Showing posts with label Geminiani. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Geminiani. Show all posts

Friday, May 20, 2011

Geminani: La Folia - The Purcell Quartet, The Purcell Band

Francesco Geminani
La Folia and other Concertos and Sonatas
The Purcell Quartet, The Purcell Band
Hyperion CDA66264

With this recording, the Purcell Quartet reach the mid-point in their six-part series of chamber music based on La Jolla, and although this CD is devoted to Geminiani, the only work on that tune is, in fact, his concerto grosso arrangement of Corelli's variations for violin (Op. 5 No. 12). In addition, they have chosen the G minor Concerto grosso (distinguished by Geminiani's remarkable concertino viola part, played to good effect by Alan George), two of Geminiani's original solo sonatas (giving Catherine Mackintosh and Elizabeth Wallfisch moments in which to shine) and trio arrangements of two of his violin sonatas.

The Purcell Quartet have very much developed their own sound: graceful, lyrical and totally lacking in the self-conscious ostentation that sometimes creeps into modern period performances. As in their previous recordings, they have championed music once relegated to amateur circles and reclaimed it with interesting and stylish renditions. Without wishing to promote feminism in performance practice, it must be said that Mackintosh and Wallfisch bring a rare and delightful combination of vitality and sweetness to the performances, which are deftly and sensitively supported by Richard Boothby and Robert Woolley. Wallfisch's E minor Sonata is one of the highlights of the disc (Mackintosh sounds tentative and not as secure as usual in the A major) and together the two violinists easily meet the demands of the La folia Concerto, with its teasing suspensions and virtuoso passagework. The two women clearly enjoy being pitted against one another in the trios and the result is eloquent and spirited.

J.A.S., Gramophone Magazine 1988

Monday, December 13, 2010

Geminiani: La Folia & other Concertos & Sonatas - Purcell Band

Francesco Geminiani
La Folia & other Concertos & Sonatas
The Purcell Quartet, The Purcell Band
Helios CDH55234

The Purcell Quartet play with dedication and spirit.
(The Penguin Guide to Compact Discs)

This is a reissue – and a welcome one – on Hyperion’s Helios label; it’s a collection of string pieces by the late Baroque composer Francesco Geminiani. First released twenty years ago, it makes a valid and representative introduction to some of the strengths of Geminiani. At the same time the selection highlights the skills and interpretative powers of performers, many of whom were just beginning to make names for themselves in the 1980s and are now firmly established as specialists in their fields. Indeed the Purcell Quartet was in the middle of a wider series of chamber music based on La Folia.

Geminiani’s Concerto Grosso is actually the only work on this disc so based. It’s beautifully played here, though. There is energy, a sailing and uplifting movement in what’s already a lively and extrovert theme. The other Concerto Grosso, the G Minor Opus 7 number 2, is tackled just as stylishly and should convince anyone sceptical of Geminiani’s place in the canon that his blend of thematic thrift and apposite instrumentation admirably vindicates his champions’ faith in the composer’s inventiveness and technical adeptness.

There are three Trio Sonatas here. Number 3 in F Major seems at time to be holding back and has the most delightful, subtle melodies. Number 5 in A Minor has just as much sophistication, variety and emerges through gentle curves and swayings of sound; the opening movement has some exciting yet controlled counterpoint. And number 6 in D Minor has an almost Handelian middle movement and much uplifting yet not unserious ripieno and thrusting passages which reveal the beauty of these dedicated players’ string sound.

The thing you’ll probably notice as you settle into the first few tracks is the sedate pace - a marked slowness of tempi. This is all to the good - for the unrushed unfolding of thematic ideas and supporting instrumentation allow the music to breathe, and every nuance to be fully audible. Indeed there is a dignity and gravitas to, for example, the F Major’s gentle statement and counter-statement; they make it sound more classical than spontaneous. Yet the execution here is far from predictable or dull. Similarly the gentle, walking pace with which each of the players sets out the theme of La Folia itself has the effect, almost, of a first time hearing. Most welcome.

Elizabeth Wallfisch hits some high spots and sends shivers down the spine with her performance of the Opus 1 number 3 solo sonata in E Minor; Catherine Mackintosh similarly does opus 4 number 12 proud – though with perhaps not quite the same self-confidence as Wallfisch.

So there’s a pleasing array of textures, musical ideas and harmonic depth on this CD. It bears repeating that this is music originally meant for amateur, ‘local’ performance (and consumption). Its flavour has been suavely picked up and handled very well by these consummate professionals. The lasting impression remains of unspectacular detachment; the music is played with a generous seriousness that nevertheless never cloys nor draws attention to itself. It’s stately and almost regal at times. Maybe that’s chiefly because tempi are a tiny bit slower than we have become used to in intervening years. But really none the worse for that – we can savour every turn and phrase.

