You want this CD. You don’t know it yet, and I’ll try and explain
why later, but you really do want this CD – trust
me, I’m a musician ...
That glib and contradictory phrase ‘expect the unexpected’ applies
to the ECM label as it applies to almost no other; it certainly
applies to this CD. Nuove Musiche is a state of
mind, the conception of new artistic expression as it was
thought of by a motley collective of scholars, artists
and philosophers in Florence at the beginning of the 17th
century. The prevailing style of music was declared to
be moribund, and the ‘Camerata Fiorentina’ as they called
themselves, changed musical history single-handed. The
music on this recording is based on the works of composers
who were inspired by this new attitude, and if the names
Kapsberger, Pellegrini, Piccinini, Narváez, Frescobaldi
and Gianoncelli mean anything to you then you are still in
for a surprise.
Rolf Lislevand has created his own Camerata Fiorentina and,
with a few basic rules, thrown the window wide open on
the constantly evolving but sometimes stiffly stifling
conventions of early music performance practice. I have
always been brought up to appreciate sympathy with the
materials one employs in whatever artistic pursuit one
may be involved in: you can push the boundaries of course,
but if, you are binding a book, it should still be useful
as a book, no matter how decorative or extravagant the
cover. Reading Lislevand’s ‘manifesto’ on performing I
find myself in agreement with everything he says, especially: ‘The
proper colour and language of a musical style are intimately
related to the specific properties of the instrument used.’ I
like someone who calls a spade a spade – even someone who
calls a spade a handheld short-range loam transportation
unit, just as long as he makes beautiful shovels. In early
music terms Lislevand is of course re-stating some fairly
obvious things, but when a recording like this suddenly
leaps out and becomes the only thing you want to hear for
a fortnight then a little artistic clarification is useful.
So, what are we to make of what he makes of it all? Improvisation
is partly the name of the game here, and is the essence
of this ensemble’s freshness of approach. ECM’s association
with brilliantly improvising jazz musicians is well established,
and there are moments on this recording which are almost
combo crumpet. Just listen to track 12, the Passacaglia
Cantata - the groove in that bass part, and the licks
that go over it. Baroque and early music are the only ‘classical’ music
forms which are in agreement with this kind of intellectually
controlled freedom, having this in common with jazz, where
the qualities of the player are equal to, sometimes even
greater than, the qualities in the original composition.
I leave aside modern compositions which tap into ‘gesture’ as
an art form, but which all too often are the lazy or misguided
solution to a lack of content.
Lislevand makes an interesting and valid point: ‘To interpret an existing
work is to position oneself at a precise moment in history
(which) normally entails beginning where the last imagined
performance left off ... Reproducing the same performance
merely replicates a past performance rather than producing
a new and unheard one.’ Lislevand goes on to place the
reality of performing in its modern context, with the associations
living within its performers, and the realities of modern
spaces and technologies. There is no point trying to throw
up the dust of the past in an attempt to mould it into
the re-creation of a long lost art. Far better to use the
abilities and knowledge of talented and well-informed musicians
to use the sources of the past to inform the ears of the
present.
Where does this leave us? If you like Andrew Lawrence-King’s ‘Harp
Consort’ then you’ll like this. If you enjoy well written
pop music – a bit of Sting for instance, then you will
find yourself wanting this as well – sample bass lead tracks
12 and 13 if you want to hear what I mean. If there’s a
corner of your brain that is haunted by Laraaji’s ‘Day
of Radiance’ or the good bits in Steve Reich’s ‘Electric
Counterpoint’, or Nigel Kennedy’s solo in the Adagio of ‘Autumn’ on
his 1997 EMI recording, then there are enough moments here
to float at least part of your boat. If you can swing to
Paco de Lucía’s guitar or have a strange attraction to
Uri Caine’s surrealist fusions then you will be interested
in what is going on here, and will find yourself pressing ‘play’ again
as soon as the last notes have faded away. I’m not suggesting
that the music here is really like any of these
other artist’s work – just that there are some parts of
my brain which are teased in similar ways by what is going
on here. Take the first track, Arpeggiata addio,
whose yearning, suspended dissonances are threaded by a
peculiar scraping percussion, which tickles the folds in
your cerebellum like some benign insect while mellifluous
plucked strings and a soaring voice make your own heart
race in a flood of joy to be alive. How many CDs do you
have in your collection which provide this service?
A beautifully timed pairing follows, with the solo baroque
guitar Passacaglia antica I leading straight into
the understated but driving percussion rhythms and flying
improvisation in Passacaglia andaluz I. The individual
colour of the clavichord is an unusual and valued contribution
to the sound of this music, being particularly evident
in the Passacaglia cromatica and elsewhere. I suspect
its soft sound has been boosted in the mix a little, but
who cares about that; or the extra reverb for that matter.
Rich harmonic progressions or richly arranged-for simple
ones are vital factors in making this music so effective.
Listen to the variety in the Passacaglia antica III which
leads into the Passacaglia cantus firmus, both with
a lonely guitar opening which spreads out into a shimmering
ocean of strings in the former, and kicking into an irresistible
singing-swinging number in the latter. Passacaglia celtica has
an almost Irish folk-like quality, and if you want to know
where Purcell had some of his ideas from, the following Passacaglia
spontanea will give you food for thought. I’m not so
sure about the random sounding percussion and bicycle bells
in this last piece, but it’s a Nordic thing – they can’t
help it, and I pardon them. Arianna Savall’s singing voice
is pure and used sparingly – all to the greater effect
when it does appear. The one and only appearance of the
portativo organ in the Ciaconna is sheer magic,
and I am a great fan of Lislevand’s arrangements in general,
increasingly appreciating all those subtle instrumental
touches each time I hear them anew.
No criticisms then? Well, it is a bit short at a little
more than 50 minutes, but there is so much going on here
that it’s
easy to find yourself willing the thing to finish so that
you can play it all over again. I suspect that there are
very few of you out there that will dislike the actual
recording, which is of course up to ECM’s usual immaculately
succulent standards. Possibly only of those among you who
insist on sitting in the dark listening to Furtwängler’s Ring cycle
(in mono) again during Prom season will turn your noses
up, but I’m not trying to convert lost causes. You really want
this CD – I’m telling you, but you don’t really want as
much as need it – you’ll certainly find yourself
taking a fix on a regular basis once you have it!
Dominy
Clements
Rolf Lislevand
(archlute, baroque guitar, theorbo) 
