Ardour Teebs

In the monastic life of the Cistercian order, as in the case of the female monastery of Santa María la Real de Las Huelgas (Burgos), a royal pantheon, the seat of coronations and the epicentre of a very intense musical life in which singing played an extremely important part, the nuns were called upon to live a life of simplicity, silence, prayer and contemplation. Flavit auster, which is part of the Las Huelgas Codex, is a Marian text inspired in the Song of Songs in which the most powerful symbols of femininity appear, such as the honeycomb, milk and honey, and protectiveness described as “mother of mercy, port of hope for the shipwrecked and virgin mother purified.”

Romeo and Juliet is such a perfectly conceived masterpiece (perhaps the finest symphonic poem ever written) that when it is presented with a fair degree of ardour it cannot fail to make its effect. Chailly's view is a romantic one. He secures an excellent response from the Cleveland players as he does in Francesca, especially in the beguiling middle section (notably from the principal clarinet). But he treats this epic piece like ballet music and the passionate final climax, when the lovers are discovered, sounds like a grand pas de deux.

This is a particularly welcome and important world-premiere recording. Handel composed Esther in about 1718?20 for James Brydges, the Earl of Carnarvon (and later Duke of Chandos), using a libretto that was anonymously adapted from Thomas Brereton’s English translation of a play by Racine. This slender work, containing only six scenes, lays a strong claim to being the first English oratorio, but Handel seems not to have considered performing it for a public audience until 1732, when the entrepreneurial composer thoroughly revised the score to fit his company of Italian opera singers (including Senesino, Strada and Montagnana, who all sang in English), and enlisted the aid of the writer Samuel Humphreys to expand the drama with additional scenes (which made the oratorio long enough to fill a theatre evening, advantageously fleshed out some of the characters a little bit, and also enhanced the musical attractiveness of the oratorio).

The playing of the excellent National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland - another Naxos discovery - is polished and sympathetic to the Tchaikovskian ardour… A fine, super bargain.

The Franck Piano Quintet is a performance of immense ardour and vigour, in which the players luxuriate in the lushness and melodic wealth of the composer’s writing. It’s a reading of emotional urgency that certainly packs a punch. Rarely have I heard such heartfelt passion and drama. The wistful calm and autumnal glow of the slow movement is spellbinding, and provides a contrast to the more heated and intense outer movements. Ideal balance between piano and strings adds to the overwhelming success of the performance.

Recorded in 1995, this Esther was first issued as Collins Classics 7040-2 early the following year. Like Hogwood, Harry Christophers recorded the original 1718 version of what has gone down in history as Handel’s first English oratorio.
In point of fact, the complex and still largely unresolved history of Esther suggests that it was not originally composed as an oratorio at all, but rather as a staged work that would have formed a companion to the near-contemporary Acis and Galatea.

Behold Orpheus, the singing shepherd who braved the Underworld to bring back Eurydice. The only human to conquer death, this famous Thracian bard is the hero of the French cantatas that flourished between 1710 and 1730. They paint a picture of the faithful husband’s burning ardour and pleas, his hypnotic song that won over the King of Darkness, his furtive glance that would forever rob him of his beloved; these are miniature operas, their intense poignancy rendered by the chamber choir that magnificently envelops the singer. This fine team masterfully weaves a tapestry of emotions, the early gems of the Rocaille period, offering a sequel to the Coucher du Roi with which they gifted us two years ago. This truly is the spirit of Versailles.

The name of Charles Tournemire is a minor one, even in the history of French music, and you won’t find much about him in the standard reference books. Nor are you likely to get a great deal of opportunity to hear his music: only two of the works on this disc have been published in printed form, and Sagesse is the only one to have been recorded before. The disc would thus be valuable for that reason alone.