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Bach: Johannes-Passion (1748 version)

Julian Prégardien Evangelist, Huw Montague Rendall Jesus, Ying Fang, Lucile Richardot, Laurence Kilsby, Christian Immler, Etienne Bazola, Pygmalion, Raphaël Pichon
115:00 (2 CDs in a box)
harmonia mundi HMM 902774.75

This performance of the Johannes-Passion has everything: it has Julian Prégardien on fine form as the Evangelista, and a fine operatic baritone (new to me) – Huw Montague Rendall – as Jesus, as well as starry singers like Lucile Richardot and Christian Immler in the line-up. It has the violas d’amore and theorbo of the 1723 version, and the bassono grosso of the last. It has a complex continuo scoring involving cello, double bass, theorbo, harpsichord and organ – a quite substantial instrument with at least principals 8’, 4’ and 2’ rather than the usual little box organ based on an 8’ stopped flute: but we are given no details of this instrument (which I suspect is at some distance from the main body of the performers). This leaves Pichon free to vary the continuo line where (in the Evangelist’s recitative at least) the sonorous double bass is a constant at 16’.

The soprano aria Ich folge has just the ’cello and theorbo, and the agile yet mellifluous tenor Erwäge the theorbo likewise, with, I think, the harpsichord sometimes as well. These, and Immler’s Betrachte, are beautifully sung as are the arias in Part II: Richardot’s Es ist Vollbracht has that out-of-this-world tone which makes her such a striking interpreter of texts like this, and Immler has the lyrical depth to give us a matchless Mein teurer Heiland – not too jaunty and hurried but with that hint of a D major resurrection in the moment of death. Not everyone will like the underlying philosophy that the singers in the arias are accompanied by the instruments rather than equal partners with them, as Zerfliesse reveals most clearly.

The splendidly drilled choir of 6.4.4.5 (a little light on alto tone) always sings separately from the six principal singers; it is miked independently so that the balance between choir, orchestra (5.4.3.1.1 strings) and soloists can be balanced artificially. All this, of course, is standard recording practice, and makes for a fine dramatic whole, which Raphaël Pichon in his liner notes spells out in his enthusiastic way, showing that he understands Bach’s take on the theology of St John’s passion gospel: The hinge-point choral Durch dein Gefängnis is sung pianissimo and unaccompanied to make the point. But when every moment of the Evangelista’s narrative is milked for its drama, then we start to suffer overkill.

Is this a conception that Johann Sebastian would recognise? Most disconcertingly for me, the exchanges between the Evangelista and the turba are between people on different planets: However sharply the turba sing and however beguiling the Evangelista woos them into his story, they yield two different sound worlds. This will be true of all performances in which the singers are divided in the modern way into being either soloists or members of the choir. This performance contradicts – as do many modern takes on the Johannes-Passion – not only what we know about how Bach conceived his music but also about how it was received. Bach’s principal singers were the basic chorus – the core participants in his Passions – to which others were added. It was emphatically not like opera, a spectacle out there with distinct roles at which we, the distant spectators, marvelled. It is we who are the participants: We are both the agents of the drama and at the same time the worshippers in church on Good Friday. A performance of the Johannes-Passion that strives for the pinnacle of excellence in its individual components may fall down on the one thing that is absolutely essential – the interconnectedness of the individual parts to the whole.

Listeners need to make up their own minds about performances like this, which many will admire and assume that this is just what Bach would have wanted. It will fill concert halls and sell the CDs. But for me, the central factor – the integrity of the whole – is missing.

David Stancliffe

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Recording

Baroque Anatomy – 5 The Eye

Marcello Gatti flute, Alessandro Tampieri, violin, Accademia Bizantina, directed by Ottavio Dantone harpsichord
65:23
HDB Sonus HDB-AB-ST-006

Behind the rather curious heading lies an intriguing project by the consistently innovative director of Accademia Bizantina. It involves the recording of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos issued not as a set of all six in the usual way, but rather giving each a CD to itself and surrounding it with works by Bach or his contemporaries that have a connection in instrumentation or other reason. The anatomy part the title is a rather obscure conceit, the explanation for which I leave readers to discover from Ottavio Dantone’s notes if they buy the disc, which is so exhilarating that everyone ought to at least hear it, better still, own it.

