Recorded to mark the 400th anniversary of Giovanni Gabrieli’s
death, La Musica per San Rocco is one of those programmes
which revives the kind of music event which would have been
a highlight in 17th Century Venice. A starting point
for the present release is quoted from Thomas Coryat’s
1611 London publication ‘Coryat’s Crudities’:
“The third feast was upon Saint Roches day being Saturday
and the sixth day of August, where I heard the best musicke
that ever I did in all my life both in the morning and in the
afternoone, so good that I would willingly goe an hundred miles
a foote at any time to hear the like... This feast consisted
principally of musicke, which was both vocall and instrumentall,
so good, so delectable, so rare, so admirable, so superexcellent,
that I did even ravish and stupifie all those strangers that
never heard the like...”
As common with these Arts label releases, the booklet notes
are lengthy and detailed, acknowledging Paul McCreesh’s
work in this field and also the degree of guesswork which is
inevitable in such a reconstruction. As such this recording
sits nicely alongside something like McCreesh’s Venetian
Coronation, which brings a comparatively speculative
approach to another historic event. Elena Sartori and the production
team do not however go in for the ‘total immersion’
effect generated by the bells and bangs of McCreesh’s
Signum programme. Imaginative and at times spectacular though
this approach can be, I don’t miss the attempt at being
transported into the atmosphere of 17th century Venice.
Well researched and beautifully performed and recorded, what
we in essence have here is a compilation of suitable works,
including three from virtuoso falsetto singer and composer Bartolomeo
Barbarino, whose presence at this Feast for Saint Roch has been
established beyond doubt. Counter-tenor Alessandro Carmignani
shares the part of Barbarino, and his distinctive vocal signature
is a defining aspect for some of these performances - rich and
firm-toned, but improbably and at times disconcertingly pure
and high - in a good way, I hasten to add. The virtuosity of
the high male voice is as you would expect explored most in
Barbarino’s own pieces, and the second counter-tenor voice
of Aurelia Schiavoni has a degree of extra flexibility in providing
soloistic vibrato and ornament in something like the Venite
as me, over the minimal accompaniment of a chitarrone. Carmignani’s
solo in the Audi, Dulcis Amica Mea is fine, but with
evidence of some editing just into the first minute - always
tricky to do in such a huge acoustic. The solo voices are in
general very good, though not always entirely perfect. Alberto
Allegrezza’s tenor is a touch on the grainy side, as evidenced
in the In Ecclesiis, and intonation can sound a touch
exposed though not disturbingly so - the gorgeous Domine
Deus Meus is beautifully done, though the wide variety in
character amongst the voices is perhaps not ideal.
Contrast in the instrumental pieces ranges from the intimate
grace of three violins in the Sonata No. 21, to the more
spectacular cornetts and sackbuts of the Canzona No. 14.
Gabrieli the organist is represented in two fugues and the Toccata
e Ricercare, to which pieces some decently subtle percussion
has been added to heighten the dance nature of the works.Not
much can top the glory of the 19-part Buccinate in Neomenia
Tuba, the spacing of the four Coro bringing the surround
effect of this tremendous recording into full thrill-mode. The
final Magnificat is a suitably magnificent conclusion.
Vocal ensemble Melodi Cantores and La Pifarescha on historic
instruments are directed to great effect in this recording by
Elena Sartori, and this is a highly enjoyable release which
sounds terrific in plain stereo, and can blow your socks off
in multi-channel surround. Latin texts are given at the back
of the booklet, and as a one-stop place for some tremendous
Venetian music both moving and evocative as well as a stirringly
inspirational test of your woofers, this is a thoroughly attractive
recording.
Dominy Clements
see also review by Gary
Higginson