This is Capella Stravagante’s
first CD. The booklet explains that
their name is borrowed from Vivaldi’s
concerto collection La Stravaganza
because they feature "an unusual,
extravagantly interpreted repertoire
… to take you on a journey through the
world of early music". It’s something
of a gimmick, but then, so was Vivaldi’s
use of the term for his Op.4 – "I’m
going to extravagant lengths to show
off here" – and other similar titles
for other collections.
In effect, Capella
Stravagante are offering a sampler or
showcase of their talents; to say that
they are throwing lots of mud against
the wall to see what sticks – a practice
much beloved of A-level and undergraduate
essay-writers – would be unkind, because
what they have to offer is far from
negligible, but I did feel that their
"direct juxtaposition of very disparate
text settings" was less of a virtue
than the booklet claims.
The short Vivaldi piece
which opens the CD – pastoral in tone,
though usually included in programmes
of his sacred music – and the longer
religious work which closes it do more
than anchor the programme: they set
the tone for it – pastoral and courtly
music interspersed with some instrumental
items, a short moralistic piece by a
member of the Bach family at its heart
and another in which the storm of God’s
most righteous anger is turned to joy
at the end.
All but three of these
pieces feature the soprano Kathrin Freyburg.
That she is an accomplished singer there
is no doubt, but her voice is something
of an acquired taste and it is not well
suited to some of the pieces here. She
tends to turn on the big guns too much,
though she is capable of some delicate
singing, as in the opening Canta
in Prato. This song of pleasure,
written as an introduzione to
Dixit Dominus, gives its name
to the whole collection; even here and
certainly elsewhere I could wish to
hear more of the laughing, exulting,
pleasant and happy voice to which the
text refers – and which Freyburg partly
evokes – Canta in prato ride in fonte
… læta in monte/vox respondeat
exsultando .. Vox lætitiæ.
The second piece, Pastime
with Good Company, starts well,
with the same lightness apparent. Soon,
however, the big guns come out and the
lightness of "all goodly sport"
is lost. It isn’t a matter of tempo:
all three English songs are taken at
a goodly pace; it’s more a matter of
trying too hard, as it were through
gritted teeth, to get it right.
Greensleeves
is sung with just the right degree of
wistfulness but, again, there is also
a hint of trying to put more into the
music than it will take, especially
at the end of the second stanza. In
the three 16th-century English
pieces she tries to produce an ‘authentic’
pronunciation which, as usual with singers
who attempt this, comes out as some
kind of Mummerset – though not as bad
as some attempts which I have heard.
We can make a very good guess at the
pronunciation of Chaucer but we know
too little about the speed at which
the pure vowels of late Middle English
became the diphthongs of early Modern
English to try to reproduce the pronunciation
of late 15th-century and
16th-century and, lover of
authenticity though I am, it is particularly
unwise for someone to attempt it whose
first language is not English.
I have retained the
booklet’s description of Greensleeves
as a folksong, though I have added a
? because I am by no means convinced
that it is. Its first appearance, in
A Handful of Pleasant Delights in
1584 described it as a courtly sonnet.
What is almost beyond doubt is that
the traditional ascription to Henry
VIII is incorrect.
The booklet refers
to the words of Blow thy Horn, Hunter
as "somewhat ambiguous", which
might seem to imply that we cannot know
what Cornyshe was getting at. In fact,
the ‘hidden’ meaning is perfectly plain
– the stricken deer which the hunter
pursues is the lover at whom he aims.
"If you lust to have a shot / I
warrant her barrain" is part of
the double-entendre: on one level, the
hunter will not be breaking any of the
laws of venery, as he would be if he
shot a pregnant doe (‘barrain’ = barren,
not pregnant); on another level, the
courtly lover may pursue the girl, since
she is fair game. This hunting/love
parallel is confirmed by analogy with
Thomas Wyatt’s poem "Who so list
to hount, I knowe where is an hynde",
where the hind in question, with a collar
round her neck reading "Noli
me tangere, for Cesars I ame; /
And wylde for to hold, though I seme
tame" is generally believed to
be Anne Boleyn. The German translator,
none other than Kathrin Freyburg herself,
puzzled by the word ‘barrain’, renders
it as ‘Beute (?)’ and so she misunderstands
an important part of the poem. There
are other, smaller, misunderstandings
in the German translation of the other
English texts. There is an online vocal
score
of Blow thy Horn.
Apart from a Gaudeamus
CD of Cornysh’s secular music, most
recent recordings and reissues of early
Tudor music have been of sacred works.
Valuable as these are – the reissues
on Coro of music from the Eton Songbook
especially – we need more recordings
of the secular music of this period.
There used to be two excellent Saga
recordings, Music for a Tudor King
and Music for Henry VIII, performed
by the Hilliard Ensemble. These reappeared
fitfully on one of the CD reincarnations
of the Saga label; their reissue (by
Regis?) would be very welcome.
