Harpsichord News

John Collins has been playing and researching early keyboard music for over 35 years, with special interests in the English, Italian, and Iberian repertoires. He has contributed many articles and reviews to several American and European journals, including The Diapason, and has been organist at St. George’s, Worthing, West Sussex, England for almost 26 years.

In 2010 there are several composers for organ from the 16th to 18th centuries whose anniversaries can be commemorated, albeit only some of the dates are certain. Many of the names listed here will not be well known, but their compositions are well worth exploring and many are suitable for both liturgical and recital use. Although the dances and variations were destined primarily for the harpsichord and clavichord, they would have also been played on the domestic chamber organ—even performance on a church organ can sound most effective when using carefully selected stops based on clarity, rather than thick diapasons. From the 16th century onwards, publishers had an eye for commercial exploitation and frequently included multiple instrumental possibilities on the title pages! This list makes no claim to completeness, but the compiler has copies of almost everything here, although it is entirely possible that some items are out of print and would have to be consulted in libraries.

Antonio de Cabezón (1510–66). Leading 16th-century Spanish composer for keyboard. Several of his works (including 14 tientos, some 15 hymns, and two short diferencias or variations) were published in Venegas de Henestrosa’s Libro de Cifra Nueva (1557), which includes important comments on performance practice, including ornaments and fingering; modern edition by Higinio Anglés in two volumes (Groen’s catalogue mentions a reprint in four volumes) for Monumentos de la Música Española. The posthumous Obras de Música para Tecla, Arpa y Vihuela, published by his son Hernando in 1578 (which also includes invaluable comments on performance practice), contains much liturgical music; after four duos and five pieces in three parts headed “for beginners,” there follow 11 hymns, sets of four versos, four fabordones, six (on the second, third and fifth tones) or seven verses on the Magnificats, and four Kyries on each of the eight tones, in addition to 14 tientos, nine diferencias, a setting of Duinsela, and over 40 glosadas (intabulations) in up to six parts, including four by Hernando, one by Juan de Cabezón, and one anonymous. A modern edition in three volumes excluding the glosadas is edited by Anglés and published by Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas. A new edition is in preparation, edited by Claudio Astronio for Ut Orpheus. The glosadas have been edited by Maria Ester Sala for Union Musical Ediciones. A few pieces in MS 242 at Coimbra published in Portugaliae Musica Vol. XIX have tentatively been assigned to de Cabezón, although the ascription to A.C. may well have meant Antonio Carreira, the leading Portuguese organist of the 16th century.

Ercole Pasquini (ca. 1560–1620). Organist in Verona and Rome, from which post he was apparently dismissed in 1608. He left over 30 pieces in MSS (none autograph), including six toccatas (some with interesting rhythmic patterns in the note groupings), ten canzonas, one fuga, sets of variations including Ruggiero, two on Romanesca and two Pass è Mezzi, an intabulation of Ancor che co’l partire, a sonata, a gagliarda, and the earliest known examples of two durezze and two correnti. Collected edition by W. Richard Shindle, published by American Institute of Musicology, Corpus of Early Keyboard Music 12.

Peter Philips (ca. 1560–1628). Spent much time in Italy, Spain, France, and Belgium, where he died in Brussels. Left some 34 compositions, including pavans, galliards, three fantasias, 15 intabulations of madrigals, and a set of 10 verses on Veni Sancte Spiritus. Nineteen pieces, mainly dances and intabulations, are to be found in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book Vol. 1. A further eight pieces, including an almande, pavana, fantasia, four intabulations, and the setting of Veni Sancte Spiritus, are edited by John Harley for Stainer & Bell’s Early Keyboard Music K40. The complete keyboard works, edited by David Smith, are in Musica Britannica, Vol. 75.

Hieronymus Praetorius (1560–1629) was organist of the Jakobikirche in Hamburg. He left a large corpus of organ music in the Visby MS, of which the eight Magnificat cycles bear his name. Ascribed to him with some certainty from the same MSS are 19 hymn cycles (of Latin hymns) and 10 Kyrie cycles as well as four sequence cycles, a setting of Psalm 113, of the German Magnificat using the Tonus Peregrinus, and two recently discovered lengthy chorale fantasias, on Christ unser Herr zum Jordan kam and Wenn mein Stündlein vorhanden ist. All of these pieces have been edited by Klaus Beckmann in three volumes for Schott (ED 9581–9583).

Johann Benn (ca. 1590–1660) worked in Messkirch (Baden) and Lucerne, and left seven ricercars and two canzonas in a MS now in the BL. A modern edition by R. Schächer is published by Cornetto Verlag (CP342).

Pedro de Tafalla (1606–1660) was organist at El Escorial, Spain, where his three known compositions for organ are preserved. They include a Tiento lleno on the 2nd Tone, a Medio registro alto on the 2nd Tone, and a Tiento de dos tiples on the 7th Tone. They have been published recently by Ediciones Escurialenses in Música para órgano (siglo XVII) Volume 1-1, which also includes works by Diego de Torrijos and Cristóba1 de San Jerónimo, available from Tritó, Barcelona.

Henri Dumont (1610–84). Born in Belgium, Dumont became organist at St-Paul in Paris and left 17 pieces, including 11 allemandes, one courante, one pavane, and four préludes. Modern edition P. Bonfils, Editions Musicales de la Schola Cantorum et de la Procure Générale de Musique, L’organiste Liturgique 13.

Bernardo Pasquini (1637–1710). Organist in Rome and teacher of Zipoli, Casini, Georg Muffat, composer of over 200 pieces for keyboard conserved in four main MSS, covering all the main genres (17 suites, a few individual dance movements, about 30 short arias, over 35 toccatas, two capriccii, a fantasia, three canzone), one fuga, four ricercari (one of which runs to 345 bars), four sonatas, 22 variations (including four passacagli), and including over 300 versos and 14 sonatas for one and a further 14 for two instruments with just a figured bass. Available in seven volumes, edited by Maurice Brook Haynes, published by American Institute of Musicology, Corpus of Early Keyboard Music 5—this edition is unfortunately very unreliable but does group the works by genres. The far more accurate new Italian edition in seven volumes—which, after volume one that contains an Introduzione and Pastorale, and 60 versetti, all taken from a newly discovered MS in Bologna, follows the haphazard groupings of the (mainly autograph) MSS—is available from Libreria Musicale (www.libreria musicale.com). A facsimile edition of the Landsberg MS has been edited by Emer Buckley in two parts plus CD, published by Anne Fuzeau Classique (www.
editions-classique.com).

Alessandro Scarlatti (1660–1725). Better known for his sacred and secular vocal music, he left many toccatas in MSS, most of which are multi-movement (with some loose fugues as well as dance movements), including lengthy sets of variations on the Folia. Some toccatas are retrospective, others are forward-looking, with many dissonant clashes and lengthy passages of chords to be arpeggiated. An excellent new edition by Andrea Macinanti and Francesco Tasini with a most illuminating introduction on performance is published in five volumes by Ut Orpheus: Alessandro Scarlatti, Complete Works for Keyboard, Vols. 1–5, Ut Orpheus AS 01–AS 05; <www.utorpheus.com&gt;.