The fact that these dozen accomplished musicians haven’t thereby rendered the music in any way ‘precious’ must originate in their evident exuberance, and enjoyment of knowing and presenting it. There’s a genuineness and gentle familiarity in their playing that makes them superb ambassadors for what Geminiani was aiming at – and what he usually so successfully achieved: persuasive, thoughtful and accessible music of great originality and subtle beauty.

Geminiani (who studied with Corelli in Rome) seems to have been a bit… ‘needy’ where conducting and organizing his own music was concerned; Burney put his failings down to a shaky sense of tempi! He was more adept at re-arranging (his) music when necessary – indeed it is the 1739 revision of his Opus 1 from 1716 that we hear on this CD. The musicians here play with never a hint of such shortcomings thereby lifting the music into a more refined, almost rarefied, sphere. But, again, this steadiness is a big plus where music of such delicacy is concerned.

The liner notes are somewhat on the sparse side; the sound is more than adequate if a little closely recorded, and the quantity not all that generous at little more than 50 minutes. All in all this is a disc that can be thoroughly recommended. Listening to it carefully and with renewed attention (there’s always something new at each hearing… a delayed harpsichord entry, an apposite rallentando, a striking counterplay of closing chords) will bring hours of pleasure.

Mark Sealey

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Geminiani: Six Concerti grossi op.3 - AAM, Christopher Hogwood

Francesco Geminiani
Six Concerti grossi op.3
The Academy of Ancient Music, Christopher Hogwood
L'Oiseau-Lyre 478 0024

I thoroughly enjoyed making the acquaintance of the Academy of Ancient Music of the 1970s again. Having been rather rude about some of the earlier efforts from the period-performance school in my review of Volume II of Naïve’s series of Vivaldi Cello Concertos (OP30457) I must immediately make an exception of the recordings which Christopher Hogwood made with the AAM, including the present reissue. In fact, by the date of this recording, 1976, the ‘authentic’ movement was well under way and the strident playing to which I referred was already rather a thing of the past; indeed, the only AAM recording which I recall with some discomfort is that of Handel’s Water Music, made at a time when the playing of period wind instruments left something to be desired.

Geminiani’s orchestral music is much less well known that of Corelli, whose disciple he largely was, though he was no slavish imitator. In these Op.3 concerti, for example, his addition of the viola goes beyond his model. Even his twelve Concerti Grossi, Op.5, ostensibly ‘after’ Corelli’s Trio Sonatas with the same opus number, are no mere straight orchestrations of the master. This is thoroughly enjoyable music; don’t let the apparent preponderance of minor keys put you off – the music is attractively varied, and the performances are to match.

A more recent rival version from Europa Galante and Fabio Biondi (Opus 111 OPS30-172) offers a very different kind of performance – like most modern Italian interpreters, Biondi plays his baroque forbears in a much more aggressive manner than you will find on the AAM reissue. In some moods, I find such an approach exhilarating – see, for example, my review of the Vivaldi Op.8 concertos by Accademia Bizantina on Arts – but the AAM versions are much the safer bet. In any case, the Opus 111 CD is currently deleted though, I expect, it will appear in due course at mid price.

If I describe these AAM performances as more comfortable to live with, I don’t mean to imply that they are in any way slack. They were revelatory in their day and they still sound well. They resemble the ‘old school’ of the Academy of St Martin’s, which was a powerful force for good in its day, rather than the older ‘old school’ of I Musici or the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra. That we can still listen with enjoyment to this 30+ year-old take on baroque music is as much a tribute to Jaap Schröder, already an associate of the likes of Gustav Leonhardt and Frans Brüggen, as it is to the AAM and Christopher Hogwood – this was one of their first collaborations, if not the first. I’m pleased to see Warner reissuing some of Schröder’s earlier recordings for Telefunken – more, please, and may we have some of his Seon label recordings back, too, please, Sony?

The recording hardly shows its age or its ADD origins at all – it does full justice to the performances – and Lindsay Kemp’s notes in the booklet, though brief, are informative about both the formation of the AAM and their association with Jaap Schröder as well as about the music. I thought it was a comparatively recent phenomenon to have a near-inaudible continuo but this reissue indicates that this kind of recording balance dates back to the mid-1970s. Perhaps the engineers employed a different mix for the original LPs or my memory is playing tricks again.