To finish explanations, there should by now be no reason not to have worked out that the ‘5’ in the title tells us that the first Brandenburg to be featured is No 5 in D, BWV 1050. The obvious companion included is the Triple Concerto in A minor, BWV 1044, which features the same three solo instruments: flute, violin and harpsichord. Also closely related as to instrumentation is Telemann’s Concerto for Flute and Violin in E minor, TWV 52: e3. Finally Bach’s eldest son Carl Philipp Emanuel moves us from the Baroque to the galant with his Flute Quartet in A minor, Wq 93, a late (1788) work actually scored for just flute, violin and harpsichord (which plays two parts) that at least in its playful outer movements is surprisingly close to the spirit of the rococo for a minor key work by CPE. A more expected mood comes with the central Largo e sostenuto, which inhabits the profoundly expressive world of Empfindsamkeit so closely associated with CPE Bach. Described in the notes as having five movements, the Telemann E minor Concerto is more accurately in four movements, the extremely brief Adagio that links the third and fourth movements acting purely as a bridge. Its opening movement has no tempo indication and is indeed one of the few places where Dantone’s chosen tempo might be queried, it sounding rather peremptory at such a very brisk speed.

No such caveats arise with the Bach concertos. Dantone has long been an exceptional exponent of Bach’s instrumental music and both are outstanding performances, notable above all for his ability to achieve an excellent balance, every contrapuntal strand thus emerging with exceptional clarity. To outer movements can be added a buoyancy and at appropriate moments a quite delicious and irresistible lightness of touch – try the opening of the final Allegro of Brandenburg 5 for a fine example. In contrast, a movement like the central Affettuoso of the same concerto breathes an aura of ineffable tranquillity, its cantabile beautifully spun by the soloists who are not averse to subtle touches of additional ornamentation. Indeed, this is most likely the moment to stress that the playing of all three soloists is first-rate throughout. Dantone’s own contribution underlines his special credentials as a Bach interpreter, seizing his great moment – the magnificent cadenza at the end of the opening Allegro of Brandenburg 5 – with a display of supreme virtuosity that is always within the bounds of sheer musicality. At the other end of the scale, listen to the sweetly empathetic exchange between flautist Marcello Gatti and violinist Alessandro Tampieri, the long-time leader of Academia Bizantina, in the beguilingly lovely Adagio of the Telemann Concerto.

Whether or not you buy into Dantone’s concept for presenting a set of the Brandenburg Concertos, there can be no argument that it is a quite exceptional start to the series. These performances joyously live and breathe a mastery and musical virtuosity that is there to illuminate the music, not the performers.

Brian Robins

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Recording

Divine Impresario

Nicolini on Stage
Randall Scotting countertenor, Mary Bevan soprano, Academy of Ancient Music, directed by Laurence Cummings
78:37
signum classics SIGCD986