Johann Kuhnau (1660–1722) worked in Leipzig and published two sets of seven suites (the first set in major, the second in minor keys, also including a sonata in B-flat), seven sonatas in from three to seven movements, and a set of six sonatas that are multi-movement programmatic pieces entitled Biblical Histories. All are available in facsimile, published by SPES. The edition by Moser for Denkmäler deutscher Tonkunst volume 1/4 is out of print, but a new edition in two volumes has been edited by C. Harris in Art of the Keyboard Vol. 6 for Broude Brothers: Johann Kuhnau: The Collected Works for Keyboard, ed. C. David Harris; AOK 6, 2 volumes; Broude Brothers Limited (www.broude.us/Catalogues/EarlyMusic2006.pdf). The Biblical Sonatas are available separately, AOK 6C.

Christian Witte (ca. 1660–1717), organist in Altenburg, left about 20 pieces in MSS, including suites, preludes, fugues, three chorale preludes, and ciaconas; a passacaglia on D-C-Bb-A with 30 variations was formerly attributed to J. S. Bach. A modern edition of 12 pieces has been edited by Laura Cerutti for Armelin (www.armelin.it) in two volumes (AMM 026/053), of which the pieces best suited to organ are in volume 2. Three pieces from the Mylau Tablaturbuch are edited by John R. Shannon for American Institute of Musicology, Corpus of Early Keyboard Music 39. A capriccio in the Andreas Bach Book has been edited by Robert Hill for Harvard University Press: Keyboard Music from the Andreas Bach Book and the Moller Manuscript, ed. Robert Hill; Harvard University Press (www.hup.harvard.edu/catalog/HILMUS.html).

Georg Leyding (1665–1710) studied with Reincken and Buxtehude and became Jakob Bölsche’s successor at Braunschweig. He left three praeludia, a chorale prelude on Wie schön leucht uns, and a set of six chorale variations on Von Gott will ich nicht lassen, which have been edited by Klaus Beckmann for Breitkopf & Härtel: Georg Dietrich Leyding, Organ Works (EB 8405) (www.breitkopf.com).

Vicent Rodríguez (1690–1760) was organist at Valencia Cathedral, successor to the great Cabanilles. In MSS he left a Libro de Tocatas (30) for harpsichord and a few pieces for organ including a fantasia, six tocatas (several of these are pieces for the clarines or trumpet stops and are much lighter in style than those by Cabanilles), and a partido. New edition by Águeda Pedrero for Tritó edicions (www.trito.es). Ten versos sobre Pange Lingua have been edited by Vicente Ros and included in Música de Tecla Valenciana Vol. 5.

Thomas Arne (1710–78). Left Six favourite concertos for organ, harpsichord or piano-forte published ca. 1787, which may be performed without the accompanying parts; edited by Robin Langley for OUP; and Gwilym Beechey has edited the organ solos from the concerti for Peters (H 1544). Arne also published a set of Eight Sonatas or Lessons for the harpsichord in 1756, facsimile edition edited by Beechey and Dart for Stainer & Bell K27.

Thomas Gladwin (1710–99). Worked in London, where he published Eight Lessons for the Harpsichord or Organ, three of which have violin accompaniment, in the 1750s. Facsimile edition of these two-movement pieces has been published by Jacks, Pipes and Hammers; <www.
btinteret.com/~edjacksph/pub.htm>.

Giuseppe Paganelli (1710–63). Worked in Venice, Bayreuth, Munich, and Madrid, where he may have succeeded D. Scarlatti. He published XXX Ariae pro organo et cembalo in 1756, facsimile edition in Minkoff, and edited by M. Machella for Armelin AMM163. He also published in 1757 Amusement for the fair sex or Six sonatines for the harpsichord, modern edition by Laura Cerutti for Cornetto Verlag (CP388). Three further sonatas are included in volumes 2, 3, and 4 of the Haffner Raccolta. Facsimile edition of volumes 2 and 3 in Raccolta musicale… Bibliotheca Musica Bononiensis IV/56 Bologna.

Wilhelm Friedemann Bach (1710–84). Oldest son of Johann Sebastian, he left relatively few keyboard works, most of which sound best on the clavichord, including eleven sonatas, eight fugues, twelve polonaises, ten fantasias, seven chorale preludes, and eight fugues from isolated MSS, in addition to pieces in the Notebook for W F Bach compiled by Johann Sebastian. The eight fugues have been edited by Paul Simmonds and Mike Daniels (www.paulsimmonds.com/publications/php) and published by themselves. They are also included in volume 1 of the organ works edited by Traugott Fedke for Edition Peters in two volumes (vol. 2 includes the chorale preludes and some more fugues). A new complete edition of the keyboard music in two volumes (vol. 1 just published) is in progress for Carus Verlag (Carus 32.001, 32.002). Best suited to the organ are the fugues and chorale preludes.

Giovanni Battista Pergolesi (1710–36) is better known for his operas and sacred music, but three organ sonatas are included in Splendori del ’700 Napoletano Vol 1. and one in Vol. 2, edited by Maurizio Machella for Armelin as AMM 161 and AMM 240 (www.armelin.it). Many pieces formerly attributed to him in 18th-century sources have now been identified as being by other composers—the one certain thing about Pergolesi is that he died young!

Many of the publishers mentioned have their own websites and accept orders from anywhere; the following would supply “one-stop shopping” for orders from more than one publisher, although they themselves would have to order titles from many of the smaller publishers, including the Spanish and Italian.
Jacks Pipes and Hammers: <www.jackspipesandhammers.com&gt;
Saul Groen: <http://saulgroen.nl&gt;
Sheetmusicplus: <www.sheetmusic plus.com>

Other individual publishers’ sites include:
Edicion Tritó: <www.trito.es&gt;; especially useful for Spanish scores
Corpus of Early Keyboard Music: <www.corpusmusicae.com/cekm&gt;. 

This article is a considerably expanded version of a list originally published in British Clavichord Society Newsletter 46.

Some thoughts on programming

A frequently asked question after a recital is: “How did you come up with such a program?” Depending on the tone of voice employed, I am either elated or frightened! The planning of interesting programs took center stage for me during the summer of 2016 when I was faced with choosing repertory for six varied concerts, a task both enjoyable and dreaded, in nearly equal proportions.  As I write this column all six programs have been performed, each designed to engage its very different audience. 

They were, in chronological order: 

1) an annual private program for a Dallas doctor who owns a lovely Flemish-style two-manual harpsichord made by the San Antonio builder Gerald Self; audience: four or five; 

2) and 3) two consecutive organ recitals in the free Friday afternoon concert series at First Presbyterian Church, Santa Fe, New Mexico, where the instrument is a three-manual Fisk organ; usual audience: 50–100; 

4) the opening program of season 33 for our Dallas house concert series, Limited Editions; maximum attendance: 40; 

5) a harpsichord recital on a specific theme for the one-day Waxahachie Chautauqua to be played in the early 20th-century open-air auditorium, an historic building in the Texas town’s Getzendaner Memorial Park: 40–60 auditors; 

6) a season-opening benefit concert for the Dallas-based Orchestra of New Spain, offered in the lofty music room of an architecturally exciting lakefront home with an eight-stop tracker organ by local builder Robert Sipe: audience, a full house of 80.

