By Norman Lebrecht, La Scena Musicale
Tuesday 29 June 2010
Bertrand Chamayou by Norman Lebrecht
By Norman Lebrecht, La Scena Musicale
Friday 18 June 2010
This month, Classic FM Magazine compared two recordings of Onslow’s works and the Quatuor Diotima received the best ranking. ★★★★
This is where rare repertoire resembles a bus line: George Onslow is a composer so rarely played that there’d be no need to apologise for never having heard of him, but now two CDs of his chamber music have arrived at once. (…)
The music [written by Onslow] is well-wrought, technically challenging and very enjoyable to listen to even if it can’t exactly live up to the implications of Onslow’s nickname, ‘the French Beethoven’. Still, Berlioz was among Onslow’s greatest admirers, declaring his music to be among ‘France’s most beautiful musical glories’. (…)
The Quatuor Diotima’s offering is more upbeat, its playing every bit as slick and polished as the presentation and sound recording.
If you want to read the full article, please refer to the June edition of Classic FM Magazine.
This is where rare repertoire resembles a bus line: George Onslow is a composer so rarely played that there’d be no need to apologise for never having heard of him, but now two CDs of his chamber music have arrived at once. (…)
The music [written by Onslow] is well-wrought, technically challenging and very enjoyable to listen to even if it can’t exactly live up to the implications of Onslow’s nickname, ‘the French Beethoven’. Still, Berlioz was among Onslow’s greatest admirers, declaring his music to be among ‘France’s most beautiful musical glories’. (…)
The Quatuor Diotima’s offering is more upbeat, its playing every bit as slick and polished as the presentation and sound recording.
If you want to read the full article, please refer to the June edition of Classic FM Magazine.
Thursday 17 June 2010
Back to the Quatuor Mosaïque: here goes another fantastic review!
The Independent on Sunday, 13 June 2010
The dry, almost dusty acoustics of Studio la Borie mimic the close atmosphere of Der Tod und das Mädchen’s private premiere in 1826. Often paired with the Quartettsatz of 1820, this knowing tale of early death is instead paired with the early G-minor Quartet (D173). The Amish severity of Quatuor Mosaïque’s gut strings acquires a narcotic quality in the Andante con moto variations of the later work. Boldly articulated and intelligently shaped, this is a claustrophobic, dramatic performance. AP
Tuesday 15 June 2010
David Greilsammer interviewed by Jessica Duchen in the Jewish Chronicle
The man who dares to rethink Mozart
David Greilsammer, the virtuoso Israeli pianist and conductor, has a radical new approach to classical music. He talks to Jessica Duchen.
Every so often, along comes a recording that stays alive in your mind long after you have heard it. One that arrived recently was a CD of Mozart’s piano concertos, played and conducted by the young Israeli pianist David Greilsammer, with an orchestra mysteriously named Ensemble Suedama. The strength of purpose of Greilsammer’s interpretations made the disc stand out as something out of the ordinary.
And Greilsammer himself is an artist out of the ordinary. At only 32, he has several highly acclaimed recordings to his name — he has just been appointed music director and conductor of the Geneva Chamber orchestra, and next season will see his debuts with the san Francisco symphony orchestra and the Salzburg Mozarteum orchestra, among others. First, though, London audiences can hear him in recital at Wigmore Hall next week. His first appearance there last year was hailed by one critic as “among the most authoritative British debuts in years”.
A soft-spoken Israeli with a hybrid accent — he livedin New york for nine years and is now based in Paris — Greilsammer admits, if slightly sheepishly, that he felt destined to become a musician because his mother had decided this for him before he was born. (…)
Greilsammer’s acclaimed CDs of Mozart concertos came about through a determination to follow a path of his own, rather than one dictated by the occasionally creaky workings of the music industry. The name of ensemble Suedama, of course, is “Amadeus” backwards — he formed the orchestra himself.
“I have some problems with the ways things are sometimes done in the classical world,” Greilsammer says. “I wanted to do a first project my own way - something new and fresh. so I decided to surround myself with a completely new orchestra, made up of enthusiastic young soloists who had the same affinities and trains of thought that I had. We made two discs of Mozart concertos — they are all well-known works that have been recorded by all the great masters, but we wanted to approach them as if it were the first time. I’m a little obsessed with not being influenced by the past.
