This is part of a now long-running series devoted, as the title 
                  indicates, to the music of Baroque Bohemia and indeed ‘beyond’. 
                  It has reached volume six with this latest release. Whether 
                  Baroque or, as here, pre- or indeed solidly Classical, this 
                  series is revealing just how full of depth is the wellspring 
                  of the Bohemian musical diaspora. If the names Schimpke, Gassmann 
                  and Jírovec mean little or nothing to you, then you are certainly 
                  not alone. But each composer offers a revealing sidelight on 
                  both his heritage and his milieu, as reflected in these three 
                  works. All are orchestral.
                   
                  Christoph Schimpke, for example, offers a Symphony in F major 
                  (or, more properly, Sinfonia). Not much appears to be known 
                  about the composer, who died in 1789. He was born in Tetschen 
                  (modern day Decín) on the Elbe, near Dresden. His early years 
                  seems shrouded in mystery, but for the last two decades of his 
                  life he was employed by the Prince Bishop of Breslau, primarily 
                  a bassoonist in the elite band that Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf 
                  had built up.
                   
                  The Sinfonia is a spacious, well laid out work, full of maestoso 
                  energy and control. The Czech Chamber Philharmonic under their 
                  director Petr Chromcák take the slow movement at a good walking 
                  pace, vesting it with genial charm and a strongly etched bass 
                  line. It’s a modern instrument band, and very responsive to 
                  the prevailing musical ethos of Schimpke’s time. The bassoon, 
                  the composer’s own instrument, wiggles away delightfully in 
                  the third movement enjoying piquant little concertante moments. 
                  In the finale general high spirits are unleashed, though the 
                  level of invention is not wholly distinctive. Nevertheless, 
                  it’s an engaging, thoroughly proficient work made droller by 
                  virtue of that semi-independent, concertante bassoon line.
                   
                  Leopold Florian Gassmann was born in 1729 in Most, not far from 
                  Decín. A singer, fiddle player and harpist he gravitated to 
                  Venice, and then to Vienna where he succeeded Gluck as ballet 
                  composer in the city.  A famous pupil of his in Vienna 
                  was Salieri. Gassmann was renowned as an opera composer but 
                  he was also a prolific symphonist. His four-movement Symphony 
                  in C minor reveals a consistently elevated musical mind at work. 
                  Thematic material is varied, lyricism is refined, and each movement 
                  serves its schematic function with great assurance. Orchestration 
                  is deft and the Poco andante, which is played as such 
                  as well, is enlivening. This is all-round a most effective work.
                   
                  The last of the trio is Vojtech Jírovec, also known as Adalbert 
                  Gyrowetz. Born in the town of Ceské Budejovice - where Budvar 
                  beer comes from – he was a notable linguist who worked in Prague 
                  for a number of years before moving, like Gassmann, to Vienna. 
                  There one of his symphonies was performed in a series arranged 
                  by Mozart. He met Haydn in London, before returning to Vienna 
                  where he befriended Beethoven – indeed he was one of the pallbearers 
                  at Beethoven’s funeral. His Symphony has a concertante role 
                  for the oboe. The galant and fluent music is nevertheless 
                  full of unexpected harmonic twists and turns. It also reveals 
                  the influence of Haydn. The droll bird calls, chirping high 
                  and repeated low down, are a delicious touch in the third movement 
                  Minuet and the Adagio is no less pleasing in its lilting lyricism.
                   
                  These three works, all by lesser known émigré composers, all 
                  offer up delightful surprises and noteworthy features. They’re 
                  played with grace and warmth. And whether Baroque or, indeed, 
                  Beyond they are well worth a listen.
                   
                  Jonathan Woolf