This CD concentrates on the career and repertoire of Nicolò Grimaldi, one of the first celebrity castrati and better known to his adoring public by the stage name Nicolini – the famous theatre-goer Samuel Pepys mentions the first of the Italian castrati to visit London in the years prior to Nicolini’s residence, although he is unimpressed. Famous for his stage presence as much as for his fine mezzo-soprano voice, an account of Nicolini wrestling a lion while dressed in a pink flesh suit and singing “Mostro crudel che fai?” by Francesco Mancini evokes this bizarre phase in operatic history – I leave you to devise your own Pink Panther jokes. Such was the impact of this implausible scene on audiences that they demanded that the lion be ‘revived’ for a series of encores! Perhaps for those of us with vivid imaginations, it is fortunate that Randall Scotting spares us Mancini’s setting, singing “Mostro crudel” in the setting by Riccardo Broschi, the brother of one of Nicolini’s successors as star castrato, the legendary Farinelli – towards the end of his career, Nicolini actually appeared onstage in Venice with Farinelli. Scotting has a mellow mezzo-soprano voice, and in his account of lyrical numbers such as Mancini’s “E vano ogni pensiero” he goes a long way to explaining Nicolini’s enormous popularity. Fortunately for us, in addition to performing music by the likes of Gasparini, Porporo, Ariosti and Giaj, Nicolini spent some time in London working with the young Handel, and undoubtedly influencing the young composer’s impressive early efforts at opera. As well as giving ravishing accounts of the slower, expressive arias, Scotting is more than capable of negotiating the virtuoso demands of some of the more flamboyant music audiences came to expect of their castrato idols. He also joins forces with HIP royalty, Mary Bevan, for three lovely duets, while he benefits throughout from beautifully idiomatic orchestral support from the Academy of Ancient Music under the direction of Laurence Cummings, who also contribute a fine account of the Sinfonia from Handel’s Rinaldo. As intriguing as the arias from Rinaldo and Amadigi, in which Nicolini premiered the title role, are the arias and duets by the less familiar composers, part of the ferment of operatic activity in the early 18th century.

D. James Ross

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Recording

Telemann: Complete violin concertos vol. 9

Julia Huber, Martin Jopp, Lucas Schurig-Breuß, L’Orfeo Barockorchester, directed by Carin van Heerden
61:17
cpo 555 699-2

This recording represents the conclusion of a 22-year project to bring to the fore the varied works for one, two, three and four violins (with and without bass), including nine suites with solo violin, and TWV55:g8 with two.

Originally under the directorship and lead violin Libby Wallfisch (co-founder of the orchestra), the previous eight volumes display such admirable qualities right from the outset back in 2004.

Now it is time for the former “understudies” Julia Huber and Martin Jopp to step up and shine in these works coming from the Eisenach period 1708-12. One can hear the agile binary effect for two violins right from the fanfare-like opening intrada of the D-major concerto (a premiere). It is easy to imagine Telemann’s old musical sparring partner, the dance-master, composer Pantaleon Hebenstreit (1668-1750, inventor of a kind of dulcimer) on the instrument alongside him as they bounce off each other in vivid, engaged interplay. Julia’s 1680 Mantuan school violin has an incisive tone which often fizzes through the passages, or casts a wistful spell of melancholy in the slower movements, like both the opening and third movements of the G minor double violin concerto (quite a rare piece, for which Prima la musica! receives warm thanks for supplying the parts material here.)

In the penultimate work, the superbly contoured G major concerto, Julia Huber’s solo playing is most articulate. In the final Presto, she captures the dynamic spirit with a splendid little cadenza.

Closing the CD, the exquisite ripieno concerto in E minor, whose first movement was expanded in Dresden to make a kind of sinfonia to a cantata. Some wonderful writing here catches the ear, not least the tender Cantabile second movement, then the final, vigorous giguestyled Presto.

Amongst these fine early examples of Telemann’s violin concertos, we have yet another take on the viola concerto, reputedly one of the earliest for this instrument.

This series has been like the vibrant and florid cover photography, a bright, vivid transit through some very noteworthy pieces, some of Telemann’s most engaging and entertaining works for violin(s).

David Bellinger

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Recording

Werner: Festive Masses

Magdalena Harer, Alex Potter, Hans Jörg Mammel, Anton Haupt ScTTBar, la festa musicale conducted by Lajos Rovatkay
70:29
Audite 97.836