“The problem with classical music is that essentially it’s an art form that’s completely focused on the past,” he continues. “We play mostly pieces by dead composers, and we worship their scores. We spend our days looking at music that was written up to 400 years ago and that’s where we take our inspiration and life-force as classical musicians. This is where the problem begins — in an art that’s so preoccupied with the past, it’s very difficult to make it live today.” (…)
More explorations will follow — in the autumn Greilsammer will be back in London for a concert at King’s Place of sonatas by scarlatti and, on “prepared piano”, John Cage. That will mark the launch of his next CD; a world premiere recordings of works for piano and orchestra by Alexander Tansman and Nadia Boulanger, plus the more familiar Rhapsody in Blue by Gershwin.
His exclusive contract with the French record label Naïve has made Paris his ideal home (“though I don’t expect living in Paris will last forever,” he adds, rather ruefully), and he spends much time in Geneva with his orchestra there. He is enjoying his activities as
conductor, but the piano, he says, will always remain his first love. Destiny? Perhaps it really is.
If you want to know more about his childhood or his latest Wigmore Hall concert, please refer to the Jewish Chronicle of 28th May 2010 for the full article.
David Greilsammer, the virtuoso Israeli pianist and conductor, has a radical new approach to classical music. He talks to Jessica Duchen.
Every so often, along comes a recording that stays alive in your mind long after you have heard it. One that arrived recently was a CD of Mozart’s piano concertos, played and conducted by the young Israeli pianist David Greilsammer, with an orchestra mysteriously named Ensemble Suedama. The strength of purpose of Greilsammer’s interpretations made the disc stand out as something out of the ordinary.
And Greilsammer himself is an artist out of the ordinary. At only 32, he has several highly acclaimed recordings to his name — he has just been appointed music director and conductor of the Geneva Chamber orchestra, and next season will see his debuts with the san Francisco symphony orchestra and the Salzburg Mozarteum orchestra, among others. First, though, London audiences can hear him in recital at Wigmore Hall next week. His first appearance there last year was hailed by one critic as “among the most authoritative British debuts in years”.
A soft-spoken Israeli with a hybrid accent — he livedin New york for nine years and is now based in Paris — Greilsammer admits, if slightly sheepishly, that he felt destined to become a musician because his mother had decided this for him before he was born. (…)
Greilsammer’s acclaimed CDs of Mozart concertos came about through a determination to follow a path of his own, rather than one dictated by the occasionally creaky workings of the music industry. The name of ensemble Suedama, of course, is “Amadeus” backwards — he formed the orchestra himself.
“I have some problems with the ways things are sometimes done in the classical world,” Greilsammer says. “I wanted to do a first project my own way - something new and fresh. so I decided to surround myself with a completely new orchestra, made up of enthusiastic young soloists who had the same affinities and trains of thought that I had. We made two discs of Mozart concertos — they are all well-known works that have been recorded by all the great masters, but we wanted to approach them as if it were the first time. I’m a little obsessed with not being influenced by the past.
“The problem with classical music is that essentially it’s an art form that’s completely focused on the past,” he continues. “We play mostly pieces by dead composers, and we worship their scores. We spend our days looking at music that was written up to 400 years ago and that’s where we take our inspiration and life-force as classical musicians. This is where the problem begins — in an art that’s so preoccupied with the past, it’s very difficult to make it live today.” (…)
More explorations will follow — in the autumn Greilsammer will be back in London for a concert at King’s Place of sonatas by scarlatti and, on “prepared piano”, John Cage. That will mark the launch of his next CD; a world premiere recordings of works for piano and orchestra by Alexander Tansman and Nadia Boulanger, plus the more familiar Rhapsody in Blue by Gershwin.
His exclusive contract with the French record label Naïve has made Paris his ideal home (“though I don’t expect living in Paris will last forever,” he adds, rather ruefully), and he spends much time in Geneva with his orchestra there. He is enjoying his activities as
conductor, but the piano, he says, will always remain his first love. Destiny? Perhaps it really is.
