Telemann’s Pastorelle en Musique
belongs to the sub-genre of the Shepherd
Play, a kind of Arcadian serenade. It
consists of twelve scenes provisionally
dated, on stylistic and other grounds,
to his Frankfurt years between 1712
and 1721. It was probably scenic and
celebratory in nature though the description
of "opera" has been appended
to it over the years. Whilst it’s not
operatic it certainly does contain elements
of the set-piece operatic aria. There
are opportunities for five solo singers
and two choirs (shepherds and shepherdesses).
Instrumentally we find that Telemann
employs, in addition to a full complement
of strings (and gamba), two trumpets,
horns and two oboes.
It’s to the conductor
of this recording Kirill Karabits that
we owe the rediscovery of this diverting
pastoral-cum-serenade, which he first
saw in a music library in Kiev in 2001.
He arranged for the score to be examined
in Germany and its confirmation as a
previously unknown work by Telemann
was followed by the difficult business
of arranging a performing edition.
It’s in some ways a
strangely constructed work since Telemann
adopted the prevailing custom of the
mixed style and of a multiple language
libretto: German and French. It was
often the case that in a work of this
kind the recitative was written in German
and the arias in French but Telemann
ploughs his own furrow and exercises
flexibility and freedom in language
selection, not least when it comes to
the choruses.
Whether it’s a Serenata,
serenade or quasi-opera Telemann writes
a score of delicious invention, lyric
impress and consistency. Fortunately
the ensemble has a firm and learned
lead from conductor Karabits who relishes
every twist and turn and demonstrates
a splendid sense of rhythmic drive into
the bargain. He has a good cast – I
suppose that Barbara Fink’s is the best-known
name – and one moreover that is consistent
throughout, though obviously some voices
are more adaptable than others.
In the Concerto opening
Telemann demonstrates – try from 5.20
onwards – his own very special brand
of nobility, one that one would most
readily attribute to Handel, but that
the older composer also possessed. His
recitatives are studded with imaginative
touches, such as the leaps in No.3 (O
zuckersüsse Lust) and he enlivens
the récit-aria schema with choruses
and ensembles. The Terzet (No.7) is
especially pleasing in that respect,
exciting, colourful, rhythmically propulsive,
with excellent work from the orchestra’s
lower strings and an elastic sense of
melody, much to the work’s advantage.
The arias are intelligently
taken. Finck is impressive as Iris whilst
Doerthe Maria Sandmann’s Caliste can
sound a touch pinched, as she does in
her No.8a recitative where her partner
Mathias Hausmann is appealingly bluff,
if not ideally clarion.
Telemann laced the
score with elements of rusticity and
you will enjoy the warmness of the slightly
angular and short aria Il n’est point
de bergère, nicely done by
Lydia Vierlinger and accompanied by
a delicious drone. Throughout in fact
we can admire the oboe and bassoon playing,
the mellow cello line – all audible
in Dir ahnet (No. 25) – and the
light and airy flute playing. The choral
benediction of the chorus Dormez
beaux yeux adds its own plangency.
It’s only in a duet such as No. 33 Wir
sind vergnügt that the
work comes close to a Handelian operatic
impulse and dynamism but elsewhere the
temperature is deliberately lowered,
though still warm enough for solos and
choruses to register with boldness and
vivacity.
This is a most worthwhile
discovery and presented with admirable
documentary thoroughness. Realised live
– you wouldn’t know it for most of the
time – it communicates with real élan
and scholarly intelligence, though it
has to be said pragmatic instinct. The
score is full of splendid touches, bubbling
winds and warm strings, brass firepower
reserved for necessary moments. The
singers are consistent and have fine
arias to work with, such as to banish
worries about the rather inert plot.
Texts are provided and the notes are
ambitiously thorough. This is one of
the best Capriccio releases I’ve reviewed
and reflects well on all concerned,
not least the inspiring Karabits.
Jonathan Woolf