During my six-decade career of playing, listening, and teaching I have developed some fundamental ideas about effective program planning. Primary among considerations is the expected audience. Are the auditors primarily academics, professional or amateur musicians, or a more general lay group of listeners? What is the purpose of the program: education, entertainment, a general or specific event, sacred or secular—or, as so often happens, a mixture of all these categories?  

Too often, it seems, we performing artists, especially in choosing music for single instrument solo recitals, tend to select works that please us, but ones that too often leave the audience baffled, bewildered, or bored. This result frequently stems from a lack of variety in the music selected—the end result of programs that are based primarily on our personal gratification rather than consideration for our listeners. After many seasons of enduring frequent punishment (and, no doubt, sometimes inflicting the same on my listeners) I am, at last, exercising my elder right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of auditory happiness by leaving the premises at intermission, or simply choosing not to attend that particular concert if I have seen a program that promises little except for “too much of the same.”

“So, Palmer,” you say, “let’s see what you came up with to satisfy the varied audiences you mentioned above.”

For the doctor’s private recital I considered it necessary to pay at least slight homage to the July 3 date, the eve of our national birthday, so I began with George Washington’s March, a short, snappy piece dedicated to the first United States President, published in George Willig’s Musical Magazine, Philadelphia, 1794–95. Next came J. S. Bach’s Capriccio on the Departure of his Beloved Brother, BWV 992, a much-loved early work obviously modeled on the then recently published Biblical Sonatas of Johann Kuhnau, and provided this with narration describing the varied pictorial sections of the work.  For stylistic variety, some contemporary music composed in 2014 by the Michigan harpsichord maker Knight Vernon, a two-page Rondo from his Three Contemplations, followed by the 1982 Triptych (Carillon, Siciliano, and Final) by the American master Gerald Near­—all delightful melodic, witty writing, and not too much for the doctor, whose musical taste is well centered in the eighteenth century. The program continued with François Couperin’s Les Ondes (The Waves), a piece reminiscent of the composer’s better-known Baricades Mistérieuses. The A-major key led directly to the opening notes of W. A. Mozart’s Fantasia in D Minor, K. 397, utilizing my own ending rather than the published final measures, which are not by Mozart.  Finally, to conclude this modest-length recital, the shortest of Bach’s harpsichord toccatas, his Toccata in E Minor, BWV 914.

For the first Santa Fe TGIF recital I chose to title the 35-minute program “Opus 133 Goes to the Opera” and began it with the 16th-century Milanese composer Giovanni Paolo Cima’s two-page Canzona Quarta: La Pace, followed by Herbert Howells’s Master Tallis’s Testament. Then came opera composer Giacomo Puccini’s youthful Salve Regina for tenor and organ, followed by a transcription of his hauntingly beautiful Flower Duet from Madama Butterfly. My favorite opera composer Richard Strauss contributed the Gavotte from his final opera Capriccio, performed here with a short bit of the concert ending he composed for harpsichordist Isolde Ahlgrimm (my first transference of this piece from harpsichord to organ) followed by the signature aria that drives the plot of the opera, the tenor’s Sonnet (with words by the opera’s character Olivier and music by his rival Flamand, both of whom are attempting to win the love of a widowed countess, who cannot decide between them, thus underscoring the main conceit of the drama: which is more important in opera, words or music?). A main reason for choosing this excerpt was the return of Strauss’s final opera to the five-opera repertory for Santa Fe Opera 2016. The program concluded with Di rigori armato il seno, the Italian Tenor’s virtuoso solo from Der Rosenkavalier and segued into the sublime Trio for three sopranos, heard this time in organ transcription.

For the second TGIF offering, a program for solo organ, I alternated the varied textures and sounds of Festivity by the British composer Cyril Jenkins, Gerald Near’s Air with Variation (yes, only one) from his Sonata Breve, a 12-measure Bach fragment, Fantasia in C, BWV 573, as extended to 26 measures by various editors, followed by César Franck’s Fantasie in C (in the 1868 version that he may have played for the dedication of the organ at Notre Dame Cathedral, plus the addition of the final Adagio from the usual published version of the piece), and both Prélude and Divertissement from 24 Pièces en style libre by Louis Vierne. As an encore, the enthusiastic audience heard Calvin Hampton’s Consonance, my first ever organ commission, given to my Oberlin classmate in 1957.

Back in Texas I played the opening house concert, program number 99 since the series’ inception. At the Schudi organ (1983) the Jenkins, Near, and Cima works heard in Santa Fe, followed by music performed on Richard Kingston’s Franco-Flemish double harpsichord (1994): Buxtehude’s Praeludium in G Minor, BuxWV 163; three short works by three composers, all of whom have been associated with the University of Michigan School of Music: Knight Vernon’s Rondo, a Dallas premiere of William Bolcom’s The Vicarage Garden (composed in 2015), and Gerald Near’s Triptych (all three movements as listed above). Since the Chautauqua program was imminent, I previewed harpsichord works from that program: Glenn Spring’s clever Hommage to Debussy and the whole-tone scale (Le soir dans la ruelle, 2006), Couperin’s Baricades Mistérieuses (which began on the same B-flat that ended the Spring piece), Water (from Five Elements) by Californian Ronald McKean (one of the Aliénor Contemporary Harpsichord Music Competition winners in 2008), and the Mozart D-minor Fantasia. Finally, acknowledging the concert’s date (September 11), at the organ: New Mexico composer Gregory Alan Schneider’s Melancholy Prelude (composed on 9/11/2001 as his meditative response to that day’s tragedies). After a moment of solemn silence, Eugene Thayer’s America: a fugue a 5 voci (from his Second Organ Sonata, composed in 1865–66) offered an uplifting and patriotic conclusion with music from an earlier time of strife and warfare in our country, based on a tune known by everyone—another tenet that I have been striving to keep: whenever possible include at least one piece that will be, in some way, familiar to all listeners.

By the time of the September 24 Chautauqua date, I had found a singer who could fill the void created when my usual collaborative artist was forced to cancel all his vocal appearances for the fall. Baritone Daniel Bouchard, a recent graduate of Southern Methodist University, enabled us to present a wide-ranging program to complement this year’s theme, “The World of Water.” The organizers had requested Handel’s Water Music, so it was with three excerpts that I opened that program: the first section of the Overture, the Air, and Hornpipe as transcribed for keyboard in the eighteenth century. Two Purcell songs (Fairest Isle and I’ll Sail Upon the Dogstar), the Spring, Couperin, and McKean pieces heard earlier in the month, and the almost-certain premiere performance of Gabriel Fauré’s enchanting four-song cycle L’horizon chimérique with the accompaniment played on a harpsichord. The program concluded with American river songs: Shenandoah and Shall We Gather at the River? The large crowd of interested folk who flocked to the stage to greet us and to ask questions about the instrument seemed to validate the program choices we had made.

