Written at the request of Louis XIV in honor of his sister-in-law, Henrietta of England, Lully's Le Ballet royal de la naissance de Vénus was performed in 1665 with Henrietta herself as the goddess of love and youth. This grandiose spectacle combining dancing, music and poetry, served the power of the king, while attesting to the magnificence of his court. Musically very inventive, it shows the culmination of the ballet genre. The recording, from Christophe Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques is completed by excerpts from Les Amours déguisés, Psyché, Le Bourgeois gentilhomme and Le Carnaval.
Written at the request of Louis XIV in honour of his sisterin- law, Henrietta of England, Le Ballet royal de la naissance de Vénus was performed in 1665 with Henrietta herself as the goddess of love and youth. In twelve entrées, this grandiose spectacle, combining dancing, music and poetry, served the power of the king, while attesting to the magnificence of his court. Musically very inventive, it shows the culmination of the ballet genre, on which Lully was to draw in creating the tragédie en musique. To complete the programme, excerpts from Les Amours déguisés (Armida’s famous lament “Ah! Rinaldo, e dove sei?”), Psyché, Le Bourgeois gentil homme and Le Carnaval - from the latter, a piece recycled from Les Noces de village, a burlesque aria sung by the boastful village schoolmaster Barbacola, a basso buffo role that Lully wrote for himself.
This manuscript, from Christophe Rousset's private collection, was discovered by him in 2004. Dedicated to a Madame de Théobon, it contains not only the essential French harpsichord pieces of the late seventeenth century, but also many transcriptions of compositions by Lully and several hitherto completely unknown preludes. Providing precious insight into the art of the harpsichordist and the musical practices of that time, these pieces are recorded here for the first time. With it's powerful but still austere sound, the Nicolas Dumont harpsichord of 1704 does them full justice.
L’histoire entre Les talens Lyriques, Christophe Rousset et Jean-Baptiste Lully (1632-1687) est l’histoire d’une réussite. Les sept disques (Persée, Roland, Armide, Amadis, Phaéton, Bellérophon et cet Alceste) du compositeur d'origine italienne naturalisé français enregistrés par l’ensemble et le chef et claveciniste Français sont tous un véritable succès critique. En quelques années, Les talens Lyriques et Christophe Rousset sont passés maître du style et de l’écriture Lulliste au point d’être devenus un (le ?) véritable intournable du genre.
The musical world owes a debt of gratitude to French conductor Christophe Rousset not only for the vital, exquisite performances he delivers with the ensembles Les Talens Lyriques and Choeur de Chambre de Namur, but for his work in bringing to light neglected masterpieces of Baroque opera. Lully's Bellérophon, premiered in 1679, was a huge success in its time, with an initial run of nine months. Part of its popularity was doubtless due to the parallels that could be drawn between its plot and certain recent exploits of Louis XV, but even the earliest critics recognized the score's uniqueness and exceptional quality within Lully's oeuvre, so it's perhaps surprising that it has never been recorded before.
Lully's 1685 Roland, on a subject apparently chosen by Louis XIV–its message is that loyalty to one's country and fighting battles is more important and noble than earthly love–was a great hit and played on-and-off in France and other European countries until 1750. The plot involves Angelique's vacillating love for Médor. She vacillates due to the fact that Médor is of "obscure lineage" and therefore beneath her station. He has undying, wild love for her. Roland adores Angelique also, but while she admires his knightliness, she is otherwise not interested. After Médor threatens suicide, Angelique gives in; they marry to great festivity at the close of Act 3.
Here is a very special recording devoted to early 18th-century dance music for which we have recently rediscovered choreographies from the period. Such a discovery may well come as a surprise, since it is not generally realised that, long before the proliferation of various 20th-century systems of dance notation, an earlied system had already been invented and them forgotten, only to be rediscovered within the last few years.