There are also versions of the Op.3 concertos on Naxos: nos.1-4 are available with the Op.2 concertos on 8.553019, nos. 5 and 6 with the Op.7 concertos on 8.553020. I haven’t heard these versions with the Capella Istropolitana/Jaroslav Krček, but their other baroque recording which I have heard have been more than reliable – their two CDs of Corelli’s Op.6 are particularly recommendable. There is also a 2-CD set with Camerata Bern on Novalis 1507162, coupled with Tartini, which I have seen recommended. Either of these should serve well those who prefer modern instruments.

The short playing time detracts from the mid-price at which the CD is reissued – surely Decca could have eked it out with some other AAM material from the same period. In that respect, the Naxos couplings offer much better value.

Since Geminiani was an Italian resident in London, the use of one of Canaletto’s paintings of London is appropriate, though this particular one, showing St Paul’s with the royal barge – and looking for all the world like the ducal vessel in Venice – has been somewhat over-exposed on CD covers. It’s used on the Harmonia Mundi set of Geminiani’s Op.5 and a Naim CD entitled A London Concert, which also includes music by Geminiani.

If this CD makes you want to explore Geminiani further, try the Op.5 Concerti Grossi after Corelli, to which I referred earlier. In fact, I would be inclined to recommend that you get to know Op.5 first, but that’s merely a reflection of the order in which I got to know the music. The second disc of the excellent 2-CD set of Op.5 by the more recent incarnation of the Academy of Ancient Music, directed by Andrew Manze (HMU90 7261.62) is also available at budget price (Concertos 7-12, HMX290 7262). The old standby with I Musici on Philips Duo 438 766-2 appears to be deleted, though it has worn much better than many of their recordings and it’s well worth looking out for second-hand copies.

As Geminiani orchestrated Corelli, so his works in turn were employed to the same end by the English composer Avison for his Concerti Grossi after Geminiani, recently recorded by The Avison Ensemble on Divine Art DDA21210 – see Johan van Veen’s review: I especially endorse his advice not to listen to all twelve concertos in one go.

Brian Wilson, MusicWeb-International

Thursday, September 30, 2010

Geminiani: Concerti Grossi - Ensemble Risonanza, Chiarappa

Francesco Geminiani
Concerti Grossi - tratti dalle op.3, 1 e 5 di Arcangelo Corelli
Ensemble Risonanza, Carlo Chiarappa
Tactus TC 680703

It is no surprise that Geminiani (like other pupils of Corelli) spent most of his life in England. Indeed, as Johann Mattheson writes in 1713: “whoever wishes to profit from music moves to England”. Together with Corelli, Geminiani was among the first Italian composers to see his concertos printed in England. Having arrived in London in 1714, he rapidly achieved a reputation as a virtuoso and was soon in demand by important figures at court and among the aristocracy.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Geminiani: Concerti Grossi 2 - Capella Istropolitana, Krecek

Francesco Geminiani
Concerti Grossi Vol. 2
Capella Istropolitana, Jaroslav Krecek
Naxos 8.553020

The violinist and composer Francesco Geminiani was one of those Italian musicians who found a ready livelihood in England in the first half of the eighteenth century. Born in Lucca, probably in 1687, he was a pupil of Corelli and of Alessandro Scarlatti in Rome, after earlier violin lessons from his father, whom he succeeded in Lucca in 1707 in the Capella Palatina, the principal musical establishment of the city. He was released from his obligations there in 1710, as a result of the alleged frequency of his absences, and led the opera orchestra in Naples from the following year. Here he was referred to as furibondo, reference to a tendency to freedom in rhythm that was not always welcome, a trait perhaps acquired from his teacher Corelli, who had had his own problems in Naples. According to Charles Burney, who cannot always be trusted in these matters, he was demoted to the viola section for his remaining time in Naples. In 1714 Geminiani moved to London, where he enjoyed immediate success as a performer and the patronage of Johann Adolf Baron von Kielmansegg, the Hanoverian courtier who had been instrumental in bringing Handel to Hanover and helping to establish him in England. Geminiani dedicated his first set of a dozen violin sonatas to von Kielmansegg in 1716 and was indebted to the Master of the King's Horse for his introduction to the court of King George I, before whom he played, accompanied, at his own insistence, by Handel.

