It wasn’t too long ago that an acquaintance of mine mentioned via Twitter that they had chosen the perfect music to go to sleep by, the sonatas for lute by Silvius Leopold Weiss. I knew in the recesses of my brain that Bach’s lute works might have been written for this gentleman, if not for another idea–that perhaps Bach’s Lautenwerk was actually for the lute-harpsichord, and not a lute at all.

No matter, because Weiss was a lutenist and a composer. My friend mentioned too the performers name, one Robert Barto, and it seems he’s recorded quite a bit of Weiss’s work on Naxos.

I purchased digital versions of volumes 6, 8-10. I thought I’d start there.

I have not purchased many releases on Naxos, but found the recording quality to be good. Each recording measures a right mixture of “up and close” miking with an acoustic that sings just enough. It’s obvious, however, that each recording is not set-up identically.

The suites are multi-movement works based on dance styles centered around a common key. Plenty of courantes, gigues, and sarabandes to go around.

Many of the tracks have a “melody” line, around which we get accompaniment, in some cases I could picture a solo sonata with basso continuo, in others, I hear, say, a flute solo piece, with extra notes around to support harmony. What we’re left with is idiomatic writing for the baroque lute; Weiss’s music sounds more natural on this instrument, then, say Bach’s music does.

There’s no one sonata that stands out for me; upon listening, there will be on occasion where my ears make my mind perk up just a bit; to remark that I like a particular section of one of the dances. It’s usually a harmonic progression I fancy, more than anything else.

There’s no deep and profound music to be found in the recordings I purchased. Probably the one track that stands out the most is the 28th sonata, La Fameaux Corsaire, and the last movement, Presto.

The music reeks of flavor; Barto, my guess, plays all the right notes. I might wish for a little more dynamic contrast through his playing, not to mention more variety between the fast and slow movements.

4 volumes will suffice for now; the Naxos collection is a great start towards our documentation of Weiss’s music for lute. I don’t blame my colleague for using it to rest by; the lute’s sound world can be a very relaxing one. Your decision on this series will depend on your connoisseurship of the baroque’s era obscure composers and possibly, too, the sound world of the lute from the late baroque.

The British ensemble London Baroque broke ranks several years ago with their long affiliation with Harmonia Mundi, and now have most recently recorded for BIS. This recording documents Italian music with a collaboration with Dan Laurin on recorder(s).

Represented on the album’s 29 tracks is:

• Mancini,
• Corelli,
• Sarri,
• Scarlatti,
• Barbella,
• Gallo, and
• Ravenscroft

So, the recording is a type of traveler’s sampler, not too different from an earlier release by Il Giardino Armonico, which interestingly enough, covered some of the same music.

The opening work by Francesco Mancini is in my favorite key of G minor for two violins, recorder, and basso continuo. LB uses an organ which is a fitting keyboard instrument, I think, for recorder (air and more air), and lends a dark tone to the music. The fast tempos are indeed taken fast, which reminds me that LB hasn’t always followed their national trends of politeness. Their playing lacks that certain dynamic contrast that’s often heard with better Italian players today, but the playing from the violins is strong, decisive, and virtuosic. When Laurin comes in we gain a better picture of the ensemble’s acoustic, one that evidently has a lot of vertical space. It may be slightly more wet than my ideal, but it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that this music was performed in reverbrant spaces like this one.

The second sonata by Mancini features the recorder straight away, with plenty of opportunity for ornaments to take focus away from the melody. Laurin shows taste in his execution of the first movement. It’s ornamented, but done with appropriate good choices.

The short movement by Corelli is a fuga con un soggetto solo in D major. I am not sure from where it comes, but it’s quite obviously Corelli to my ear. This piece could have used a drier acoustic, to be sure, so that each player could better articulate their lines. What we’re left with is a beautiful wash of sound, but individual voices are difficult to pull apart.

Lauren takes command, really, in the opening of the sonata in A minor by Domenico Sarri. Again, he’s tasteful about ornaments. I’d probably wager that Maurice Steger might have been a little more extrovert given the same piece, and there’s a place for every interpretive style. Laurin’s is squarely in the middle – neither too conservative nor too extrovert.

