Reviews and occasional notes on classical music "Music, both vocall and instrumental, so good, so delectable, so rare, so admirable, so super excellent, that it did even ravish and stupifie all those strangers that never heard the like." - Thomas Coryat, after hearing 3 hours of music at the Scuola di San Rocco in Venice, 1608.
Tallis: Mass 'Puer natus est nobis'; Responsories & Motets
The cover of this beautiful new album of choral music from Oxford shows a detail of William Segar's painting of Queen Elizabeth, from 1585, in Hatfield House, Hertfordshire, UK. This is "The Ermine Portrait", with its exquisite combination of the jewels and lace, the deep blue of the cloth and the wonderful ruffs.
The surface of the painting is gorgeous in its details, and overall. It's a worthy representation of the majesty and style of the great monarch. We can see it as an analogue of the music of Thomas Tallis, who wrote some of the most gorgeous and majestic choral music of all time. As Hugo von Hofmannsthal said in his Book of Friends, “Depth must be hidden. Where? On the surface.”
Robert Quinney and the Choir of New College Oxford's new album from Linn contains the splendid Mass 'Puer natus est nobis', plus a generous selection of Tallis's Responsories & Motets.
I'm so impressed with the music on this disc: the singing of the men and boys of the venerable Choir of New College Oxford (established in 1379!) is other-worldly. It was recorded at the church of St John the Evangelist in Oxford, a perfect acoustic for this music. Robert Quinney's liner notes are illuminating; it's always a delight to find someone with great scholarly expertise matched with equally great musicianship.
This music affected me so much that I was reminded of another quote from Hugo von Hofmannsthal:
"Where is your self to be found? Always in the deepest enchantment you have met with."
In Book IV of his Metamorphoses, Ovid tells us the story of the satyr Marsyas, who entered a musical contest against the god Apollo, and lost:
"When whoever it was had finished relating the ruin of the men of Lycia, another storyteller remembered the satyr, Marsyas, whom Apollo, Latona’s son, had defeated, playing on the flute, that Tritonian Minerva invented. He had exacted punishment. Marsyas cried ‘Why do you peel me out of myself? ‘Aah! I repent’, he screamed in agony. ‘Aah! Music is not worth this pain!’ As he screams, the skin is flayed from the surface of his body, no part is untouched. Blood flows everywhere, the exposed sinews are visible, and the trembling veins quiver, without skin to hide them: you can number the internal organs, and the fibres of the lungs, clearly visible in his chest. The woodland gods, and the fauns of the countryside, wept, and his brother satyrs, Olympus his friend and pupil, still dear to him then, and the nymphs, and all who pastured their fleecy sheep and horned cattle on those mountains. The fertile soil was drenched, and the drenched earth caught the falling tears, and absorbed them into its deep veins. It formed a stream then, and sent it into the clear air. From there it ran within sloping banks, quickly, to the sea, the clearest river of Phrygia, taking Marsyas’s name." (trans. A. S. Kline)
The original instruments ensemble Marsyas Baroque have taken the name of the poor victim of this gruesome story: "This myth has never let go of us," they say in the liner booklet; they see the clear river named after the unfortunate satyr as a metaphor for the bounty of music, continuing to this day.
Marsyas Baroque is:
Paula Pinn – Recorder, Baroque Bassoon
María Carrasco Gil – Baroque Violin
Konstanze Waidosch – Baroque Cello, Violoncello piccolo, Viola da Gamba
Sara Johnson Huidobro – Cembalo, Organ
The group has assembled the story as Ovid told it, with excerpts from the text (read in German by Timur Işık), illustrated musically by baroque chamber music, excerpts from operas and cantatas with a Marsyas and Apollo theme, and arrangements of choral music. The music moves the story along: the Chaconne comique from Telemann's Die Satyrn in Arkadien (The Satyrs in Arcadia) depicts Marsyas's jaunty competition piece. Apollo answers with his lyre, in Johann Caspar Ferdinand Fischer’s stately Toccata Uranie. At this point we suspect things are about to go wrong, and perhaps Marsyas does as well. For though the competition continues, the mood starts to get seriously scary, as we hear in Telemann’s aria Die Glut des Zorns, das Feuer der Rache (The Glow of Anger, the Fire of Vengeance). Poor Marsyas!
