This is not the first time I’ve gone on record about this recording; I’ve had it now for a couple of years, having found the combination of Christoph Rousset on harpsichord and Stephano Montanari on violin a curious duo. Even more curious is the album cover, put out by Ambrosie in 2007.

The recording is made relatively “close,” with an emphasis on Montanari’s sound. The closeness is a minor quip; I think we’d here more dynamic variation from the violin if we were slightly less close to the performer. After all, he does contribute a richness in the dynamic department which is apropos to the music.

I’ve lived with these sonatas for so long; they’re akin to 3 part sonatas, except Bach wrote out two of the parts for the keyboard (bass as a basso continuo, the right-hand as a second melody, often in contrapuntal consort with the violin), and of course, the violin. These are the prototypes, I’m sure, for those later by Mozart, C.P.E. Bach, Beethoven, etc.

I’m a big fan of BWV 1017, the fourth sonata in C minor. I must have listened to the second allegro hundreds of times, my first exposure being that of Reinhard Goebel and Henk Bouman. That performance of course colored my thinking about this set; it was recorded I believe on the cusp of 1980-81, and had its own recording issues, not to mention a few spots where intonation escapes the otherwise impeccable playing by Goebel. Few recordings since have really tickled me, in terms of inventiveness or interpretive superlatives. Catherine Mackintosh, Andrew Manze, Carmignola, etc. all had noble attempts, none of whom really contributed anything remarkable, at least in the “newness” department.

Unlike others, this duo gives us alone the set of six sonatas, BWV 1014-1019, the last (in G major) being the odd-one out, with three versions having survived. We seem to get a good collection from 1019 in this set; although not clearly marked in my electronic edition, it seems with 7 tracks we might have all the tracks required to reproduce both BWV 1019, BWV 1019a, and the alternate movement with solo harpsichord.

I also find the later (in terms of Schmeider number) sonatas, which many play with an augmented bass interesting, in the BWV 1020s. Despite them “missing” here, I liked this release.

All the allegros don’t maintain the same amount of energy as what I feel they probably possess, but many are done very well, with that toe-tapping energy that seems germane to Bach’s richer fast movements. Montanari is am impressive player, and his interjection of some turns here, other ornaments there within the collection is a nice way of decorating the line. His energy seems authentic, despite some of the slower movements presenting more of an interpretive challenge. The music is difficult to perform because it leaves both players quite “naked.” With Rousset as the back-up man on harpsichord, the duo often lock in to a really steady tempo, with Montanari offering more of the affective goods. He doesn’t take every opportunity to lean-in and add what I would have to call attitude, but it’s there enough to make me smile.

The opening of BWV 1019 is a great example for closer examination. I prefer Goebel’s tempo; but these two lock-in and it’s as easy as anything to tap your foot to their choice. With headphones as my listening medium, the two instruments could use a tad more air, if for nothing else, better balance. The interpretation is stylish, if not a tad safe. Montanari often takes dynamic contrasts through his reading, although nothing would have been hurt if he amped up the changes even more, for better contrast.

The second track, Largo, is delightful, if not too slow. But here’s where taking things slow allows Montanari (and Rousset to a degree) to shine through their own aesthetic additions of rubato and ornaments. The next Allegro, for solo harpsichord, is confident, cocky even, played by Rousset with authority at what I would deem an ideal tempo. In the repeat, I yearned for some more fanciful fingerwork, hoping Rousset would lay on a little sass. Instead, it’s another clean reading, perhaps with just a hair of the opening energy missing.

The next track, an adagio that brings back the violin seems like one of Bach’s experiments. The contrapuntal element is there, but the movement lacks the compositional polish of the earlier largo.

The next Allegro has such a sound to it I wager this was recorded on another day; the entire recording has more energy, even more volume, when it comes to Montanari’s line on violin. Tempo is good, energy is welcome, but I’m not sure they pull off the little licks that tease each other as well as it could be done… but they’re approaching an interesting, if not jovial solution.

The penultimate movement is another slow one, but here pushed somewhat, in the major mode. I like this approach a lot. The music, not to mention the interpretation, brings a warm smile to the listener. The last track, a cantabile is less successful, and here I blame Bach somewhat… what he wrote isn’t a piece of cake for any duo. One version of the sonata is to end with the opening Allegro in repeat; here our friends didn’t bother to record that, instead, you have to program your player to go back and repeat that which we’ve already heard.

Despite my nitpicking with BWV 1019, there is still a lot to admire in this release. BWV 1015 sparkles, both with energy, rollicking tempos, and confidence from both players. WIth a love for these works, and no really “outstanding” single release, I enjoy collecting a variety. There’s just enough inventiveness here from Montanari (more so over Rousset) to admire this one despite even more recent releases.