If you want to know more about his childhood or his latest Wigmore Hall concert, please refer to the Jewish Chronicle of 28th May 2010 for the full article.
Monday 14 June 2010
Amazing five-star review of Brad Mehldau and Anne Sofie von Otter at the Wigmore Hall... first Naïve release in September 2010!
The Financial Times ★★★★★
Brad Mehldau closed the opening season of his two-year curatorship of the Wigmore Hall’s first jazz series with a two-concert flourish. The jazz content of his duet with the formidably voiced Swedish mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter was more flavouring than main dish, as a romantic classical first set was balanced by a contemporary second half. But two days later, Mehldau’s solo piano recital delivered trenchant jazz, albeit with a composer’s logic.
Von Otter was the focus of the first concert, wringing emotion from each syllable of lyrics that sounded life-changing when she sang them. Mehldau impressed for adjusting touch and timbre for first-half readings of Brahms, Fauré and Richard Strauss, and bringing out the influence on jazz pianists today of Sibelius’s sparse rhythmic pedals.
The second set opened with a selection from Mehldau’s song cycle Love Songs. His composed settings of Sara Teasdale’s poems had all the Mehldau hallmarks – closely argued chords, subtly altered motifs and a light pulse – and when combined with von Otter’s voice were the highlight of the evening. The pianist then revealed his jazz chops while von Otter applied full operatic measure to Lennon and McCartney, the American Songbook, “Windmills of my Mind” – sounding surprisingly profound when sung in French – and a sprightly double encore.
Mehldau’s second recital was a breathtaking solo performance that took full advantage of the Wigmore’s pin-drop acoustics. The set was bookended by themes from his orchestral album Highway Rider – the arpeggiated central motif to start, the sombre “Old West” to finish – but mostly stuck to the songbook repertoire. Each theme launched improvisations that tugged at meter and key. A fast and chirpy “Get Happy” developed a wayward bass line and did strange things to the tempo while sticking strictly to the underlying form, and “My Favorite Things” climaxed with a thunderous rumble.
Mehldau’s pathways verged on the abstract and even bluesy interjections resolved in odd places, though a lone bass note signposted the original theme. His fifth encore was “Waterloo Sunset”, and then he had to do “one more for playing Ray Davies and the Kinks”. The evening ended in a shimmering chordal wash.
By Mike Hobart
You can also read the review here.
Brad Mehldau closed the opening season of his two-year curatorship of the Wigmore Hall’s first jazz series with a two-concert flourish. The jazz content of his duet with the formidably voiced Swedish mezzo-soprano Anne Sofie von Otter was more flavouring than main dish, as a romantic classical first set was balanced by a contemporary second half. But two days later, Mehldau’s solo piano recital delivered trenchant jazz, albeit with a composer’s logic.
Von Otter was the focus of the first concert, wringing emotion from each syllable of lyrics that sounded life-changing when she sang them. Mehldau impressed for adjusting touch and timbre for first-half readings of Brahms, Fauré and Richard Strauss, and bringing out the influence on jazz pianists today of Sibelius’s sparse rhythmic pedals.
The second set opened with a selection from Mehldau’s song cycle Love Songs. His composed settings of Sara Teasdale’s poems had all the Mehldau hallmarks – closely argued chords, subtly altered motifs and a light pulse – and when combined with von Otter’s voice were the highlight of the evening. The pianist then revealed his jazz chops while von Otter applied full operatic measure to Lennon and McCartney, the American Songbook, “Windmills of my Mind” – sounding surprisingly profound when sung in French – and a sprightly double encore.
Mehldau’s second recital was a breathtaking solo performance that took full advantage of the Wigmore’s pin-drop acoustics. The set was bookended by themes from his orchestral album Highway Rider – the arpeggiated central motif to start, the sombre “Old West” to finish – but mostly stuck to the songbook repertoire. Each theme launched improvisations that tugged at meter and key. A fast and chirpy “Get Happy” developed a wayward bass line and did strange things to the tempo while sticking strictly to the underlying form, and “My Favorite Things” climaxed with a thunderous rumble.