The sixth concert showcased the organ, beginning with three centuries of Iberian organ music by composers Cabanilles, Domenico Scarlatti, and José Lidon. Since the organ was built originally for a Lutheran organist, I thought it right and proper to program some Lutheran music: the chorale Dearest Jesus, We Are Here and J. S. Bach’s one-page prelude on that tune, followed by the C-Major Fantasy, and a one-page setting of Gelobet seist du, Herr Jesu Christ by Friedrich Hark, who, like Hugo Distler, was a casualty of the Second World War. As respite from the organ, three pieces on my John Challis clavichord: Bach’s ubiquitous Prelude in C Major (Well-Tempered Clavier Part I) and Howells’s De la Mare’s Pavane (from Lambert’s Clavichord), ending with a one-page song that I composed earlier this year, using as text poet De la Mare’s four-line poem Clavichord, in which I used brief quotations from the two clavichord pieces. After a long intermission, the refreshed (and fed) audience returned for Jenkins’s Festivity, two Hungarian religious folk song settings by Ferenc Farkas, Guy Bovet’s The Bolero of the Divine Mozart, two American river songs, and Thayer’s America: a fugue a 5 voci.

For audience enjoyment of these concerts, perhaps one of the most important elements may be the short spoken introductions that I customarily offer before playing the pieces. It behooves us to remember that, while we may have toiled for many long hours to learn the music, much of what we perform will be new to many in our audience, no matter where or what we play. I usually try to sketch out, in written form, the main points I wish to share. We academics (and, from what I observe, some non-academics) are prone to ramble, when what is needed for communication before a musical work is generally some short but cogent bit of its history or mention of a particular unusual moment—in other words, anything that will engage a listener’s interest and keep it focused on the music. But plan these words carefully, and keep them brief and clearly enunciated!

I hope that these paragraphs may be of some help in suggesting that shorter pieces may provide a welcome variety in programming for diverse audiences. Of course there are times and places for our complete organ symphonies, great and lengthy masterpieces from the harpsichord repertoire, and the many wonderful works that are available for collaborative performance. I continue to find gems that I had overlooked, and I am particularly grateful when friends and correspondents send suggestions from their own unique experiences. Stay curious, read reviews, and keep subscribing to The Diapason.

Where next?

So, you have mastered Couperin’s eight preludes from L’Art de toucher le clavecin. What harpsichord repertoire should follow these basic pieces?

To my ears Domenico Scarlatti was the ultimate artist/composer when it came to varying textures in writing for our instrument. I have advised more than a few curious contemporary composers to consult the 500-plus keyboard sonatas from this Baroque genius and then to emulate his wide palette of various densities of sound: one of the best ways to create a varied dynamic range.

Suggestions: perhaps the most-assigned to first-semester students have been two A-major Sonatas, K (Kirkpatrick) numbers 208 and 209. There are several fine editions from which to choose, but, once again as with my choice for the first Couperin pieces, I have found that another “made in America” publication works well on several levels. The sometimes-maligned yellow-bound Schirmer Editions offer Sixty Sonatas by Scarlatti in two volumes. Chosen and edited by the formidable scholar and artist Ralph Kirkpatrick (he of the most-used numbering system for this composer), these 60 were published as Schirmer Library Volumes 1774 and 1775. (Too bad they could not have waited until number 1776, which would have been even more patriotic!) K. 208 and 209 are found in the first of these collections.

Kirkpatrick, working midway in the 20th century (the copyright is dated 1953), used source materials transmitted to him via microfilm. In a rare misreading of the dim and hazy film, he mistook the tempo indication for K. 208, transcribing Adº as “Andante” rather than the indicated “Adagio,” providing once again a perfect teaching moment when one presents the proof of this mistake. Also, it does make quite a difference: Andante, a moving or walking tempo, is not at all the same as Adagio, which, in the composer’s native Italian, means “at your ease” and thus should suggest more flexibility with rubato and a quieter, more involved personality—perhaps that of a lovesick flamenco guitarist. As for texture: the sonata begins with only two voices, soprano and bass, and adds a middle line in measure three, introduces a fourth voice in the chords of measure seven, and builds a terrific crescendo in the penultimate measure thirteen of the A section, before cadencing on an open dominant octave.

The B section begins with a single bass note, and in its first measure we are confronted with the instruction “Tremulo,” indicating a needed ornament in the melodic line. There has been much speculation and some gnashing of musicological teeth about this particular instruction in Domenico’s works. I have tried various solutions, but fairly late in my career I decided that it might possibly indicate the mordent! My reasoning: the mordent is one of the two most generally prevalent ornaments in Baroque music, but there is no indication of it in Scarlatti’s sonatas; and the mordent seems to be feasible each time a Tremulo is indicated.

Vis-à-vis that other musical ornament, the trill, it was the Iberian music specialist Guy Bovet who, during our one semester as Dallas colleagues, reminded me that the usual starting note for Scarlattian trills should be the main (written) note! I realize that many of us were heavily influenced by our piano or organ teachers who taught us to begin all Baroque trills with the note above; but in actual musical practice, this is rather silly: trills normally do begin on the written note in this Italian-Iberian repertoire, but here, and in general, I refuse to be bound to one invariable rule, and frequently substitute an upper-note trill, particularly in cadential figures that seem to ache for a dissonance (or, occasionally, simply to avoid ugly-sounding parallel octave movement of the voices). My advice is to follow Bovet’s instruction as a general practice, but also to use one’s musical instincts when required: after all, we have yet to hear those “recordings” from the 17th and 18th centuries that would prove once and for all what the local practice was. (Do, please, let me know if they are discovered.)

The paired sonata, K. 209, could not be more different from its shorter sibling: an Allegro (Happy) with some technical challenges (as opposed to the many musical challenges offered by K. 208) should prove again the inventiveness of the composer, especially in his use of varied textures. One spot that particularly delights is found in measure 70, where, after the vigorous cadence begins with two voices, the resolution is one single soprano E, a totally unexpected surprise! Kenneth Gilbert, in his eleven-volume edition of 550 sonatas for Le Pupitre, adds the missing bass note, choosing the reading found in a different manuscript source in which the next iteration of that same figure (measure 147) does resolve with an open octave in the bass. I still prefer Kirkpatrick’s reading for these passages: rather than adding notes in the first example, he does away with them at the second iteration . . . and thereby preserves an equal surprise for the B section.

Quite a few other sonatas that serve well as technique-enhancing pieces are to be found in the set comprising the first Kirkpatrick numbers 1 through 30: works published in London (1738) as Scarlatti’s Essercizi per gravicembalo. If your student (or you) want a bit of narrative music, the final entry in this set, K. 30, is particularly fun to play and hear: nicknamed the “Cat” Fugue, it is easy to imagine a favorite feline frolicking treble-ward on the keyboard to create a fugue subject spanning an octave and a half. Several years ago, when preparing a program of Iberian music to play on Southern Methodist University’s Portuguese organ (a single-manual instrument built in 1762 by Caetano Oldovini for Portugal’s Evora Cathedral), I turned to the Alfred Edition print of this sonata, which incorporates some of the quite useful (and interesting) minor corrections offered in a second edition from the year 1739, also published in London by the English organist and Scarlatti-enthusiast Thomas Roseingrave. 

Finally, should one become entranced by Scarlatti’s delightful catwalk, there is a rarely encountered piece by the Bohemian composer Antonín Rejcha (1770–1836) from his 36 Fugues, op. 36, published in Vienna (1805). Fugue Nine is subtitled “On a Theme from Domenico Scarlatti.” In it our musical cat, elderly and more reserved, is heard ranging a keyboard that extends to top F, before settling down, finally, with quiet cadential chords. The score, published by Universal Edition, is found in Bohemian Piano Music from the Classical Period, volume 2 (UE18583), edited by Peter Roggenkamp.

