Does Telemann ever 
                  disappoint? Very rarely, in my experience. He doesn’t, of course, 
                  make more than an occasional and relatively distant approach 
                  to the profundity and sublimity of Bach; one will inspect his 
                  work largely in vain if one seeks music that has the passion 
                  and panache of Scarlatti; he rarely has the sheer rhythmic drive 
                  of Vivaldi – to compare him with just three near contemporaries. 
                  But Telemann’s music has, behind a considerable variety of style, 
                  an all-pervading sense of common humanity, especially a sense 
                  of what one might call social humanity. In him the conversation 
                  of instruments seems to express the dynamics of social intercourse 
                  with a particular intimacy and forcefulness. Telemann’s music 
                  is subtle and elegant in its oblique expression of how human 
                  beings behave towards one another at those times when society 
                  ‘works’. His is not the music of the heroic individual or, indeed, 
                  of profound innerness or spirituality, but rather of dialogue, 
                  of social relations. He is a musical poet of complementarity 
                  rather than conflict. For the most part, his music is melodic 
                  and its rhythms are largely symmetrical. He tends to avoid excess 
                  or exaggerated rhetoric; there is a consistent sense in his 
                  music of instruments behaving towards one another with the kind 
                  of consideration desirable in a harmonious social group.
                
Many of these virtues 
                  are evident in the attractive music collected on this present 
                  disc. It is part of an ongoing series – this is volume five; 
                  unfortunately I have heard only fragments of the previous four 
                  volumes. The present selection is delightfully various – anybody 
                  who thinks, as some appear to, of Telemann as a merely repetitive 
                  composer (a suspicion always felt about artists as prolific 
                  as he was) need only listen to the six compositions here in 
                  order to be disabused of that assumption. The four-movement 
                  Concerto in A major, which opens the programme, is scored for 
                  two violins, viola and continuo. It is full of playful metamorphoses 
                  of its basic material; the brief third movement, marked grave, 
                  is surely something of which any contemporary Italian composer 
                  would have been proud; its closing allegro is a witty study 
                  in imitative patterns and has a genuine rhythmic drive. The 
                  four movements of the trio sonata in D minor are a perfect example 
                  of the dialogic quality of Telemann’s music, the conversational 
                  exchanges between recorder and violin (this is a piece for recorder, 
                  violin and continuo) are sometimes subtle, sometimes more direct 
                  – just as spoken conversations are! The seductive dance rhythms 
                  of the closing presto presto make the conversation decidedly 
                  flirtatious.
                
The Ouverture in 
                  G minor is, by some distance, the longest piece included in 
                  the present selection. It is scored for two solo violins, two 
                  ripieno violins, and continuo. It is a very good-humoured piece, 
                  the essence of sociability, as the music repeatedly switches 
                  between solo and tutti. Its seven movements include a rondeau, 
                  a passepied, a sarabande, a passacaglia and a minuet and the 
                  whole invokes and celebrates the stylised social harmony of 
                  the dance. This is a lovely piece, albeit one of no great profundity, 
                  which is full of engaging interplay between soloists and ensemble, 
                  not least in the witty fifth movement, ‘Eccho vistement’.
                
The so-called Quadro 
                  of TWV 43:G6 – essentially a concerto – is a graceful, unforced 
                  composition, for recorder, oboe, violin and continuo. Its three 
                  movements (allegro-grave-allegro) are altogether unpretentious 
                  and intimate three way conversations - four if one counts the 
                  continuo, whose contribution is essential, after all. I have 
                  referred to three way conversations but, in fact, the two woodwinds 
                  only rarely become independent voices. The central slow movement 
                  is melancholic, even elegiac, though the emotion expressed never 
                  goes beyond the socially acceptable, as it were. Telemann’s 
                  astute ear for the differentiations of instrumental colour is 
                  very delightfully evident in the closing allegro.
                
The Sonata in C 
                  major, for four violins without continuo, is a fascinating 
                  and delightful exercise in imitation and echo, modulation and 
                  metamorphosis; this is ‘conversation’ of a particularly sophisticated 
                  kind, as the four violins play in constantly changing groupings 
                  and combinations; for all the use of canon and fugue this never 
                  sounds like an academic exercise. There is too much vivacity 
                  for that, too much dialogic give and take. A minor masterpiece, 
                  rarely heard, it is not hard to fancy that in listening to it 
                  one is hearing a transitional point in the movement from consort 
                  of viols to string quartet.
                
Musica Alta Ripa 
                  close the present programme with one of the works included in 
                  Telemann’s 1716 publication Kleine Cammer-Music, bestehend 
                  aus VI Partiten. There is less sense of ‘conversation’ here, 
                  in a piece written for recorder and continuo. Even when writing 
                  for a ‘featured’ soloist, Telemann largely resists the temptation 
                  of virtuoso display. The Partia (or Partita) is made up of and 
                  opening andante followed by six arias, all essentially binary 
                  in construction. The initial andante is pleasantly peaceful 
                  and all of the succeeding arias – which vary in length from 
                  under forty-five seconds to almost three minutes – have something 
                  of interest to offer. I have, though, to say that I find Telemann 
                  writing for a single soloist less interesting – at least in 
                  this case – than Telemann writing for two or more soloists. 
                  Telemann is less a monologist than a writer of dialogue; his 
                  music seems to come more fully alive when instruments exchange 
                  ideas, when each comments on what the other has just said – 
                  in applause or mockery, in the flattery of imitation or the 
                  irony of mild parody.
                
              
Alta Musica Ripa clearly 
                have a thorough understanding of Telemann’s music; they are entirely 
                at home in this repertoire; without any inappropriate flashiness 
                or egotistical self-assertion they put themselves wholly at the 
                service of this highly sociable music. They sound, indeed, precisely 
                the kind of ‘harmonious’ social group of which Telemann’s music 
                seems so often to both speak and embody. The recorded sound is 
                exemplary, clear but intimate, not overly assertive or insistent. 
                
                
                Glyn Pursglove