Tobias Just

Sublime musical expression does not necessarily proceed from serene spirits whose philosophical loftiness leaves them unmoved by the push and shove of the marketplace. Prefaces to printed editions of music in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries seldom reveal much of the personality behind the writer's effusive urge to prostrate himself before the dedicatee and his invocations to the muses to make worthy his humble efforts. Robert Jones, Tobias Hume and John Dowland were exceptions in this regard and often used their printed prefaces as a platform for polemics, self-defence and bile. In so doing they illumine the contemporary pressures of public opinion and changing fashions, as well as highly individual — not to say curmudgeonly — natures.

More Tobias Hume can never be a bad thing. In an age of odd composers – Carlo Gesualdo was, after all, his almost exact contemporary – Hume still stands as one of the oddest composers of his time or any other. He was, after all, surely the only composer who spent his life as a mercenary and one of the few composers who died in the poor house.

Though Geminiani expressed a great deal of pride and acoomplishment regarding his Six Cello Sonatas, Op. 5, his writing style proved to be passé for audiences of the time and they did not receive their due appreciation. Today, however, they are recognized for what they are: one of the finest sets of cello sonatas to emerge from the last half of the 18th century. Geminiani's writing demonstrates a thorough knowledge of the cello's technical abilities as well as its abilities to convey emotions and sentiments. His writing, scored for solo cello, harpsichord, and basso continuo, is highly elaborate, filled with sophisticated ornamentation and an active continuo part.