The project to record
all of the 450-odd works by Vivaldi
held by the National University Library
of Turin proceeds apace. It only seems
yesterday that I was reviewing
the opera "Orlando Furioso".
For that set a very radical band of
period performers was chosen, the Ensemble
Matheus. L’Astrée – a Turin group
in spite of its French name – are less
radical in the sense that they don’t
make their instruments rasp and bite,
but I would say no less imaginative.
With the help of a really lifelike recording
– the instruments truly seemed to be
in my listening room – the music just
leaps off the page. The quicker movements
all dance, where older and heavier
bands were apt to make them slog, while
in the dialogues between instruments
the phrases really answer each other.
In slow movements, on the other hand,
the music is made to speak. Once
again, it is notable – especially in
the Largo of RV87 – how much more romantic
this music sounds played with freedom
by a small original instruments group
than it ever did with larger bands who
were trying to put on baroque manners.
RV103 is treated as
a straightforward trio, without a keyboard
continuo added, and it sounds fascinating,
not least because the bassoonist really
relishes the sound of his instrument.
Il Giardino Armonico, another Italian
original instruments group, in a Brilliant
box, take the Largo of this concerto
more slowly and gravely, with the bassoon
playing delicately in the background
(they also opt for no keyboard continuo)
[review].
I enjoyed it both ways, but in the outer
movements the new recording wins, for
Il Giardino Armonico are just too fast
to make the music dance. In the Largo
of "Il tempesta di mare" there
are further passages where the bassoon
is left on its own as a continuo instrument
with the flute, suggestive, in this
context, of a duet between a mermaid
and a foghorn.
In the three cantatas,
Laura Polverelli has a splendidly rich
timbre, so much so that I almost took
her for a contralto; but later Vivaldi
sends her up to heights we don’t ask
of contraltos and she ascends them with
ease. Her lower notes are so splendidly
rich that I wish there had been more
of them. She is a musical, dedicated
singer who has clearly thought about
the words, her agilità and
intonation are unfailingly accurate,
but there is one aspect of her style
which some listeners may not care for.
In the big upward leaps, she joins the
notes with something which I would call,
not so much a portamento or even a slide,
as a whoop. To tell the truth,
Italian singers have never been very
convinced by the ultra-clean style preferred
by English or German baroque specialists,
and I am not suggesting that Polverelli
whoops because she doesn’t know any
better; obviously she feels that it
is a price worth paying for a less ascetic,
more warmly human approach. If you are
not sure whether you agree, try the
beginning of tracks 18 and 20 – for
some reason the third cantata recorded
here is particularly affected. For myself,
I rejoice in the sheer life of all these
performances, while just wishing (a
little bit) that she might whoop a spot
less. And oh, I nearly forgot: the music
is all magnificent, Vivaldi at his richest.
Christopher Howell
Laura Polverelli (mezzo-soprano)*, 
