From the beginning of time songs of mourning, sorrow and lamentation have been a part of Western music. Aristotle had written that nothing was more powerful than rhythm and song for imitating all the turmoil of the soul. Composers of the Baroque Period strove to deal with nothingness and eternity by exploring the utter depths of the heart. And this is what these songs are all about.
Over the past three or four decades early music has changed from elitist and hardly known to being widely performed and appreciated. With the growing popularity of early music the recorder has emancipated from that rather ill-reputed “instrument to introduce children to music” to a serious musical instrument in its own right. Several highly successful recorder ensembles and soloists are proof of this change.
John Dowland and his music are closely associated with the Elizabethan cultivation of melancholy, an aesthetic conceit expressed in poetry and songs of the period. Even Dowland's personal motto Semper Dowland, semper dolens suggests the practiced air of sadness and suffering that colors his music.
The sound of choirboys singing laments and death songs had enormous appeal to our Elizabethan and Jacobean ancestors – the childish expression of adult emotion apparently sharpening the music’s poignancy. How apt, then, to hear the young Connor Burrowes perform this repertoire, and with such affecting candour and musical maturity. He’s accompanied not by a viol consort – as would have been more common – but recorders, whose inherently vocal quality weaves a light tapestry of sound. They’re particularly effective in the group of pastoral pieces, played here with charming grace and agility.
There’s no way around it. Arianna Savall sounds exactly like a young Emma Kirkby, and if you like that straight-toned, sharply focused soprano quality, with just the bare hint of a vibrato at the very ends of phrases, then you’ll find Savall very satisfying and you’ll easily appreciate her superb interpretations of these rarely heard vocal works from 17th-century Italy. She begins with a magnificent cantata by Marco Marazzoli that sets the tone for the whole program–a “moral canzona” that focuses on the “literary theme of the rose”–and her vocal prowess is evident in her ability to lend enough dramatic force to the work to keep us interested for its entire 13 minutes. She lends a particularly warm and ingratiating quality to the beautifully wrought final minutes of the same composer’s “moral cantata” O mortal, whose text refers to the fate of the Biblical Samson, and repeatedly urges, “Do you desire even greater glories? Then learn how to conquer yourself.”
Much care has gone into the production and presentation of this disc from a warm and immediate recorded sound to the quality of the graphic design. The Rose Consort of Viols seem to play confidently in the knowledge that their subtle textural and dynamic contrasts are being keenly captured. And so they are. Their discreet and gentle accompaniments to the soprano soloist, Annabella Tysall, are founded on suppleness of articulation and sustained, luscious blending rather than expressive melodic nuance. This approach provides a pleasing back-cloth for Tysall's pure and bright-toned singing.
Amongst several delightful examples of mid- and late-baroque German solo cantatas included here, one stands out as a little masterpiece. It's a lamentation by Johann Christoph Bach, the leading composer of the Bach dynasty before Johann Sebastian. I cannot imagine any listener to be capable of hearing this music without in some way being affected by its poignancy.
The new album of consort music for viols in five parts by John Jenkins comes from an ensemble who has already been awarded two Diapason d’Or for their previous recordings on Musica Ficta: The Spirit of Gambo.