Given
that Seixas was a younger colleague of Domenico Scarlatti
- who was some nineteen years older - at the Royal Chapel
in Lisbon for several years in the 1720s, and given that
he too wrote a substantial series of keyboard sonatas, it
has often been assumed that Seixas’s music was essentially
modelled on that of the older Italian. That is too simple
a point of view and does less than justice to Seixas.
When
a mere fourteen years old, Seixas became organist of the
Cathedral in his birthplace Coimbra, in succession to his
father. Only two years later, in 1720 he was summoned to
Lisbon, as organist at the Royal Chapel, a post he held until
his early death.
One
early authority on Seixas, the Biblioteca Lusitana of
1747, says that he composed over 700 keyboard sonatas; Seixas
seems to have used the terms sonata and toccata with little
or no difference of meaning. Less than a hundred now survive – none
of them in autograph manuscripts. Perhaps the famous Lisbon
earthquake of 1755 destroyed manuscripts of many sonatas?
For
a number of reasons, including this absence of original manuscripts,
Seixas’s compositions cannot be dated. A series such as this,
which will seek to record the complete Harpsichord Sonatas
cannot, therefore, adopt a chronological approach. Déborah
Halász and Naxos seem wisely to have decided, on the evidence
of this first volume, to make each album a kind of miniature
anthology, mixing work of different styles and lengths. It’s
along the same lines as Gilbert Rowland’s collections of
Soler’s Sonatas for harpsichord, also on Naxos.
Naturally,
there are moments when one hears similarities to Scarlatti – in,
for example, the opening allegro of No.27, a rapid piece
with wide leaps, the presto which opens No.34, or the first
movement – another allegro – of No.10. But elsewhere on this
first CD in the series there are movements that sound more
like anticipations of C.P.E. Bach, as in the minuets that
form the second movements of Nos. 18 and 27. None of these
suggestions are made with any intention of denying that Seixas
has a musical personality of his own. Rather they are used
as reference points in trying to get a sense of that personality – which
seems to occupy a kind of subliminal territory at the transition
from what we think of as Scarlatti’s manner to that of the
proto-classicism of the mid-Eighteenth Century. It is significant
that where Scarlatti was largely content to work in single-movement
forms, Seixas seems equally happy to construct sonatas in
two, three and four movements. At times - e.g. No. 18 – he
seems to be working on the model of the baroque suite; at
other times – e.g. No. 57 - we seem to be on the way to
the three-movement classical sonata.
There
is some technically demanding writing here – but then Seixas
was apparently a considerable virtuoso himself. Sonata No.
50, with its chromatic progressions and incisive rhythms
makes many demands on the soloist; so does No. 19, with its
rapid crossing of hands. Déborah Halász seems largely unabashed
by these difficulties and unafraid to set herself some very
rapid tempos.
Seixas
is - for his period - uncommonly fond of minor keys and their
use gives a distinctive quality to some of his slower movements,
in particular. All in all, there is much to admire and enjoy
here.
Déborah
Halász plays what is described as “a copy of a 1734 Hass
harpsichord, built by Lutz Werum in Germany”. Is the original
perhaps the instrument of that date made by Hieronymus Albrecht
Hass of Hamburg, which is now in the Brussels Museum of Musical
Instruments? Certainly it is a fine-sounding instrument,
the resources of which Halász exploits with understanding
and sensitivity.
This
is a promising start to a very worthwhile project, and I
look forward to future volumes. And what an attractive cover – a
view of Coimbra by the English watercolourist James Holland.
Glyn Pursglove
Débora Halász
(harpsichord) 
