We open with the shimmer of the
sansula, an introitus whose
distinctive sound-world is imported from the Mediterranean, and we end with
the extroitus played on the
koshis, from the same geographical
area. What, one may ask, have these particular and alien sounds to do with
the songs and motets of the German composer Leonhard Lechner? He actually
denoted himself Leonhard Lechner Athesinus to show that he came from
Athesis/Adige in the South Tyrol. He began professional life as a singer,
under no less than Orlando di Lasso (also his teacher) in Munich. Settling
in Nuremburg in 1573 he soon came under Luther’s spell and became devoted to
the idea of free strophic lied and the primacy of German-language settings.
The word-orientated settings are often quite straightforward in
construction, with chorale blocks surrounded by polyphony; but above all
there is Lechner’s devotion to the Lutheran dictates of word-tone
relationships.
In that context the use of unusual instrumentation should be seen as
Athesinus Consort Berlin and Klaus-Martin Bresgott’s devotion to the power
of the word. Thus representative passages encourage them to add
instrumentation. I am dubious about this. It seems to be an act of
veneration divorced from the historical realities of the day, and it can
sound a sentimentalising, even trivialising of Lechner’s music. Surely he
did not want to hear these instruments in his music and the anachronism of
introducing them at various points detracts from the simplicity and
directness of his message. We don’t always need things hammered out, however
dulcet the hammer.
If you can live with this – and by ‘this’ I mean bells, drums, Jew’s
harps, wind chimes, recorders and the two instruments already noted - you
will find much modestly beautiful music. The instrumental interpolations
recur in the long setting of
Das erst und ander Kapitel des Hohenliedes
Salomonis, published posthumously in the year of Lechner’s death. The
use of bells and chimes in the
Minne I, for instance, reflects
ideas of salvation and redemption. Introduced instrumentally by the recorder
Gelobet seist du, Jesu Christ is subject successively to chimes,
drums and a percussive crash before the reprise of the first verse. The
singing is fully committed and attractively directed. Indeed the
instrumentalists play their roles characterfully. Whether it’s either right
or appropriate is another matter and at various points I felt it was,
indeed, also
rather New Age-y.
Lechner’s music itself occupies a niche post-Isaac but pre-Schütz, and he
is a significant composer in German Protestant musical history, though not a
pivotal one. I remain doubtful whether his message has been fully served
here.
Jonathan Woolf
