Gesualdo

A fascinating compilation detailing the highly expressive music of Prince, composer and murderer Carlo Gesualdo - one of history's most colorful figures. Gesualdo's first six books of madrigals remain his best-known music.

In a selection of motets woven affectingly throughout the glorious five-part Mass, The Gesualdo Six perfectly captures all the power and tenderness of Byrd’s compositional voice.

The Prelude and Fugue in E Minor forms a frame, as it did in Bach’s time, around this program, designed to fit the liturgical format that gave Bach’s music its purpose; the Fantasia precedes the motet on which it is based and follows Cantata BWV 64, which quotes the fifth stanza of Johann Franck’s poem “Jesu, meine Freude.” The recording was made in the Arnstadt church where Bach served from 1703 to 1707 (the 1699 organ has recently been restored), but the two cantatas and the motet date from his first year in Leipzig. This impressive presentation, the first in a series called Bach in Context, is a hardbound book of 84 pages. The notes favor Joshua Rifkin’s understanding of one voice to a part in Bach’s vocal/choral music, the use of a harpsichord as well as the church organ (not the more versatile chest organ), and the liturgical context in which the music was originally sung.

During the sixteenth century in Italy, the motto ‘i galli cantano’ (the Gauls are singing) circulated, acknowledging the supremacy of the Franco-Flemish ‘transalpine’ musicians who were summoned to the peninsula to serve princes and prelates in the techniques of composing and performing vocal polyphony. Josquin Desprez, ‘Giosquino’ to the Italians, was the emblematic figure: in addition to France, he was in the service of Cardinal Ascanio Sforza in both Milan and Rome (1484, 1498) and of the papal (1489-95) and Este chapels (1503-4). On the fifth centenary of the composer’s death (1521), the Odhecaton ensemble proposes to retrace Josquin’s Italian itinerary with the Missa Hercules dux Ferrariæ, composed for the Duke of Ferrara Ercole I d’Este, and a selection of motets commissioned by Italian patrons. The contribution of The Gesualdo Six in the more solemn pieces brings the vocal ensemble to twentytwo singers, a number that is close to the forces of the Rome and Ferrara chapels and yields new sonic results in our quest to recreate how polyphony sounded in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries.

This programme does full justice to the modernity of Carlo Gesualdo, Prince of Venosa (1561-1613), covering both his sacred music and his madrigals. It reproduces all the subtlety and chromaticism of his music, strictly respecting the temperament used in the composer’s time.

From the timeless plainchant Veni Emmanuel via Jonathan Harvey to a riotous Jingle bells: Owain Park presents a programme of Christmas treats which effortlessly spans the centuries.

Carlo Gesualdo, Prince of Venosa, became famous for two reasons: the bloody double murder of his first wife and her lover, and his passionate and erotic view of profane love. The Madrigals chart the changes in Gesualdos style, and contain some of the most inspired and anguished vocal works in the entire madrigal repertoire, on the themes of love, rejection, death, suffering, joy and sorrow. Brimming with often astonishing and sometimes unpredictable melodic and tonal contrasts to express the agonies and ecstacies of love, Gesualdos Madrigals show him to have been one of the most inventive and eccentric musical minds of his age.

Actus Tragicus The words ‘art of dying’ sound strange to modern ears, perhaps. Although there are related philosophical, religious and ‘end of life’ health care, and much-debated legal concerns today surrounding the subject of dying, we moderns probably rarely, if ever, think of preparing for death as an art form. A central topic in sermons, hymns and contemplative literature, death and dying was a chief pastoral concern of the church of Johann Sebastian Bach’s day. Finding consolation and facing fears and anxieties near the time of death, and also as a part of everyday living, are arguably at the heart of the sacred vocal works of Bach, who is regarded by many as a kind of theologian in music.

When you want music filled to the brim with despair and death, Carlo Gesualdo is the composer you want. Consider opening lines like those of the first four of his third collection of madrigals: "You want me to die," "Whether I die or not," "Alas, life of despair," and "I languish and die": even Dowland and Shostakovich are cheerier than Gesualdo. But, however dark his texts, it cannot be denied that Gesualdo set them with absolute fidelity and utmost sincerity. His lines are twisted, his harmonies are tortured, and his counterpoint is agonizing, but they suit his morbid and morose texts like George Gershwin's music fit his brother Ira.