Geminiani won the support of a number of the nobility in England and exercised very considerable influence also through his pupils, including the young violinist Matthew Dubourg, who spent a considerable part of his life in Dublin, where he led the orchestra at the first performance of Handel's Messiah, Michael Festing, later Master of the King's Musick, and the Newcastle composer Charles Avison. Charles Burney, whatever his later thoughts on the subject, admits in a letter of 1781 that as a young man "Handel, Geminiani and Corelli were the sole Divinities of [his] Youth", although he was later "drawn off from their exclusive worship . . .by keeping company with travelled and heterodox gentlemen , who were partial to the Music of more modern composers whom they had heard in Italy". Indebted as he was to his own teacher Corelli, Geminiani derived his own style of writing largely from him. Evidence of this may be seen in his publication in 1726 and 1727 of Corelli's twelve violin sonatas as concerti grossi. Through the agency of the Earl of Essex it was proposed in 1728 that Geminiani should become Master and Composer of State Music in Ireland, but from this position he was, as a Catholic, excluded and the honour went instead to his pupil Dubourg.

In London Geminiani continued teaching and performing, taking part in series of subscription concerts and in 1732 publishing two sets of concerti grossi, Opus 2 and Opus 3. He extended his activities, at the same time, to Ireland, where Matthew Dubourg was now established, continuing his connection with Dublin as occasion and Dubourg demanded during the following years. Quarrels with the London publisher Walsh, who had pirated Geminiani' s compositions as he had Handel's, would have been settled by the granting of the royal privilege of exclusive rights to his compositions in 1739 and a similar licence in France the following year. Other publications followed in the 1740s, notably his Opus 7 concerti grossi in 1746 and a set of cello sonatas listed as Opus 5, in the same year, works later arranged for violin and harpsichord. He travelled abroad to the Netherlands and to Paris, presumably attending the performance in the latter city of a staged version of his musical interpretation, later published in concerto grosso form, of an episode in Tasso's Gerusalemme liberata, under the title The Enchanted Forest.

It was in 1748 that Geminiani published his Rules for Playing in a True Taste and the fuller A Treatise of Good Taste in the Art of Musick in the following year. In 1751 he published his very influential The Art of Playing on the Violin, a vital source of information on contemporary practice. Of less importance are his Guida armonica and The Art of Accompaniment, with a later supplement to the former and a final The Art of Playing the Guitar or Cittra appearing in Edinburgh in 1760, published by his former pupil Robert Bremner.

Geminiani finally settled in Dublin, at the invitation of Dubourg, although there were still visits to Scotland and to England. The last concert of his of which there is any record was in Dublin in 1760, when he was still able to give a masterly account of himself, through his artistry concealing the physical weakness of age. He died in Dublin in 1762.

The form of the concerto grosso owes much to Geminiani's teacher, Arcangelo Corelli. Written as early as the 1680s, but published only posthumously in 1713, Corelli's twelve concerti epitomize a form that was to appeal to a very wide public, attracting both professional and amateur performance. If the dominant instrumental form of the period was the trio sonata, a composition for two melody instruments, with a figured bass line for cello or viola da gamba and keyboard, the concerto grosso was an extension of this. The latter form contrasts a small solo group, usually of two violins, cello and harpsichord, known as the concertino, with the main body of the now generally four-part string orchestra and its keyboard instrument. It was easy enough to transform the sonata into a concerto by allowing the main body of the orchestra, the so-called ripieno players, to reinforce the louder sections, leaving softer passages to the concertino. The concerto grosso developed soon more individual concertino parts that differed in elaboration from those of the ripieno or concerto grosso. In origin, then, the concert grosso may be seen as a trio sonata writ large, a trio sonata arranged for orchestra. It should be added that both trio sonata and concerto grosso existed as either secular da camera compositions or as sacred da chiesa works, the former akin to a dance suite in a number of movements and the latter incorporating more solemn fugal elements in the second and often the fourth of its four movements. The rigid distinction between the two forms, clear enough in Corelli, did not continue.

The first set of original concerti grossi by Geminiani, after those earlier works based on Corelli, was published in London in 1732, followed by a second edition in 1755 of both Opus 2 and Opus 3, printed for the author by John Johnson, in Cheapside, in score for the first time, as well as in parts, as in 1732, but now corrected and enlarged, some thought to the detriment of the works. For this new edition it seems that he borrowed from Dr Burney a transcription that the latter had made many years before, not having the originals by him. Burney adds that Geminiani failed to return the manuscript.

The present volume includes two concerti from Opus 3. In this collection the ripieno, unusually, is without a viola, while a solo viola is included in the concertino, a procedure possibly dictated by purely practical considerations. The fifth of that set, the Concerto grosso in B flat major, Op,3, No.5, is in the usual four movements. The first of these is an Adagio that makes some use of dotted rhythms before a compound rhythm Allegro. It is followed by an E flat major Adagio, leading to a final triple-metre Allegro.