IGA fans will immediately recognized Sarri’s first allegro. LB takes this one faster, which is daring (again) for the acoustical space in which they performed. Here the Italians better LB simply due to the violins: they’ve spoiled us with their ability to contrast the dynamics within the phrase. LB seems more “all loud” or “all soft,” and if they are adding dynamic contrasts to their playing, it’s lost in the wash of reverb.

Domenico Scarlatti’s father wrote a set of sonatas/concertos for recorder and small ensemble. I’ve loved #9, recorded here, both in the rendition by IGA and also Camerata Köln. This 5-movement work is well-done here, but again, they fight the acoustic at times.

The work by Barbella is forgettable, I suppose, but is played well. The light piece by Gallo in three movements reminds me of Corelli, as does the first allegro in the piece by Ravenscroft. Ravenscroft’s piece is simply a little more well-wrought, but interestingly doesn’t include recorder. Interesting, I think, that they recorded it here; one of the violin lines could have been picked up by Laurin.

In the end, this recording is a well-done attempt at taking the listener on a musical journey to baroque Naples. I am not sure it ever rises to the level of a “stravaganza,” however, based on the performing style of LB with Dan Laurin.

That’s not to say there is one bad note on the recording.

Some pieces were new to me, and that’s why I value the recording. But the acoustical space captured here probably hurts the players more than helps them, as does the comparison of the works to the players from Il Giardino Armonico, whose playing style I ultimately find more arresting.

That said, there is real value in hearing different interpretations and being able to compare and contrast them as both an intellectual and aesthetic exercise. This may not be my first recording of this repertoire to obtain, but then again, it’s still earned a valued place in my collection.

I recently pulled several iPods out from my closet. The two I started charging were those above (I scanned them on my flatbed scanner, and I included one of the backs in the collage above). I still own working versions of

• original 5GB iPod (Firewire)
• 1st Gen iPod Shuffle (built-in USB)
• 3rd Gen iPod (USB or Firewire, I think – Dock Connector)
• 4th Gen “iPod Photo”
• 5th Gen “iPod Video”
• 3rd Gen iPod Shuffle (Charges via headphone port)

What’s amazing is that these things a) still charge, b) still play, and c) have a lot of music on them. My 5th gen iPod holds 80 GB worth of music – far more than the 32 GB of space available on my iPhone for music, apps, and pictures. In fact, if you compare the 2001 or 2003 iPod with its stainless steel back to the iPhone 4S. it’s quite amazing. The genes are there, but the phone is so more refined and “adult.”

The reason I bring this up at all is to take stock of what this device (and those like it, to be fair) have done to our enjoyment of music. And photos – I just scrubbed through 1000s of photos faster than I could do on my iPhone (using the ingenious click wheel). You knew in that 2005 model that it would only get better. Baby steps.

I showed someone this evening how I can re-download albums I’ve purchased on iTunes through the so-called “iCloud” on my new iPad. “How does that work?” I talked about how I imagined in a few years new cars would come with iCloud-enabled radios… that could grab an internet connection from your phone and download albums. Or stream them. Why not? Or do we need radios? Or just a place to plug-in the said phones?

Imagine, if you will, if you could load one of these things up… just to keep it simple (no phones or Internet required) of music by, say, Bach. Mass in B minor, a few Brandenburg Concertos, Wendy Carlos, Andreas Staier, Glenn Gould, and maybe, some “Bach on Marimba.” We might even load up music that was inspired by Bach. The Chaconne by Busoni. Some YLK Organization (which borrowed BWV 846). An “Ave Maria.” Shostakovich’s preludes and fugues.

So we’ve got a Bach iPod. If it’s a more modern iPod, we could load performances from video.

And then you go back in time. And visit Sebastian. “Wass ist diss?” Somehow, in my daydreams where I get to talk with Bach, or ride to work with him, he doesn’t speak German, but English. I figure if I can bend time I can make Bach speak perfect American English.

Certainly the thing would blow him away. He’d hear music he hadn’t yet written. He’d have something to say, I’m sure, on the performance style. But eventually, he’d have to ask: “From when do you come here?”

And that’s when the profound part hits. It’s not so important that it’s an iPod. I could have had this daydream years ago with cassette tapes. But the iPod epitomizes modernity. “Your whole music collection, in your pocket.” He’d never encountered something that could play it all back. And then he’d wonder why I had it, from 2012.

