It's nice to know that,
after so many years of "historical"
performances, there are still a few
surprises in store. These concerti,
when played by conventional orchestras,
generally offer a dark, rich string
sound that sets off the modern flute's
bright timbre. Boston Baroque turns
this sound-picture on its head, juxtaposing
a lightweight, reedy-sounding string
section against warm, compact, slightly
breathy tones from the flute!
Jacques Zoon, a former
Boston Symphony and Concertgebouw principal,
proves as adept wielding the period
flute - in this instance, a copy of
an August Grenser six-keyed instrument
- as he undoubtedly is with the modern
one. He doesn't try to force an aggressive,
Rampal/Galway sort of sound from it,
choosing instead to exploit the expressive
possibilities of its softer-focused
timbre. He phrases a number of passages
in bursts of short segments, a natural
and effective style on this instrument.
But no fear - Zoon can spin a long,
singing line and deliver precision articulation
with all the panache of the virtuoso
crowd. I especially enjoyed the graceful
performance of K. 313. For cadenza collectors,
the unfamiliar one in the opening movement
of K. 314 - I assume Zoon's own - modulates
more adventurously than most, but stays
well within the bounds of stylistic
propriety.
Boston Baroque's recorded
traversal of the Bach suites (Telarc
CD-80619) was curiously erratic, but
here the ensemble recovers its poise,
re-establishing itself as one of the
most consistently satisfying "period"
orchestras. The smaller-scaled ensemble,
predictably, imbues these scores with
a chamber-music feeling. Only in the
central Adagio non troppo of
K. 313 do the violins sound noticeably
understaffed - not in the crisp, compact
tuttis, but in the passages for
strings alone, which lack tonal body
and "importance."
The performance of
the Jupiter symphony - a generous
and substantial make-weight, rather
than a mere filler - is bright-eyed
and propulsive, once past the mannered
definition of the opening motifs. This
way of playing those bars seemed insightful
when we all first heard it, but now
it's become a cliché, executed
more or less without understanding;
just play those bars in tempo, for heaven's
sake. The Andante cantabile's
glorious theme sounds a bit scrawny
- it really wants more first violins
than this - but Pearlman takes considerable
care to taper the phrases, occasionally
overdoing it. There's a buoyant long
line to the Menuetto, and plenty
of jubilant grandeur in the finale.
Telarc's recording,
typically for them, welds clear instrumental
images into a coherent overall sound,
maintaining a natural-sounding perspective
between orchestra and soloist in the
concerti.
Stephen Francis
Vasta