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Reviewer: Brian
Robins
There can be little doubt that
this, the first complete recording of Selva morale e spirituale, is one of
the major releases of 2001. In collecting for publication nearly 40 of the
sacred works he had composed in his capacity as maestro di cappella of St.
Mark's, Venice, it is difficult to escape the conclusion that the aging
Monteverdi was making a statement. As much as the Mass in B Minor, the
publication of the Selva morale in 1640 can surely only be viewed as a
testament in which the composer is addressing posterity. "This," he seems to
be saying, "represents the summation of my life's work in the field of
sacred music." The contents certainly support such a conclusion. In the
publication Monteverdi included examples of every genre of sacred music in
which he had worked, from an a cappella Mass and Magnificat in the old prima
prattica polyphonic style, to concerted psalm settings, sacred madrigals,
and virtuoso solo motets, all in the modern, seconda prattica idiom he had
himself done so much to establish.
Recordings of individual works
from the Selva morale are hardly rare, but you have to go back some way for
substantial selections, and as far as 1967 to find a previous set with any
claim to completeness. That was first released as an eight-LP set on Erato
under the direction of Michel Corboz, and omitted only the four-part a
cappella Mass. During the 1980s, the pioneering work of Corboz was
supplemented by several single discs of excerpts, most notably those of
Parrott (EMI), Bernius (Pantheon), and Christie (Harmonia Mundi). Since then
Monteverdi's great compilation seems to have been consigned to limbo,
consistently thrust aside by the ubiquitous 1610 Vespers, with only A Sei
Voci's disc (reviewed by J. F. Weber in 22:2) including more than the odd
work. It is necessary, therefore, to make the point that in the current
climate this is not only a hugely important undertaking, but a brave one for
which Harmonia Mundi deserves unreserved approbation. Before looking at the discs individually, a couple of general points: First, in accordance with Cantus Cölln's usual practice, all the works are performed with a single voice per part (as they also are on Christie's disc and, with a couple of exceptions, Parrott's). This decision will doubtless raise the ire of those who will point to the substantially greater number of forces Monteverdi had available to him at St. Mark's for larger-scale pieces in the stile concertato, or those scored for a cappella groups. By way of compensation (and again in contrast to Parrott and Christie, who go for viols), Junghänel has opted for the alternative of trombones in the appropriate works, which add much color and weight where required.
Second, the order in which the
works are performed. Many of them are psalms belonging to Vespers, so discs
1 and 3 have been arranged to take some account of the sequence in which
they occur in the Liturgy. That leaves the second disc for works that do not
have Vespers connota-tions. This seems to me a sensible arrangement, since,
as Junghänel points out in his ancillary note, Monteverdi would certainly
not have expected the collection to have been performed either all together,
or in anything like publication order (which, for those interested, is
printed at the beginning of the booklet provided with the set).
Disc 1. Three of the most
imposing concerted pieces in the Selva morale are included on the first
disc, the powerfully rhetorical Dixit Dominus seconde, Beatus vir primo, one
of the most popular works in the collection, and the superbly resplendent
Magnificat a 8, in itself almost a distillation of the devices employed by
Monteverdi in seconda prattica style. Anyone nervous that the single-voice
approach might diminish the impact of these works need go no further than
the concerted entry at "sede a dextris" in Dixit Dominus to learn that such
fears are groundless. Indeed, so graphically incisive is the impact of the
performance of this colorful "series of tableaux" (Jerome Roche) that the
effect is quite overwhelming. I'm not quite as happy with Beatus vir, where
the memorable vitality of the opening and repeated closing sections are
marred by a tempo that is just a bit too fast, leading to some rather
gabbled words at times. However, the central part (from "Jocundus") comes
off with a nice "swing," and the peroration has enormous breadth and depth.
As published, the Magnificat for two four-part choirs has the alto and bass
parts for the second choir missing; there is no attribution for the
reconstruction, which there should have been. Otherwise, there can be few
complaints, the performance encapsulating the vivid contrast, sweep, and
drama of this stunning work to near-ideal effect. The climax, driving
forward from the extraordinary passage on the words "recordatus miser-cordiae
suae," is superlatively controlled by Junghänel.
Among the smaller pieces are
the two exquisite settings of the Marian antiphon Salve Regina, one for
three voices (ATB), the other for two, here sung in the alternative for
sopranos rather than tenors. Hearing them in close proximity provides a
wonderful example of Monteverdi's ability to set the same words exploiting
quite different affetti; the three-part piece concentrates on expressive
word-painting, while the duet concentrates on the sensual color obtainable
from two similar voices. Closely allied is the remarkable Salve Regina, Audi
caelum, a florid duet for tenor with echoing voice and an expressive
obbligato part for two violins. Wilfried Jochens sings the principal part
with great power and conviction, the ardent outpouring of the opening
section well contrasted with the more supplicatory mood that succeeds, the
dissonant darkening at gementes et fentes (mourning and weeping) very
telling.
