Silvius Leopold Weiss was a near-exact contemporary of Johann 
                  Sebastian Bach; the composers were born two years apart (Bach 
                  first) and died three months apart in 1750 (Bach first again). 
                  Weiss devoted his life to playing and teaching the lute, penning 
                  an extraordinary series of lute sonatas which this Naxos project 
                  attempts to record in full. It is a daunting task, given that 
                  the website slweiss.com lists 98 works in the series - though 
                  several of them are lost. Luckily, the series has so far proved 
                  that Weiss’s lute music is worthy of the treatment, and of the 
                  attention of world-class lutenist Robert Barto. I now own four 
                  volumes of the series, Vols. 7-10, and each whets my appetite 
                  for the next. 
                    
                  Weiss’s sonatas are, for the most part, devoted to traditional 
                  structure in name but surprisingly daring in actual content. 
                  They bring the usual baroque mix of allemandes, courantes, minuets, 
                  and sarabandes, but Weiss is constantly tinkering with these 
                  forms, expanding them to hold his own spacious imagination for 
                  melodic material and emotional import. Sometimes, as on this 
                  disc, courantes take on the tenor and length of fantasies, and 
                  previous issues have included minuets with multiple trios, movements 
                  of unending melody-spinning, pedal points and counterpoint, 
                  and a sarabande (on Volume 7) which begins, trickily, in disguise 
                  as a minuet. 
                    
                  As for the emotional tenor of the sonatas, they range from introverted, 
                  brooding works like the two sonatas in D minor on Volume 8 to 
                  sunny salon music, always eloquent, written to give the player 
                  modest technical demands and even greater expressive ones. Robert 
                  Barto has been consistently up to the task, with grace and a 
                  beautifully improvisatory approach which has, in past volumes, 
                  made me think of Weiss as a sort of baroque Chopin. 
                    
                  For this tenth volume, Barto brings us two of Weiss’s more outgoing 
                  works, beginning with the Sonata No. 28 in F major, Le fameux 
                  Corsaire, an outdoorsy charmer of a piece with lively dance 
                  movements and, one imagines fancifully, a fresh breeze of sea 
                  air. The subtitle, however, seems to have arisen not because 
                  the music has anything to do with pirates or the ocean, but, 
                  perhaps, simply because it was a catchy name. Who knows? Maybe 
                  a corsair with a patient ear for this type of musical good cheer 
                  would be happy to call it his own. 
                    
                  The Sonata No. 40, in C, is an epic of the form, nearing the 
                  40 minute mark! But Weiss never wastes his time, whether in 
                  the gently rocking courante or the paysanne, the shortest movement 
                  but one of the most tuneful. The sonata’s eight-minute sarabande 
                  never grows old, a testament to Weiss’s skill in creating and 
                  then skilfully varying his melodic material. Movements like 
                  these emphasize Barto’s own instinct for quasi-improvisatory 
                  playing; he makes the carefully ornamented movement seem like 
                  a fresh invention of his own. And the equally long finale, which 
                  begins with a strong sense of purpose and never relents, made 
                  me glad that Barto honors every repeat in these scores. As the 
                  movement wends its way to a deeply satisfying conclusion, with 
                  a wonderful sense of homecoming, I immediately wished I could 
                  hear those last few moments again. Wish granted: the repeat 
                  let me hear it all once more! 
                    
                  The Tombeau sur la mort de M. Comte de Logy provides 
                  a moving close to the CD; here, to commemorate the death of 
                  one of Europe’s premiere lutenists, Weiss curtails his gift 
                  for melodic riches and slows down the pace for a plainspoken 
                  elegy on the simplest of themes. 
                    
                  As those who have heard the previous volumes in the series will 
                  expect, Robert Barto’s playing is perfect; the Weiss series 
                  has justifiably solidified his reputation as one of the greatest 
                  lutenists alive. As in previous volumes, Barto plays a lute 
                  by Andrew Rutherford, based on the 13-course instrument invented 
                  by Weiss himself. Sound quality, like everything else here, 
                  is exemplary. 
                    
                  In other words, this series continues to be an excellent introduction 
                  to the musical world of a great composer, in the hands of a 
                  lutenist with few equals. Collectors will need this album and 
                  anyone with an interest in the baroque era who has missed these 
                  discs so far is left no excuse. Robert Barto’s series of the 
                  Weiss lute sonatas is one of the most important, and most artistically 
                  accomplished, recording projects in baroque music today. 
                    
                  Brian Reinhart 
                see also review 
                  by Jonathan Woolf