It’s rare that we see or can even imagine our impact on the world. It’s a profound day dream.

I am going to make it a point this week to go back and live with one of these devices for the week and re-live the wonder of carrying music in the palm of your hand. Because it’s not how modern or flashy the iPod is that really matters. It’s that we can fill it with so much profound music. Imagine the wonders that await someone in your life to whom that sound world is all new.

Riccardo Minasi performs along with Marco Ceccato, Guilia Nuti, and Luca Pianca (Musica Antiqua Roma) the sonatas for violin and continuo by George Frederick Handel.

• HWV 361
• HWV 364a
• HWV 370
• HWV 359a
• HWV 358
• HWV 371
• HWV 372
• HWV 375

The only other “complete” set I have to compare Minasi’s with is the one by Andrew Manze with Richard Egarr. This is stiff competition, considering Manze’s Handel was a favorite of mine; perhaps it was Manze’s second-best disc in this type of solo repertoire after his reading with Egarr of Arcangelo Corelli’s sonatas. And my good feeling about his reading of Handel had as much to do with Mr. Egarr as it did Manze.

MAR’s recording is closer-miked than the one from Manze, but I found the recording quality to be superior, perhaps in part, because it felt as if a layer had been removed between the performers and us, the listeners. In the opening sonata in A, Minasi is joined by cello and harpsichord. Ms. Nuti is a good claveniste, but she’s not as “busy” or inventive as Egarr. She takes a back seat, in fact, to Mr. Ceccato on violoncello. But this balance serves the music well. And I didn’t have to get far into the CD to admit I prefer the violin tone of Minasi over Manze’s. Promise by the end of the first sonata.

MAR opens the second sonata, in G minor (my favorite key, incidentally), with the full compliment, lute, cello, and harpsichord. This is a luxurious combination, but the continuo really takes back seat to Minasi’s reading of the solo line. His tone, his ability at ornamentation, and the dynamic contrasts all show his Italian flair for milking the music for all of its baroque Affekt. This is why I like his playing – he’s cut from the same cloth as his friend Enrico Onofri.

That second movement of HWV 364, takes off with a toe-tapping tempo, all the violin playing clean and clear, complete with some fantastic little runs and accents that help distinguish this professional from the rest. MAR owns the style here, turning Handel into the son of Corelli (if not the son, perhaps his nephew). I must credit the entire ensemble, for Pianca emerges on some honey notes with real punch. HWV 364 has an interesting ending, with hardly any room for the soloist “to breathe.” Minasi contrasts the repeats by going first soft, then the second time around, at full tilt. It may sound easy, but getting such even speech from the instrument, and consistent pressure with bowing I imagine has its challenges. The end in a flash, it seems, but it’s done in such a way to leave us smiling.

Mr. Ceccato takes his turn with “attitude” in the first allegro of HWV 359a. I love that each member of the ensemble is allowed to emerge from the “texture,” even if it’s the violinist with an aggressive double-stop. That always works.

In HWV 371, MAR drop the cellist and lutenist, and go it alone with the duo of harpsichord and violin. Here balance is just a little concerning to me. Minasi’s playing is aggressive in the balance of the instruments; having heard him in person, I think the balance issue is unnatural and could have been corrected by the engineers. Compared to Manze’s recording with Egarr, the earlier recording the two players are better balanced and the texture ends up sounding fuller with Egarr’s “cheat” of doubling the bass in parts by using octaves.

Handel’s HWV 375 is an odd bird, channeling Corelli in the use of a contrapuntal form for the second movement, and in the fourth, channeling himself, quoting portions of the Water Music’s “country dance.”

Minasi and Company end with not a sonata, but an aria from Alcina. The sound of both string players is luxuriously rich, with harpsichord sitting out. The cello gets a little solo to begin the piece; and the trio ends the recording on a most melancholy tone. Where do we go for more? It’s a fitting end, because the CD has ended, and there’s no second disc. Sad. Alas, you can always set it to repeat.

This recording is awesome.

A review by an album by L’Arpgeggiata, Christina Pluhar

Billed as the “South America Project,” this latest release from Christina Pluhar and associates, full of atmospheric, passionate vocals, percussion, and of course plucked instruments, is awash in color and surprises.