Disc 2. The earlier part is
devoted to the three madrigale morale and two conzonette morale. The
five-part madrigals are in the late continuo style of Book 8 of the secular
madrigals, the Madrigali guerrieri ed amorosi (1638). They include the two
magnificent Petrarch settings, O ciechi, ciechi and Voi eh 'ascolte, the
former in particular one of the quintessential examples of its type. Here
startling changes of tempo and mood, solos, the stile concitato, and echo
effects are all distilled into an extraordinary three and a half minutes.
The three-voice strophic conzonette are ostensibly lighter, but at the same
time take full advantage of the textural ambivalence summed up by the
refrain of Chi vol che m 'innamori: "Today we laugh, and then tomorrow we
shall weep," words (and music) that take on an almost unbearable added
poignancy as I write a couple of days after the unspeakable terrorist attack
on the US. The performances of all five of these works are outstanding, one
of the highlights of the set.
Nonliturgical mode is
preserved in the following Pianta della Madonna, the sacred contrafactum of
the famous lament of Ariadne from Monteverdi's lost opera Arianna. The
performance by Johanna Koslowsky is one of the few real disappointments of
the set since—although she sings with sensitivity—Koslowsky's hooty upper
register is here at its most exposed. Neither is the voice at all times
under control, leaving this performance trailing some way behind those of
Emma Kirkby and Maria Cristina Kiehr. Neither, I fear, am I very taken with
Junghänel's performance of the beautiful four-part a cappella Mass,
Monteverdi's return, albeit updated, to the old polyphonic style. I simply
cannot believe that the composer intended this work to be given with single
voices, the employment of which leads the conductor into excesses of tempo
that at times (the opening Kyrie, for example) reduce the music to the
perfunctory. This a fault I've noticed before with this director, who I
suspect is at times led astray by the sheer technical brilliance and
expertise of his ensemble. There are two other a cappella pieces on this
disc, the psalm settings Credidi (verses from Psalm 116), and Momento Domine
David (Psalm 132). But these are quite different, double-choir (cori
spezzati) settings that demand a rich, euphonious texture amply conveyed by
Cantus Colin. And I cannot leave this abundantly diverse disc without
mention of the profoundly moving singing of the short, darkly dissonant
Crucifixus a 4, one of three Mass movements in the Selva morale from what
may have been a mass of thanksgiving composed in 1631 to mark the end of the
plague epidemic in Venice.
Disc 3. The final disc opens
with the famous Gloria a 7, and the eight-part Dixit Dominus primo, two of
the largest works in the collection. The performance of the Gloria opens
with flamboyantly dancing rhythms that give way to an "Et in terra" of
majestic sonority and breadth, a striking contrast reversed at "Gratias,"
where the massive block harmony gives way to the tenors's florid burst of
energy at the words "gloriam tuam." At "Qui tollis," the more devotional
mood is effectively caught. An enthralling performance, fully comparable
with Christie's equally impressive reading of the work. Dixit, like its
companion an eight-part setting, again relies on strong contrast, in this
instance the repetition of text by the full body after its initial statement
by solo voices. I'm none too happy about Koslowsky's opening, but thereafter
the majestic text is delivered with authority and rhetorical power,
broadening out spectacularly to a great paean at its conclusion. The
five-part settings of Beatus vir secondo and Laudate pueri secondo were
clearly designed to be complementary. Both are closely woven contrapuntal
tapestries that feature much madrigalian imitative writing, the kind of
music in which Cantus Colin excel, and they do so here.
Of the three solo motets on
this disc, the joyously extroverted Laudate Dominum in Sanctis ejus is given
a splendidly affirmative performance by tenor Hans Jörg Memmel, while
Stephen Macleod achieves astonishing feats in the depths of the bass
register with the wonderful passage from Proverbs 8, Ab aeterno ordinato sum
(I was set up from everlasting). Macleod's rock-firm tone and vivid
characterization of this evocation of the Creation make this another of the
set's absolute highlights. Finally: the Magnificat seconda, another return
not only to the polyphonic style of Ůíq prima prattica, but the old practice
of setting the polyphony in alternatum with plainsong. Unlike Rinaldo
Alessandrini (Opus 111), Junghänel has not taken account of the chiavette
scoring to transpose the work down, employing an SSAT lineup that gives much
of it an ethereal, luminescent quality. After so much brilliance, the simple
plainsong Amen that brings not just the Magnificat but the set to a close
somehow seems a singularly appropriate conclusion to Monteverdi's great
enterprise. The sound quality is exceptionally spacious and clear, with good balance between voices and instruments. There are also excellent, succinct (possibly too succinct) notes by Peter Wollny. Final thoughts? Well, as I've made clear, the set is no more perfect than one would expect from such a huge enterprise. Looked at retrospectively, might there not be places where German precision could have benefited from an injection of Italian flair and warmth? Yes, I think there may well be. But none of that is going to stop me hailing this as a major achievement, a set that has in turn thrilled, uplifted, and moved me in full measure. It should, nay, demands to be in every Monteverdi collection.
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