I am forced to draw attention to the gross negligence of the local castle chapel, the unnecessarily large princely expenses, and the lazy idleness of the whole band, the present responsibility for which must be laid at the door of the present director…’ Those are the words of Gregor Joseph Werner, Haydn’s predecessor as Kapellmeister to the Esterházy family, ‘the present director’ indeed being Haydn himself. It is rather sad that the image of Werner with which we are most likely to be familiar today is that of an embittered and sick old man at the end of his life. Werner had been appointed as Kapellmeister in 1728, becoming an industrious servant of the Esterházys and a pupil of Caldara. His output was largely centred on church music, which is known to include at least 22 oratories, Masses, Requiems, Te Deums, Vespers and Lamentations along with secular instrumental music. Such a prodigious output suggests too great a facility, yet already in his great study of Haydn H. C. Robbins Landon had recognised the quality of Werner’s compositions, suggesting that his religious music ‘displays all this learning [Werner was trained in the Fux contrapuntal tradition] in a genuinely impressive way …’, while we know Haydn held his music in the highest regard.

The present disc is the final issue of five CDs devoted to Werner’s sacred works, though it is the only one to come my way up to now. It includes two so-called ‘festive’ masses scored for a pair of trumpets, timpani and strings, the Missa ‘Trinitas in unitate veneranda’ and the Missa ‘Iam hyems transiit’, though the disappointingly brief notes by conductor Lajos Rovatkay tell us nothing of their progeny. In addition, there is a brief motet also based on ‘Iam hyems transiit’, a setting of especially lovely lines from chapter 2 of the Song of Solomon, and an even briefer three-movement ‘Symphonia Tertia’ for strings. Both Masses are multi-faceted works that range from the contrapuntal writing one would expect from a composer trained in the wake of the Viennese Masses of Fux and Caldara, through homophonic choral writing to extensive solos and ensembles. Indeed, the extent of the often quite florid solo and ensemble passages is unusual for this kind of work, the more so since it manages to avoid overt operatic influence. But most striking of all is that both Masses are imbued with both a joyous spirit and humane warmth that I do not find in Fux or Caldara, combined with an elegant grace and, at times, intensely moving writing at more solemn moments of the text. For example, the setting of ‘Et incarnatus’ in both Masses is quite different, but in both brings a moment of quiet inner reflection with exquisite harmonies including touches of chromaticism, a distinctive strength of Werner’s writing on the evidence of both these Masses. In the ‘Trinitas’ Mass, ‘Crucifixus’ is a long, melismatic bass solo, its winding line here negotiated by Anton Haupt with sensitive skill, while the equivalent section in the ‘Iam hyems transiit’ Mass is a beautifully worked solo quartet that includes some especially piquant harmonies. So many striking moments clamour for attention. An early example arrives with the second Kyrie of the ‘Trinitas’ Mass, no repetition of Kyrie I but a movement built from the bass up to culminate in a resplendent climax for the whole Kyrie. The unusually-structured motet, presumably intended for performance with its offspring Mass, opens with a verse scored for the same forces before continuing to a tenor recitative and aria. It concludes with a brilliant Alleluia.

Both Masses are a revelation, their effect enhanced by the outstanding performances by Hannover-based la festa musicale. I don’t know the strength of the forces employed by the Esterházys during Werner’s tenure, but the modest numbers involved here – two-per-part chorus plus a pair of trumpets, tympani and small string ensemble – work well, with the fully-scored festive passages being projected with full brilliance and more intimate moments sensitively handled. All four soloists are quite outstanding either in solo passages or participating in the various ensembles, which reveal an excellent blend. Passage work is uniformly cleanly negotiated; I was especially impressed with the pure but warmly characterful soprano of Magdalene Harer, a name new to me. The conducting of the veteran Hungarian-born conductor Lajos Rovatkay is throughout idiomatic and responsive. Sad to relate that Rovatkay died at the start of 2026 at the age of 92. Renowned for his place in the development of early music study and performance in north Germany, his Werner series will alone stand as a splendid legacy.

Brian Robins

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Book

Beate Sorg: Christoph Graupner

Biographie eines Hofkapellmeisters
Studien und Materialien zur Musikwissenschaft Band 137
265pp. €39
ISBN 978-3-487-17157-9 (Print) 17158-6 (ePDF)
Georg Olms Verlag

This excellent volume should be required reading for anyone interested in music in 18th-century Germany. Beate Sort has long been recognised as a specialist on Graupner’s music, and this beautifully illustrated, detail-rich study reveals just how deep her knowledge goes.