Some contemporary components

It will come as no surprise to our loyal readers that, during my lengthy tenure at the Meadows School, Southern Methodist University, I required at least one 20th- or 21st-century composition to fulfill repertoire requirements during each semester of harpsichord study. Among the most admired of these pieces were the twelve individual movements of Lambert’s Clavichord by Herbert Howells. These, the first published 20th-century works for the clavichord, are true gems, and equally delightful both to play and to hear. Issued by Oxford University Press in 1928, they are not widely available now, but I have been told that they may be obtained as an “on-demand print” from the publisher. Howells’s own favorite of the set was De la Mare’s Pavane, named for his friend, the distinguished poet Walter de la Mare. Indeed, it was a question about one chord in this piece that precipitated my first visit with the composer in 1974. Dr. Howells did not answer me immediately, but before we parted he took a pen in hand and drew in the missing sharp sign before the middle C on the second half of beat two in measure 24. That had been my concern, that missing sharp! Thus, I was relieved to have a correction from the only person who could not be doubted, the great man himself.

Other works recommended for investigative forays into this literature (works offering a great deal of good examples for the development of dynamic, articulate, and musical playing) include Rudy Davenport’s Seven Innocent Dances (which I have dubbed the “With It” suite): With Casualness, With Resolve, With Playfulness, With Excitement, With Fire, With Pomposity, With Steadiness­—available in the Aliénor Harpsichord Competition 2000 Winners volume published by Wayne Leupold (WL600233); Glenn Spring’s Trifles: Suite Music for Harpsichord comprising the miniatures A Start, Blues for Two, Burlesque, Cantilena, Habañerita, Recitative, and Introspection, lovely pieces indeed, as are Spring’s more recent Bartókian miniatures: Béla Bagatelles (2011). Both sets are available from the composer ([email protected]). Finally, from the late British composer Stephen Dodgson, three movements of his Suite 1 in C for Clavichord: Second Air, Tambourin, and Last Fanfare (published by Cadenza Music in 2008) form a delightful group of pieces. Equally effective at the harpsichord, they have proven to be very audience-friendly.

A May reminder

Do not forget Lou Harrison’s centenary (May 2017), the perfect month in which to investigate the American composer’s Six Sonatas, as detailed in Harpsichord News, The Diapason, October 2016, page 10.

Larry Palmer is harpsichord editor of THE DIAPASON.

Each one of us surely has an individual concept of sin, generally from direct personal experience: I sometimes describe it as “anything that is more fun for the doer than for someone else!” Defining commission might be slightly more difficult. For the purpose of this narrative, I choose to define the term as “the solicitation of a new musical composition, whether or not money is involved.” In my nearly half-century of commissioning new music, much of the time I have been the recipient of extraordinary generosity: most of my composers have donated their music, while others have asked for only modest fees.

Calvin Hampton

The first time I solicited a composer to write something specifically for me was in 1957, when I asked my Oberlin classmate and fellow organ major Calvin Hampton if he would provide an offertory for a summer service at First Presbyterian Church, Canton, Ohio--my first major (if only month-long) church “gig.” His response came in the form of a lovely three-minute aria, titled Consonance. While not a major work by this important composer, it does illustrate the advantage of choosing the right friends; namely, ones who go on to become well-known, thereby considerably increasing the value of their manuscripts. Equally useful, subsequently such friendships may provide one with material for articles about “what they were like before they became well-known”--a perfectly good academic topic indeed, if one includes the proper footnotes.

Neely Bruce

In the fall of 1960 I moved to Rochester, New York to begin graduate study. There I met the next of my composer friends. On my second day at the Eastman School, as I waited in the fourth floor corridor to meet with my advisor Dr. M. Alfred Bichsel, head of the newly established Church Music Department, a striking younger student walked up to me and asked, with lilting southern inflection, if I could tell him where to find Dr. Bitch-el. I was captivated by Neely Bruce, a freshman who had come to audition for the Polyphonic Choir, a new choral ensemble established for this sacred music area. As Dr. Bichsel’s rehearsal assistant, I saw young Bruce regularly. We became friends, and Neely, a precociously talented pianist and composer, eventually supplied the concluding piece for my 1961 master’s recital Organ Compositions Based on the Kyrie fons bonitatis.

When he left Eastman after that single year to attend the University of Alabama, I was devastated. I wrote sad poems (a la Edna St. Vincent Millay and Dame Edith Sitwell)--filled with lines such as:

Our night for love designed, speeds silent on and on,

And time, which only breathless seconds since had seemed so kind,

Is gone.

Neely didn’t answer letters or write poetry. He did, however, write music, and some months later I received the penciled score of his first work for harpsichord--Nine Variations on an Original Theme. The piece held such emotional intensity for me that it was not until 1979 that I copied it out while on my first sabbatical leave, prepared it for performance, and then gave the premiere the following year. Whatever one may think now of such a youthful endeavor, the work certainly is well-crafted for harpsichord--one result of Neely’s frequent opportunities for experimenting with the instrument’s textures at the small two-manual Sperrhake harpsichord, shoehorned into the third-floor dormer room I rented at one of Rochester’s “organ student houses,” 20 Sibley Place.

During my seven years of teaching in Virginia I played a fair amount of 20th-century harpsichord music: Ned Rorem’s Lovers, the Falla Concerto, the Martinu Sonate. But there I was primarily a choral conductor and organist (and enjoyed premiering several new works written for choir or organ by St. Paul’s College colleague Walter Skolnik and New York composer Robin Escovado). My only harpsichord “commission” of this period went to the builder William Dowd, along with almost half a year’s salary, for my first truly first-rate harpsichord, one of his early Blanchet-inspired instruments, delivered to Norfolk in January 1969.

Rudy Shackelford

Shortly after moving to Dallas in 1970, an unanticipated package reached me at Southern Methodist University. This contained Virginia composer Rudy Shackelford’s piece Le Tombeau de Stravinsky. Since my SMU colleague Robert Anderson was a devoted exponent of wild and wooly new organ music, it seemed fitting for me to take on Rudy’s serialism. I also liked the work, and included it on my first Musical Heritage Society disc, The Harpsichord Now and Then, released in 1975.

Ross Lee Finney

Another challenging work, more thorny than I usually care to learn, is Ross Lee Finney’s unique essay for the instrument, Hexachord for Harpsichord. In four movements (Aria, Stomp, Ornaments, Fantasy), the 12-minute work was commissioned for me to play at a Hartt School of Music contemporary keyboard music festival scheduled for June 1984. Drawing few registrants, the event was cancelled, so I gave the first performance that fall in Dallas, not playing it in the composer’s presence until a concert in Hartford the following year.

Working with Finney was quite daunting. A most distinguished and individual composer, he basically disregarded my several suggestions as to texture, and provided me with a nearly-illegible score, the successful realization of which absolutely required a damper pedal, unfortunately not available on most harpsichords. I struggled to read his chicken scratches and tried to parlay his ideas into something that made sense on a plucked instrument. Eventually I wrote him a detailed letter filled with questions and suggestions for possible improvements, not knowing if I would be ignored, despised, or possibly even removed from the project.