20 tracks in length, the music comes from across eras, but all with a similar, energetic and exotic style. The final track, jazzy and modern, is a rendition of Bésame mucho! The title track is more modern, too, Pájaros Perdidos by Astor Piazolla (sung by countertenor Philippe Jaroussky), which is among my least favorite pieces on the new recording (it starts to sound cliché upon repeated listenings). Jaroussky also stars in the traditional number, Duerme Negrito, which opens the album.

Among my favorite tracks are the third and fourth; the first of these is Montilla and the second Pájaro Campana. The first is a Latin tour-de-force, with a combination of 2/3 rhythms, vocals, and a fast tempo. The opening strumming by the guitars go so far as to overflex the strings, which on this record, is an awesome sound. The second features virtuosic harp that, I swear, sounds like jungle rain after many listens.

The album features a great recorded sound and an apt acoustic. The repertoire reminds me a bit of the charts played by Ensemble Kapsburger, but under Pluhar’s direction, the the vocals have far more soul and the overall effect is less rustic and more polished.

The same male vocalist appears from the Montilla in track 8, La Embarazada del Viento, and the passion is palpable with a light band, with enough shaken percussion to give us the heat and shade of canopy in the jungle, or simply picture an over-saturated music video with bright colors.

Another well-done track is the penultimate, named Fandango, this one by Antonio Soler. It’s the longest track on the album, at over 9 minutes.

L’Arpeggiata has become a favorite ensemble of mine in recent years, and the contribution of American melodies this time around—no matter the time period—is a welcome edition to their canon of hits. Warmly recommended.

Andreas Staier records the WQ43 concerti by CPE Bach with Freiburger Barockorchester, directed by Petra Müelejans.

• Concerto in F
• Concerto in D
• Concerto in E-flat
• Concerto in c
• Concerto in G
• Concerto in C

Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach’s concertos for keyboard are more forward-thinking than his recently-reviewed sonatas for violin and keyboard. Each are three-movement works, more or less, with the fifth opening in Adagio before rolling along with an Allegro. The slow movements tend to feature a lot of solo harpsichord in many cases. Staier uses these movements to alter the color of his instrument with different registration; but any singing that might be in the spirit of these movements is somewhat lost in the voicing of a harpsichord. I found these movements lacking because of the instrument chosen, in some cases simply because the music was not of the highest caliber on its own. On top of the music and the instrument were the slow, plodding tempos, that again, isn’t helped by the choice of the harpsichord.

The close to the E-flat work seems to work brilliantly on the harpsichord.

So, it’s the fast movements of real interest here. Bach employs a small orchestra augmented with horns. FBO is often a very-well received orchestra; my big disappointment in this recording is the distance from which the orchestra and soloist were recorded; the sonic character of the recording may in fact reproduce a period performance space, but my preference is for a drier acoustic. Everyone does dynamic contrasts well, it’s a special effect by Bach. They are also excellent time-keepers, yet in a few places, more rubato might be have been welcome.

My favorite piece is the C minor work, which I have elsewhere. And it’s familiar. My gosh, it was recorded by non other than Andreas Staier and the — get this — Freiburger Barockorchester under Thomas Hengelbrock. And while they recorded too in a reverbrant space, the harpsichord sound is front and center, clear, and far more prominent (whether this is authentic or not is up for debate; but in a record I prefer it!).

I ultimately like the older recording better (both for the reading of the concerto and the other Hamburg Sinfonien.

Bach brought a lot of energy to his faster movements, and FBO follows suit with ample power and poise. Staier is technically brilliant. But I found these works ultimately lacking as a set. Taken as miniatures (read: one at a time) they better whet the palate. But this wasn’t the must-have release from 2011 for Harmonia Mundi.

I blame CPE Bach the most. When it comes to harpsichord concertos, I prefer his dad’s.

The six trios for organ by Johann Sebastian Bach are well-loved pieces composed (as is believed) for study of the trio sonata form with the education of Bach’s eldest son, W.F. Bach. Debate continues as to whether or not these works were arranged for organ from instrumental counterparts/originals, or if they were indeed originally (and solely) composed for the organ. In recent years, interest at the heart of the controversy has created several recordings where historically-driven performers have “arranged” the organ works for various combinations of instruments, creating a more-or-less standard baroque trio sonata. The works, however, are far from ordinary. Careful craft is evident, and for those who love these works on organ, they take on new character as instrumental ensemble pieces. Curiously, each sonata is in three movements. Bach’s contemporaries followed Italian models, often in 4 or more movements. Bach instead adopted a concerto-like form, fast-slow-fast. The ability to attack these works with two individual performers on the two upper lines makes for interesting interpretation, added ornamentation, and dialogue in the form of coloring and dynamics. Some performers opt for embellishing the continuo.

