Traduction".
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You know that old adage about waiting an age for a bus and then two coming along at once ... Prior to the past month, there did exist a few recordings of Heinrich Ignaz Franz von Biber's 1681 Violin Sonatas that one would naturally, gladly reach for, but they were neither plentiful nor recent. I'm thinking particularly of those by Andrew Manze's Romanesca and Monica Huggett's Sonnerie (Manze being my favourite, for his heart-filled panache). Yet suddenly, not only do we have Rachel Podger now turning to them as a follow-up to her 2016 Gramophone Award-winning Rosary Sonatas but this has dropped a mere fortnight after the release of Bojan C?i?ic´'s own new recording of them. Did Biber's ghost have a hand in this? Either way, if a Podger/C?i?ic´ double-act can't raise the set up to Rosary-level notoriety, then surely nothing will.
Clearly this review has to be written within the context of C?i?ic´. What's nice, though, is that the two albums are in fact quite different. Programming-wise, C?i?ic´'s is a double CD containing the complete set - eight sonatas, as well as the two separate sonatas in A major and E major. He doesn't include the Sonata representativa, a suite of animal imitations which may have been Biber's own or may have been his copy of a 'birdsong' work that Schmelzer is known to have promised a patron. Podger does include it - in a natural, graceful reading, its theatre striking but unforced - together with Sonatas Nos 5, 1, 2, 6 and 3, ordered non-sequentially so as to alternate between minor- and major-key works.
Different continuo decisions have also been made. Podger's Brecon Baroque constellation features a gamba, whereas C?i?ic´'s Illyria Consort has no bowed continuo. She's gone for theorbo/baroque guitar and archlute, he for theorbo and harp. A somewhat honking generalisation might therefore be that the overall Brecon Baroque sound often has a slightly twangier bristle, to The Illyria Consort's rounder warmth. Brecon Baroque's plucked instruments also feel immediate but not quite so far forwards in the level. Extending broad-brushstroke comparisons to Podger and C?i?ic´ themselves, Podger has a more slenderly silvery sound; she tends to bring more embellishment, earlier; a striking colouring device of hers is a strong waver to her curve.
But enough of comparisons. What you most need to know is that Podger and her gang serve up kaleidoscopically imaginative pleasure after pleasure here. Her preludes come with especial composed-as-it-goes freedom, often with a really mercurial otherworldliness to her phrasing and metre, contrasted with crisply rhythmic, deliciously point-yourtoes dances. To name some personal favourite moments, try the Adagio third variation of No 5's concluding Aria: Podger's mournful piano delicacy as Marcin S´wia?tkiewicz, her sole companion, sprinkles the most sparing of harpsichord stardust around her, movingly superglued to her side. Or the bracing beat she sets and holds over No 6's darkly, neatly lilting Gavotta, its minor tonality paired initially with organ, on to which an increasingly intricate and passionate continuo tapestry is then gradually layered.
Presumably a second album will follow to complete the set. I for one can't wait. As for who to pick in the meantime between Podger and C?i?ic´, don't ask me to make that call. I choose both. |
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