Mehldau’s pathways verged on the abstract and even bluesy interjections resolved in odd places, though a lone bass note signposted the original theme. His fifth encore was “Waterloo Sunset”, and then he had to do “one more for playing Ray Davies and the Kinks”. The evening ended in a shimmering chordal wash.
By Mike Hobart
You can also read the review here.
Friday 4 June 2010
Outstanding five-star review of Anna Vinnitskaya’s debut album of piano sonatas
Anna Vinnitskaya’s debut album of piano sonatas was acclaimed by the BBC Music Magazine last month.
Performance ★★★★★
Recording ★★★★★
As winner of the 2007 Queen Elizabeth International Music Competition and the 2008 Leonard Bernstein Award, Russian-born pianist Anna Vinnitskaya is clearly a name to reckon with. Her imaginatively devised and vividly recorded programme juxtaposes late-Romantic bravura (Rachmaninov and Medtner) with the more acerbic language of Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata and Gubaidulina’s abrasive Chaconne. There’s little doubt that she has the measure of each work, demonstrating not only formidable technical control but also a truly remarkable range of tonal colouring. One might quibble that in adopting a more reflective pose in the opening movement of the Rachmaninov (here in the later 1931 version) she doesn’t always convey the composer’s prescribed Allegro agitato. Yet there’s no denying the sheer beauty and richness of her sound, the central movement presented in a particularly haunting manner. The Medtner, too, is spellbinding with a veiled quality that captures the music’s sense of nostalgia as well as its fragility.
Gubaidulina’s rugged Chaconne of 1962, mixing strongly percussive writing with more enigmatic and withdrawn passages, is a highly accessible work played here with tremendous brilliance. Finally Vinnitskaya offers an extremely compelling account of Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata with a terrifyingly relentless Finale. By opting for an unusually fast and furious tempo for much of the first movement she certainly coveys the music’s sense of unease, though some might argue that in the slow movement her approach is too chilly, somewhat in contradiction to Prokofiev’s marking of Andante caloroso.
By Erik Levi
Performance ★★★★★
Recording ★★★★★
As winner of the 2007 Queen Elizabeth International Music Competition and the 2008 Leonard Bernstein Award, Russian-born pianist Anna Vinnitskaya is clearly a name to reckon with. Her imaginatively devised and vividly recorded programme juxtaposes late-Romantic bravura (Rachmaninov and Medtner) with the more acerbic language of Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata and Gubaidulina’s abrasive Chaconne. There’s little doubt that she has the measure of each work, demonstrating not only formidable technical control but also a truly remarkable range of tonal colouring. One might quibble that in adopting a more reflective pose in the opening movement of the Rachmaninov (here in the later 1931 version) she doesn’t always convey the composer’s prescribed Allegro agitato. Yet there’s no denying the sheer beauty and richness of her sound, the central movement presented in a particularly haunting manner. The Medtner, too, is spellbinding with a veiled quality that captures the music’s sense of nostalgia as well as its fragility.
Gubaidulina’s rugged Chaconne of 1962, mixing strongly percussive writing with more enigmatic and withdrawn passages, is a highly accessible work played here with tremendous brilliance. Finally Vinnitskaya offers an extremely compelling account of Prokofiev’s Seventh Sonata with a terrifyingly relentless Finale. By opting for an unusually fast and furious tempo for much of the first movement she certainly coveys the music’s sense of unease, though some might argue that in the slow movement her approach is too chilly, somewhat in contradiction to Prokofiev’s marking of Andante caloroso.
By Erik Levi
Christophe Rousset talks about culture in an interview with Classic FM magazine
Ahead of his London concert at The Barbican on 8 July where he will lead Les Talents Lyriques through Handel’s ‘Semele’, Christophe Rousset talks about culture in a ‘cultural exchange’ with Classic FM Magazine.
Been to any good exhibitions lately?
I went to the ‘Monumenta 2010’ at the Grand-Palais in Paris. There was an incredibly moving piece of art called Personnes by Christian Boltanski. It’s an evocation of concentration camps of the Second World War using mostly clothes on the floor or in a huge heap. A crane is lifting some pieces up and releasing them back to the heap. The noise and movement of the crane in contrast with the dead multicolour forms on the floor makes it very effective.