Biberfan’s Album of the Year

My thoughts went to Yo-Yo Ma recently when I read Isaacson’s book on Steve Jobs. Ma comes up in the book; Jobs asked him to perform at his wedding and Ma could not. He asked him later to play at his funeral. Ma agreed. He must have had a very high opinion of Ma’s music; he was in special company on Jobs’ own iPod as one of the only classical artists.

Going to iTunes I discovered this new album in collaboration with other musicians of what might be described as “bluegrass” music. The combinations of instruments center around Ma’s cello, mandolin, violin, and bass. Guitar, piano, and vocals are also included on select tracks. Ma is the odd-man out here; the other three main collaborators wrote the music. Ma’s contribution however is both warm and welcome. Seeing Ma play on the videos shows his passion towards the music, if not the collaborative project.

So, as a fan of Baroque music, how do I go about choosing this album, a somewhat mish-mash style of Americana-inspired pieces, born of our own age, and not of composers who have been long-dead?

This is the best-sounding recorded album I’ve come across this year. If I were choosing a baroque album, first coming to mind is Riccardo Minasi’s Corelli’s Legacy Musica Antiqua Roma. It’s an excellent album I listen to almost every day.

But this release by Ma and company is even better. It’s jazzy, saucy, and yes, the combination of instruments is novel. Favorite tracks include Less is Moi, Attaboy, and Quarter Chicken Dark.

I purchased the album right before Thanksgiving. The Americana feel (no doubt due to the presence of the banjo-y mandolin) felt like appropriate music for that holiday. But since then, I’ve been playing this on the hifi in my listening room, turned-up high. Not every track is a world-class gem, but there are so many wonderful moments, you can’t fault these musicians at all.

From the group performing at Google:

I came to tears reading reviews on Amazon this past weekend. Some folks hate the album (that’s a great sign that it divides people so, I think, to be considered great) but an overwhelming majority have reserved such gushing language for the album. There seems to be consensus that this album will win a Grammy. No better praise could these musicians receive than to know that their effort has made such a profound impact on the emotional lives of others.

What sets the music apart (aside from it being really well-written music, almost always fun) is the utterly high level of musicianmanship from each contributor. Duncan, Edgar, and Thile all were new names to me. No longer.

Of any album I’ve purchased in 2011, this one receives my highest recommendation. Ma doesn’t deserve credit for making it great, necessarily, but I can’t help but think his collaboration made it happen. So much of what he does is synonymous with excellence. Like had Jobs, Ma has the best taste.

Sample the album on YouTube.

You can learn more about this release directly from the Glossa website.

Carl Friedrich Abel, born 1723, fits into an interesting cubby of history; his instrument’s popularity was on the decline, and yet in his time, he was a famous performer. In late 2008, Paolo Pandolfo released a program of Abel’s music in three suites and two pieces in A major. The suites are in either D major or D minor.

This is solo music, so you might think of it akin to Bach’s solo works for cello, violin, etc. The most interesting track to my ears is the opening to the second suite, an Arpeggiata, really nothing more than apreggiated chords. But if the effect would work for Bach in the opening of his Well-tempered clavier, book 1, then it works here too for Abel under Pandolfo’s control.

The recorded sound is beautiful; we’re transported really, to another sound world. This is modern music to my baroque ears, pushing Abel’s very galant ideas forward with a soft, mellow instrument capable of singing drama.

What sold me, really, into this sound world was a video by Pandolfo talking about his connection to this music.

What it has in flavor it lacks in profundity. I might even dare say that Pandolfo is the better player than Abel was the composer… but it does give us a peak into 18th century Europe. What I mean here is that Carl Abel isn’t some just-discovered composer that will blow you away with his radical yet satisfying ideas. But, he does represent a cross roads in baroque-to-classical style. He’s got some very inventive licks for his instrument. And his music is full of affective gestures which our gambits takes full advantage of.

There are at times I wish there was a visual component to this music – to see the performer play, or to see dancers dance. And because this thought comes to mind, I think the music is very personal. To maximize your enjoyment of it, you almost have to be the performer. It’s that personal, and in some movements, that deep.

The newness to me is a plus; we’ll see how it endures time with repeated listenings, and whether I judge the composer Abel any differently.

There are several Goldberg recordings I have avoided; two of late were those by Richard Egarr and the one by Andreas Staier. Both recordings had their critics; listening to track previews online didn’t convince me I needed yet more interpretations on harpsichord.

I had two by Pierre Hantaï, and I loved them. Dinnerstein teased on piano, but I held off. Then this offering by Ms. Rannou appeared. I sampled. I pre-ordered it through iTunes.

