of the much better known Tomaso Albinoni, Alessandro and Benedetto Marcello, and, above all, Antonio Vivaldi, whose work shows several evident– and more or less explicit – references to Bigaglia’s production. So he turns out to be a composer who is worthy of interest not only for the intrinsic musical worth of his works, but also for the influence his activity may have had on musicians with whom we are more familiar; this is why musicologists have recently started showing an increasing interest in him.

The selection of cantatas presented here is performed by the voice of soprano Tullia Pedersoli that skillfully interprets the musical ‘affetti’ proposed by the simple and elegant style of the composer, who in some points even seems to have provided some cues to Johann Sebastian Bach that, as known, deeply studied Italian and Venetian. All the cantate are about love, and frequently resort to the literary topoi that are typical of this genre.

Vivaldi's universally popular Four Seasons has become one of the most recorded pieces of classical music. The four concertos, with their virtuoso part for solo violinist, depict the changing seasons in a pastoral landscape with dazzling variety.

This release, La Raphaèle: The Art of François Couperin, pays homage to the Italian keyboard master long venerated by the Parisian Académie Royale de Peinture et de Sculpture. This reverence also rang true of François Couperin as a musical creator, who was clearly struck by Raphael's art, and so named the first movement of his Huitième Ordre's majestic opening allemande after the artist. World-renowned harpsichordist Joyce Lindorff recreates Couperin's L'Art de Toucher le Clavecin, Sixième Ordre, and Huitième Ordre with exquisite musicianship honed over four decades of researching and studying the styles and methods of the most famous keyboard composers of the 17th through 18th centuries. She is Professor of Keyboard Studies at Temple University where she has taught historical keyboards and performance practice for the past twenty years. In addition to teaching, she has performed across the United States, Europe, Russia, Japan, and China, and has received solo recitalist awards from the Pro Musicis Foundation of France and the National Endowment for the Arts in the United States.

SEIXAS Harpsichord Sonatas, Vol. 1 ? Débora Halász (hpd) ? NAXOS 8.557459 (71:02)


Domenico Scarlatti, mestre du capella to the Infanta Maria Barbara, accompanied his pupil when she moved temporarily to Lisbon in 1723. While there, the Portuguese Infanta Don Antonio supposedly sent a promising young composer, Carlos de Seixas, to study with Scarlatti, who was 19 years his senior. The story goes that the latter reported back to Don Antonio, stating Seixas was one of the best musicians he had ever heard, and scarcely in need of further instruction.


It?s a nice tale, and possibly even true. I for one would have liked to witness a first meeting between two such highly talented composers whose keyboard work reflects considerable similarities, despite their differences of age and upbringing. The issue of influence and the direction it ran has never been settled, and is likely never to be, given that Seixas died young, and his original manuscripts perished during the Lisbon Earthquake of 1755. Out of some 700 ?keyboard toccatas? he is known to have composed, roughly 95 survive, of which 80 were collected, edited, and published by the late Macario Santiago Kastner. Although it?s never made clear in the liner notes to this release, presumably that edition is the one used by Débora Halász in what has been announced as a complete traversal. This leaves approximately 15 pieces unaccounted for, if my arithmetical skills are still functioning. Kastner presumably found them of dubious authenticity, or they appeared after his death. I?d personally like to hear them regardless, whether authentic or not, as there is an inordinate amount of formerly attributed music that is quite good and never gets recorded. Not that I?m about to turn up my nose at any attempt to issue multiple volumes of Seixas, whose treatment thus far on CD has been sporadic at best.


The last release of Seixas that I reviewed in these pages appeared roughly a year ago, and featured Christian Brembeck (Musicaphon M 55867). There?s little to choose, technically speaking, between Brembeck and Halász. Both have fingers to spare, and easily manage the more virtuosic pieces without any loss of flow or control. Sound quality on both albums, too, is excellent, and to make matters more confusing, the harpsichordists adapt similar, judiciously chosen tempos in the few works they both perform.


However, there are significant differences between the two, and unfortunately they don?t make choosing a single disc any easier. Halász, for one, employs grace notes with frequency and usually in a way that seems both natural and appropriate to the music. She is willing to stretch the beat a bit even in rhythmically driven passages, though, when it can have a detrimental result. As an example, part of the powerful effect of the Sonata No. 50 in G Minor derives from its headlong impetus and strong first beat. This is impeded when the beat in question is lengthened and weakened, as Halász routinely does. When the harpsichordist resorts to this, he/she invariably draws attention to the strategy, interfering with our enjoyment of the music.


