22 Feb 2006
SCHÜTZ: Symphoniae Sacrae III
The tragic ravages of the Thirty Years’ War explicitly shaped the musical output of Heinrich Schütz.
The Sixteen continues its exploration of Henry Purcell’s Welcome Songs for Charles II. As with Robert King’s pioneering Purcell series begun over thirty years ago for Hyperion, Harry Christophers is recording two Welcome Songs per disc.
In February this year, Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho made a highly lauded debut recital at Wigmore Hall - a concert which both celebrated Opera Rara’s 50th anniversary and honoured the career of the Italian soprano Rosina Storchio (1872-1945), the star of verismo who created the title roles in Leoncavallo’s La bohème and Zazà, Mascagni’s Lodoletta and Puccini’s Madama Butterfly.
Collapsology. Or, perhaps we should use the French word ‘Collapsologie’ because this is a transdisciplinary idea pretty much advocated by a series of French theorists - and apparently, mostly French theorists. It in essence focuses on the imminent collapse of modern society and all its layers - a series of escalating crises on a global scale: environmental, economic, geopolitical, governmental; the list is extensive.
Amongst an avalanche of new Mahler recordings appearing at the moment (Das Lied von der Erde seems to be the most favoured, with three) this 1991 Mahler Second from the 2nd Kassel MahlerFest is one of the more interesting releases.
If there is one myth, it seems believed by some people today, that probably needs shattering it is that post-war recordings or performances of Wagner operas were always of exceptional quality. This 1949 Hamburg Tristan und Isolde is one of those recordings - though quite who is to blame for its many problems takes quite some unearthing.
The voices of six women composers are celebrated by baritone Jeremy Huw Williams and soprano Yunah Lee on this characteristically ambitious and valuable release by Lontano Records Ltd (Lorelt).
As Paul Spicer, conductor of the Royal Birmingham Conservatoire Chamber Choir, observes, the worship of the Blessed Virgin Mary is as ‘old as Christianity itself’, and programmes devoted to settings of texts which venerate the Virgin Mary are commonplace.
Ethel Smyth’s last large-scale work, written in 1930 by the then 72-year-old composer who was increasingly afflicted and depressed by her worsening deafness, was The Prison – a ‘symphony’ for soprano and bass-baritone soloists, chorus and orchestra.
‘Hamilton Harty is Irish to the core, but he is not a musical nationalist.’
‘After silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.’ Aldous Huxley’s words have inspired VOCES8’s new disc, After Silence, a ‘double album in four chapters’ which marks the ensemble’s 15th anniversary.
A song-cycle is a narrative, a journey, not necessarily literal or linear, but one which carries performer and listener through time and across an emotional terrain. Through complement and contrast, poetry and music crystallise diverse sentiments and somehow cohere variability into an aesthetic unity.
One of the nicest things about being lucky enough to enjoy opera, music and theatre, week in week out, in London’s fringe theatres, music conservatoires, and international concert halls and opera houses, is the opportunity to encounter striking performances by young talented musicians and then watch with pleasure as they fulfil those sparks of promise.
“It’s forbidden, and where’s the art in that?”
Dublin-born John F. Larchet (1884-1967) might well be described as the father of post-Independence Irish music, given the immense influenced that he had upon Irish musical life during the first half of the 20th century - as a composer, musician, administrator and teacher.
The English Civil War is raging. The daughter of a Puritan aristocrat has fallen in love with the son of a Royalist supporter of the House of Stuart. Will love triumph over political expediency and religious dogma?
Beethoven Symphony no 9 (the Choral Symphony) in D minor, Op. 125, and the Choral Fantasy in C minor, Op. 80 with soloist Kristian Bezuidenhout, Pablo Heras-Casado conducting the Freiburger Barockorchester, new from Harmonia Mundi.
A Louise Brooks look-a-like, in bobbed black wig and floor-sweeping leather trench-coat, cheeks purple-rouged and eyes shadowed in black, Barbara Hannigan issues taut gestures which elicit fire-cracker punch from the Mahler Chamber Orchestra.