The Concerto in E minor, Op. 3, No.6, follows a similar pattern, with a solemn opening Adagio and a first Allegro of fugal suggestion. There is a very short second Adagio that serves, as so often, as a simple transition to the final Allegro.

Opus 7 was published in London by John Johnson in 1746. The collection is preceded by a dedication to the Royal Academy, in which Geminiani takes the occasion of pointing out the unsatisfactory nature of ill-informed praise, which is "like jarring Dissonance on the Ear" and declaring his concerti to be designed for the discerning, and, in particular, the Academy. The concertino is again expanded to include a solo viola, while now violas are included in the ripieno. The first of the set, the Concerto in D major, Op. 7, No. l, starts with an Andante, here a slow introductory movement that finds room for the expected contrast between the smaller and larger groups of players. It is followed by a fugal movement, described by its title as L'Arte delta Fuga, à 4 parte reale, worked out with the "great Study and Application" that Geminiani had claimed in his dedication to have used. This ends with relative suddenness, to be followed by a slow movement that moves from Andantino to a concluding Adagio. There follows an Allegro that makes use of the compound rhythm expected in a final movement.

Concerto No.2 in D minor has an opening slow movement marked Grave, including dramatic dynamic and textural contrasts. This leads to an Allegro of fugal texture, again using compound rhythms and making considerable use of descending scale patterns. There is use of the fuller concertino in the succeeding Andante, before the final Allegro, in which it is apparent that Geminiani is making marginally greater technical demands on his soloists than had his teacher Corelli.

The Concerto No.3 in C major is described as composti in tre stili diferenti (composed in three different styles) and is, in consequence, in only three movements. The device of imitating the supposed musical or behavioural characteristics of different peoples was not a new one. Among others Telemann, in his Ouverture des nations, had produced entertaining, if prejudiced, vignettes of the inhabitants, old and young, of various countries. Geminiani offers a first movement Francese, which, in a spirited Presto presents the French in lively and jerky rhythms and passages of three-part solo writing. There is an appropriately stately conclusion, before the appearance of the English, a solid Inglese movement, described as an andante con due flauti, which suggests unusual optional alternative instrumentation. The Italians are less formal in the final Italiano, an Allegro assai, which offers a Handelian triple-metre, with hints of Vivaldi in some of its effects.

The fourth of the set, a Concerto in D minor, starts with a moving Andante, an extended movement that makes ample use of imitation and contrasts between concertino and ripieno. This leads to a cheerful Allegro, dispelling any trace of melancholy. The original mode is restored for a last movement that includes, in a spirited framework, an Adagio passage of gentler pastoral suggestion. The Concerto No.5 in C minor is in the form of a French overture, opening with the marked dotted rhythms characteristic of the form. This is duly followed by an Allegro, a movement of fugal texture. There is a brief transition, marked Grave, leading to the final Allegro, an original and attractive movement, with a moving bass, all in the French style.

The set ends with the Concerto No.6 in B flat major, a work of greater variety, that has a precedent in Corelli, except for its optional inclusion of a bassoon. Here there are thirteen episodes, changes of speed and mood, contained, broadly, within four movements. This offers a fine example of the variety possible within the traditional form developed fifty years before by Corelli. Geminiani is, of course, relatively conservative, writing music of a kind that was certain of a market in England and that suited admirably his own style of performance. He is none the worse for that and is able to impart to the form of the concerto grosso an unusual variety of texture and mood, within the established general structure.

Capella Istropolitana
The Capella Istropolitana was founded in 1983 by members of the Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra, at first as a chamber orchestra and then as an orchestra large enough to tackle the standard classical repertoire. Based in Bratislava, its name drawn from the ancient name still preserved in the Academia Istropolitana, the orchestra works in the recording studio and undertakes frequent tours throughout Europe. Recordings by the orchestra on the Naxos label include The Best of Baroque Music, Bach's Brandenburg Concertos, fifteen each of Mozart's and Haydn's symphonies as well as works by Handel, Vivaldi and Telemann.

Jaroslav Kr(e)cek
The Czech conductor and composer Jaroslav Kr(e)cek was born in southern Bohemia in 1993 and studied composition and conducting at the Prague Conservatory. In 1962 he moved to Pilsen as a conductor and radio producer and in 1967 returned to Prague to work as a recording supervisor for Supraphon. In the capital he founded the Chorea Bohemica ensemble and in 1975 the chamber orchestra Musica Bohemica. In the Czech Republic and Slovakia he is well known for his arrangements of Bohemian folk-music, while his electro-acoustic opera Raab was awarded first prize at the International Composer's Competition in Geneva. He is artistic leader of the Capella Istropolitana.