Brembeck is more straightforward. His beat is firm, and when he uses ornamentation it appears within existing rhythms. He also offers a pair of instruments, a rich sounding modern model based on a 1746 Blanchet, and a sweeter one that imitates characteristics of Merzdorf harpsichords of the early 1700s. Halász offers one harpsichord, a copy of a 1734 Haas, though on evidence of this album, it has a pair of manuals that are used with discretion.


But on the aforementioned Sonata No. 50, Brembeck only repeats the first section, and gives the second section a single performance. This he does more often than not, whereas Halász plays both sections twice?relatively standard practice today. In the Sonata No. 10 in C Major, the second section is of appreciable length, and the difference between the two recorded versions is, as well: 13:06 for Halász, 8:13 for Brembeck. The shape of the result is substantially different, depending upon which version you hear.


This puts a different complexion upon matters, and inclines me slightly towards Halász?who also holds the trump card in the form of a complete, forthcoming recorded edition. But you really can?t go wrong with either of these two releases that, in their differing approaches to this music, offer a selection of fine music discerningly performed.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

Matthew Locke was born 400 years ago in 1622, and while he is often ranked as one of England’s finest composers, he is still unaccountably neglected: his music may not be as immediately appealing as his immediate successor, Henry Purcell, nor as wide-ranging as William Byrd, yet his forceful musical personality and luxuriant technique place him in the first echelon of English composers, with his works described by Richard Boothby of Fretwork as having a "quixotic, capricious restlessness that is constantly challenging the listener to follow his argument...a thrilling musical ride".

Accompanying Fretwork on continuo for this recording are David Miller (archlute and theorbo) and Silas Wollston (harpsichord). The cover of the album bears an inscription in the walls by the choir stall of Exeter Cathedral, thought to have been carved by the composer during his time as a member of the choir there. In 2021, Fretwork celebrated its 35th anniversary. In the past three and a half decades they have explored the core repertory of great English consort music, from Taverner to Purcell, and made classic recordings against which others are judged. Their recent critically-praised releases with Signum include If and Lamento – both with countertenor Iestyn Davies – and In Nomine 2.

REVIEWS:

Fretwork captures the brooding quality of the minor-mode suites particularly well, and their sinewy playing points up Locke’s vigorous counterpoint and robust rhythms.

-- BBC Music Magazine

The delicious way in which Locke’s fantazias – unlike those of Jenkins or Lawes – present a cornucopia of switches in tempo or affect is matched by Fretwork’s agility in moving from one colour and affect to the next.

-- Gramophone

There are remarkably few differences, almost none of substance, between the performances on two recently released recordings--this one and another with Micaela Comberti and Colin Tilney on Dorian--of Bach's Six Sonatas for Violin and Harpsichord. (For comments on a third recent set, from Rachel Podger and Trevor Pinnock on Channel Classics, see reviews.) Even the first movement of the first sonata is exactly the same timing for both. Yes, Lucy van Dael's violin, at least in this sonic environment, has a somewhat richer, more resonant lower register (both instruments share the same bright timbre in their upper range), and Bob van Asperen's harpsichord is a bit rounder and warmer of tone than Tilney's. And in general, Comberti and Tilney's tempos are slower, which perhaps gives the impression of a sharper, more deliberate articulation from Tilney's harpsichord. Van Asperen's instrument is recorded slightly more distant than Tilney's, giving more prominence to van Dael's violin, which seems to go counter to Bach's intentions--these in fact are not solo sonatas per se, but trio sonatas in which the upper line of the harpsichord performs in duet with the violin, accompanied by the keyboard's bass line.


Comberti's fast movements at times sound too careful, while van Dael's have an air of frenzy about them that can produce sheer excitement (the Allegro of Sonata No. 2; the two Allegros in No. 4) or nervousness (the final movement of the first sonata), sensations that of course also will vary from listener to listener. There are exceptions: van Dael's slower Adagio in the E major sonata is exquisitely expressed, a lovely rendition of one of Bach's finest "arias", and her dashing final Allegro caps one of the set's highlights. The darker hues of van Dael's violin come into play most prominently in the C minor sonata's slow movements--the sumptuous opening Largo, whose gorgeous melody is the ancestor of "Erbarme dich" from Bach's St. Matthew Passion, and in the viola-like register of the Adagio. In contrast, Comberti's faster Largo sounds less like a song and the harpsichord's undulating figures are more noticeable, almost as if the players were consciously working to obliterate any associations with the melody's more famous religious context (there are hints of this in Tilney's detailed liner notes). Even so, Comberti and Tilney's slightly more leisurely Adagio in the same sonata is very effective, especially the rich violin tone, and here you particularly notice and appreciate the benefits to the overall sonority allowed by the Dorian recording's more even balance. Again, however, the more drawn-out final Allegro sounds merely workmanlike in comparison to van Dael's justly spirited rendition.