For the flaying alive of Marsyas we leave the baroque period for Alessandra Bellino’s commissioned composition, Marsýas, which uses all the fiendish devices of the avant garde idiom of contemporary music to show his awful suffering. This is an outstanding example of program music.
But at the end, we return to earlier music: an arrangement for chamber ensemble of Carlo Gesualdo’s Moro, lasso, al mio duolo (I die, alas, in my sorrow). This is heartbreaking music, and it's followed by laments for the dead satyr, lovely pieces by Marin Marais and Antonín Reichenauer. Finally, in an acknowledgement of "the clearest river of Phrygia, flowing to the sea", we have the healing and hopeful power of music, in an exquisite chamber arrangement of J. S. Bach’s chorale setting Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele (Adorn Yourself, O Dear Soul).
The cover photo of Marsyas Baroque is by Sophia Hegewald.
The official trailer for this album, due to be released on November 6, 2026:
In this new version of Bach's great B Minor Mass, Jeannette Sorrell's Apollo Fire utilises twenty-four instrumentalists and twenty-two choristers, including the five soloists. But rather than sounding thin, this recording is shot through with light and energy, indeed, with the eponymous fire. I have three much beefier B Minor Masses in my LP collection: Peter Schreier's 1982 recording on Eurodisc, Herbert Karajan's 1974 set on DGG, and a well-loved 1962 version with Ifor Jones conducting the Bach Festival Orchestra and the Bach Choir of Bethlehem (that's Bethlehem, Pa., my old stomping ground).
"Bach provides us", writes John Eliot Gardiner in his indispensable book Music In The Castle of Heaven, "with the most monumental music we have heard so far to convey the majesty of God, and he does so with a kind of Byzantine or Venetian splendour." Monumental needn't mean heavy or earthbound; the great sculptures of Michelangelo or Bernini, hewn as they are out of tonnes of marble, can seem weightless. In his long chapter on the B Minor Mass, Gardiner provides a rationale for the Historically Informed Performance of the work:
"An ensemble of period instruments played by expert virtuosi - a whole orchestra, no less, accompanying equally accomplished solo singers stepping out from a choir - carries with it a colossal element of excitement and zing. The performance then becomes a communal rite, one built on complicity and trust; a willingness to adjust and blend on the part of all the participants must be present for it to succeed and for the shared vision to be realised."
Gardiner recorded the Mass twice, first for Archiv in 1985, and, complete with his second thoughts, in 2016 on SDG, from a private concert performance at LSO St Luke’s in London. It's the second recording that this new Apollo's Fire release reminds me of. This is a profound and spiritual performance, with wonderful solo and choral singing, and stylish, exciting instrumental playing.
Jeannette Sorrell conducts a performance of the B minor Mass at St. James Cathedral, Chicago, April 11, 2025
Jeannette Sorrell, in a fine essay in the liner booklet, ends with this message:
"Bach leads us to overflowing joy – with blazing trumpets and thrilling choral virtuosity. We hope this recording brings you light, hope... and peace."
The album cover shows a detail from John William Brown's "Musical Angels, Te Deum", the East Window of the Parish Church of Saint Mary and All Saints, Plymstock, UK, c. 1888.
I've been following Giovanni Antonini's Haydn 2032 series for a long time; this is the fifth disc I've reviewed, out of the twenty that have been released so far. I love everything about this series: Antonini's superb scholarship, his use of two crackerjack ensembles - Il Giardino Armonico and the larger Kammerorchester Basel, the introduction of works by other composers to provide context, the illuminating documentation, and, finally, the inclusion of pictures by a different Magnum photographer for each release.