Naxos.com

Friday, August 20, 2010

Geminiani: Concerti Grossi 1 - Capella Istropolitana, Krecek

Francesco Geminiani
Concerti Grossi Vol. 1
Capella Istropolitana, Jaroslav Krecek
Naxos 8.553019

The violinist and composer Francesco Geminiani was one of those Italian musicians who found a ready livelihood in England in the first half of the eighteenth century. Born in Lucca in 1687, he was a pupil of Corelli and of Alessandro Scarlatti in Rome, after earlier violin lessons from his father, whom he succeeded in Lucca in 1707 in the Capella Palatina, the principal musical establishment of the city. He was released from his obligations there in 1710, as a result of the alleged frequency of his absences, and led the opera orchestra in Naples from the following year. Here he was referred to as furibondo, a reference to a tendency to freedom in rhythm that was not always welcome, a trait perhaps acquired from his teacher Corelli, who had had his own problems in Naples. In 1714 Geminiani moved to London, where he enjoyed immediate success as a performer and the patronage of Johann Adolf Baron von Kielmansegg, the Hanoverian courtier who had been instrumental in bringing Handel to Hanover and thence to England. Geminiani dedicated his first set of a dozen violin sonatas to v6n Kielmansegg in 1716 and was indebted to the Master of the King's Horse for his introduction to the court of King George L before whom he played accompanied his own insistence, by Handel.

Geminiani won the support of a number of the nobility in England and exercised very considerable influence also through his pupils, including the young violinist Matthew Dubourg, who spent a considerable part of his life in Dublin, where he led the orchestra at the first performance of Handel's Messiah, Michael Festing, later Master of the King's Musick, and the Newcastle composer Charles Avison. Charles Burney, whatever his later thoughts on the subject, admits in a letter of 1781 that as a young man "Handel, Geminiani and Corelli were the sole Divinities of [his] Youth", although he was later "drawn off from their exclusive worship... by keeping company with travelled and heterodox gentlemen, who were partial to the Music of more modern composers whom they had heard in Italy". Indebted as he was to his own teacher Corelli, Geminiani derived his own style of writing largely from him. Evidence of this may be seen in his publication in 1726 and 1727 of arrangements of Corelli's twelve violin sonatas as concerti grossi. Through the agency of the Earl of Essex it was proposed in 1728 that Geminiani should become Master and Composer of State Music in Ireland, but from this position he was, as a Catholic, excluded, and the honour went instead to his pupil Dubourg.

In London Geminiani continued teaching and performing, taking part in series of subscription concerts and in 1732 publishing two sets of concerti grossi, Opus 2 and Opus 3. He extended his activities, at the same time, to Ireland, where Matthew Dubourg was now established, continuing his connection with Dublin as occasion and Dubourg demanded during the following years. Quarrels with the London publisher Walsh, who had pirated Geminiani's compositions as he had Handel's, would have been settled by the granting of the royal privilege of exclusive rights to his compositions in 1739 and a similar licence in France the following year. Other publications followed in the 1740s, notably his Opus 7 concerti grossi in 1746 and a set of cello sonatas, listed as Opus 5, in the same year, works later arranged for violin and harpsichord. He travelled abroad to the Netherlands and to Paris, presumably attending the performance in the latter city of a staged version of his musical interpretation, in concerto grosso form, of an episode in Tasso's Gerusalemme liberata, under the title The Inchanted Forest. It was in 1748 that Geminiani published his Rules for Playing in a True Taste and the fuller A Treatise of Good Taste in the Art of Musick in the following year. In 1751 he published his very influential The Art of Playing on the Violin, a vital source of information on contemporary practice. Of less importance are his Guida armonica and The Art of Accompaniment, with a later supplement to the former and a final The Art of Playing the Guitar or Cittra appearing in Edinburgh in 1760, published by his former pupil Robert Bremner.

Geminiani finally settled in Dublin, at the invitation of Dubourg, although there were still visits to Scotland and to England. The last concert of his of which there is any record was in Dublin in 1760, when he was still able to give a masterly account of himself, through his artistry concealing the physical weakness of age. He died in Dublin in 1762.

