Raul Montanari Ric Velardi

Bach's six sonatas for violin and keyboard, written at the Cöthen court where the composer was responsible for instrumental music, are sometimes cited as historical firsts – as the first violin-and-keyboard sonatas to cast the two instruments in equal roles. The designation is a little misleading, for the works had few real successors; it took more than 50 years before violin and keyboard once again took the stage as equals. Their equality in this set is not really a stylistic innovation but rather the result of Bach's tendency to think exhaustively in terms of the potentialities of his instruments. Be that as it may, one must approach a recording of the set with ears open to the contributions of both instrumentalists and how they work together.

Giovanni Mossi and Antonio Montanari, two of the most esteemed violin virtuosi of eighteenth-century Rome, can finally take centre stage, away from the crowded panorama of Corelli's pupils and imitators; their works can be fully appreciated in this new recording devoted to their sonatas for violin. Three sonatas by Mossi for violin and continuo from his op. 5 and op. 6 are presented here; these collections remain lesser-known and lesser-recorded even today. The three violin sonatas by Montanari that the celebrated virtuoso Johann Pisendel brought from Rome to Dresden in 1717, after having taken lessons from Montanari himself, are recorded here together for the first time.

Giovanni Mossi and Antonio Montanari, two of the most esteemed violin virtuosi of eighteenth-century Rome, can finally take centre stage, away from the crowded panorama of Corelli's pupils and imitators; their works can be fully appreciated in this new recording devoted to their sonatas for violin. Three sonatas by Mossi for violin and continuo from his op. 5 and op. 6 are presented here; these collections remain lesser-known and lesser-recorded even today. The three violin sonatas by Montanari that the celebrated virtuoso Johann Pisendel brought from Rome to Dresden in 1717, after having taken lessons from Montanari himself, are recorded here together for the first time.

French soprano Sandrine Piau, despite her frequent appearances on Baroque recordings, may not seem a first choice for the sheer athleticism of Handel, but wait until you hear her. Piau substitutes grace, precision, and sheer beauty for brawn, and the results are astonishing. She chooses arias ideally suited to her talents. "Rejoice greatly," from Messiah, is full of spiky flash, and lengthy pieces like "Prophetic raptures swell my breast" (track 12), from Joseph and His Brethren, are beautifully developed, with Piau sliding with impossible smoothness into high notes in the later stages. Passagework in faster pieces is a shower of bright sparks, while in "Sweet bird," from L'allegro, il penseroso, ed il moderato (track 16), you will become deliciously disoriented after a while as to whether it is Piau or one of the instruments providing the bird effects.

The Carnival of Venice in 1729 was quite unlike any other. Over a period of two months, opera houses went into a frenzy of competition to show off the most famous singers of the day, including the legendary castrato Farinelli who made his astonishing Venetian debut. Several of the most fashionable composers rose to the occasion, writing ravishing music for spectacular productions which often pitted the singers against each other in breathtaking displays of virtuosity. The results were sensational; one tour de force followed another in an atmosphere of fevered excitement and the adoring public lapped it up.

When Cindy Castillo and Frédéric d'Ursel told me about their project involving the six Sonatas for violin and keyboard by J.-S. Bach and invited me to write pieces for violin and organ to frame two of them, I immediately and intensely felt the challenge. The juxtaposition of styles that would inevitably result implied an equation that was not easy to solve: the music to be created had to be in connection, in dialogue with that of this "Master" - one of the most famous in the entire History of Western Music! In any case, it seemed to me that the project had to aim at a proposal for an overall form whose elements would be brought together in a coherent architecture that would be perceptible to the listener.

The Mirror finds Raul Midón breaking new ground for himself, including two entrancing solo spoken-word pieces (“If I Could See” and “One Day Without War”). The album also features studio meetings with such veteran jazz colorists as vibraphonist Joe Locke (“A Certain Café”), as well as a songwriting collaboration with top pianist Gerald Clayton, “Deep Dry Ocean.” Another highlight is the road-weary jazz ballad “Cold Cuts and Coffee,” while title track “The Mirror” beguiles with its easy tropical groove, lyrical sophistication and Midón’s flowing electric guitar. As National Public Radio set the stage before his captivating edition of its “Tiny Desk Concert” broadcast: “Raul Midón lives in a world of sound.