What’s your favourite cultural city and why?
It has to be between New York and Paris. I would dream of a blend of both cities – the crazy avant-garde of New York and the freedom in opera and music you get in Europe. For dance and art, New York is the best.
Why is culture important?
Because it makes humanity stop and think. Because some people are able to use their brains and sensibility in a more extended, deeper, clearer way. They make us understand ourselves and our world better. Our politicians are making a big mistake cutting budgets devoted to culture.
What are you looking forward to seeing next?
The Van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy. He makes you see the world in another way.
Been to any good exhibitions lately?
I went to the ‘Monumenta 2010’ at the Grand-Palais in Paris. There was an incredibly moving piece of art called Personnes by Christian Boltanski. It’s an evocation of concentration camps of the Second World War using mostly clothes on the floor or in a huge heap. A crane is lifting some pieces up and releasing them back to the heap. The noise and movement of the crane in contrast with the dead multicolour forms on the floor makes it very effective.
What’s your favourite cultural city and why?
It has to be between New York and Paris. I would dream of a blend of both cities – the crazy avant-garde of New York and the freedom in opera and music you get in Europe. For dance and art, New York is the best.
Why is culture important?
Because it makes humanity stop and think. Because some people are able to use their brains and sensibility in a more extended, deeper, clearer way. They make us understand ourselves and our world better. Our politicians are making a big mistake cutting budgets devoted to culture.
What are you looking forward to seeing next?
The Van Gogh exhibition at the Royal Academy. He makes you see the world in another way.
Excellent reviews of the Quatuor Mosaïques's recording of Schubert's 'Der Tod und das Mädchen'
The Times, 15 May 2010 ★★★
The Mosaïques’ gut strings bring a dark and husky colouring to the quartet in which Schubert stares death in the face, D 810 (Death and the Maiden). The Takacs Quartet’s exemplary rendering for Hyperion in general packs the mightier punch, but the Mosaïques still shine in the slow movement’s lyricism. Also featured is an earlier, tauter Schubert quartet (D 173), with two disquieted outer movements framing a nimble scherzo and an andantino of much courtly charm, dispatched here with unforced beauty. GB
The Sunday Times, 23 May 2010 ★★★★
Schubert’s teenage quartets don’t rank high, but the period-instrument Quatuor Mosaïques show that the G minor is worth hearing, not least the incisive opening movement’s brief but striking development section, whose ghostly sonorities the group bring out vividly. Their performance of Death and the Maiden is music-making of a high-order, felt and carried out by players animated as though by a single mind and impulse, yet each of them seeming to respond afresh at every moment. If they don’t generate quite the headlong impetus of the Takacs’s recent recording, their colours and phrasing, and the subtlety of their playing, are a marvel. At a slightly slower tempo, the presto finale’s strange harmonies and eerie silences are all the more frightening. DC
The Daily Telegraph, 1st June 2010 ★★★★
Schubert’s Death and the Maiden quartet is so often played it’s in danger of becoming hackneyed, but the Quatuor Mosaïques have restored its freshness. The CD box reproduces Marianne Stokes’ painting in which Death comes to the Maiden as a gentle figure, rather than a grimacing skeleton. The performance is similarly unexpected – chastely serious rather than despairing, but dramatic when it needs to be. Ivan Hewett
The Mosaïques’ gut strings bring a dark and husky colouring to the quartet in which Schubert stares death in the face, D 810 (Death and the Maiden). The Takacs Quartet’s exemplary rendering for Hyperion in general packs the mightier punch, but the Mosaïques still shine in the slow movement’s lyricism. Also featured is an earlier, tauter Schubert quartet (D 173), with two disquieted outer movements framing a nimble scherzo and an andantino of much courtly charm, dispatched here with unforced beauty. GB
The Sunday Times, 23 May 2010 ★★★★