In 2000, I wrote at length about Bach’s “Six Trio Sonatas,” BWV 525-530, written for organ. One of my favorite releases has been the one by the King’s Consort on Hyperion. I wrote:

This was my first introduction into Bach’s trio sonatas for organ. But here are arrangements for oboe, violin, viola, and harpsichord and cello, much in the same vein as the recording by the Palladian Ensemble. If you don’t know the CDs by the Kings Consort, some are better than others… Robert King, the group’s leader, plays harpsichord and organ and likes to do vocal works. Nevertheless, this is by far the best CD this ensemble, here in Chamber-mode, has ever put out. While not as spicy or zesty as some other ensembles (Il Giardino Armonico), whose playing I adore, this is straight Bach with a very intelligent approach. I in fact, around 1996 when this CD came out in the US, used it as one of the 2 CDs I auditioned loudspeakers with when purchasing a stereo, as a test CD. Wow. Details I never heard in the music before popped-out, like clicks and clacks of the baroque oboe keys, or subtle nuances in the baroque string sound. While some passages go quite quickly, these players take their time and milk the slower passages for all their glory. If you only get one rearrangement of the Bach organ sonatas, this would be the one to get. After many listens, I think what I appreciate best about this release is the quality of the wind playing, the choice and variety of instruments, and (again) the well-recorded sound. The clouds on the CD cover suggest atmospheric music, and believe it or not, the results here range in the cloud-range. I’d recommend this disc too for the full collection of all six instrumental arrangements of the trio sonatas, preserved in original keys, with instruments chosen to match range.

The Palladians had emerged with a similar disc, adding the Goldberg canons to the mix, with a less-diverse ensemble of performers; violin, recorder, gamba, and bass lute.

Wow, nine works on one CD, with 5 minutes left empty on a CD, quite an accomplishment. This group has changed members a couple of times, but here uses gambist Susanna Heinrich. This is the famous Palladian Ensemble, a mildly successful group of young Brits who here examine the Bach trio sonatas with some additions. The additions include organ duettos and the Goldberg Canons, BWV 1087. For the most part, a very well done recording. The Bach trio sonatas are well done. Not as well as the King’s Consort below, who performs some of the same works, but well done. The sound I don’t care for a lot is the recorder. Thorby does a good job at playing the instruments, but I’m not sure it works as well in the Bach sonata texture. And the entire ensemble, as a whole, doesn’t have any semblance to a “typical Bach sound.” They have their own sound, perhaps even rough on the edges in some respects (violin and recorder). These are never zestily played, but there is a fair amount of push to the style that pleases. The gems on the CD, in my opinion, are the organ Duettos and the concluding BWV 1087: the fourteen Goldberg Canons. There’s a fair amount of arranging here but the performance is first rate and hearing this many times neglected music is quite a treat.

In a final listen in writing this review, I have to say, as a suggestion, Thorby needs to play oboe in a few tracks to avoid the low range of the recorder in some tracks. It’s just too soft. Even two stringed instruments would probably offer a better solution but this is an ensemble of recorder, violin, gamba/cello, and theorbo. What I admire most about the interpretation is the penetrating, yet rounded tone of the violin playing (Podger is quite good, and an asset to the ensemble) and some of the shapes of phrases from all involved in the slower movements. They explore the depth of line that is often lost.

To this day now, I think I still regard the version by King’s Consort higher; that’s to say nothing about the musical content in this release, however. The slow tempo of the 10th track, for instance, is one example where criticism might creep in: the instruments used simply cannot sustain the lines at the chosen tempo. I also don’t like the recorded sound quality, I think it was recorded in too live an acoustic space. What’s left isn’t terribly clear or transparent, as a result.

If one could only choose one disc, however, I did enjoy greatly having the organ duets and Goldberg Canons on this release.

