I didn’t know any of
the names of these women composers and
that, of course, is Gasparo’s point.
They would have been active as harpsichordists
and/or singers in London salon rooms
and composition would have been an almost
inevitable corollary of their performing
lives, an impulse social convention
would dictate ceased on marriage. Most
of the music adheres to the expected
spheres of influence – Haydn looming
large – though there are also moments
of quirky individuality that stay in
the mind. The anonymous composer known
as A Lady was a dab hand at the prevailing
French style in her Lesson VI with the
best movement reserved for last – a
pleasingly charming minuet with an intriguing
lack of symmetry about it. Cecilia
Maria Barthelemon was the
daughter of an Anglo-French musical
family – her father was a violinist
and her mother a well-known singer,
with whom the young Cecilia used to
perform on stage. Her c. 1794 Sonata
was dedicated to Haydn, a family friend.
There are some arresting moments, full
of contrasts and some quixotic, if not
downright eccentric, directions taken.
In this humour is never far away and
if the Adagio, though intense, never
quite convinces and if the hornpipe
finale is rather generic we still have
the recollection of that arrestingly
strange Allegro Vivace.
Maria Park was the
daughter of the first oboist at Covent
Garden where she made her debut aged
ten playing the piano. Unusually she
ascribed opus numbers to her relatively
few compositions but retired from composition
when she married. We have here a Concerto
and a Sonata by her. The solo part in
the Concerto includes an orchestral
reduction – if the full arrangement
for keyboard and band proved impossible
– and this is how it’s played here.
It’s an extremely well crafted work,
as one would expect of someone of Park’s
background. Though the outer movements
are splendidly confident – especially
the wittily off centre finale – it’s
the Andante that most catches the ear.
This is a beautiful lullaby, effortlessly
lyrical. It put me in mind of the keyboard
writing of James Hook. Her Sonata in
C major has plenty of technical prowess
behind it interspersed with her trademark
lyricism. The slow movement is slight
but the finale has an attractive episode
in the minor – which survives even the
rather telegraphed nature of it. Finally
we have two Lessons by Elizabeth Turner,
which are derived from A Collection
of Songs With Symphonies, which
contained nineteen settings. The Tambourine
Allegro of the G minor is particularly
enjoyable in its key modulations and
the Gavotte of the G major sports real
incision and style – the other movements
tend to sag.
Barbara Harbach, who
provides the notes to which I’m indebted,
has performed a real act of reclamation
and plays with style, grace and character.
Recommended to inquisitive explorers
of the repertoire.
Jonathan Woolf
The complete
Gasparo catalogue is available
from MusicWeb
Barbara Harbach (harpsichord) 