Schubert’s teenage quartets don’t rank high, but the period-instrument Quatuor Mosaïques show that the G minor is worth hearing, not least the incisive opening movement’s brief but striking development section, whose ghostly sonorities the group bring out vividly. Their performance of Death and the Maiden is music-making of a high-order, felt and carried out by players animated as though by a single mind and impulse, yet each of them seeming to respond afresh at every moment. If they don’t generate quite the headlong impetus of the Takacs’s recent recording, their colours and phrasing, and the subtlety of their playing, are a marvel. At a slightly slower tempo, the presto finale’s strange harmonies and eerie silences are all the more frightening. DC
The Daily Telegraph, 1st June 2010 ★★★★
Schubert’s Death and the Maiden quartet is so often played it’s in danger of becoming hackneyed, but the Quatuor Mosaïques have restored its freshness. The CD box reproduces Marianne Stokes’ painting in which Death comes to the Maiden as a gentle figure, rather than a grimacing skeleton. The performance is similarly unexpected – chastely serious rather than despairing, but dramatic when it needs to be. Ivan Hewett
Thursday 3 June 2010
Always more stars for Bertrand Chamayou’s recording of César Franck’s works
The Guardian, 6 May 2010 ★★★
This is an intriguing collection of César Franck’s five works involving a solo piano, all featuring the up-and-coming French pianist Bertrand Chamayou. Two of them are rarely heard, and another is a genuine oddity. The familiar pieces are the Prélude, Choral et Fugue for piano alone, and the Variations Symphoniques, for piano and orchestra, both of which are heard in concert and recorded regularly enough for Chamayou’s perfectly adequate but under-characterised performances to face stiff competition. But he demonstrates that both the solo piano Prélude, Aria et Final and Les Djinns, a compact symphonic poem for piano and orchestra based upon a Victor Hugo poem, deserve to be heard far more frequently. Meanwhile, the texturally rather awkward Prélude, Fugue et Variation, for piano and harmonium, in which Chamayou is joined by Olivier Latry, provides a reminder that Franck was an organist first and foremost, and then a pianist. Andrew Clements
The Daily Telegraph, 21 May 2010 ★★★★★
César Franck was no slouch when it came to writing for the piano. The Prélude, Choral et Fugue has long been among the keyboard repertoire’s toughest challenges, and here its sturdy counterpoint, elaborate flourishes, ripe textures and serpentine harmonies are conveyed with impressive panache and interpretative seriousness by the young French pianist Bertrand Chamayou. Franck’s model was clearly Bach, his inspiration the organ loft. But Franck clothed any baroque exemplars in a cloak of richly romantic hues and the diapason of the keyboard writing, if at times sounding as though Franck might have conceived it while seated at his Cavaillé-Coll instrument in Paris’s church of St Clotilde, is vigorously pianistic. Even more so is the piano obbligato part in the exciting, nervy symphonic poem “Les Djinns” and in the once-popular Variations Symphoniques. Strangest of all the works on this disc is the Prélude, Fugue et Variation combining piano with the nasal wheeze of the harmonium, but it sounds charming and completes a fascinating compendium of Franck’s music. Geoffrey Norris
This is an intriguing collection of César Franck’s five works involving a solo piano, all featuring the up-and-coming French pianist Bertrand Chamayou. Two of them are rarely heard, and another is a genuine oddity. The familiar pieces are the Prélude, Choral et Fugue for piano alone, and the Variations Symphoniques, for piano and orchestra, both of which are heard in concert and recorded regularly enough for Chamayou’s perfectly adequate but under-characterised performances to face stiff competition. But he demonstrates that both the solo piano Prélude, Aria et Final and Les Djinns, a compact symphonic poem for piano and orchestra based upon a Victor Hugo poem, deserve to be heard far more frequently. Meanwhile, the texturally rather awkward Prélude, Fugue et Variation, for piano and harmonium, in which Chamayou is joined by Olivier Latry, provides a reminder that Franck was an organist first and foremost, and then a pianist. Andrew Clements
The Daily Telegraph, 21 May 2010 ★★★★★
