Since
there is no standard catalogue of Farnaby’s Fantasias, they
are identified here by two numbers, given in parentheses: the
first is the item no. in Richard Marlow’s edition, Giles
& Richard Farnaby Keyboard Music (Musica Brittanica,
XXIV, 1965); the second is the page number in Volume 2 of The
Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, with introduction and notes by
J.A Fuller Maitland and W. Bartley Squire (1899), reprinted
by Dover Publications, with a Preface by Blanche Winogron, c.1979.
There
often seems to be a rather condescending air to discussions
of Giles Farnaby and his music. He is often presented as a kind
of Sunday composer, a man for whom music was no more than an
occasional indulgence – with implications drawn about the quality
of the works he composed. Even Richard Marlow, in a brief introduction
to the edition mentioned above, writes that Farnaby “was a joiner
by trade: music was his hobby, not his livelihood (although
it may have supplemented his income occasionally) ... Although
he was gifted musically, his enthusiasm probably outweighed
his aptitude for composition. Moreover, his training seems to
have been fairly haphazard.” To be fair, Marlow does also say
that Farnaby was “an instinctive composer with something original
to say ... his music is spontaneous, vital, almost innocent
at times, and at its best it has an arresting charm and tunefulness
that few of his contemporaries can surpass.”
It
is worth reminding ourselves that Farnaby’s training and work
as a joiner probably involved work on musical instruments –
we know that his cousin was a ‘joiner’ and ‘virginall maker’
and Giles, too, may well have specialised in the building of
instruments. Nor should we overlook the fact that in July of
1592 the University of Oxford admitted him to the degree of
Bachelor of Music – qualification for which required the demonstration
of several years of study and some considerable compositional
skills. In the same year, 1592, he contributed eight settings
to Thomas East’s important collection of The Whole Book of
Psalms. When Farnaby’s collection of vocal music, Canzonets,
was published in 1598 it was prefaced by commendatory poems
by Anthony Holborne, John Dowland, Richard Alison and Hugh Holland
(a poet who contributed a commendatory poem to the Shakespeare
first Folio). Later, Farnaby was employed as a music teacher.
All of this suggests that he was well regarded by quite a few
contemporary musicians and that he was no mere ‘amateur’. He
deserves to be taken seriously as a composer.
It
is pleasing, then, that Naxos should have issued a disc of Farnaby’s
keyboard music played by Glen Wilson, a thoroughly accomplished
harpsichordist. Of the 53 surviving keyboard compositions by
Farnaby, 52 appear in the Fitzwilliam Virginal book (constituting
something like a sixth of the whole collection). Wilson’s programme
includes his own arrangements of two of Farnaby’s canzonets.
Otherwise it is largely devoted to Farnaby’s 11 Fantasias, all
of them taken from the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book. While it is
good to have all of the Fantasias gathered together – especially
when so well-played – on a single disc, it may not, perhaps
be the ideal way of serving Farnaby’s reputation.
Farnaby’s
fantasias are not, it has to be admitted, amongst his most consistently
successful compositions; the fantasias don’t, on the whole,
have the immediately attractive charm of pieces such as ‘Giles
Farnaby’s Dream’, ‘Farnaby’s Conceit’, ‘Tower Hill’ or ‘The
King’s Hunt’. Some of them rather fade away, in terms of invention,
or grow disappointingly repetitive, after promising starts.
But there is still much to enjoy. The fascinating modulations
in No.4 (in Marlow’s edition, track 5) or the antiphonal writing
in No.9 (track 13) are evidence of Farnaby’s inventiveness;
in No.5 (track 3) the opening theme is delightful and its development
is beautifully handled. The use of ornament in No.7 (track 4)
and, especially, No.3 (track 9) is rich and fascinating. There
is a fair variety of mood – there is grave poetry in No.10 (track
10) and dignified happiness in No.9 (track 13). Outside the
fantasias, Wilson’s own arrangements of Farnaby’s vocal works
are thoroughly idiomatic. The variations on ‘Loth to depart’,
which close the disc are characterised by some subtle rhythmic
changes.
Previous
recordings of Farnaby’s keyboard music have been in the nature
of general ‘samplers’ (such as that by Pierre Hantaï on Accord),
rather than collections focusing on a single genre, as this
new CD does. If your collection has room for only one CD of
Farnaby’s music, then a ‘sampler’ will probably serve you best.
If, like me, you are happy to find room for fuller representation
of Farnaby, then this is warmly recommended.
Wilson
takes entirely fitting and necessary interpretative freedoms
in places – the texts in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book are certainly
less than perfect – and plays with obvious love and respect
for the music. His instrument – a replica of a Ruckers harpsichord
– is handled with an informed understanding of what would have
been possible (so far as we know) on an Elizabethan instrument.
The bass is powerful but not unduly heavy, the treble notes
bright without fierceness; the recording quality is good.
Glyn Pursglove
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Glen Wilson (harspichord)
