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EARLY MUSIC REVIEW
French Delights June 7, 2002
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By Kip Cranna
It was a grand night for chaconnes at UC Berkeley's Herz Hall on Friday as the Berkeley Festival presented the first of two concerts by the adroit early-music ensemble Capriccio Stravagante. The all-French program entitled "Récréation de Musique" featured seven 17th- and 18th-century composers, and focused on that favorite Gallic device, the "chaconne" — a gradually unfolding vocal lament (or instrumental variation) over an inexorable ground bass, usually four descending notes.
Led by its founder, the American harpsichord virtuoso Skip Sempé, the expert 10-player ensemble (formed in 1986) was joined by French mezzo-soprano Guillemette Laurens in a highly gratifying program despite some programmatic choices that might give purists pause.
Oldest composer on the program was Michel Lambert (born in Cavalli's generation), who became Lully's father-in law. His air de cour entitled "Vos m'épris chaque jour," one of those "love hurts so good" pieces, is a sensuous chaconne reminiscent of the sexy final love duet (of disputed authorship) from Monteverdi's The Coronation of Poppea. Laurens sang it with a flexible, warm sound that revealed a joy of singing and an innate gift for stylish ornamentation. (She liked the piece well enough to perform it at the end of the evening as an encore.) Equally appealing was Lambert's "Ombre de mon amant," a lament for a deceased lover, with Laurens' expressive delivery abetted by sensitive accompaniment from an ensemble attentive to her every nuance.
Most of the vocal works in this program were in the standard mid-baroque scoring for two treble instruments and continuo, with two violins alternating or sometimes in unison with the two wind players, using the unusual combination of recorder and transverse flute, played by Julien Martin and Serge Saitta. The unequal match of the muted but steady-toned flute with the sharper edged "chiffy" sound of the recorder — whose pitch is more subject to wavering — really shouldn't work as well as it did. The compatibility of these two players was a revelation. They showed their dexterity at partnering to even greater advantage in one of Jacques Martin Hotteterre's duos, as they warbled and twittered felicitously in harmonious balance. Sempé showed off his harpsichord skills to good advantage in one of Jean-Henri d'Anglebert's unmeasured preludes, nicely propelled and shaped. Sempé has found a musical soul-mate in fellow harpsichordist Olivier Fortin, and the two have taken to making arrangements in order to find suitable concert repertoire for two (otherwise unaccompanied) harpsichords. (The pair has recorded a noteworthy disc of Bach and Vivaldi concerti in this type of re-scoring for two harpsichords.) In arrangement of an arrangement, they transformed D'Anglebert's transcription of the "Passacaille d'Armide" (a dance from Lully's opera) into a two-harpsichord extravaganza, creating a jangling sensation over the familiar descending four-note pattern. The two arrangers also trained their sights on Rameau, giving a two-harpsichord version of three chamber works from his Pièces de clavecin en concerts. Despite their dexterity, the sonic contrast and interplay of melodic voices was often lost in a welter of tinkling arpeggiation, but it was all great fun nonetheless.
Two Lully vocal works on the program included a lament in recitative style from his opera Atys, "Espoir si cher et si doux," touchingly sung by Ms. Guillemette, although its impact as a dramatic scene was lessened out of context. More successful was the "Récit d'Orphée" from Lully's Ballet des Muses (1666), in which Orpheus complains — over a ground bass, of course — of his painful vow not to speak to Euridice. Laurens brought off the scene with extravagantly fluid ornaments that rarely called attention to their virtuosity. The piece is prefaced by a long dialogue among the instruments, with lead violin Simon Heyerick displaying a spare but eloquent tone. Principal gambist Jay Bernfeld played with vigor and energy throughout the evening, often digging deep for emphasis but never succumbing to a rough or vulgar sound. The second half of the program consisted of Michel Pignolet de Monteclair's cantata La mort de Didon (The Death of Dido), whose sections were inter-spliced with dances from Jean-Marie Leclair's instrumental suite, Deuxième Récréation de Musique. It was billed as a "pastiche," and the combination worked fairly well by way of expanding the cantata with instrumental interludes — despite the fact that the two works were not really contemporary but composed about 30 years apart (ca. 1709 for the cantata, 1737 for the suite). The "ouverture" to the suite was punctuated marvelously, with brittle over-dotting and brusque runs. The two violins (Heyerick joined by Yannis Roger) played at times in unison with the flute and recorder, with the latter two sometimes switching to piccolo and sopranino recorder, which sounded gimmicky but was brought off with fine panache. Laurens' singing in the cantata was first rate, with more emotive warmth and humanity than are often heard in this repertoire. In her rage aria "Tirants de l'empire," calling down destruction on her departed lover Aeneas, she took some chances, singing at full throttle almost (but not quite) to the point of strain. The cantata's text is oddly structured, turning the scorned Carthaginian queen from a mournful protagonist into a narrator who describes Dido's self-immolation in third person and then comments wryly on her fate in a cautionary, almost flippant dance tune. One more chaconne (the final Leclair instrumental interpolation) gaily rounded off the evening — fiddling while Dido burns! The effect was a far cry from familiar Dido pieces like the drooping eloquence of Purcell or the opulent grandeur of Berlioz, but as the French say, "Chaconne à son goût."
(Kip Cranna is Musical Administrator of the San Francisco Opera, Program Advisor for the Carmel Bach Festival, and a frequent lecturer on music appreciation.) ©2002 Kip Cranna, all rights reserved |