Colin j

Perhaps Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Devin du Village has been waiting just for you for two centuries at the Theatre de la Reine at the Petit Trianon. On September 19, 1780, Marie-Antoinette was on stage, in costume, and was acting with her troop of aristocrats in front of a public of close friends. That evening, she was singing the role of Colette, the heroine of this one act opera composed in 1753 by the philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau, perhaps the most celebrated work of its time. That exceptional evening, a veritable fantasy of the Queen’s who imagined that she was a shepherdess, has been resuscitated under the direction of Sebastien d’Herin in a costumed reconstitution, staged in the original historic sets. A bonus film of the complete performance accompanies this recording.

There were lots of theatrical Rousseaus in the 18th century and Jean-Jacques (1712–78) was only the most famous of them. A fair amount of the intellectual impulse of Romanticism can be traced to (or blamed on) him. A poseur and charlatan in the grand format, this music copyist also found time to compose music, and this is his most enduring piece. Indeed, it is his only enduring music.

Johann Sebastian Bach's six Partitas for Harpsichord are among the greatest and most inspired works of all keyboard literature. They represent the composer's genius at the height of his maturity, matched only by his Goldberg Variations. They are performed here by Colin Tilney on a copy of an instrument by Christian Zell, Hamburg, 1728, built by Colin Booth, Wells, England, 1984. Colin Tilney is internationally known for his harpsichord, clavichord and fortepiano playing, with many solo recordings on DG (Archive), EMI Electrola, Decca, Hyperion, Dorian, Doremi and CBC SM 5000.

It is something of a mystery why Bach, usually alive to opportunities to make known his mastery of various musical forms, never published the English Suites (nor, come to that, the Well-tempered Clavier or the Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue), which represent a peak of his keyboard writing particularly in the Sixth Suite that he never excelled. Colin Tilney certainly takes his assignment au grand serieux, and earns our respect for his thoughtful approach, his firm rhythmic control even in the huge initial fugue of Suite No. 6 while avoiding inflexibility (with subtle phrasing that clarifies structure), his crisp ornaments, his stylishly discreet embellishment of repeats (virtually all of which he makes), and his general air of solid command.

The epic tale of the fall of Troy haunted Berlioz from childhood and inspired some of his most passionately dramatic, richly colorful music. This is Colin Davis's second recording of Les Troyens, following his (out-of-print) 1969 version. Magnificent though it was, some reckoned that reading lacked something in zip. Here, however, such reservations could never apply. Recorded across several lavishly praised concert performances in London in December 2000, this Troyens has an extraordinary electricity and rhythmic drive.

Recorded live on May 5, 2012, at Wigmore Hall, Colin Carr's recording of J.S. Bach's six Cello Suites is a remarkable demonstration of intellectual concentration, expressive consistency, and physical control that other cellists may envy. Carr's approach to these masterworks is straightforward and deeply personal, following neither historical nor modern schools of interpretation but flowing directly from his own expression in the moment. Because there are no convenient catchwords to apply to his playing, it is perhaps best to think that this is one man's vision of the suites as profound sources of inspiration, and as opportunities to show music's power to affect emotions through the subtlest means available.