Baroque Anatomy: The Eye
The cover demands attention. At first glance, I read it as “The 5th Eye,” but Accademia Bizantina are off to record all six Brandenburg Concertos—each volume pairing one concerto with other works chosen to highlight a human body part. The prominent “5” on the cover cues this volume’s focus on Brandenburg No. 5, joined here by Bach’s so-called triple concerto, BWV 1044, scored for harpsichord, flute, and violin. Alessandro Tampieri leads the ensemble, joined by Marcello Gatti on flute.
The programming intrigued me even more because Freiburger Barockorchester released, on the same day, a CD featuring the very same Telemann E-minor concerto for flute and violin. Unlike Freiburger’s live capture, this is a studio production, with Accademia Bizantina approaching the repertoire from a different angle. The program rounds out with C.P.E. Bach’s flute quartet in A minor, Wq. 93.
Ottavio Dantone naturally takes the keyboard spotlight in Brandenburg No. 5, and he delivers a poised, articulate reading. BWV 1050 is one of the works that cemented the keyboard’s role as a concerto soloist, and Dantone’s performance shows exactly why: crisp gestures, confident pacing, and a clear sense of architecture.
The Telemann, though, is where things get especially interesting. The opening movement takes on an overtly Italian flavor—sharp accents, high contrast, a style we associate (rightly or wrongly) with Il Giardino Armonico under Giovanni Antonini. I have to clarify: as much as I enjoy this extroverted contemporary “Italian” sound, I can’t swear to its historical authenticity. But for the first movement of TWV 52:e3, it’s different. And I like it!
The slow movement lets the flute and violin show their expressive side. I’ve often admired how the Gatti brothers, despite being Italian, resist the temptation to oversell the extroverted national stereotype. Here, both flute and violin play with restraint and clean affect. Tampieri adds a touch tassteful vibrato, but nothing more.
The concluding Presto is taut and dramatic. Where Gottfried von der Goltz’s Freiburger version sounded like it carried a few beads of sweat, Tampieri’s reading feels more polished and even a bit more theatrical. Both performances stand strong; but in terms of overall concept, I’d take Accademia Bizantina’s. The only drawback: while Freiburger’s live-theater sound added a compelling energy, this recording sits flatter by comparison, with noticeably less reverb.
Fortunately, the Telemann is the only overlap between the two releases, and given what a terrific work it is, there’s no harm in owning both—no need to imagine a cage match.
The arrival of the C.P.E. Bach quartet is a stylistic jolt: suddenly we are in another world entirely. In this trio-leaning texture of flute, violin, and harpsichord, the acoustic balance is more favorable than in the fuller concertos. The final movement shines: themes passed cleanly among the players, each musician matching articulation and tone so closely that the group feels unified in intent. It’s disciplined and expressive in equal measure.
Dantone’s harpsichord in BWV 1044 cuts through the texture beautifully—something not all recordings achieve. The clarity and balance I enjoyed in the C.P.E. Bach carry over here, giving the harpsichord real melodic presence. The middle movement is one of Bach’s loveliest, and while I wouldn’t have minded a touch more Italian heat from the soloists, they play it sensitively and with a shared sense of purpose. What stands out most is how prominently Dantone’s right hand registers in the mix.
Conclusion
Accademia Bizantina have devised a concept for their Brandenburg cycle that frames each concerto beside other repertoire and an anatomical theme—a clever angle that adds context without feeling gimmicky.
The broader challenge remains: how does an ensemble meaningfully differentiate another recording of familiar works? Freiburger answered that question with programming variety and vivid live acoustics. Other performers, like Antonini and Kopatchinskaja in their 2020 Alpha Vivaldi release, pursued bold stylistic reinvention—an approach I sometimes enjoyed, but one that, to my ear, pushed things too far.
Between these poles—faithful reconstruction and attention-grabbing reinvention—lies a healthy space in which musicians can still make these pieces their own. Accademia Bizantina fall squarely in that middle zone. Their performances reward focused listening through subtle details rather than shock value. For some listeners, that’s exactly the right choice.
Bottom line: If you’re detail-oriented, there is plenty here to appreciate. The Telemann stands out as the most distinctive performance compared to others on record, and Dantone’s forward harpsichord presence will please keyboard fans. While this release doesn’t revolutionize the repertoire, it offers 66 minutes of finely judged, well-played Baroque music—and sometimes that’s precisely what we want.
N.B. A.B. have been putting arresting covers out as of late, including this one. The punch of green in the booklet stands out and I appreciate that as a graphic designer. However, the green photos of the artists has not come over well in the supplied PDF, and the look isn't the kindest. I don't know if it's an RGB/CMYK output issue or an oversight.
