Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Olivia Vermeulen. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Olivia Vermeulen. Mostrar todas las entradas
martes, 16 de junio de 2020
miércoles, 4 de abril de 2018
Bach Collegium Japan / Masaaki Suzuki MOZART Great Mass in C minor
Period-instrument C minor Masses get better and better. The bar was
set in the mid 1980s by Gardiner and Hogwood, then raised in the new
millennium by the likes of McCreesh, Krivine and Langrée. This new
recording from Japan, which joins Suzuki’s scholarly and startling
Requiem, is fully worthy to join them. Reviewing the Requiem (1/15), I
was disappointed that the acoustic and engineering blurred the inner
voices, obliterating Mozart’s (or Süssmayr’s, Eybler’s or Suzuki Jnr’s)
counterpoint. Here that problem is largely avoided in a similarly grand
acoustic: that, and the fact that the C minor Mass is a far more vocally
orientated piece than the Requiem.
The choir are well drilled and the two female soloists are matched as
well as any on disc (see my Collection on the work, 6/13). Carolyn
Sampson takes the bulk of the soprano solos (the ‘Laudamus’ is taken by
the second soprano, Olivia Vermeulen, as is traditional) and does so
with the lithe coloratura, rich, silky tone and innate identification
with this music familiar from her sacred Mozart collection with The
King’s Consort (Hyperion, 5/06), and intertwines memorably with Olivia
Vermeulen in the duet and trio of the Gloria. Suzuki is no speed merchant (a full minute slower than Langrée in the Kyrie,
for example), and maintains the through line in more strenuous
movements such as the ‘Qui tollis’ and the ‘Cum Sancto Spiritu’ fugue
that closes the Gloria. He takes his time especially in the ‘Et incarnatus est’, its beautiful pastoral scene spun out mesmerisingly by Sampson.
The edition used of this tantalisingly incomplete work is that
by Franz Beyer, published in 1989. There is nothing here to
discombobulate the general listener; however, those for whom such
matters are important will wish to know that there are no (editorial)
trumpets in the ‘Credo’ or horns in the ‘Incarnatus’, whose new string
parts are perhaps more active than those in the more usual HC Robbins
Landon completion. (Beyer also contrived an Agnus Dei from the music of the Kyrie
but that is not recorded here.) As the only other recording of this
edition is Harnoncourt’s, whose peculiar balance between voices and
instruments is a sticking point, it is worthwhile to hear Beyer’s work
on this disc.
Sampson is once again the soloist in the popular Exsultate, jubilate,
the treat here being a parallel recording of the opening aria in the
‘Salzburg’ version, which boasts a different text and flutes instead of
oboes. As a package, the disc as a whole is certainly a winner; the Mass
easily ranks alongside the period-instrument benchmarks. (David Threasher / Gramophone)
jueves, 8 de febrero de 2018
Arcangelo / Jonathan Cohen BACH Magnificats
Three Magnificats, by the three most famous members of the
Bach family, make for a delectable triptych from a 40-year span, with
each strikingly promoting their distinctive musical priorities. If
Johann Sebastian’s first Leipzig Christmas in 1723 impelled him to
display all his high-Baroque wares in a canticle of mesmerising variety,
then both his cosmopolitan sons accept the subsequent challenge with
alacrity in their colourful settings – with the more substantial CPE
score now beginning to enter the canon.
For their father’s perennial masterpiece, Jonathan Cohen and
Arcangelo snap into their festive sparklers with grand authority and
lithe ebullience, sweeping effortlessly from verse to verse with
considerable purpose. There’s something attractively straightforward
about ‘Quia fecit’ with the characterful Thomas Bauer agreeably
supported by Cohen’s present harpsichord, not least because it has a
delicious effect on the languid curves of Iestyn Davies’s and Thomas
Walker’s ‘Et misericordia’, which follows. One is struck throughout by
the exceptional balance of the voices and instruments yet without
forgoing Cohen’s animated and imaginative way with text. Indeed, when
one reaches the ‘Gloria Patri’ at the close, the music seems to have
evolved imperceptibly in a generous seam of exquisitely judged verses.
Arcangelo’s voyage into the sons’ Magnificats is no less well
paced or astutely textured. As we move into Johann Christian’s third
setting (thought to be for Milan Cathedral in 1760), the new idiom
becomes decidedly operatic, riven with self-conscious conceits and
reeking of galant suavity. But it goes down very nicely in around
10 minutes, especially the expectant choral interpolations in ‘Fecit
potentiam’ and even the slightly perfunctory doffing of the cap to dad
with a decent enough fugue to end.
Carl Philipp Emanuel’s Magnificat is a substantial homage to
his father’s setting (there are some obvious quotes), especially in the
successful combining of so many contrasting elements. If CPE is rather
less succinct than Johann Sebastian, there’s no denying that there are
some brilliant and affecting set pieces, especially when carried by
Joélle Harvey’s uniformly dramatic and engaging singing – not to mention
the supreme final double fugue when the choir and orchestra all but
take off. It’s 40 years since King’s College Choir Cambridge under
Philip Ledger recorded the work in what seemed a rather muddy and
elusive idiom. Not here, where Cohen and Arcangelo bring us an
illuminated Bachian constellation of three canticles colliding in
captivating relief. (Jonathan Freeman-Attwood / Gramophone)
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