Why? It was different.

This is my first solo recording by Rannou to enter my collection. I immediately found she played with rubato and, what was this, with her own real interpretation? She was ornamenting like mad, to what, let’s face it, is already a pretty ornamental work. She out-Baroqued everyone else. It was to be the essence of baroque: a dark, disfigured pearl (I couldn’t resist with BWV 988), full of filigree and excess. I’ll forego the pearl reference, and go further: she took an already very ornate ball of thread and tugged and pulled at it, like a cat might do. She created a big giant hairball.

And sir, do you like hairballs? Well, the ones regurgitated by Ms. Rannou in a recording? Yes I do, very much.

Ok, it’s unfair to call this recording a giant hairball. First, Rannou plays on a beautiful instrument. It sparkles enough to make me think of glitter, with a neutral but ever-so-light tone. It’s pleasing harpsichord, and she isn’t afraid to play with it’s extra features for changes in the timbre and flavor.

So, yeah. Listen to the opening Aria. She takes her sweet time. Clocks that guy in at 7 minutes. (Yes, she took the repeats.) But get to, what, about the third measure, and then there’s this little pause. The music suddenly is transformed into something once exact and metered to something… organic. She’s stretching this Aria, a piece I play often, into something meditative. The same piece is performed at 3:22 to finish the recording. But it’s in that first reading, with repeats, that we get a sense of what Rannou is made of. She’s improvising. That space gives way to flourishes of extra notes that Mr. Johann Sebastian Bach never wrote. Heresy? Or… art?

Towards the end, those last 10 seconds of the Aria, we’re in for a rare treat in the world of digital recordings. The resolution (release of the hands) doesn’t take place until the next track, our first glorious variation. She jumped right in. I believe in this so very much. On the repeat, she’s showing off. More ornaments. More rubato. I think I am falling in love.

A performance like this really is result of two ideas of authenticity (see Kivy) colliding. We get the baroque sound world with a beautiful harpsichord. But we also get that personal authenticity of the performer. I’ve resigned now in 2011 that we’ll not know what JSB did with this piece. It’s time to take our own stand. She here does. Each repeat taken is a garden of earthly delights. It doesn’t mean I throw Hantaï away. It means I now have a real collaboration that is richer than most. Her additions won’t take on the novelty they have now over time, of course. That’s the reason Hantaï went for it twice. Glenn Gould the same. Variety is the spice of life.

In variation 15, she takes an almost Scarlatti-esque approach, if we are to believe Domenico wrote his sonatas in some parts to resemble the sound of a full band, wherein chords take on crunches of dissonance to extract more volume, more fury, from the instrument. Rannou treats the flourishes across the keyboard not in regular time, but instead as pure flourish, dabbed-onto a canvas by a mad and flamboyant artist. Celebration!

So how does Ms. Rannou do with the so-called Black Pearl variation, number 25? It’s done here with a the left hand using the lute stop effect. Oh, that’s interesting. She reads this one in over 9.5 minutes. At times it takes on an otherworldly charm, Bach through Rannou is channeling the underworld. Think exploring in dark caves. The repeat she honors with a seriousness, not polishing Bach’s easily manipulated line here with filigree. Instead, she sticks to the score, for the most part, and by the time we reach the end, you might just scratch your head.

“Late 20th century? Or was that a Goldberg Variation?” That takes talent to pull off, to lead us so far away from the main theme. I credit Mr. Bach. But our claveniste deserves credit too.

The next variation, no. 26, would have been easy to pull off in a Gould-like frenzy, but she meters her time a little more conservatively. In fact, she plays the entire work (in about 90 minutes time) without ever approaching Gould-like speeds. In this one instance, I would have liked the athleticism of speed to contrast the depths of the caverns from our dark pearl. Ce la vie. We don’t see eye to eye.

She commands full sound from the instrument for Bach’s Quodlibet, peppering on more notes as she did in the beginning, augmenting Bach’s ingenious impregnation of a popular tune over the bass he’s been using as the foundation for 29 previously iterations of the theme. Here, too, Rannou doesn’t go as fast as others before her has; in many cases, her conservatism in tempo allows space upon the repeat for the extra baroqueness to seep in.

Some might paint her reading as a quirky one, as I know everyone is not fond of the rubato excesses she’s taken. And they are, to be fair, excesses. In some cases, as in variation 10, they downright take on the guise as big warts. And while I don’t think warts on our bodies are ever admired for their beauty, these warts in sound are exactly what come to mind when I think of the definition of Baroque. Disfigured pearls. Hairballs. Don’t let my run of negative connotations scare you.

This is a remarkable interpretation.