Bach Trio Sonatas (BWV 530, 525, 527, 529 the Palladian Ensemble / (p) 1996 Telos / Linn

I reviewed this recording on September 2, 2003. It’s worth revisiting, in light of the fact that CZ has just completed their six-disc set of Bach Concertos. What strikes me about the recording beyond the strong contributions from the ripieno and soloists combined is the sound quality of the recording… Avison was much like Geminiani, he was in the re-arrangement business. For me, these pieces are far less recognizable as works of Scarlatti. The pieces are all very approachable and “audience friendly,” especially with the fire-y movements like the final Allegro of the D minor (no. 3) concerto. It’s as masculine as you may get from the recording, and if I dare say, turning the hi-fi up too loud as you sit among the musicians in a recording that’s on par with those marketed as “surround sound,” good times are ahead.

I remember from some time ago listening to Avison’s concertos and when I had the chance recently, I bought up this disc containing 6 of the 12. And what a shame it wasn’t a 2-disc set with all 12, for the recording, performance, and package are all first-rate.

Pablo Valetti, of Rare Fruits fame, leads the ensemble of enthusiastic period performers. The sound quality from their instruments is superb, their reading of affekt commendable. The acoustic of a hospital chapel, when recorded, made me feel I was sitting among the musicians. The close miking, yet reverbrant hall make for an excellent recorded sound.

The third and fifth concerto were my favorite. Almost makes you wish Scarlatti himself wrote more string music. At times like Corelli, but completely something new, these concertos took inspiration from rare works by Scarlatti, transcribed from keyboard versions.

The fresh sound on the disc reveals some great music, and I can’t imagine it being played much better. A surprise perhaps, but also a very warm recommendation. The style of performance impressed me greatly.

Cafe Zimmerman perform Charles Avison’s Concertos based on the Keyboard works of Domenico Scarlatti, (p) 2002 Alpha Productions. Highly recommended.

Amandine Beyer and Edna Stern record 4 sonatas for violin and keyboard by Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach, H 513, H514, H 545 (sometimes attributed to J.S. Bach), and H 512. It’s very easy to guess the composer of these works; if you’re at all familiar with Bach’s orchestral pieces (such as concertos), the flavor is there, for sure, the mixture of cantabile melodies with the old-fashioned baroque passagework, making J. S. Bach’s son a perfect transition between the sound world of his father and that of a pure classical composer such as Haydn or Mozart.

The pianoforte seems well-suited to these pieces; we could imagine them on the harpsichord probably, but Edna Stern (a performer new to me) is quite good here; she and violinist Amandine Beyer are well-captured in the recording from Zig-Zag Territoires.

Bach explores the sonata form here, sometimes called “Sonata-Allegro” by theorists, and the duo here choose three minor-mode pieces (my preference), many with tastefully-wrought melodies (both the theme and ultimate development in H512 in E minor) shows Bach’s genius of style.

My personal preference is for the faster movements, but well-written slow ones are the real hallmark for a good composer. Bach in the middle movement of H512, for instance, starts in 2-parts, but then splits into three, with a right-hand melody in the piano to play duet to the violin. While it comes across as far more modern than what his dad might do, the technique isn’t terribly different.

Beyer and Stern add the appropriate amount of drama into the last movement, as a rule, a short movement if we take Bach’s sonatas presented here as a guide. It’s only that pesky H 545 that pits two movements of more or less equal length in positions 1 and 3.

Of course, H. 545 is also known as BWV 1020 for flute and harpsichord. I like the approach here, the sparkle of the fortepiano, the fast opening tempo, and the range of expression between Stern and Beyer is quite expertly done. But is it CPE Bach? I’d wager that yes, it is Bachian, it’s got the touch of genius that the name Bach brings to any authentic work. But living with this work for so long as one by J. S. Bach, I can’t shake the notion that dad had something to do with it. Beyer convinces me more on C.P.E. with her treatment of the middle movement, which is done somewhat differently than I’m used to, in terms of her phrasing and what I might call a modern pulse. Or, it might just be the tempo and the clarity here of the instruments. Any way you cut it, these two play the piece so well, and who wrote it doesn’t ultimately matter. It’s a great piece of music.