Haydn's home in the second part of his career, after he left Esterhazy, was London. The theme of this disc is "For English Gentlemen", and it's a perfect vehicle for the photography of the late, great photographer Martin Parr, who died last December. Included is this wonderful shot from Ascot, from Parr's series Think of England, 1999. One of my favourites!
While the three Haydn symphonies included here - no. 76 in E♭ major, no. 77 in B♭ major and no. 78 in C minor, all from 1782 - come before the composer's move to England, they were written for the English. Haydn was aware of English taste through his familiarity with the works of composers of London residents like Johann Christian Bach. He says in a letter that he wrote the symphonies "for the English gentlemen, ... easy and not too concertante". But these are not pot-boilers, and nor are they without interest for the erudite connoisseur. Antonini and his Basel musicians judge this balance between light and serious fare perfectly; these are sparkling, highly enjoyable performances.
Johann Christian Bach, Johann Sebastian's youngest son, spent so much time in London that he was known as "the English Bach". His G minor Symphony, op. 6 no. 6, dates from 1769, and while one can see similarities with the three later symphonies, especially #78 in C minor, this is generally more tempestuous and theatrical than the more placid, more assured Haydn works.
So another triumph on the road to Joseph Haydn's 300th birthday: March 31, 2032!
Schoenberg's works for piano conveniently fit on a single disc. It begins with the Brahms-inspired op. 11, three pieces from 1909. The Six Little Pieces op. 19 of 1911 are brief, enigmatic works, short but hardly slight. The sixth piece includes the bells from the funeral of Gustav Mahler, who had died in May of 1911.
Mahler on his death-bed murmured "Who'll take care of Schoenberg now?"
Gustav Mahler supported Arnold Schoenberg in non-material & financial ways. In his will he provided a stipend for him. Schoenberg kept this 1911 photograph of Mahler’s grave until his own death in 1951.
The Five Pieces, op. 23 and the Suite for Piano, op. 25, were written at a pivotal point in the composer's career. They are some of the first works in which Schoenberg put into practice his revolutionary 12 tone system. The first of the op. 23 pieces was dedicated to Debussy, while the op. 25 suite invokes the spirit of Bach.
The programme ends with the two Op. 33 Klavierstücke, dating from 1929 and 1931. Looking back again to Brahms, these two pieces are also forward-looking. And for Schoenberg, the future would not be Nazi-run Germany, but the United States.
Pierre-Laurent Aimard has impeccable avant garde credentials; he was the principal pianist for Pierre Boulez's Ensemble intercontemporain for 18 years. But his repertoire is also firmly grounded in earlier German music: his Well-Tempered Clavier and Art of the Fugue recordings are outstanding, and his Schubert is wonderful. The 69-year-old pianist has put off recording the Schoenberg piano works, and this recording represents the considered, mature view of a very fine musician who knows the composer and his world backwards and forwards. Very highly recommended!
I've spent a lifetime as a classical music lover on the lookout for the next obscure composer who's about to make it big. It happens occasionally: Florence Price is starting to get attention, which is very much deserved. Before that there was CPE Bach, Clara Schumann, Heinrich Biber, Carlo Gesualdo. The early Baroque is a good place to look, and this new disc on the Chateau de Versailles label has a number of composers that are new to me. One of them, the Bohemian Samuel Capricornus (1628-1675), has struck my fancy.
Now Capricornus has his own Wikipedia page, with more than a few recordings listed, so this is on me for not recognizing his value before. On the evidence of the sonata from the second book of his Prothimia Suavissima played here, Capricornus is an imaginative composer who indeed could become as well known as his contemporary Heinrich Biber (1644-1704). Works by Capricornus can be found on albums by Chatham Baroque, Agave Baroque and the baroque string ensemble ACRONYM. There's even a group named Capricornus Ensemble Stuttgart. Pay attention, Dean!