Two problems are solved in two different ways by the producers of each recording. First, the Sonata No. 6 went through several changes during Bach's lifetime and therefore the question arises as to how to treat the several existing alternative movements. Comberti and Tilney play the generally accepted five-movement version and add the "Cantabile" movement at the end of the disc as a separate track. Van Dael and van Asperen do the same, except that, in the interest of completeness and to fill out the disc's timing, they add three other alternative movements not found on the Dorian disc. Which brings us to the question of timing: the six sonatas are too long for one disc, too short for two. Dorian adds two "rarely played" harpsichord suites while Naxos chooses to skimp a little on the second disc's timing, which even with the added Sonata No. 6 movements comes to only 49:14. However, at Naxos' budget price, this shouldn't present a major concern even for those time-equals-value CD buyers--less is certainly not less in this case.


Needless to say, it's tough to choose a clear winner here--as so often happens, it's more a matter of personal preference, particularly regarding the instrumental balances. Both performances are top notch, cleanly and clearly articulated and characterized by an almost uncannily similar interpretive manner. I tend to prefer van Dael's singing style and richly colored instrument in the slow movements, but I also find Comberti and Tilney's equally weighted interaction provides a powerful richness to the textures that perhaps lends more legitimacy to their interpretation. Anyone for both? [Editor's note: the complete set of six sonatas on either Naxos or Dorian must be purchased in two separate volumes. The above review applies to the complete set although only volume 1 is indicated in the review heading.]
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

On the English musical landscape of the second half of the 18th century, the name Elizabeth Turner stands out as a rare example of a female musician flourishing on British soil. She was successful singer on London's stages between about 1740 and 1756, as well as a composer and harpsichordist. Few of her biographical details have come down to us: her date of birth is unknown, and her year of death (1756) is inferred from reports in English newspapers of the time. The number and dates of printed references to her singing (the earliest is from March 1744) suggests a premature passing that interrupted an acclaimed vocal career. Rivalled only by her fellow singer-composer and contemporary Elisabetta de Gambarini (1731-1765, a Londoner of Italian descent), Elizabeth Turner alternated her activity on the stage with composition, publishing two volumes. The first, Twelve Songs, With Symphonies and a Thorough Bass for the Harpsichord (London, 1750), is a collection of English folk songs; the second, A Collection of Songs With Symphonies and a Thorough Bass. With Six Lessons for the Harpsichord (London, 1756), places 19 songs on texts by British poets alongside 6 lessons for harpsichord. The 'Lessons' genre was one very much in vogue in mid-18th-century England, as evidenced by Purcell's A Choice Collection of Lessons for the Harpsichord or Spinnet (1696), the aforementioned Gambarini's Six Sets of Lessons for the Harpsichord (1748), and Thomas Arne's VIII Sonatas or Lessons for the Harpsichord (1756). Turner's Six Harpsichord Lessons here receive their first complete recording. Each is divided into several movements, in the manner of a sonata. The style is often similar to that of the companion songs in her volume, whose melodies refer distinctly to the models of the tradition (from Purcell down to Boyce, via Thomas Arne and Maurice Greene). This is music intended for refined and cultured amateur performers, whose performances were moments of social conviviality where playing constituted pure pleasure. Yet in a society, such as England's, that relegated the role of women in music to the horizon of amusement, entertainment and domestic pastime, the figure of Elizabeth Turner emerges with disruptive and revolutionary force. Her sort of revolution is not one that demands a paradigm shift, it does not aspire to break the mould, it does not have a vocation for destruction: it is a gentle revolution, made up of elegance and grace, and precisely in it's gentleness it calls out to be heard, an invitation we cannot decline. Other information: - Recorded March 2024 in Silvelle (Italy) - Booklet in English contains liner notes by Maddalena Bonechi, as well as a note from the performer and her biography - Costanza Leuzzi plays a French double-manual harpsichord (anon. , after Pascal Taskin; renovated 2020, Andrea Di Maio) tuned to the Young II temperament at a=415 - Italian liner notes available at brilliantclassics. Com - Elizabeth Turner's (?-1756) Six Lessons for Harpsichord, published in 1756, the year of her death, is a significant contribution to 18th-century keyboard music, reflecting the stylistic characteristics of the time. Little is known about Turner herself, but her work stands as one of the few harpsichord collections by a female composer during that era, making it a valuable historical artifact. The Six Lessons are structured as suites, each consisting of multiple short movements, such as minuets, and gigues, which were popular dance forms in Baroque music. - Turner's compositions exhibit a blend of French and Italian influences, which were prevalent in English harpsichord music of the period. The pieces are characterized by their elegant melodic lines and ornamentation, typical of the French style, alongside rhythmic vitality that hints at Italian practices. The works are accessible for amateur performers, suggesting they were intended for domestic music-making rather than professional concert settings. - The Six Lessons offer insight into the musical tastes and domestic entertainment practices of 18th-century England, particularly for women, who were often encouraged to learn keyboard instruments. Turner's work is a rare example of a published female composer in a male-dominated field. - Costanza Leuzzi, a pupil of Roberto Loreggian, wrote a dissertation on the life and work of Elizabeth Turner. With the purpose of giving new life to Turner's music, Costanza also founded an ensemble of young musicians and gives concerts where she combines the musical performance and the storytelling of the English composer's life. - The interest in unknown authors and forgotten musical literature is the main focus of Costanza's musical career, which aims to share lost masterpieces that deserve to be rediscovered in our time.

