At first sight, the
album’s title may conjure up thoughts
of Mario Puzo, Don Vito Corleone or
Marlon Brando. Actually, in an oblique
kind of way, such associations aren’t
entirely irrelevant. Not, of
course, in terms of violence and extortion,
but in the sense that for musicians
too the ‘family’ was a means both of
defending oneself and a social structure
within and around which careers had
to be built. Just as their aristocratic
patrons intermarried for reasons of
property, social advancement and influence,
so the musicians of the baroque era
established chains of connection and
indebtedness, of favours bestowed and
owed, of quasi-dynastic marriages. Telemann
was, indeed, godfather (in the Christian
sense!) both to C.P.E. Bach and to the
far less well-known Georg Philipp Kress.
Each of them presumably owed their middle
name to Telemann’s presence as a godfather.
Given Telemann’s increasing status,
his was an important voice to have on
one’s side; he could make recommendations
for important posts and, more often
than not, be listened to. The German-speaking
world of court and church was full of
actual musical families – the Grauns,
the Schildts, the Gebels, the Grafs
etc. etc. The Bachs were merely the
most famous of many such families. To
the advantages accruing from such a
‘natural’ network of blood relationships,
one might usefully add some others inherent
in having a well-established composer
act as godfather to one’s children.
Then, of course, there was marriage
too, another way of extending the networks
of possible influence and benefit –
the first marriage of Telemann himself
was to Amalie, daughter of Daniel Eberlin,
an important musical figure at the court
of Eisenach; Buxtehude married the daughter
of Franz Tunder, his predecessor as
organist and Werkmeister at the
Marienkirche in Lübeck. The implications
of such matters are touched upon by
the contents of this very well programmed
CD and by the first of two interesting
essays which Kah-Ming Ng contributes
to its booklet. It is instructive to
be reminded of the complex networks
of ‘family’ which played a part in the
‘success’ of any composer of this period.
But this is far more
than just a lesson – however useful
and interesting – in the sociology of
composition in the German baroque. It
is also a thoroughly enjoyable CD of
intimate and subtle chamber music. Having
considered the noun in the CD’s title,
it is perhaps proper to glance, at least
briefly, at the adjective which qualifies
it – "virtuoso". This isn’t
really music which demands ostentatious
technical brilliance from its performers
or, indeed, allows those performers
to indulge in dazzling display. But
most of it needs – and this is more
than a mere truism – to be played really
well if there is to be no risk of it
sounding a little humdrum. Here the
music is played with character and nuance,
with both panache and grace, so that
it is utterly alive and as remote from
the humdrum as it very well might be.
In that sense, this is virtuosity.
Kah-Ming Ng is both
a scholar and a high-quality performer;
he draws some lovely sounds from his
1997 copy (by Andrew Garlick) of a Ruckers
instrument of 1638. Rachel Moss is a
fluent exponent of the baroque flute
(with only a very occasional sudden
bulge of sound which can be distracting)
and Susanne Heinrich is every bit as
accomplished – variously playing 5,
6 and 7 stringed viols – as those who
have heard previous recordings by Charivari
Agréable will expect; the interplay
between Heinrich and the bass viol of
Reiko Ichise is a constant delight.
Charivari Agréable
have been intelligently flexible in
their treatment of the originals. Thus,
in Bach’s Arioso, the use of
a viol rather than a violin works very
well – given what Kah-Ming Ng reasonably
describes as its "unattractively
low violin part"; it is sensible
and effective, too, that the bassoon
part in the first of the Telemann quartets
should be given to a bass viol. Such
decisions work as part of a very sure-footed
sense of musical language and idiom.
The Telemann quartets
contain many exquisite movements – such
as the Largo of TWV 43:C2, the
Soave of TWV 43:G12 and the closing
Vivace of TWV 43:G10; the
Sonata for unaccompanied
gamba does make considerable technical
demands on the performer, though it
is of its musical cogency and interest
that one is made most aware in this
fine performance by Susanne Heinrich.
C. P. E. Bach is his idiosyncratic self
in the Fantasia sopra Jesu meines
Lebens Leben and the Arioso per
il cembalo is a beautiful piece.
By the side of two such masters, the
music of Kress makes less of an impression,
though he has his moments – I particularly
liked the Vivace movement which
opens the second of his trios here.
This clearly recorded
disc offers a greater variety of texture
and instrumental combination than might
at first appear. Its well-planned programme
is both instructive and full of delights.
Glyn Pursglove
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