Instead, this generous and intelligent man wrote back that it was all very helpful--reminding him of the careful editing his Piano Sonata had received years earlier from its first performer, John Kirkpatrick. For Hexachord’s last movement, the most unplayable of the four, he promised a revision, although current work on his opera left him little time. When the promised revision arrived, it was accompanied by this note: 

I don’t know whether this is better or worse. I’ve spent the vacation week on it and now am so loaded with commitments that it’s the best I can hope for. . . . I tied my right leg to the piano stool so I hope I didn’t think in terms of pedal. . .

Responding to a tape of the first performance, Finney wrote,

I like immensely your performance . . . It seems to me that you have done a wonderful job of projecting the music and it sounds better to me than I feared it would. I like all of your revisions, particularly the ending of the last movement, and I will see that your corrections get in the copy with Peters so that when it is published, they will be included. . .

Unfortunately, this was not to be the case. The printed score from Peters does not present the preferred ending, but rather a more-protracted, rather anemic one.

Herbert Howells

A major commission from the 1970s was Herbert Howells’ Dallas Canticles, the unique Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis composed for St. Luke’s Church, where I was organist and choirmaster from 1971 until 1980. This lovely work was first performed there in 1975. The dedication and copyright of the work, basically a gift from the generous English composer, led to some early adventures in music publishing and the nurturing of  professional and personal connections with the American composer, church musician, and publisher Gerald Near.

Gerald Near

Undoubtedly the most ambitious of my commissions thus far is Near’s three-movement Concerto for Harpsichord, composed for performance at the 1980 national convention of the American Guild of Organists in Minneapolis. Gerald, a Minnesota resident at that time, had not been included in the group of composers invited to provide new works for the gathering, so I asked him to write a concerted work for my program in Orchestra Hall. He took on the project, and, most generously, accepted no fee for this major work.

The performance was carefully prepared, with the composer conducting a superb string ensemble comprising players from the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. The work was greeted with warm applause and considerable affection by the large crowd of attendees. And why not? The piece is very appealing, with memorable melodies, lush harmonies, and an appropriately balanced scoring. Critic Byron Belt, writing in The American Organist for August 1980, concentrated his remarks on the plethora of new scores heard during the convention. Of the Near he commented “ . . . its obvious popular appeal was instantly audible in a splendid performance by Larry Palmer (to whom it is dedicated) and the orchestra under the composer.” In The Diapason (August 1980), Marilou Kratzenstein opined, “The Distler [Allegro Spirituoso e Scherzando] and Near works are both very idiomatic to the medium. By skillful orchestration, the harpsichord part comes through clearly even when accompanied by a 22-piece string orchestra. Both of these attractive works were given clean, crisp performances. It was a pleasure to be present at the premiere of the Gerald Near concerto, which will likely become a favorite with harpsichordists in the near-future.” A future “for the Near” has taken considerably longer than anticipated, but, at last, Gerald’s lovely work had its second performance in October 2004, this time with the SMU Meadows Symphony under Paul Phillips.

Ever peripatetic, Near lived in Dallas for a time, where he held several church positions. When I needed a piece to conclude a program given in conjunction with the Dallas Museum of Art’s major show of El Greco paintings I turned again to Gerald. He spent some time at my house trying various ideas on the harpsichord. The resulting Triptych, completed in 1982, was first played in public at the Museum in January 1983. It certainly achieved its requisite Spanish flavor in the concluding movement, a brilliant neo-Scarlattian romp. Before that Final there are two lovely miniatures--an impressionistic Carillon, and the lyrically Italianate Siciliano (inspired by the composer’s love interest at the time). All three movements are idiomatically conceived for the instrument.

Vincent Persichetti

Dear Vincent Persichetti responded to questions concerning his then-unpublished 1951 Harpsichord Sonata by sending a copy of the manuscript. I loved the work immediately, and still find this first essay for harpsichord to be Vincent’s most arresting and accessible work for the instrument! By the time I was engaged to play a harpsichord recital for the Philadelphia gathering of the International Congress of Organists in 1977, his Sonata was available in printed form. The concert was scheduled to be played in historic St. George’s Methodist Church in the central city, so Persichetti, who lived in Philadelphia, planned to attend, but heavy rain that afternoon delayed him. (It also knocked out power to many venues, causing consternation, and cancellation, for some concurrent organ recitals.) The composer arrived at the church just as my program ended, so I offered to play his Sonata for him after the audience departed. I did so, he made cogent comments (some of them concerned keeping steady tempi and he advised playing the work exactly as he had notated it), and he autographed my printed score (“Thanks to Larry Palmer for a meaningful Benjamin Franklin performance in my own city.” [The reference to Franklin refers to the bridge bearing his name. St. George’s is adjacent to the bridge access road, allowing considerable noise every few minutes from public transit vehicles.]). Then he drove me back to the hotel.

Thus began an acquaintance, nurtured by a Sonata commission from me, occasional piquant notes, or the random, unexpected telephone call from the composer. When he published an incorrect wording of the dedication in my commissioned Sonata VI (crediting Southern Methodist University with payment of the commission fee, an error that I feared might cause problems with some of my academic colleagues), Vincent assured me that he would think of some way to make it up to me. A year or so later, he telephoned with the news that his latest piece, Serenade Number 15, would bear the inscription “Commissioned by Larry Palmer.” “To make it official,” he said, “send me a check for one dollar.” Because this was a time of high inflation, I sent him a check for two dollars, eliciting the response, “How wonderful--this is the first time I’ve ever had a commission doubled!”

It was even more gratifying for me, since I gained two works from a significant composer for a total fee of $502.

Persichetti’s concise Serenade consists of five short movements: the moody Prelude, marked desolato; a quicker Episode; the even faster Bagatelle; a gentle, cantabile Arioso; and the closing Capriccio--made up of a delicato single line, in the texture of a Bach composition for solo stringed instrument. The seven-minute work reminds that, while Persichetti was a distinguished academic, whose mind espoused complicated serial techniques, his soul remained true to the song-inspired expressivity of his Italian heritage.

Rudy Davenport

The 1990s saw a veritable spate of harpsichord writing by Texas-based composer Rudy Davenport. First introduced to me in 1992 through Fr. Tom Goodwin, a harpsichord-playing Catholic padre on Padre Island, Rudy provided me with nine unique works for solo harpsichord or small ensemble with harpsichord. His first national exposure came at the combined 1998 Southeastern and Midwestern Historical Keyboard Societies’ meeting in Texas, where a program devoted to Davenport’s harpsichord writing concluded with the haunting Songs of the Bride, the composer’s settings of texts from The Song of Solomon for solo soprano, oboe, and harpsichord. (Six of these works comprise the program for the compact disc Music of Rudy Davenport, issued by Limited Editions Recordings in 2003.)

Some of my most enjoyable concert experiences have been those involving making music with others, and none has offered more delight than performing music for multiple harpsichords (usually two prove difficult enough to nudge into some semblance of compatible tunings). A Davenport work of exceptional charm, but one not graced with a completely written-out score, is his At Play with Giles Farnaby, a set of seven variations and a fugal finale on Farnaby’s For Two Virginals (Number 55 in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book). Rudy heard this short piece when it was performed by colleague Barbara Baird and me during our 1994 summer harpsichord workshop in New Mexico. His jaunty take on it, as well as the delightful and crafty contrapuntal ending have been an audience favorite on the two occasions we played together. This duo harpsichord work was an especially intensive collaboration, in its creation as well as its performance. Since the divergence of our ways after 1999, I have missed such exuberant music making, as well as the active involvement in fine polishing and editing Rudy’s engaging works.

