William Corkine’s biography is exiguous: even his dates of birth 
                  and death are uncertain. One can obviously suggest he was a 
                  contemporary of Dowland though probably a younger one given 
                  that his Second Book of Ayres was published nine years after 
                  Dowland’s third set of songs. One can also note that he had 
                  an acute ear for poetry. Among the poems he set are Donne’s 
                  Break of Day and ’Tis true, ’tis day, what though 
                  it be? and Sidney’s The Fire to see my woes for anger 
                  burneth though none is contained in this 1612 set. Like 
                  Dowland, Corkine was a lutenist, and he also played the viol 
                  and an instrument for which English aristocracy harboured a 
                  fondness, the lyra-viol. Another conjunction with Dowland is 
                  that he left his native country to work abroad, leaving for 
                  Poland in 1617. After that there seems very little known. 
                    
                  His first set of Ayres was published in 1610, the second two 
                  years later. As the notes make clear this later set contains 
                  eighteen songs for voice and accompanying bass viol. Of these 
                  thirteen have just a bass line to go on. There is also a collection 
                  of Lyra Viol lessons at the end of this second book, one for 
                  two lyra viol and eleven lessons for solo instrument. In this 
                  disc, one of the very few ever to have been devoted solely to 
                  Corkine’s music — some of his songs are included in anthologies, 
                  as are some of the instrumental works — we hear all the songs 
                  and all the solo lyra lessons. 
                    
                  The recital was recorded in the Church of Santa Maria di Siurana 
                  but sufficient care has been taken to ensure that there is clarity 
                  and detail in the sound, whilst also acknowledging the natural 
                  bloom and decay of the acoustic. Sometimes the lower notes of 
                  the viola can boom, and obstruct the vocal line. 
                    
                  Corkine was an elegant stylist, reserved, moderate, not inclined 
                  to showy declamation or to plumb the greater depths (or heights) 
                  of love and loss. His muse remains on an even keel, the music 
                  remaining refined and moderate, aware of constraint and the 
                  appropriate emotive temperature for each song. The accompaniment 
                  is supportive and never graphic or explicatory. The songs remain 
                  predominantly slow, and in truth lack Dowland’s gift of invention, 
                  phrasal richness and textual interplay. These, by contrast, 
                  are more pedestrian in their sense of colour and response to 
                  text. 
                    
                  It’s of some interest that he sets so many active texts; words 
                  like ‘down’, ‘fly’, and ‘away’ are frequent in the poems, and 
                  familiar from poetry of the time, but it’s curious that his 
                  response to such potential vitality is so inert. Much is cast 
                  in the melancholy vein of the time, but there’s one number that 
                  shows his command of a fruitier vernacular, Away, away, 
                  which is a typical instruction to a maid to put aside the modesty 
                  ‘that hides/The chieftest Jemme of Nature.’ Here Corkine gets 
                  up to tempo and banishes restraint, as well he might given the 
                  poem’s lascivious parade of tongues, hymens, girdles, veils 
                  and the like. 
                    
                  Elsewhere, as long as one appreciates Corkine’s deliberate expressive 
                  reserve, there are plenty of things to admire and enjoy. Two 
                  lovers sat lamenting doesn’t stimulate him to shudder at 
                  the words ‘silent moane’ or to colour the accompanying line 
                  with any allusive commentary; the music remains steadfast, refined, 
                  stoic in its avoidance of frivolity. 
                    
                  The instrumental music includes the expected dance forms of 
                  Pavan, Courante and the like, though here spelled, as per the 
                  printed original Pavin and Coranto. These also reflect the qualities 
                  of intense reserve but also fugitive humour. The puckes delight, 
                  which is one of his best known viol pieces, is unusually rustic 
                  with its drone effect and flowing, hugely engaging energy. It’s 
                  a suitable foil for the stately reserve of the other movements. 
                  
                    
                  Nadine Balbeisi and Fernando Marín perform with studied intelligence. 
                  The soprano adopts what is assumed to be the correct pronunciation, 
                  whilst Marín carries out his dual function as accompanying viola 
                  da gamba player and solo lyra-violist with thoughtful care as 
                  to registrations. Corkine’s music has been well realised. 
                    
                  Jonathan Woolf 
                see also 
                  review by Mark Sealey