My primary criticism is the one made before: recorded history has shown us Gould. You almost have to show off in that other way that he did, with speed. While I don’t get a super fast rendition of any one variation, I’m left with a unique reading that truly is so very different from the rest, by the musical solutions Rannou adds through her wisdom and technical talents. This was a really welcome addition to my personal collection.

In college you could buy a book with all of Bach’s chorales from his cantatas. Today, you can purchase this CD of all of Bach’s cantata sinfonias, the instrumental movements that opened a number of his vocal works. The band is Accademia Bizantina, directed by Ottavio Dantone.

It’s a sumptuous recording, rich with trumpet, percussion when needed; organ concertato, all the colors really, that Bach called for. It really is beautifully captured music, with a real mixture of color and great interpretive care.

What I miss in many cases is the “next” music, which of course, comes in that cantatas with which I’m familiar.

19 tracks, 73 minutes, by one of the leading emerging bands. There is such variety in the music that listening through seems like cheating somehow; each are savorable gems. Warmly recommended.

Café Zimmermann completes their cycle of the Bach concertos and orchestral suites on Alpha. On this release they include:

• Orchestral Suite in D, BWV 1069
• Concerto pour clavecin in A major, BWV 1055
• Concerto for triple oboe, horns, and piccolo violin BWV 1046 “Brandenburg”
• Concerto pour quatre clavecins in D minore, BWV 1065

First a few notes about the recording in general.

As usual, this ensemble is consistent. They’re not fond of slowing down for pauses or affect. In addition, they choose some interesting tempos. All are on the quick side, especially with regard to middle movements. Some listeners might really take notice of this, thinking perhaps, that their pulses run faster than most other humans. The pulse of the music is on the fast track all around on this CD, and I have mixed feelings about this.

In too many cases, I’ve felt that middle concerto movements could be taken faster in other recordings I own. I’ve been a fan of the more speedy of our HPP ensembles whom aren’t afraid to push tempo. In this case, I first was like “wow! This is awesome.” But then there were moments where the ensemble felt more like a train that wouldn’t stop. Music isn’t a train. My philosophy about performance is that it should always be organic, unless you are specifically trying to imitate a machine (something can be said for this second idea in music we might term “minimalist” from the 20th century). I don’t mean to say romantic in the sense that we should coddle every affective cadence for finding an excess of milk and honey. But there are breathable phrases which need time for… breath… before the next phrase. This ensemble by in large wasn’t pausing for anything. It happens in the Allegros (Allegri?) too.

That’s my general criticism to their approach. You might disagree with me.

And now the works by themselves.

The opening Overture sparkles with CZ’s trumpets. The timpani are punctuating through the texture just right. At 11 minutes across, this is not the slowest performance (the slowest from my own collection clocks in around 13 minutes from the New London Consort. By comparison, Musica Antiqua Köln is at 10:30. It feels swift, and I think the tempo choice and the dotted rhythms are bouncy and really perfect. String distribution is 6/2/2/1, with three each of oboe and trumpets.

The Bourées bounce like no other, and by now on the second track, you feel as if this is almost holiday music. It’s festive to the core. The bassoon (Carles Vallès) comes through very clearly, and it’s a wonderful contribution. His tone is at once both buttery and warm.

The trumpets and drums really help the ensemble with dynamics. This is perhaps one of the most extrovert from this ensemble on really making something of dynamic contrasts, and these additional colors and their volume help the ensemble convincingly pepper the lines with interest through dynamic contrasts. Oddly, I felt portions of the Réjouissance fobbed a little with tempo variations. When the big boys (timpani and trumpets) drop out, it sounded as if the oboes and strings were rushing ahead to revive an earlier faster tempo. I likely will have to relive and re-listen with this movement to determine if what I’m suggesting is correct.

BWV 1055 is performed with one player per part, and Ms. Frisch at the keyboard. The clavecin has a kind of brassy flavor to it, not the brightest instrument, but one with some “roundness” to the tone. It’s not my favorite harpsichord sound, honestly, but it does cut through the texture fine. I feel they kept an honest balance between this instrument and the strings. In the middle movement, Pinnock clocks in at 5:41. Egarr with AAM, at 5:35. Frisch? 3:49! Why not? Bach called it a Larghetto and not a Largo after all.

I like their opening movement’s reading, but either the ensemble or the recording engineer should have provided us with more bass. I would have had the bass player come out of the texture a little more. I’m really stretching here for criticisms… but wanting a little more foundation is the only thing missing from this reading.

Their third movement is in the middle, in terms of timings/tempo. I like the opening phrase from the strings; they give it the right shape, and their interjections throughout the movement are witty and fun. The solo instrument is allowed to shine here.

