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I thought I’d used
up my surfeit of superlatives when discussing
Monica Huggett’s Biber but now I see
I shall have to dust them down once
more. Less prolific and less recorded
than his contemporary Dowland, Robert
Johnson is nevertheless an outstanding
figure in the history of English lute
writing. Only about twenty-five solo
lute works are extant but a number of
songs have survived. He’s notable, of
course, as the only composer known to
have written for Shakespeare; his Tempest
songs are surely his most popularly
lasting achievements. But he was appointed
early to court circles, becoming lutenist
to James I in 1604 and many years later
serving Charles I. Versatile and well-connected
he was also a theatre composer, writing
for Ben Jonson as well as for Shakespeare.
In the later days he would have moved
amongst the equally versatile circle
of Lanier. Johnson’s English style was
augmented by the wind of Italian change
and also by an admixture of French influence.
We can hear how he
cultivated a specifically English gravity
and seriousness in his Fantasia or how,
in Pavane II, he fuses an espressivo
style with changes in metrics to produce
an uncommonly powerful and transformatory
setting. Though it may sound less obviously
virtuosic than Dowland’s comparable
solo lute works Johnson makes very considerable
demands of the player, ones that are
unremitting in their intensity. His
songs share comparable virtues; never
quite in Dowland’s class as regards
melodic distinction they do display
a sure understanding of theatrical context
and of lyrical curve. His attention
to word setting is distinguished. In
this respect the songs of his that have
seared most on the collective imagination
are Where the bee sucks, Full
fathom five and Have you seen
but a white lily grow? two of which
are here. The last named was a perennial
favourite amongst singers of the Old
School (I last heard it sung, in that
style, with supernatural beauty by Heddle
Nash in a private recording made in
the early 1940s).
The songs are sung
here by the ravishing Carolyn Sampson.
Her clarity and warmth add immeasurably
to the success of the recital, not least
in such as Come hither you that love
where her vocal colour and rhythmic
subtlety are highly developed. Her care
with textual nuance is a distinguishing
feature as well. In the dramatic setting
Oh, let us howl from the blockbuster,
Webster’s ‘The Duchess of Malfi’, we
can hear some remarkable musicianship
– the evocative bass viol (Mark Levy
and as ever when I’ve heard him – excellent),
the curdle of Sampson’s voice and the
dramatic howl of the lute. I’ve saved
Matthew Wadsworth for last. Heroic,
evocative, inflected, he’s everything
one could wish for as a guide to this
Johnsonian sound-world. In the Webster
his lute positively screeches and in
the Dowland-like Come heavy sleep
he accompanies Sampson with telling
sensitivity. Throughout he’s technically
unimpeachable; he hides that technique
like a conjuror.
Enough superlatives,
then. There’s a pleasing acoustic in
St Mary’s Church, South Creake in Norfolk.
All told this is a very distinguished
release and its dynamic motor, Wadsworth,
not content with playing the lute, has
also written the notes, produced the
artwork and owns the copyright. A Restoration
Man indeed.
Jonathan Woolf