‘Signor Piatti in a fantasia on themes from Beatrice di Tenda had also his triumph. Difficulties, declared to be insuperable, were vanquished by him with consummate skill and precision. He certainly is amazing, his tone magnificent, and his style excellent. His resources appear to be inexhaustible; and altogether for variety, it is the greatest specimen of violoncello playing that has been heard in this country.’
Baritone Roderick Williams seems to have been a pretty constant ‘companion’, on my laptop screen and through my stereo speakers, during the past few ‘lock-down’ months.
Melodramas can be a difficult genre for composers. Before Richard Strauss’s Enoch Arden the concept of the melodrama was its compact size – Weber’s Wolf’s Glen scene in Der Freischütz, Georg Benda’s Ariadne auf Naxos and Medea or even Leonore’s grave scene in Beethoven’s Fidelio.
The tragic ravages of the Thirty Years’ War explicitly shaped the musical output of Heinrich Schütz.
His Kleine geistliche Konzerte feature concertos for one or a few solo singers with basso continuo, a move admittedly in keeping with the fashion for solo singing that marked the first part of the seventeenth century, but in this case also a practical necessity, born of the wartime depletion of resources. However, with the Peace of Westphalia and the cessation of fighting in 1648, Schütz was able once again to engage music on a grand scale in Dresden, and this takes published form in the third book of Symphoniae Sacrae (1650). These concertos in part echo the polychoral splendor of his Psalmen Davids of 1619, works that themselves bore the stamp of Schütz’s enthusiastic study in Venice with Giovanni Gabrieli. (One of the 1650 concertos, “Siehe, wie fein und lieblich ists,” is, in fact, a work written in 1619 for the wedding of the composer’s brother.) But much of the 1650 collection also explores the concerted interplay of solo singing with virtuosic instrumental passagework. This, too, echoes earlier Venetian influences—Schütz had also studied in Venice with Monteverdi, as the first book of Symphoniae Sacrae attests—and this more modern influence is a clear strand in the 1650 collection.
Thus, this collection that celebrates the return of peace is also one that stylistically celebrates the composer’s Italian roots, both in its grand scale and in its concerted writing. In other ways, the collection seems also interestingly attuned to a sense of music drama. The range of text types is broad: parables, psalms, Gospel exhortations, and dialogues. The dialogues, such as the famous scene of the conversion of St. Paul (“Saul, Saul, was verfolgst du mich?”), the appearance of the angel to the Holy Family, warning them to flee to Egypt (“Siehe, es erschien der Engel”), or the Holy Family’s anxious discovery of the young Jesus in the Temple (“Mein Sohn, warum hast Du uns das getan?”) become in Schütz’s hands engaging dramatic scenes, rich in characterization and generically close to the oratorio.
Konrad Junghänel’s performance with Cantus Cölln and the wind band, Concerto Palatino, is a spirited and stylish account. The best of the singing is found in the rapid passagework, rendered with notable clarity, ease, and ornamental flair. And the purity of treble sound in works like “O süsser Jesu Christ” or “O Jesu süss” is hauntingly memorable. The instrumental playing, especially that of the cornetts and trombones, is generally of two natures, both handled superbly here. Sometimes the winds function as voices, and the shapeliness of phrase and the exquisite blend of Concerto Palatino defy one to find a seam between voice and instrument. (This is most memorably evident in the concerto “Wo der Herr nicht bauet.) In other cases, the winds (and violins, too) display impressive levels of virtuosity, with the cornetts adding an added measure of accomplishment in so deftly scaling the high registers of the instrument.
On occasion one might wish for a less soloistic vocal sound in the tutti sections, particularly in the lower voices, but this is a relatively minor concern in context of the whole. It is also somewhat ironic that this performance directed by one of the great lutenists of the day, eschews lute continuo altogether, in favor of the unvaried use of the organ. A more diverse continuo palette would be a welcome touch, especially in the concertos of a more dramatic nature.
It is easy to perceive the aura of celebration in Schütz’s 1650 collection. With this recording, the high level of performance gives us a reason to celebrate, as well.
Steven Plank
Oberlin College