Brandenburg Concerto #1 has some interesting contributions from the horns. Thomas Muller and Raul Diaz are the players, set more stereo left. At times they are shouting for attention; at other times, they are more civil. Above all, they come across as rustic, which I am 100% in support of, rather than coming off as proper “French” horns. I had hints at the start that they may in fact “out do” the brashness of the horns we get in Il Giardino Armonico’s reading, or that of La Stravaganza Hamburg. Not really. Pablo Valetti didn’t set out here to make this recording “the most extroverted Bach recording with horns to date”. Instead, there’s enough rustic flavor to pique our interest and to convey the flavor of the hunt.

Let’s look at the timings for the III and IV movements:

• Pickett: 4:24, 8:22
• Goebel: 4:02, 7:41
• Alessandrini: 4:17, 8:35
• Café Zimmermann: 4:03, 5:47

Am I making my case yet about them liking fast tempi? The fourth movement pushes decorum, even for me. It’s faster than fast. The horns are so bubbly. It should be heard. Buy this CD already.

The triple stopping in the third movement from the solo violin I feel should sound like a struggle. It’s like a small, heroic figure that’s trying to be noticed… duh duh duh duh… Valetti is too kind in his treatment of this part. Rodolfo Richter played more the part with the AAM when I heard them live several years ago. We could see the struggle on this face. The part should be rustic. Bach scored it for a town fiddle, not a fine Stainer.

Listening to this concerto was a lot of fun. Between the rustic horns, the fly-by-night tempi, and the technical abilities of this ensemble to keep it all together, there is plenty to enjoy.

And then we get to the jewel in Bach’s oeuvre, the four keyboard concerto, BWV 1065. This is an awesome piece of music. Of course, it really isn’t Bach’s, but an arrangement from Vivaldi’s op. 3, L’estro armonico. This piece has such drama and energy that it was fitting to end Café Zimmermann’s reading of Bach’s instrumental works with it.

The opening is quiet. Four fragile harpsichords, then Boom! Let the drama commence with that big string chord. But… what’s this? CZ spoils the drama leading up to that chord. They’re hell-bent on speeding down the Baroque concerto highway. Let’s compare the first movement. This is getting fun.

• Pinnock: 4:04
• Café Zimmermann: 3:25
• Biondi, playing the Vivaldi version on 4 violins: 3:31
• Dantone, Vivaldi: 3:26

Zimmermann is up there with the feistiest of Italian violinists.

Zimmermann misses here, I feel, with not loud enough Boom! at the beginning when the strings come in. That’s what we get with 1/part strings. More bass please. I’d also even slow it down a hair. The way Vivaldi has written this one, I think they might actually have been able to use more strings. The solo parts really don’t have the strings at the same time; and the LOUD/soft contrasts between solo/ritornello sections would have been heightened.

I was a sophomore in college when I heard this performed at the Eastman School in Rochester. It’s a piece that really comes alive when you’re sitting there, seeing and hearing the different instruments take over for their part. In a stereo recording, something is lost. I fault the engineers here for not better differentiating, spatially, the different soloists (Fontana, Boerner2, and Frisch). The different harpsichords do have different sounds, for sure, and that helps. I applaud CZ for plowing through the middle movement. I honestly hit skip most times on my equipment.

The last movement sparkles. Nothing is more baroque than all of that metallic plucking. It’s like a pit of happy but “agitatatingly” frisky porcupines. The performance here doesn’t disappoint, but I am reminded again about my disappointment with the recording. The keyboards sound a tad too distant. If we were looking at this through a camera lens, we might say “too much bokeh on the harpsichords, focus is on strings.”

What remains however is a damned spirited performance, and a fitting end to a successful series of recordings. I hope you’ll convinced to try this recording, if you haven’t already bought-into the Café Zimmermann fan club!

From the Collectio Argentea (Archiv Produktion) in 1981 comes a sampling of a variety of German chamber music. We might call this “early” baroque, or at least “mid-period” music, from the likes of Buxtehude, Pachelbel, Reincken, Rosenmüller, and Westhoff.

It took Gramophone’s Early Music Award in 1981, and was a special treat for me to obtain recently. I remember reading issues of Early Music magazine, and seeing the collectio Argentea advertised by DG. MAK have always been focusing on German music, if not Bach and his family, then the forgotten composers of Dresden. They took brief sojourns, of course, to Italy and France, and even to Austria and the Baltics. But this music seems firmly squared in their area of expertise, even though it’s an early recording.

Among the gems is Buxtehude’s masterpiece, BuxWV 273, the B-flat sonata for violin. Here Goebel shines on top across the multiple movements, but my favorite is the first movement. Goebel is the star, outshining the contribution from the gamba. The bass used here is likely a significant instrument, played along with the harpsichord. It is, to my estimation, a 16′ instrument, which is something we don’t often hear. It proffers quite a richness, and is a wonderful counterbalance to the high-pitched violin and middle-register viola da gamba.

