Somewhat surprisingly,
this seems to be the first CD of Cambini’s music ever to be
reviewed in these pages. Some biographical information will
not, perhaps, go amiss in such circumstances.
Cambini was probably
born in Livorno (or, as the English amongst his contemporaries
insisted on calling it, ‘Leghorn’). In an autobiography – no
more to be trusted in every respect than such other Italian
examples of the genre as Benvenuto Cellini’s Vita, Casanova’s
Storia Della Mia Vita and Lorenzo Da Ponte’s
Memorie – tells a tale of a journey to Naples in 1767
and of, after performing there (he was an accomplished string
player), being captured by pirates, sold into slavery and rescued
only by the intervention of a Venetian merchant living in Spain.
Whatever the truth of that story may be, he certainly turned
up in Paris around 1773, publishing a set of six string quartets
(the first of over 140 that he was to write) and going on to
compose prolifically (so prolifically that later music historians
have generally been unwilling to believe that there could be
much of quality amongst such quantity) in just about every available
genre – his output included operas, oratorios, five masses,
motets, revolutionary odes and hymns, some 80 works in the fashionable
genre of the sinfonia concertante, and an abundance of chamber
music (in addition to his many string quartets). He also wrote
a good deal of musical criticism. And these 3 wind quintets
– examples of a then new genre.
The music is attractive
and intriguing without being especially profound. Clearly indebted
to the classical tradition, these quintets also have a certain
proto-romantic quality. Everywhere tuneful and fluent, there
are suddenly moments which speak of an unexpected degree of
subjectivity. Each is in three movements disposed to the same
fast-slow(ish)-fast pattern, but with some subtle differences
in the way that pattern is worked out. Where, for example, the
second quintet adheres throughout to sonata principles, the
third quintet closes with lively rondo.
The most satisfying
dimension of these quintets is perhaps the assurance and inventiveness
with which Cambini handles the sound textures which this particular
combination makes possible – there are many sensuously beautiful
passages. The deliciousness of the sounds also owes something
to the particular instruments played here. The Ensemble dell’Accademia
was formed under the auspices of the Accademia Bartolomeo Cristoferi
in Florence, and on this recording – created in association
with the Festival Toscano di Musica Antica and the ambitious
project operating under the title of Tesori Musicali Toscani
– the members of the ensemble play modern copies of instruments
of exactly the right period for the music. For example, flautist
Carlo Ipata plays a copy by Rudolf Tutz of 1790 instrument by
Genser; Simone Bensi’s oboe is a copy by Alfredo Bernardini
of an instrument from the 1790s by Jakob Friedrich Grundmann;
clarinettist, horn player and bassoonist likewise play what
are obviously good copies of instruments from Cambini’s own
lifetime.
These instruments
blend beautifully together in performances which are intelligent
and sympathetic, and recorded in a sound both warm and realistic.
Glyn Pursglove