Unlike the other landmark collections that came from Bach’s pen, the six flute sonatas all appear to have been "one offs" with no particular plan for publication as a set. Further, in contrast to the collections for solo strings, Bach's chamber music for flute was written comparatively late in his career, the earliest, the Sonata in E minor BWV1034, probably a product of Bach’s early Leipzig years (mid-1720s) and the latest, the Sonata in E major for flute and continuo BWV1035, is believed to have been written during the last decade of composer’s life for Frederick the Great.

In honor of OUR Recordings' 40th Release, Michala Petri could scarcely choose a more exciting program than a return visit to Bach’s Flute Sonatas; Michala’s famous 1992 recording with Keith Jarrett has long since attained legendary status. Just as her collaboration with Jarrett unveiled a 'new-born' approach to Bach, this new recording is likewise revelatory and… transcendent.

Joining Michala on this journey is an early music dream team: harpsichordist Mahan Esfahani, rightly regarded as one of the fiercest of the younger generation of clavecinistes, playing his new Jukka Ollikka harpsichord, and Hille Perl, one of the world’s leading and most beloved viola da gambists rounding out the continuo unit. As we’ve come to expect from OUR Recordings, the sonics and packaging are as extraordinary as the performances thanks to the Wizard of Sound, Preben Iwan and booklet notes by Mahan Esfahani. This new recording of the Bach “Flute” Sonatas is destined to become a reference edition of this famous works.

Parma native Ferdinando Paer, who wrote more than 50 operas, composed Agnese in 1809 for a private entertainment and a company of amateur singers. In 1824, with a few changes to the score, this opera semiseria in two acts reached the Theathre- Italien in Paris where it gained international success; among its early admirers were Berlioz, Chopin and Victor Hugo who mentioned it in his Les Misérables but a few decades after its première it fell into oblivion. In modern times it was first revived in concert form by Conductor Diego Fasolis and finally, in 2019 with the addition of a critical revision, it was performed at the Teatro Regio di Torino. The plot presents several fairy-tale elements, which are very well realized through the stage setting. When Agnese elopes with her beloved Ernesto, her father Uberto loses his mind and believes her dead. He is therefore hospitalized into a mental institution, where most of the action takes place. In the Ospedale dei pazzi sympathetic doctors, security guards and administrators try to help Uberto regain his sanity, to no avail. In the meanwhile, Agnese, betrayed and abandoned by Ernesto, to whom she bore a daughter, goes back to her father to ask for forgiveness, unaware of his troubles. Ernesto is repentant of his philandering ways and follows Agnese to win her back. The opera ends with Uberto regaining his mental clarity when he hears Agnese sing an old song, and a general reconciliation occurs. In director Leo Muscato’s words “the most interesting aspect of this opera…is the irony that is present from the beginning to the end of the story” which imbues even the most dramatic circumstances. The set design for this wonderful, world premiere on video opera, is made of a series of movable boxes which are similar to carillons and which open-up displaying different environments.

2009 release. The best of Bach's fugues on a single subject are contrasted with fugues likewise on a single subject by some of his prominent contemporaries and predecessors. This is Colin Tilney's third release on Music and Arts, following the widely acclaimed 1993 Bach English Suites, recorded on the same Italian harpsichord as Fugue, and the 1995 CD Scarlatti High and Low.

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..."