The instrumentalists
accompany well throughout – neither
too prominent nor too reticent – and
they come into their own with a suitably
melancholy rendition of the Holborne
and sprightly accounts of two dances
from Prætorius’s Terpsichore,
the latter worthy to stand beside the
now-classic Munrow and Pickett accounts,
though the choice of instruments makes
them sound different from both. I wondered
at first at the inclusion of a guitar
in the instrumental line-up but it makes
a reasonable substitute for the more
usual member(s) of the lute family.
These three instrumental
items may whet the listener’s appetite
for more, in which case both Munrow
and Pickett in the Prætorius may
be highly recommended. The Pickett,
last seen on Decca Oiseau-Lyre 414 633-2
seems to be currently unavailable –
pending reissue, surely: how about it,
Australian Eloquence? Alternatively,
perhaps, it could be a candidate for
the new mid-price reissue series on
Oiseau-Lyre, recently launched with
some promising material. (Mark
Sealey recently favourably reviewed
its appearance from Arkiv on CDR.) The
Munrow comes on a Virgin Veritas 2-CD
set with Morley and Susato – remember
Ken Russell’s film The Devils,
where this performance of the Susato
provided the title music? – on 3 50003
2 at around £8.50 in the UK. The version
on Regis RRC1076,
with the Prætorius Consort, is
even better value. I play this delightful
version, coupled with dance music by
Arbeau, Labranzi, Holborne and Demantius,
more often even than the Munrow or Pickett
versions: 77 minutes of sheer delight.
The J M Bach and the
final Vivaldi piece come out best from
Freyburg’s approach. If she sounds rather
earnest in the Bach, that is not inappropriate
for J S Bach’s 17th-century
Lutheran uncle’s – and father-in-law’s
– setting of the advantages of pious
contentment with one’s lot, a text part
of which is familiar from the Anglican
Funeral service: "We brought nothing
into this world and it is certain we
can carry nothing out." J M Bach
was both organist and town clerk at
Gehren, a quiet and modest man by all
accounts, whose workmanlike music comes
over well here.
The Monteverdi pieces
come from the Scherzi Musicali a
tre voci (1607, though mostly written
earlier) some of which, despite the
title, are settings for solo soprano.
Despite appropriate tempi, lively for
Clori amorosa and pensive for
Dolci miei sospiri, these sit
less happily on Freyburg’s voice, which
would be better suited, perhaps, to
some of Monteverdi’s operatic roles:
those seeking a recommendable set of
the Scherzi would do better with
the collection on Naxos 8.553317. Better
still, if your collection lacks examples
of Monteverdi’s more mature style in
the later books of madrigals, especially
Book VIII, go for one of these, preferably
Alessandrini’s recent mid-price 3-CD
set: I thoroughly endorse Glyn Pursglove’s
recent enthusiastic review
of this set.
The lively Rosetta,
che Rosetta comes out well and the
more overtly dramatic (operatic, even)
Scarlatti piece benefits much more from
Freyburg’s approach; there is real variety
in the voice here, with more than a
hint of the melancholy which Emma Kirkby
captures so well in this kind of repertoire,
in the aria Dove sei.
The Vivaldi In furore,
too, comes over well, with the voice
matching the furious orchestral introduction,
reminiscent of the Tempesta di mare
concerto, then softening in the next
section. I could have wished for a lighter
approach when tears finally warm the
joyful heart and in the concluding Alleluia.
Deborah York on Volume 2 of Hyperion’s
complete Vivaldi Sacred Music (CDA66779
or on the complete bargain-price 11-CD
package, CDS44171-81, a little over
£60 in the UK) shows how this piece
should be sung.
The recording throughout
is good, though the rather forward placing
of the soloist perhaps contributes to
my sense of too ‘large’ a vocal presence.
The booklet is adequate,
though it does not, for example, give
the RV numbers of the Vivaldi items.
Nor does it specify the provenance of
the three Monteverdi items. The texts
are given first in their original language
then, where necessary, in German and
English translation. I have already
mentioned some inaccuracies in the German
versions but the English translations
seem sound enough.
This is a promising
first outing on CD. If Kathrin Freyburg
can concentrate less in future on trying
to produce an ‘impressive’ sound and
on such things as attempting to pronounce
early-16th-century English,
instead just enjoying the music and
letting it speak for itself, I look
forward to hearing their future discs.
Perhaps the next outing should be in
some more dramatic material – Monteverdi
or Handel arias, maybe?
Brian Wilson
Capella Stravagante (Kathrin Freyburg
(soprano); Katrin Hagitte (flute, chamber
organ); Julia Prigge (violin); Margit
Reinicke (violin); Stefano Macor (viola);
Laurie Randolph (viola da gamba, guitar
and percussion); Reinhard Eger (cello);
Christian Hagitte (harpsichord)) 