Glenn Spring

But that void has been filled by the reintroduction into my artistic life of the Denver-based composer Glenn Spring, first encountered at the 1990 Alienor Harpsichord Composition competition finals in Augusta, Georgia. There his William Dowd: His Bleu was one of the winning works. Eventually Spring’s composition was published in The Diapason’s February 1992 tribute to the eminent harpsichord maker. A short while later Glenn’s son Brian moved to Dallas, giving us yet another reason to “stay in touch.” After Brian’s departure from this part of Texas there were years of diminishing communication, a situation suddenly reversed by Brian’s “out-of-the-blue” early morning call from Korea, where he was employed as an English teacher. He must have told his father about this call, for shortly thereafter I received a copy of a 1999 keyboard work, Glenn’s seven-movement charmer Trifles (now a prize winner in the most recent Alienor Competition, 2004). I liked it, learned it, and began playing it in recitals here and there.

A special confluence of friends occurred when Charles and Susan Mize, having contracted for Richard Kingston’s opus 300 Millennium harpsichord, a spectacular nine-foot Franco-Flemish instrument with contemporary brushed steel stand and computer-compatible music desk, asked me to play the Washington, D.C. dedication concert on the instrument. I thought it desirable that Charles should play on his new instrument at that event, so I commissioned Glenn Spring to write a work for two players at one instrument. The pleasing result was Suite 3-D, comprising Denver Rocket, Big D[allas] Blues, and D C Steamroller (honoring the three D’s of our home cities), interspersed with two quiet, lyrical movements (Romance, Night Thoughts). For a second performance on my home concert series (Limited Editions), long-time colleague Charles Brown brought both his musical and histrionic skills to the work, serving as collaborative harpsichordist as well as creator and reader of witty verses before each movement.

The most recent sins of commission, from the year 2004, have included another ensemble work by Spring, Images from Wallace Stevens for Violin and Harpsichord, first performed February 13 in celebration of the 20th season of house concerts (program number 60). Meeting Glenn’s wife, violinist Kathleen Spring, at the Mize harpsichord dedication program, I invited her to join me in this anniversary season, and inquired about possible violin and harpsichord pieces from her husband’s catalog. He responded by offering to compose something for us. Consisting of seven movements, the Images are inspired by short bits of Stevens’ poetry, so much of which evokes musical connections.

Tim Broege

Tim Broege’s score Songs Without Words Set Number Seven, composed for the SMU Wind Ensemble’s conductor Jack Delaney and me, had its first performance by the group and mezzo-soprano Virginia Dupuy on April 16, 2004. The most notable and prominent part for harpsichord is Broege’s reworking of the famous Lachrimae Pavan by John Dowland as each section is presented by the solo harpsichord, then reprised by the full ensemble, heard as the fifth of the work’s nine movements. (This setting may be extracted and played as a solo harpsichord composition).

Simon Sargon

My 35th annual faculty recital at SMU in September 2004 featured the first public hearing of composition professor Simon Sargon’s harpsichord reworking  of Dos Prados (“From the Meadows”), another lovely pavan, originally conceived for the single-manual 1762 Iberian organ in SMU’s Meadows Museum, and now, with a few changes of texture and tessitura, effectively adapted for solo harpsichord.

Involving composers in our performing lives is one of the most rewarding actions we can take. For us it provides the excitement of adding new pieces to our repertoire; for them, it is an affirmation of their necessary contributions to the ongoing vitality of our art; and perhaps not least, this is one pleasure that is neither life-threatening nor fattening! I urge each of you to join me in committing some sins of commission in the near future.

Sources

Calvin Hampton: Consonance remains unpublished; however an increasing number of his organ works are available from  Wayne Leupold Editions (available through ECS Publishing).

Neely Bruce: Nine Variations is available from <[email protected]> (or 212/875-7011).

Rudy Shackelford: Tombeau de Stravinsky is published by Joseph Boonin (B.319).

Recording: The Harpsichord Now and Then (Larry Palmer, harpsichord), MHS LP 3222.

Ross Lee Finney: Hexachord for Harpsichord is published by Edition Peters (67034).

Herbert Howells: Dallas Canticles, Aureole Editions (available from MorningStar Music).

For additional information about the commissioning of this work, see my article “Herbert Howells and the Dallas Canticles” in The American Organist, October 1992, pp. 60-62.

Gerald Near: Concerto for Harpsichord and Strings 1980 (Aureole Editions 149; performance materials on rental only) and Triptych for Harpsichord (Aureole Editions 02) are both available from MorningStar Music.

Recording (Triptych): 20th Century Harpsichord Music, vol. 2 (Barbara Harbach, harpsichord), Gasparo GSCD-266.

Vincent Persichetti: his nine Harpsichord Sonatas and Serenade 15, are published by Elkan-Vogel.

For additional information see my article “Vincent Persichetti: A Love for the harpsichord (Some Words to Mark his 70th Birthday)” in The Diapason, June 1985, p. 8.

Rudy Davenport: Scores are available from the composer at <www.RudyDavenport. com>.

For additional information, see my article “Rudy Davenport’s Harpsichord Music of the 1990s” in The Diapason, April 2004, p. 18.

Recording: Music of Rudy Davenport (Patti Spain, soprano; Stewart Williams, oboe; Larry Palmer, harpsichord), Limited Editions Recordings LER 9904.

Glenn Spring: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.

Tim Broege: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.

Simon Sargon: Scores are available from the composer at <[email protected]>.

Harpsichord Plus: 

The Accompanied Music 

of Jacques Duphly

As a genre, accompanied harpsichord music seems to have come into being early in the 18th century. Indeed, the harpsichord accompanied by lute is commented on late in the 17th century when the lutenist Porion accompanied the keyboardist Hardel. In Rome the harpsichord accompanied by violin was noted in 1727 at Cardinal Colonna’s, and only two years later, in 1729, there was a similar event in Paris, for which the keyboardist was none other than François Couperin’s daughter.

The first examples to appear in print seem to have been the Pièces de Claveçin en Sonates, op. 3, of Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville (1734). (Earlier works sometimes cited as examples of this genre—works by Dieupart [1701] and Elizabeth Jacquet de la Guerre [1707]—actually appear to be different editions of the same pieces, not meant to be played as duos.) Mondonville’s sonatas were followed by Michel Corrette’s Sonates pour le Claveçin avec un Accompagnement de Violon, op. 25 (1742); Mondonville’s Pièces de Claveçin avec Voix ou Violon, op. 5 (1748); and by the one popular group of compositions still found in the active performing repertoire of the 21st century, Jean-Philippe Rameau’s five sets of Pièces de Claveçin en Concert, published in 1741. That these Rameau pieces belong to this same line of publications cannot be doubted, for the composer wrote in his preface: “The success of recently published sonatas, which have come out as harpsichord pieces with a violin part, has given me the idea of following much the same plan in the new harpsichord pieces, which I am venturing to bring out today . . .”

A little further on Rameau continued: “These pieces lose nothing by being played on the harpsichord alone; indeed, one would never suspect them capable of any other adornment . . .”