Using three contemporary bibliographical sources – and quoting them throughout the chronological narrative – she provides a comprehensive assessment of the composer’s life, and shines a light on the places where he studied and worked, and the people with whom he mixed in each of them. The appendix includes a list of those people, nine pages of bibliography, a very useful list of abbreviations along with explanations of 18th-century weights and measures from Hessen-Darmstadt (where Graupner spent the vast majority of his adult life as Hofkapellmeister), and valuable information on older forms of language used in the original documents.

All in all, this book is packed with information. It is unlikely that you would want to read it in one sitting. Still, the fact that Sorg has broken it into chapters broadly divided by decades and concentrates on different musical genres at various points makes it an extraordinarily handy resource.

Congratulations on an excellent piece of work!

Brian Clark

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Book

Francesco Meucci The musical path

IOD Edizioni, 2024
410pp. €24.00
ISBN 979-12-81561-26-7

We are not very often asked to review works of fiction, but when the author reached out to me on Facebook, I decided that it was worth giving it a go.

I’m very glad I asked him to send a copy. What started off as something with which I could thoroughly identify as the book’s first-person narrator, a young horn player called Edu Maia, struggled with performance anxiety. Brilliant in class and dedicated to hours of study and practice to the exclusion of almost everything else, he just cannot stand up in front of anyone critical and perform.

Without giving away the story, he is the victim of various near-death experiences, yet finds enlightenment through a stranger and proceeds – with unexpected support, moral and financial – to attempt the most ambitious project imaginable in some sort of Utopian universe. In other words, the novel turns from psychology to philosophy. It is not long, however, before we are drawn back to the dark side, and the denouement was totally unexpected. And provoked quite a few questions!

Although musicians will perhaps get more from the piece than non-musicians, I recommend it to anyone who enjoys a good read.

La Vita della Musica was originally published in Italian in 2022. The translation is very readable, but something happened when importing the text into the desktop publishing program that sometimes caused two lines to run together – I wondered who “Palestrinato” on p. 271 was, until I realised that it was two words… There are also typos, but that’s the case in most books (even huge series like Harry Potter are not immune!), and it’s all the more forgivable here for not being the author’s mother tongue.

These trivial slips did not detract in any way from a gripping story, and a journey through what music is (or could be?) about. I commend it highly.

Brian Clark

The novel is available from amazon.co.uk
(This is NOT a sponsored link)

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Sheet music

Maurice Greene: Two orchestral Te Deum settings

Edited by H. Diack Johnstone & Ryan Patten
Musica Britannica MB111
ISBN: 9780852499771 ISMN: 9790220229312
xxxiii + 132pp, £115.00
Stainer & Bell

Both of the settings in this latest volume of Musica Britannica were written to celebrate the return of George II from his ancestral home in Hanover. The earlier dates from 1745 and is a “numbers” setting; each of the verses is a self-contained movement. In contrast, the 1750 Te Deum is a continuous patchwork of contrasting sections. Both are written for four-part chorus and orchestra (strings with pairs of oboes and trumpets, and one flute in the first, two flutes in the second). The soprano line divides occasionally in both Verse and and Chorus sections. Musically – and most likely by coincidence – for me, the most interesting music in both settings is the “Vouchsafe, O Lord”; in 1745, Greene opted for an alto soloist with flute and cello obbligatos, while the much shorter later version opens with oboe and violin before the alto enters. This is music that definitely needs to be performed and recorded, if only to demonstrate the qualities of Greene’s output; for too long, he (and, I might add, Boyce and Stanley, to name but two much more than “worthy” English composers) has languished in Handel’s shadow.

