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Reviewer: Bertil
van Boer Michel-Richard de Lalande (1657–1726, with spelling variations of his name) was one of those professional composers at the court of Louis XIV who achieved a reputation despite being contemporaries of luminaries such as Marc-Antoine Charpentier and Jean-Baptiste Lully. His main focus was on the motet, of which he wrote a huge number of both large (grands) and small (petite). Indeed, he was responsible for many years for composing sacred music during the last quarter of the year, which included the Christmas season, a time of especially active musical entertainments (see my review of his Leçons in this issue for a look at his Lenten music for Holy Week). He apparently achieved this position following a competition in 1683 wherein the King himself chose Lalande’s setting of Beati quorum, a rather gnarly psalm text. Up to that point he had a more tenuous connection with the French court, functioning as an organist within shouting distance of Versailles. Once his reputation as a church composer was established, he also became the tutor of Louis’s daughters, and in 1689, after Lully’s death, was appointed as the superintendent of chamber music when the sinecure was removed from Lully’s family for incompetence. In 1714 he achieved his final and most prestigious post, maître de la chapelle royale, which he held until his death. Far from being a second banana in the rich musical world that surrounded the court of Louis, he rose to become a major player and one who wrote a rather vast amount of popular music, both sacred and secular. It was probably about 1690 or perhaps a bit earlier that he turned his attention towards instrumental works, including the six pieces probably intended for the Souper du Roy, a public event held once each week. During this formal occasion, various courtiers and public invitees were privileged to watch the King eat a late supper about 10:00 pm, consisting of a rather huge number of dishes, each brought in with appropriate ceremony. As the audience watched silently, the King ate and, occasionally would speak to one or another or even allow them to serve him. Even more rarely, he would condescend to have one as a table guest. All the while the service ceremony was going on his musicians would be performing music, generally dance-derived suites that the King favored. The performances would include an ensemble drawn from his Chapelle, generally with music especially composed. Lalande wrote a substantial number of these works, which he generically titled as “Symphonies,” though of course one should not equate them with the later genre that developed in the 1730s. These are various suites that have music drawn from the more traditional Baroque suite structure of alternating fast and slow dances. As these were imperial pieces, it was only fitting that they be published, beginning in 1703 with a volume of 10 suites, many of them quite extensive in terms of the number of movements. He then continued to create collections of these works, but unfortunately, the majority are in a short score format, which means that his original instrumentation is only haphazardly given. To produce this disc of six of these suites, harpsichordist Jörg Jacobi adapted the occasional references to provide a simulacrum of what might have been served up musically along with soup, roast, and dessert at one of these events. The result is salutary. Jacobi recreates the five-part textures systematically, varying the instrumentation according to the original sources and wherever Lalande provided some clues. This allows for the pomp and circumstance of the suppers to be reconstructed, and yet also embodies the finely detailed nuances that music at Louis’s court contained. The pieces are all arranged according to suites of Baroque dances, regardless of the fact that they were musical wallpaper, since this was Louis’s musical preference. The shortest contains two movements of variable tempos, but was for all that the work “that the King continually demands” (que le Roy demandoit souvent). I cannot fathom the reason that this short work attracted the King’s attention, but then again I am not Louis. Certainly, the ostinato opening provides a softer and even mesmerizing set of variations that might go well with a supper. Here the orchestration, rich in oboes and bassoons, gives a full texture, and the short faster middle section seems rather more royal in its scurrying tempo, lending a picture of fastidious servants clearing off the latest course and serving the next to the final softer, lyrical strains of a solo bassoon and viol. The other works are equally appropriate, so I can’t quite see why Louis preferred this one. In the Third Suite, for instance, the final “Grand Passacaille” is a stately theme and variations that evolves gracefully and imaginatively, with a slight minor-key tinge at the beginning. The First Caprice’s opening with festive timpani is a grand entrance march. In short, this is music fit for a state occasion. In reconstructing the full score from the surviving short, abbreviated orchestration has been a huge task by Jörg Jacobi, harpsichordist of the ensemble. The music is probably as close to Lalande’s original as I might imagine, and it fits the mood and function of these suites. The performance by the Eblipolis orchestra gives it the appropriate gravitas, and the sound is lush and brilliant where it needs to be. This is Royal French Music as it ought to be, resurrecting the vibrant civilized culture that Louis sought to engender at his court. This is a must have for any French or Baroque music lover of the finer tastes in life. | |
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