Anner Bylsma (born Anne Bijlsma 17 February 1934, The Hague) is a Dutch cellist who plays on both modern, and period instruments in a historically informed style. He took an interest in music from an early age. He studied with Carel van Leeuwen Boomkamp at the Royal Conservatory of The Hague and won the Prix d'excellence in 1957.
This disc offers very enjoyable selection of Boccherini. The two symphonies are late works, the D major a single-movement piece of the Italian overture type, with a slow movement embedded, the C minor his most 'symphonic' work in the Viennese-classical sense of the term. Jeanne Lamon directs lively performances with this excellent Canadian group. The D major she takes rather quickly, producing that sense of tension that arises when music is pushed a little beyond its natural pace; but the effect is energetic and inspiriting (and it is marked con molto spirito). The Andantino is more relaxed, its colours happily realized.
In the Telemann mountains, much of the topography remains terra incognita because most of Telemann's music remains an undiscovered country. But whatever future generations of hardy musicologists may uncover, it is unlikely that Telemann's Nouveaux Quatuors en Six Suites published in Paris in 1738 will be displaced as among his output's highest peaks.
To those of you who are chary of "historically informed" interpretations, you needn't be in this case. Though presumably Bylsma's approach is scholarly and "correct", there is nothing objective about his interpretation. It is sinewy, chocolately, dramatic, as winning and hearfelt an interpretation as any of the great performances on the modern cello by Cassals, Fournier, Rostropovich et al. Bylsma uses an actual period cello, not a reproduction, but manages to bring it alive and to coax out of it the sweetest sounds. Bylsma's tempi are faster than those familiar with modern interpretations might be prepared for, but his musicianship is so keen that the most precise phrasing remains intact and Bach's music never ends up sounding forced or rushed.
In his day, Friedrich Dotzauer (1783-1860) was extremely influential as a performer, teacher and composer. In addition to having a highly successful career as an orchestral player. Dotzauer taught many of the best-known cellists of his age, and was prolific as a composer of sacred music, symphonies and chamber music. This issue makes available a sample of Dotzauer's chamber music which reveals the composer's craftsmanship and rich imagination. The four-movement Quintet. Op. 134 has an easy grace and carefree melodiousness that Bylsma and his colleagues express most engagingly.
That said, Anner Bylsma's disc gets a great deal more playing time. The timbre of the piccolo cello is ideally matched with the organ. While purists may balk at such unusual instrumentation, I cannot help but think such an experiment is quite in keeping with the spirit of Baroque era practices. In general, I try not to judge the success of a recording by a preconceived idea of what a musical elite would or would not approve of.
Though born in Italy, Luigi Boccherini was based for most of his life in Madrid, where he played the cello and wrote more than a hundred string quintets. They’re perfectly formed from the simplest chords, and not without their touches of profundity. The cello sonatas sound at times too much like performers’ music. The explanation lies in changing styles of string technique and the rise of the piano, though Anner Bylsma’s playing gives them a new lease of life.
An album overflowing with musical joy that transcends the composer. It is clear from the first sound of the CD and fills the space of the listening room brightly. A brilliance and lively fulfillment that rivals Mozart's finest moments. Anner Bylsma's cello tone and wonderful performance using period instruments, Melting with it, it progresses while adding luster, brilliance and dynamism.
That said, Anner Bylsma's disc gets a great deal more playing time. The timbre of the piccolo cello is ideally matched with the organ. While purists may balk at such unusual instrumentation, I cannot help but think such an experiment is quite in keeping with the spirit of Baroque era practices. In general, I try not to judge the success of a recording by a preconceived idea of what a musical elite would or would not approve of.