I
quite liked the Boston Baroque recordings of Handel’s
Concerti
Grossi Op.6, and even though I ended up preferring
Martin
Gester’s recordings of these works on BIS I was intrigued
enough to find out what the Boston players would make of
Vivaldi’s
Four Seasons.
As
with the results from the aforementioned Handel comparison,
this
Four Seasons is a gentler ride than the wild
and energetic Vivaldi recordings by
Accademia
Bizantina led by Ottavio Dantone on the Arts label – comparing
like with period instrument like. Martin Pearlman’s strengths
are in lightness and transparency of touch rather than
way-out experimental characterisations, extremes of dynamic
or deep string-digging. The strings are supported by a
discreetly placed theorbo, and a harpsichord which adds
rhythm and texture where required. This is all as it should
be, but, there being about 9 million recordings of this
set of concertos on the market at any one time, there just
has to
be something which makes this stand out from the crowd – even
if only just a little.
Martin
Pearlman writes on the subject of ornamentation in his
booklet notes, and this is clearly the angle or hook which
is intended to make this recording a bit different. Indeed,
he admits the quantity of available recordings as a primary
problem when introducing a new version of this work, though
adds that one should avoid being “arbitrarily or self-consciously ‘different.’” He
continues, “oddly, the slow movements of
The Four Seasons are
generally played with no ornamentation at all, or with
just a few added notes.” Christina Day Martinson is a wonderful
soloist, and I enjoy her character-filled and technically
superb playing in this recording a great deal. The first
time I started listening to these slow movements however,
I couldn’t help some gnashing of teeth and rending of garments.
I’ve
become a little more used to it now, and have had a day
or two to get over myself, but even after having made preparations
by pouring a nice glass of wine I’m still in difficulties
with this. I’m not dogmatic about any points on this subject
and would defend anyone’s right to ornament in whichever
way they thought fit – if it expressed what they wanted
to communicate in the music. There is however already a
feeling here that Martinson
is pushing the ornamentation
in these slow movements for its own sake. Once upon a time
I was told that, in the main, ornamentation was the domain
of the repeat: you play the first statement or section
reasonably straight, keeping the melodic shapes indicated
by the composer pretty much intact. With this first version
stored in memory, the repetition can be varied according
to the skill and taste of the performer. The
Largo of
La
Primavera is actually not a bad example of this, and
with only a few bars in which to get cooking Martinson
actually allows the initial bars of the melody to get away
more or less unscathed, bringing out some skilfully executed
runs and turns later on in the first section, but leaving
herself with little room to expand much more later on.
Still, as I say, in a two and a half minute piece you have
to take your turns where you can.
L’Estate is a
different case, and if you didn’t know the original melody
of the
Adagio before hearing this version I would
defy anyone to whistle it for me after this performance.
The
Adagio of
L’autunno has no violin solo
and is left intact, other than for a nicely understated
but rather unimaginative harpsichord contribution from
Martin Pearlman. Martinson is messing around too early
once again in the favourite
Largo of
L’inverno,
distorting the line after about 13 seconds and setting
one’s teeth off once again
. The movement also lacks
that jazzy bounce which is my preference, but you can’t
have everything.
O.K.,
this is my personal response to the USP of this recording,
and there are objective arguments which mitigate in defence
of this version of
the Four Seasons. For a start,
we’ve become so used to a ‘standard’ version of these pieces
that any messing around beyond a certain point becomes
an affront to our expectations. I take this fully on board,
but listening to Stefano Montanari’s playing on the Arts
label version linked above, I find my remark about the ‘ornament
on the repeat’ rule vindicated in the main. Where he ornaments,
the shape of the melodies remain relatively undistorted – it
is the space
between the notes, the points of lower
tension in the melody or the phrase which receive some
moments of extra attention, keeping everything floating
and in motion through time, rather than attracting attention
to technique in particular, or introducing variation for
variation’s sake. The second argument you will find neatly
hidden in the Geminiani
Concerto grosso No.4 later
on in the disc, and I will deal with that when we come
to it.
Elswhere
everything is fine and dandy in this recording. There are
some lovely moments, with the stormy summer handled with
a nice antiphonal touch, violins left and right on the
recording. The opening of
L’inverno is a real
brrrr,
and chunky accompaniment provides a feisty backdrop for
the soloist in the
la caccia last movement of
L’autunno,
though the last notes of some of the solo phrases are a
bit forced. The final movement of
L’inverno has
some dramatic and unexpected rubati, but this seems to
fit somehow. There are some gorgeous moments in the solo
violin as well, with Christina Day Martinson’s sometimes
surprisingly big tone sliding with a cheeky portamento
here, a gritty passage close to the bridge there. Her playing
is witty and expressive, far more so than some other high
profile recordings
I could mention,
so I find it a bit of a shame that the approach to the
slow movements had to be quite so wedded to this ornamentation
gimmick. Despite myself, I do like this recording of
The
Four Seasons. All moans aside, it has good pacing and
some excellent playing, but I’m afraid it has forever lost
its chance to become a desert island choice.
Moving
on to the fillers, Francisco Geminiani’s
Concerti Grossi here
are from a set based on Corelli’s Op.5 violin sonatas.
Geminiani shares a pedigree as virtuoso violinist with
Vivaldi and they were of course contemporaries. The
Concerto
grosso No.4 in F major is a fine piece, but is pretty
standard fare and doesn’t really compete with the Vivaldi
for interest. Here, the ornamentation for the slow movements
comes from the first printed edition of Corelli’s sonatas,
of which a fully written out ornamented version exists.
Ah, I hear you say, but Corelli’s own written solo part
starts ornamenting right from the outset, so should you
not be eating humble pie at this point? Maybe, but to be
fair this is a sonata shoehorned into a concerto context,
so as far as I’m concerned all bets are off, and besides,
Corelli’s written ornaments seem to do a better job of
preserving the essential melodic line and leaving well
alone where necessary than some – some, not all – of the
improvised musings in the Vivaldi. The ‘hit’ here is of
course the ever popular ‘Variations on La Follia’ which
is the
Concerto Grosso No.12 in D minor. This receives
a decent performance here, though I have heard it done
with a defter touch. It’s all a bit four-square, and doesn’t
really get my pulse going – certainly not to the extent
of wanting to get up and dance.
With
so many
Four Seasons’ out there this CD is always
going to have a hard time making much headway into the
bestseller list. This is a shame in many ways, since the
Boston Baroque ensemble’s playing is honest and essentially
very fine. I like almost all
of Christina Day Martinson’s
excellent solo violin playing, and
most of the performing
decisions she and Martin Pearlman make. Unfortunately I
can’t make a case for exceptional recommendation based
on a ‘unique’ aspect of the performance which I like the
least. Fans of this ensemble need not fear disappointment
however, and Telarc’s impressive engineering credentials
are well represented in this recording, so keep an open
mind and have a listen if you can get the chance – you
might find yourself sold after all.
Dominy Clements
Christina
Day Martinson (violin) 