César Franck was no slouch when it came to writing for the piano. The Prélude, Choral et Fugue has long been among the keyboard repertoire’s toughest challenges, and here its sturdy counterpoint, elaborate flourishes, ripe textures and serpentine harmonies are conveyed with impressive panache and interpretative seriousness by the young French pianist Bertrand Chamayou. Franck’s model was clearly Bach, his inspiration the organ loft. But Franck clothed any baroque exemplars in a cloak of richly romantic hues and the diapason of the keyboard writing, if at times sounding as though Franck might have conceived it while seated at his Cavaillé-Coll instrument in Paris’s church of St Clotilde, is vigorously pianistic. Even more so is the piano obbligato part in the exciting, nervy symphonic poem “Les Djinns” and in the once-popular Variations Symphoniques. Strangest of all the works on this disc is the Prélude, Fugue et Variation combining piano with the nasal wheeze of the harmonium, but it sounds charming and completes a fascinating compendium of Franck’s music. Geoffrey Norris
Fantastic reviews of Rousset's recording of Froberger's Suites by 3 influential newspapers
The Sunday Times, 9 May 2010 ★★★★
Five of the half-dozen suites on this disc are from the autograph collection of 1656; the other comes from that of 1649. All are in French style, in four stylised dance movements. Christophe Rousset plays a rare and distinguished harpsichord, made by the Flemish builder Joannes Couchet in 1652, but restored and expanded in 1701. More important, it makes a beautiful, richly resonant sound, rendering it ideal for Froberger’s expressive and often melancholic music. Equally well suited is Rousset’s meditative, infinitely flexible approach. His playing is always lovingly articulated and carefully decorated. SP
The Observer, 9 May 2010
Johann Jakob Froberger wanted all his music burned after his death because he didn’t think anyone else would be able to play it well enough. He would surely have been reassured by the deep understanding of Christophe Rousset, who uses an exquisite 17th-century Couchet harpsichord, unequally tuned. The grave eloquence of Froberger’s sarabandes is perfectly captured and only the long pauses before repeated sections seem overdone. The programmatic “Lament on the Death of Ferdinand IV” evaporates at the top of the keyboard, the rising scale disappearing into a cloud of angels in the manuscript. Nicholas Kenyon
The Independent on Sunday, 16 May 2010
Christophe Rousset makes a welcome return to the keyboard in this poignant selection of Forberger’s suites, played on a 1652 Couchet harpsichord that was extended in 1701 to include a four-foot stop. Rousset’s fluid grace-notes never obscure the seriousness of these introspective dances, the finest of which is the Lamento sopra la dolorosa perdita della real Maestà di Ferdinando IV, and allows silence to register between the phrases. A thoughtful and distinctive alternative to Richard Egarr’s ebullient performance. Anna Picard
Five of the half-dozen suites on this disc are from the autograph collection of 1656; the other comes from that of 1649. All are in French style, in four stylised dance movements. Christophe Rousset plays a rare and distinguished harpsichord, made by the Flemish builder Joannes Couchet in 1652, but restored and expanded in 1701. More important, it makes a beautiful, richly resonant sound, rendering it ideal for Froberger’s expressive and often melancholic music. Equally well suited is Rousset’s meditative, infinitely flexible approach. His playing is always lovingly articulated and carefully decorated. SP
The Observer, 9 May 2010
Johann Jakob Froberger wanted all his music burned after his death because he didn’t think anyone else would be able to play it well enough. He would surely have been reassured by the deep understanding of Christophe Rousset, who uses an exquisite 17th-century Couchet harpsichord, unequally tuned. The grave eloquence of Froberger’s sarabandes is perfectly captured and only the long pauses before repeated sections seem overdone. The programmatic “Lament on the Death of Ferdinand IV” evaporates at the top of the keyboard, the rising scale disappearing into a cloud of angels in the manuscript. Nicholas Kenyon
The Independent on Sunday, 16 May 2010
Christophe Rousset makes a welcome return to the keyboard in this poignant selection of Forberger’s suites, played on a 1652 Couchet harpsichord that was extended in 1701 to include a four-foot stop. Rousset’s fluid grace-notes never obscure the seriousness of these introspective dances, the finest of which is the Lamento sopra la dolorosa perdita della real Maestà di Ferdinando IV, and allows silence to register between the phrases. A thoughtful and distinctive alternative to Richard Egarr’s ebullient performance. Anna Picard
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