H 514 in C minor opens with a theme that could never have come from J. S. Bach. It’s also immediately presented, with no formal introduction that a Mozart would provide us. I picture this performed in Pottsdam, perhaps, the style mature enough to compete fairly against the works of Quantz at Frederick the Great’s court. The presto puts the real onus for technique on the violinist, and Beyer meets the challenge.

The opening sonata is the proper one to open the recording; written in the likely challenging key of B-flat major, it takes Bach’s ability to present well-crafted melodies in sonata form again, this time again in a “fresh” language that gives ample time for the development of the melody to the piano alone. Then for the old fashioned, we get this really cool middle movement, with double-stopping that reminds one (me, at least), of the opening of J. S. Bach’s first violin/harpsichord sonata. And piano with pedal! The schtick here is that combination in C.P.E. Bach of old/new, of the baroque and classical. It what makes him at once both familiar and fresh (for baroque fans, I’d wager).

Well-recommended.

Red Priest performs Pirates of the Baroque ℗ 2008 Red Priest Recordings.

The recording includes works arranged by the ensemble, written by:

• Jean-Marie Leclair
• Giovanni Simonetti
• Tomaso Albinoni
• François Couperin
• Antonio Vivaldi
• Tomaso Vitali
• Giuseppe Tartini

I wonder what audience this music is really intended for; on one hand I might suspect the casual listener who wants something amplified and exciting; I mean, how many ensembles are so theatrical, to dress up as pirates on the CD cover? Sonically, there’s something missing in the small ensemble of cello, harpsichord, recorders, and violin. It’s chamber music, at best. Yet, as “classical” a fan as I am, I can’t help but use my modern technology to turn-up the volume a bit.

The group Red Priest, named after Vivaldi of course, is all about having fun. I think ultimately that’s what the outfits are about. And yet in that fun exists a lot of virtuosity, too. Their Bach Album (Johann Dancing) and Vivaldi album (Nightmare in Venice) were interesting, for no other reason, it allowed me to re-visit favorite pieces by the two composers in a very energetic, extreme type of way. At the same time, it’s not a CD I could keep repeating over and over. There’s something lost in repeating the extroverted, theatrical performances over and over (either when we go back to the more stoic originals, or because we get so used to this one method of creative interpretation that, in their hands, they’d likely perform differently each time around).

The case is different in this recording of lesser-known composers and lesser-known works. First, Piers Adams is once again in top-form, and more so than any of the other players, he’s simply amazing to take-in. He’s a technical genius, and we can’t blame him for pushing anything too hard… he can do it. For me the two main highlights are two concertos by Vivaldi, RV 565 and RV 433. These are the tracks that “set the CD on fire,” so to speak, while some of the others, like the Tartini, might be considered “filler.” But I think that’s unfair. A good album is like a good concert; each item contributes to the whole, and Red Priest’s approach here is more like a concept album, or a concert, than “an entire opus of one composer’s works.”

The ensemble tries hard, as in the middle movement of the RV 433 concerto, to emulate the sound of a larger group, which while may not be “authentic,” nevertheless is done tastefully enough and is convincing.

The ensemble’s ability to turn the “tempo” dial at whim to speed things up, then slow them down immediately later for effect/affect is a hallmark in this recording; if I were to compare it to Fabio Biondi, this treatment is a few levels more extrovert. What I didn’t like was the ensemble’s vocalizations (i.e. “Ship’s Ahoy, Shiver me Timbers!”) in the ultimate track. I get the theme, guys, but I’d have saved that for the concert, not a recording I may want to play over and over.

Perhaps they did a little too much of a kitschy thing. I do realize Vivaldi’s concerto is named “Tempest of the Sea,” but turning the virtuosic performance of a baroque concerto into a pirate theme song seems out of place.

The opening works by Leclair and Simonetti are a good contribution, offering a nice blend between the toe-tapping virtuosity and technical fireworks, versus the more contemplative. The Couperin “suite” was the most unfamiliar of pieces; so now named for piratey-scenes. I think in time I’ll grow to better appreciate these pieces as they become more familiar.

This recoding defies comparison to most all the other recordings I review here. These four do some incredible things. Yes, I recommend their albums! The music is “amplified” for the 21st century, but at the same time, they’re probably doing something very baroque-era-esque by “re-inventing” these pieces for today’s audience. My ultimately reservation is the adherence to their theme for the album; the music and the performances were perfectly fine without the “piratey” focus.