Indeed, the preface here explains that that was true in their own day; even though he was the official composer to the Chapel Royal, Greene was often overlooked at major celebrations, with music by Handel performed instead. The preface also includes an expression that made me scratch my head: “Most unusually for its time, the scoring of the Te Deum, like Bach’s B minor mass, involves two flutes in addition to two oboes (and bassoon)”. Someone needs to familiarise themself with music at the Dresden court…

Unusually for MB, the critical commentary is short; both works survive as single sources, so there is no need to cross-reference differences between manuscripts. It is, of course, no less meticulous than previous volumes, and this 110th title will stand proudly with the others in this prestigious series.

Brian Clark

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Sheet music

Restoration Theatre Airs

Edited by Peter Holman & Andrew Woolley
Musica Britannica MB110
ISBN: 9780852499757 ISMN: 9790220229183
lix + 156pp, £135.00
Stainer & Bell

This important volume includes music by 14 composers. The first set of airs includes music for “The Tempest” by Matthew Locke and Robert Smith, but the remaining 12 suites are single-composer examples. The others are William Turner, Louis Grabu, Gottfried Finger, Francis Forcer, William Croft, John Eccles, Jeremiah Clarke, James Paisible, William Corbett, John Barrett, possibly Pierre Gillier, and the ever-popular Anonymous. In other words, it’s a veritable who’s who? of Purcellian England.

The music itself is mostly in four parts. Exceptions are Turner’s music for “Pastor Fido, or The Faithful Shepherd” in three parts, and Grabu’s for “Valentinian” in five. Finger added a woodwind solo to the sixth movement of his music for “The Mourning Bride”. The editors have composed a viola part for Forcer’s music in “The Innocent Mistress”. The suites consist of an overture and a sequence of binary dances or airs, the vast majority in what you might call “standard keys”; the four movements in the appendices to the Finger suite are in F minor (only the bass line of the fourth survives), which is the home key of Clarke’s “All for the Better…”

A description of the sources fills more than ten pages. The critical notes, which together with the extensive introduction, are a tribute to the editors, occupy the next 13 pages. I was unable to find an explanation of why they opted to add a viola part to the Forcer suite, but not the Turner. The added trumpet part in Barrett’s “The Albion Queens” is idiomatic and utterly convincing. Another fine volume in this series of international importance.

Brian Clark

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Sheet music

George Jeffreys: Latin Sacred Music – 1

Edited by Jonathan P. Wainright
Musica Britannica MB109
ISBN: 9780852499740 ISMN: 9790220228575
xxxviii + 233pp, £135.00
Stainer & Bell

The full subtitle of this volume is “Liturgical music and motets for one, two and four voices and bass continuo”. The index subdivides the music as follows: Latin liturgial music (two mass movements – the first of them actually for five voices! – and settings of the Venite, Te Deum, Magnificat, Nunc dimittis, and Jubilate Deo), [2] motets for bass voice, [13] motets for two voices (eight of them printed in two versions), and 11 motets for four voices.

The very fine music occupies 198 pages of this typically beautiful Stainer & Bell volume. As an example of Jeffreys’ writing, let us consider a short section from the four-voice Venite exultemus Domino. “Hodie si vocem ejus” begins with solo alto in F major (the “home key” is D major!), answered by the solo bass (“Nolite obdurare corda vestra”) which modulates to A major within five bars; the full ensemble leads (via B major and a circle of fifths back to the home key) to a perfect cadence (“secundum diem tentationis in deserto”) in C major. Quite the harmonic journey!

After 22 pages of detailed critical notes come the full texts with translations. It seems Jeffreys learned to compose “like an Italian” by copying out music that his employers in Northamptonshire, the Hatton family, bought from a London musicseller. This volume, along with the earlier MB CV of English Sacred Music, and (presumably) the forthcoming volume 2 of Latin Sacred Music, will pave the way for more performances of his output, and encourage scholars to investigate Wainright’s assertion that the important role Jeffreys played in bringing the stile nuovo to England has been overlooked.

Brian Clark