The form of the concerto grosso owes much to Geminiani's teacher, Arcangelo Corelli. Written as early as the 1680s, but published only posthumously in 1713, Corelli's twelve concerti epitomize a form that was to appeal to a very wide public, attracting both professional and amateur performance. If the dominant instrumental form of the period was the trio sonata, a composition for two melody instruments, with a figured bass line for cello or viola da gamba and keyboard, the concerto grosso was an extension of this. The latter form contrasts a small solo group, usually of two violins, cello and harpsichord, known as the concertino, with the main body of the now generally four-part string orchestra and its keyboard instrument. It was easy enough to transform the sonata into a concerto by allowing the main body of the orchestra, the so-called ripieno players, to reinforce the louder sections, leaving softer passages to the concertino. The concerto grosso developed soon more individual concertino parts that differed in elaboration from those of the ripieno or concerto grosso. In origin, then, the concerto grosso may be seen as a trio sonata writ large, a trio sonata arranged for orchestra. It should be added that both trio sonata and concerto grosso existed as either secular da camera compositions or as sacred da chiesa works, the former akin to a dance suite in a number of movements and the latter incorporating more solemn fugal elements in the second and often the fourth of its four movements. The rigid distinction between the two forms, clear enough in Corelli, did not continue.

The first set of original concerti grossi by Geminiani, after those earlier works based on Corelli, was published in London in 1732, followed by a second edition in 1755 of both Opus 2 and Opus 3, printed for the author by John Johnson, in Cheapside, in score for the first time, as well as in parts, as in 1732, but now corrected and enlarged, some thought to the detriment of the works. For this new edition it seems that he borrowed from Dr Burney a transcription that the latter had made many years before, not having the originals by him. Burney adds that Geminiani failed to return the manuscript.

The first of the Concerti grossi, Opus 2, in C minor, opens with an Andante, an introduction to an Allegro that starts with a descending arpeggio figure for the first violins, before moving on to contrasting rhythms. Directions in the following movement, marked Grave and then Andante, suggest contrasts of plucked and bowed strings. This movement proceeds immediately to an Allegro.

A second concerto in C minor, Opus 2, No.2, follows a similar pattern, with a slow introduction, leading to an Allegro of contrapuntal interest. A slow movement, with imitative interplay between the upper parts, leads at once to a final Allegro, in which concertina and ripieno are contrasted.

Concerto, Opus 2, No.3, has, in its first Allegro, something of the brilliance and melodic contour of Vivaldi. In the key of D minor, it is followed by a relaxation of tension in the gentle slow movement, capped by the final Allegro in triple time.

The pattern of a slower introductory movement, linked to a following Allegro, is resumed in the Concerto in D major, Opus 2, No.4, which, as with most of the concertos of Opus 2, lacks the virtuoso demands made on the first violin of the concertina in much of Opus 3. The following Andante varies the key and mode, moving forward directly to a final triple time Allegro.

The key of D minor returns in the Concerto, Opus 2, No.5, with its Corellian opening Adagio, introducing a contrapuntal Allegro. This leads to a relatively short Andante, linked to a final movement that brings frequent contrasts between the smaller and larger groups of players.

There is a slow introductory movement in the last concerto of the set, the Concerto in A major, Opus 2, No.6. This includes the necessary contrasts of texture of the form, proceeding to an Allegro with an imitative opening and a slow conclusion, marked Grave. The concerto ends with an Allegro marked by the triple rhythms that continued an older convention.

Geminiani's Concerti grossi, Opus 3, like the earlier version of Opus 2, differ from Corelli's in that the concertina group includes a solo viola, while the ripieno orchestra is in three parts, scored for two violins and bass, with a keyboard instrument providing the necessary chordal filling. The revised versions of 1755, not followed here, reduce the solo viola part and add a viola to the ripieno. The Concerto grosso in D major, Opus 3, No.1, opens with an Adagio in which concertino and ripieno are immediately contrasted. This leads to an energetic Allegro for the whole body of players, an opening forte being followed by an echoing piano, before an extended passage for solo violin. The opening material returns, following the ritornello pattern of the movement, leading to a further burst of activity from the solo violin. The pattern continues in this way, finally allowing the solo violin some scope for even further virtuosity. There is a short Adagio, with multiple stopping for the two violins of the concertino, leading to a final Allegro in the expected gigue rhythm, here 12/8, four groups of triple quavers in a bar, allotted first to the solo violins. As the movement continues the first soloist assumes greater prominence.

The Concerto grosso in G minor, Opus 3, No.2, starts with a movement marked Largo e staccato with an element of dotted rhythm. This introduces a lively triple rhythm Allegro in which the principal solo soon assumes prominence, a pattern that is continued. The solo instruments enter one by one, over a sustained cello note, in the following Adagio, marked by the descending figure of the solo violin in the opening bars. In the final Allegro, with its imitative violin entries, the solo viola has a little more independence and even one triple-stopped chord.