This works’ opener is happy music and it can’t help but make you smile.

First in the CD however is a Sonata in A minor by Johann Adam Reincken. Aggressive, solid playing, like the Buxtehude, written in three parts. An opening sonata is followed by dance movements, especially flamboyant, the Courante. Early MAK plays this music technically well, and even hints at the deep affectations quality of the lines and their occasional surprises in harmony. This piece reminds me most of MAK’s last release, performing string music by Meister.

Johann Rosenmüller is represented with a solo work, a Sonata in E minor. MAK employs the use of an organ for the continuo instrument and plucked lute. This is a relatively early recording to use a varied continuo. The phantasticus style of this sonata is perhaps not as overt in interpretation as Goebel would take in his 1990 recording of Biber’s Rosenkranz Sonaten. Again, the surprises that await us are kind of cool… clashes in different lines, interesting melodic lines that take a long harmonic beat. While this is played well, I almost long for a little more Italian flavor injected into this sonata.

Johann Paul von Westhoff is represented with his Guerra sonata. The “tremolo adagio” is interesting to me; MAK doesn’t really represent a tremulant organ as, say, Farina does in his Capriccio Stravagante. Goebel emerges technically competent, but in this piece especially, the close miking and sound of the small ensemble began to tire my ears. It’s interesting to compare this early recording with one made just a few years ago by the Rare Fruits Council under MAK-alumnus Manfred(o) Kraemer. The sound quality is far more soothing, and the phrasing is more relaxed and organic. We could imagine Kraemer’s violin a voice; the continuo really supporting this voice with sympathetic dynamics. The aggressive ending by Kraemer is more exciting simply because he’s done a better job at contrasting the sections of this long work.

MAK ends with two works by Pachelbel; first is the multi-movement Partie in G, a string suite. The second, you guessed it, the Kanon und Gigue. All I’ll say about the C&G is that it is a different recording than what appears on their compilation album with works by Bach, Vivaldi, and Handel.

The first and longer work epitomizes what we might call the MAK string sound. There’s such a richness in tone that comes from this group playing together; it’s dark, for sure, with the use again of organ and lute. But the recording quality aside, we could be listening to their 1986 Biber recording of Mensa Sonora. Or Bach’s Kunst der Fuge. Goebel’s mastery extended beyond the violin itself; he knew about the orchestration of string sound, especially when it came to Germanic pieces.

In comparison, I enjoy my London Baroque reading with Andrew Manze of Pachelbel’s complete set of suites. But there’s also something beautiful in that MAK sound despite a less focused recorded sound. The Reincken and Buxtehude works are the strongest. The use of a deep bass in several works is orchestration-ally interesting. There’s a reason this was an award winner.

They were on their A-game.

Mrs. Sadie, back in the 1980s, reviewed this recording (quite critically) in Gramophone,+b+2533414+(579),+C+2534010+(883).).

She’s in love with Charles Medlam’s playing on the viol da gamba, but not so much with Goebel on top. To wit:

[the Rebel is] marred by heavy-footed ornamentation emanating from the violin.

On a work by Marais, she quips:

Reinhard Goebel attempts to elevate the violin part to the status of the viol’s and succeeds only in misshaping it. And Marais’s echo effects are ignored.

I fell in love with this recording in the 1990s, when it belonged to the music collection at the Cuyahoga County Library system. I’d go borrow recordings (this on CD) from the Bay Village branch, and at one point, I’d enjoy the music that I had transferred to tape. It was recently found on iTunes, and I couldn’t resist owning this piece of MAK history.

Composers represented include Marais (La Sonnerie de Sainte-Geneivève), Rebel, Couperin (La Sultane), Leclair (overture, op. 13, no. 2), the Blavet flute concerto (already released on a reissue of French baroque concertos), and one of Corrette’s concerto “comiques.” Sadie seems to hate this piece.

Of course, Mrs. Sadie had nice things to say too, but you often no longer read reviews like hers. She knows her stuff. Wife to perhaps the more famous Stanley Sadie, editor of the Grove Encyclopedia, she often reviewed the baroque recordings for Gramophone.

For one, Tombeau de Monsieur Lully is an awesome piece, despite Mrs. Satie’s dismissal of it as something of a second rate composer. In a recent (yet to be reviewed) recording by Amandine Beyer of Rebel, new life is breathed into this work, but I still like MAK’s as well.

What I admire about Satie’s review is that she’s really critical; she’s looking into just about every detail. I found Medlam’s playing nice, but we all know the star of any of these MAK recordings is Goebel. Let him shine.