Biber is the best-known name in the group on Aurora Germanica, a fine collection of music by composers closely connected with the court at Vienna. He was one of the composers who imported from Italy a new way of using the violin as a solo instrument. Virtuosity is an important part of the innovations of the German violin composers, but just as important are the expressive capabilities of the instrument, which in Biber's case can go beyond the purely musical, becoming transcendently spiritual.
Biber is joined here by one of his pupils, Johann Joseph Vilsmayr, whose Artificiosus Concentus pro Camera for solo violin points the way to J.S. Bach's sonatas and partitas for solo violin. This is a work that deserves to be played much more often, perhaps in a Bach concert to demonstrate how first steps can evolve into works of genius.
Otherwise we have music by Johann Paul von Westhoff, Johann Philipp Krieger and the much better-known Johann Heinrich Schmelzer. All of these works are played beautifully on a lovely sounding violin made by Christian Liebel in 1758 by Louise Ayrton. She has fine support from her continuo group: Salomé Gasselin, alto de viole; Lucie Chabard, harpsichord & organ; Sergio Bucheli, archlute & guitar; and Gauthier Broutin, cello. A highly recommended release!
The photo of Louise Ayrton on the album cover is by Hubert Caldaguès.
Here is the Samuel Capricornus sonata; isn't this wonderful? And lest you think of him as a One Hit Wonder, there's also a very fine Ciaconna from his Partiturbuch Ludwig. I love me a Chaconne! Enjoy!
Let's start with that awesome painting on the cover: it's Fire on the Tiber, painted by Claude Joseph Vernet, in the collection of MUŻA, the National Community Art Museum of Malta. Lots of storm and stress going on here!
I love music that's often categorized as Sturm und Drang: the minor key orchestral and chamber works and fraught opera arias of Haydn, Mozart and their colleagues working in the Galant International Style of the 1760s and 70s. But is it a true contemporary movement of composers and their patrons, or rather a modern marketing strategy of concert promoters and record companies? Robert O. Gjerdingen is skeptical; this is from his book Music in the Galant Style (Oxford University Press, 2009, p. 439):
"Frequently invoked terms like Sturm und Drang ('storm and stress') or 'the learned style'... may partly reflect the modern tendency to attribute acts of personal artistic expression to what in many cases were merely musical behaviors typical of the church or theater making an appearance in music for the chamber."
As so often happens in musical discourse, category discussions often become tedious and circular, so I'll stop being tedious and circular, but I will push back against Gjerdingen's "merely musical behavior". There's no reason to think that "personal artistic expression" didn't take place in the 18th century. It was just hidden by the social structures of the ancien regime. Haydn and Mozart, we know from the full documentation of their lives, were artistically on the same plane as the great intellectuals of the Enlightenment: Schiller, Goethe, Thomas Jefferson. Judging by the music they left, Kraus or Benda must have been more than mere craftsmen using the galant schemata as if it were a saw or a plane.
Ian Page makes the best case for Sturm und Drang as a proper musical movement by including two outstanding minor key symphonies (indeed, two of the greatest symphonies of the century): Joseph Martin Kraus's C minor Symphony and Joseph Haydn's Symphony no. 45, "Farewell". Just as important, though, are the three operatic arias/scenes Page has included here, especially the fantastically dramatic scene from Georg Benda's Medea. After all, Sturm und Drang as a term originally came from German drama, specifically Friedrich Maximilian Klinger's play of the same name.
I have no German, but I was blown away by Alexandra Lowe as Medea. "Peitscht ihn her! Peitscht ihn her!" ("Whip him here!"), she cries, having Jason whipped and brought to her to complete her revenge. Again, the storm of Medea's anger is clear, and the whips bring the stress.
The passion in the scores of these composers requires passionate playing, and we have that here in spades. The Mozartists is a tight band; they're bold, stylish and exciting. Ian Page has curated a wonderful programme for us; wrapping the dramatic core of Sturm und Drang opera with the C minor and F sharp minor masterworks gives us the essence of the movement in an hour of music.
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