The third of the set, the Concerto grosso in E minor, Opus 3, No.3, has the briefest of Adagio introductions, six bars that lead to a contrapuntal Allegro. Here the first solo violin proposes a chromatic fugal subject, answered by the second violin of the concertino, by the cello and by the viola. It is only later that the ripieno players join in a movement that includes other contrapuntal devices. The second movement is an Adagio, with a moving quaver pattern sustained at first by the two violins of the concertino. There are contrapuntal entries in the final Allegro, the subject suggested by the first violin, repeated by the second and briefly, in inverted form, by the viola and then by the cello. The repeated notes of the opening figure continue to hold some importance as the movement proceeds.

The Concerto grosso in D minor, Opus 3, No.4 has a slow introduction that is relatively extended, leading to a rapid 3/8 Allegro without significant solo activity. A short Largo then serves as a prelude to a final Vivace in which a gigue-like triple rhythm predominates in relatively short contrasting passages between concertino and ripieno.

Naxos.com

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Geminiani: Concerti Grossi (After Corelli Op.5) - Manze, AAM

Francesco Geminiani
Concerti Grossi (After Corelli Op.5)
Andrew Manze, The Academy of Ancient Music
Harmonia Mundi 907261.62

Ah, the memories! Way back in my college days, I was very proud of my LP collection containing some 1,600 albums, including virtually all of the Philips "Living Baroque" series. One day I had occasion to welcome a couple of houseguests, self-styled "culture aficionados," and we naturally fell into a tediously predictable game of "who knows more about what." That's what sophomores do, after all, and some of us eventually grow out of it. Many others don't. Not that I felt at that time (or now for that matter) that I was anything terribly special in this department. I simply knew that I had 1,600 albums and that I could identify every damn piece on all of them. Anyway, at some point I asked my guests if they would like to hear something. They asked me if I liked Baroque music (this was when The Four Seasons and the Pachelbel Canon had just burst onto the scene via public radio pledge drives and the like). "Naturally," I replied, "What would you like to hear?" "How about some Geminiani?" came the suggestion, "He's simply DIVINE!"

Well, didn't that just beat all? I had Corelli, Albinoni, Veracini, Vivaldi, Frescobaldi, Locatelli, not to mention Addison, Scarlatti, Fasch, Tartini: by God, I probably could have found Tortellini and Spumoni if I had to, but the great Baroque Repertoire Expansion of the 1980s, largely brought on by the original instrument movement, was just getting started. There was no Geminiani anywhere in my collection, or in my Schwann catalog. I knew it, and they knew it, and they knew that I knew that they knew it. So I did the only thing I could under the circumstances. I bluffed. I took out my "Living Baroque" copy of stuff by Albinoni, put it on the stereo (which thankfully was in another room), and announced: "This is my very favorite Geminiani album!" "Oh yes," they agreed immediately. "We have this one too and we play it all the time." "I thought you might," I replied somewhat smugly. Gotcha!

And what is the moral of this story? Well, there isn't one really, unless we want to make the generic observation that all Baroque music sounds the same--until you actually listen to it, that is. Here's a particularly acute case, in which Geminiani turns out to be a sort of Corelli in drag. These marvelous Concerti Grossi take Corelli's Op. 5 violin sonatas as their starting point, and metamorphose them into something else entirely. Geminiani's music has more fire and guts, requires a higher level of musical virtuosity, and replaces some of Corelli's winsome melodic inspiration with an almost devilish sense of fun. Taken by themselves, this is Baroque entertainment of the highest order, but if you feel daring and actually spend some time comparing these works to Corelli's originals, the result adds an entirely new level of fascination to your listening experience.

Andrew Manze has no peer today in this repertoire, and his performances ideally combine his by now customary near insane technical agility (in the final "Follia" concerto especially) with a welcome freedom of phrasing and lyrical sweep. His acute sensitivity to the idea of the concerto as rhetorical speech, embodying the heroic opposition of the solo voices to those of the crowd, brings these highly contrasted, colorful works vividly to life. Both he and his players put some real danger into the minor key works, Concertos Nos. V and VIII especially, while the sunny melodiousness of the two F major concertos (Nos. IV and X) never dissipates the music's rhythmic energy. With a delightful bonus in the form of Geminiani's ornamented version of Corelli's sonata Op. 5, No. 9, as well as the former's own Cello Sonata in D minor, this collection practically defines the words "self-recommending." Throw in stupendous recorded sound and super deluxe packaging containing a history of the first performances (1770) of the original Academy of Ancient Music, and if you don't buy this you're either (a) not interested in Baroque music at all, or (b) dead. Being broke is no excuse.

David Hurwitz, Classics Today.com