The third movement of the Leclair seems a tad fussy with the rhythm and the unison treatment of the trills. I am not enough expert to know if this is kosher or not; but their method of executing this movement really slows things down (compared to Medlam’s later recording with London Baroque). It takes on a dance-like feel with the accents.

The Blavet concerto and Corrette are sublime.

I have more difficulty with MAK’s reading of the Couperin. Sadie notes that this work is a nice companion to the collection of four other instrumental suites known as Les Nations. (This collection is well done by MAK with two violins and two flutes taking the top honors released likely earlier than this release under Archiv’s Galleria label.)

La Sultane features the bass viol with it’s own line. I might agree with Sadie; the third movement, labeled Air-Gravement lacks direction it seems… it’s hard to listen to, in fact, with an absence of a real line. The pauses are hard to perform convincingly. If I were to imagine someone like Paolo Pandolfo with this music, I imagine the bass instrument might better command the line. When the two violins emerge, it’s like light is coming out from behind the clouds, but when all three voices join forces, Sadie is right; it is Goebel who dominates the texture. It might not even be Goebel’s fault; it seems to me that the engineers could have made more equal partners out of the texture. Their flamboyant crescendos in the last phrase are somewhat surprising; I’ve never quite heard something like this from an ensemble of players before.

Medlam’s match for Goebel (and presumably Hajo Baß) really isn’t a fair competition; acoustically and sonically I’d prefer a more equal matching in the sound. What’s left is perhaps too thin a sound (thin being an unfair choice of words, whereby I what I really mean is top-heavy). More bass, less Baß.

It’s weird for sure reviewing a CD that’s this old. MAK matured beyond this recording, as did the technology to record it. Yet, I still think, my history with the recording aside, that it still has life today in 2011. The recording is a wonderful companion to other releases, many newer, in celebrating the world of the French instrumental baroque.

Pablo Valetti continues with volume 5 (of 6) in a reading of various Bach instrumental works (concerti and overtures), this time looking at:

• BWV 1068
• BWV 1056
• BWV 1051
• BWV 1063.

The variety in each recording is nice; they’ll record all the Brandenburgs, for instance, but not as one set. Instead, each recording is like a concert. Here, two great harpsichord concertos in minor modes: the F-minor and the triple in D-minor.

All the tempos chosen are on the brisk side for the Allegros, and even the suite’s famous Air goes along at quite a quick speed. They’ve chosen low numbers for their ensemble, which is a favorite choice for me. The suite, however, bowls over with the use of trumpets and drums to enact great fanfare.

This recording is consistent with their earlier efforts.

The most interesting work for me to compare Café Zimmermann with is the sixth Brandenburg concerto. As I have written before, I’m quite a fan of Musica Antiqua Köln’s reading of the first movement, which changes the phrasing of the piece a lot by adopting a faster tempo. This piece reveals a lot about the recording for CZ. Their viola players are more distant in the stereo field than the bass instruments; their articulation and the aggressiveness of the attack is hampered. There is great soundstage in terms of instruments being able to be picked out in different positions; but the overall ensemble sound isn’t as cohesive or homogenous as the recording by MAK.

This ensemble can play quickly, however, and the opening tempo isn’t perhaps MAKspeed, but it is doable. The harpsichord in the middle movement is a bit exposed, and it sounds a little tinny and too-far removed from the remainder of the ensemble. In all, I say this concerto sums up my opinion on the recorded sound quality: not as good as other titles from CZ. Their recording of Avison’s reworking of Scarlatti into concerti gross was a high mark; this recording isn’t bad, but when monitored with headphones, it could be far better in the balance department.

This middle movement has a magic chord near the end which I spend a significant amount of time discussing in my aforelinked podcast on BWV 1051. The tempo for the entire movement works for me, but the opportunities for pause and repose that Bach gives us are mostly ignored. Then at 3:50 in, we get that nice little cello line, which does have a shape to it. Not the smoothest cello, but it’s playing its part. At 4:23 we hit the magic chord. They do give it some service, but in the end, this doesn’t sound like a group that’s really used to playing this piece. The taste is sweet, but has far sweeter potential.

The gigue is relaxed and passable. Here, the mix and balance of the recording helps the listener in some ways, by separating the various parts enough to hear how they fit together like a puzzle.

The recording continues in many of the same good ways from this multi-year’s project earlier efforts. I hope the soon-to-come sixth edition betters in the recording department from better balance between the ensemble. These folks have the real chops to play with energy; I’d only wish they took more liberties with the wonderful nuances Bach seemed to have left for us for added affect. Instead, we feel them without a sonic return.

The ensemble’s playing is admirable. But the fit among the players is lacking just enough for me to conclude that these readings may not be first-in-class. The triple harpsichord concerto glitters in its speed and is my favorite contribution. As a program, it’s a good one; as an entire set, it’s worthy enough to own.

BWV 1001-1006. Now in 2011, we have a number of excellent digital recordings at the ready, many recorded on the so-called baroque violin. Among them is this new release from the French violinist Amandine Beyer, for Zig-Zag Territories. The cover depicts a woman, looking away from us, and her body and dress are some how liquid, being dragged out in blank ink. It’s artfully done, and maybe in fact be the artist. It lists her as playing the violon, for in 2011, we don’t bother any longer with defining a performer by the age or style of their instrument.

I’ve come to know Beyer by way of her earlier recordings, such as the one by Matteis, and another by C.P.E. Bach. Watching video of her perform, I was impressed with her interpretive style and her desire to change her playing position to accommodate the habits of the composer (Matteis).

First, Beyer is playing a beautiful instrument. It’s listed as a modern copy by Pierre Jaquier from 1996. It’s got a dark character, with some of the lower notes with a lot of bloom to the sound. She plays without much notice at all of vibrato (win win for me). She plays in a very sympathetic acoustic, with enough “air” to support her instrument, but not “so live” that that we feel she’s far away from us (or her microphones). Occasionally we may hear her breathe, but otherwise, the recording is well done.

Bowing rarely has a sharp “edge” sound. A great example is the fourth movement (Allegro) of sonata BWV 1003. She’s careful enough to vary her articulation but her bow hand never digs into the strings with force. I find this pleasing, but “the softness” of attack might really stand-out for fans used to a more traditional, “romantic” era violin and bow.

Beyer plays with a range of dynamics that supports the music in interesting and affective ways. Nothing is over done, but we might not expect it to be with a baroque mindset. For many of these tracks, Beyer plays with an approach in which she seems to be enjoying the music.

As a bonus track, she offers the Pisendel Sonata a violin solo senza basso in four movements. The booklet notes mark the connection between Pisendel’s solo sonata (after the style of Bach’s?) and the inspiration for Bach of the solo violin works by Westhoff. Anton Steck has recorded the solo Pisendel, and has made it to sound quite difficult; a serious struggle. Beyer whips it off more carefully, but also in a far less-serious presentation.

From the notes:

All the same, we should certainly take care not to see the Sonatas and Partitas in an exclusively serious light. And provocation, derision and humour are indeed to be found in them: one need only recall that the fugue of the Sonata in C major is the longest Bach ever composed, or point out the popular-sounding, pompous theme of the Gavotte en rondeau (Third Partita), and notably its conclusion, which brings the learned thematic development to an end with a deep pantomime bow. And what is one to think of the final piece of the set? That brief Gigue, simple and fluid, which can be played as it comes from start to finish, without one double stop! Could this be the composer begging our pardon for the wild imaginings that have gone before? Or recommending that we should not take them too seriously? Does he wish to draw the conclusion that effort, doubt and reflection lead to enlightenment?

Beyer sees Pisendel as a central figure to the works, alongside her desire for us to not take them so seriously. To wit:

That’s why I thought it was an interesting idea to add the Sonata by [Pisendel,] this virtuoso violinist, written in a language much closer to the instrument’s idiom, and whose lyricism and technical pitfalls (certainly perfectly suited to the hand of the composer-performer) suggest to me a Baroque version of the Sonatas of Eugène Ysaÿe. I don’t think it’s rash to assert that Pisendel’s talent must have been central to the process which produced this work that surpasses our understanding.

For more on the label behind this release, visit their website.

And don’t delay in picking up this interpretation. It’s at its best kind of free and relaxed, with not getting too slow. It’s well done, and significantly different than others I own. It’s Beyer’s first solo album, but it’s superb.

It’s less severe than the excellent recent interpretation by Mullova, it’s more natural sounding than Huggett’s, and the sound and recording are leagues improved from the release by John Holloway.

But John, how does she do with the most famous “track,” the chaconne?

If you have around 13 minutes (exactly the time she takes to perform Bach’s movement from his Partita, BWV 1004), you go on a journey. Busoni’s rendition for the piano is a wonderful journey. And in the hands of the right violinist, you’ll be transported, too. Among my favorites is the rendition of late done by Gidon Kraemer for ECM. He’s got that hard attack down well (using an adjusted Baroque instrument and modern bow), but he simply milks more out of this showpiece than most. Beyer’s version is nice. It’s more tame than some, but it’s a tasteful and beautiful. It’s less about what she brings and more about what she let’s Bach do as the composer. She passed my litmus test.