This primacy of the harpsichord, which really was meant to be accompanied by the other instrument, is borne out by the words of Charles Avison, who, in 1756, insisted that the violins should “always be subservient to the harpsichord,” and by C.-J. Mathon de la Coeur, the editor of Almanach Musical, who wrote in 1777,

We cannot resist pointing out here that the harpsichord is the only creature in this world that has been able to claim sufficient respect from other instruments to keep them in their place and cause itself to be accompanied in the full sense of the term. Voices, even the most beautiful ones, lack this privileged position; they are covered mercilessly . . . but as soon as it is a question of accompanying a harpsichord, you see submissive and timid instrumentalists softening their sounds like courtiers in the presence of their master, before whom they dare not utter a word without having read permission in his eyes. 

Methinks times have changed since M. de la Coeur published these comments!

Why, then, one might ask, would another instrumentalist agree to perform with a harpsichordist in such a subservient manner? And further, what was the purpose of having an accompanying instrumentalist there at all? As to the first question, one could assume that not all pieces on a program would be of the accompanied type; some sonatas for the solo instrument with (or without) a figured basso continuo could return a preeminent position to the non-keyboard instrument. As for the second question, Avison answers this in the preface to his op. 7 (1760): “They are there to help the expression.”

The second half of the 18th century was a transitional time when the fortepiano was making ever deeper inroads into the public awareness, when the abrupt dynamic contrasts of a C. P. E. Bach or the Mannheim composers were popular, and every possible device or gimmick was being invented and employed to aid the harpsichord in producing more dynamic variety: pedal-activated machine stops, the soft leather “plectra” of the peau de buffle register, organ-like foot-pedal-operated louvers that were installed above the soundboard, and instrumental accompaniment.

The six accompanied pieces of Jacques Duphly have been played less frequently than his other harpsichord works because they were omitted from Heugel’s 1967 Le Pupitre volume of his “complete” harpsichord pieces. A modern edition of the three G-major pieces with violin had been published in Paris in 1961, but the additional three in F major were not generally available to contemporary players until the Swiss publisher Minkoff offered its facsimile edition of Duphly’s Third Book of Harpsichord Pieces in 1987. My attention was drawn to these six enhanced works when reviewing the four compact discs that comprise Yannick Le Gaillard’s complete recording of Duphly’s output, in which he included all six of the “added violin” pieces in collaboration with violinist Ryo Terakado (ADDA 581097/100, 1988). 

For those to whom Duphly is not a household name, the composer was born in Rouen in 1715 and had the exquisite good taste to die in Paris in 1789 immediately before the aristocratic world in which he functioned was totally upended by the French Revolution. One gets a succinct picture of this minor master of the keyboard from two contemporaries. Pierre-Louis Daquin wrote in 1752: “. . . Duflitz [sic] passes in Paris for a very good harpsichordist. He has much lightness of touch and a certain softness which, sustained by ornaments, marvelously render the character of the pieces.” Marpurg, writing in 1754, has passed on to us this portrait of a rather particular character who obviously preferred light action for his keyboards: “Duphly, a pupil of Dagincour, plays the harpsichord only, in order, as he says, not to spoil his hand with the organ. He lives in Paris, where he instructs the leading families.”

Duphly had published his first two books of harpsichord music in 1744 and 1748. These volumes did not include any accompanied pieces, but his third book (1758) begins with three works in the new style. (It must have been taken for granted at this time that one could play either with or without the accompanying instrument, for nothing that mentions the added partner is noted on the title page, or elsewhere.) The accompanied pieces simply appeared with a third staff added above the usual two for the harpsichord; the word Violon is engraved above this additional staff.

The first three accompanied pieces, in F major, present varied tonal pictures. Number one is an Ouverture that begins with a Grave in the customary dotted rhythm, continues with a livelier contrapuntal section, and ends with a two-measure stately cadence. Two character pieces follow: La De May is a gracious rondo named for Reine DeMay, a midwife who played some role in a shady enterprise involving Casanova and the Parisian banker Pouplinière. There is, however, nothing particularly shady about this delicate, rather sunny piece. The third piece, La Madin, is an Italianate gigue, named in honor of the Abbé Henri Madin, choirmaster of the Chapelle Royal and governor of the musical pages. It may be a reference to these youngsters that informs the playful character of this quick-paced work.

That these pieces are worth restoring to the repertoire is not in doubt. Indeed, all of Duphly’s pieces are worthwhile for reasons admirably articulated by Gustav Leonhardt, one of the first modern harpsichordists to champion these French works. In notes to a disc of solo works by the pre-revolutionary composer, Leonhardt wrote, “. . . Duphly’s pieces concealed within their notes the secret of sonority. Such a style of composition demands as much expert knowledge as writing difficult or bizarre works. The perfect always seems easy in the eyes of the non-initiated.”

Duphly’s third volume continues with the very best of his solo harpsichord compositions—the F-minor rondeau La Forqueray, a monumental F-major-minor-major Chaconne, the turbulent and virtuose Medée, winsome and moving D-major Les Grâces, the rocket-themed D-minor La De Belombre, and two graceful Menuets. Then comes the G-major accompanied set—three character pieces, all in quick tempi, titled La De Casaubon, La Du Tailly, and La De Valmallette, the latter two both known Parisian vocalists. The volume concludes with five more solo harpsichord pieces in various keys.

In revisiting the Le Gaillard recordings I found them to be somewhat superficial and too unyielding for my current tastes. Searching the web to see if there were some more recent recordings I came across two that were of interest: a disc of accompanied works by Duphly and the very young Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, whose earliest-known keyboard sonatas (K. 6–9) belong to the accompanied harpsichord genre, recorded at the Musée des Beaux Arts, Chartres, by harpsichordist Violaine Cochard and violinist Stéphanie-Marie Degand (Agogique AGO009, 2010). Online reviewer Johan van Veen wrote of this recent offering, “Considering that the Duphly pieces are not often recorded and that Mozart’s sonatas are too often—if at all—played on rather inappropriate instruments, this disc deserves an enthusiastic reception.”

A recording entirely devoted to works by Duphly receives my highest recommendation: harpsichordist Medea Bindewald, whose playing demonstrates the most satisfying musicality, with just the right amount of agogic give and take, is joined by violinist Nicolette Moonen on the German label Coviello Classics (CD COV91404). Recorded during August 2013 in Swithland, UK, here is a first-rate program selected from three of the four Duphly volumes, played from the original engraved texts (the same scores that I recommend, all four volumes of which are available in the series of Performers’ Facsimiles published by Broude Brothers). Ms. Bindewald lists Robert Hill (Freiburg) and Ketil Haugsand (Cologne) among her teachers, so it is not completely surprising that she plays a magnificent instrument built by another Hill brother, the American harpsichord maker Keith Hill. I was charmed and delighted throughout the ample hour-and-a-quarter of this well-chosen recital. Only occasionally did I wish that the violin were slightly less prominent in its balance with the harpsichord. After all, the bow was meant to accompany the keyboard! (Thank you, Mr. Avison and M. Mathon de la Coeur!)

When I first spoke about Duphly to a Southeastern Historical Keyboard Society gathering at Salem College in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, on April 6, 1991, I began by expressing appreciation to the author who had already published most of the information offered here. Once again, I need to share my gratitude to this pioneering scholar of French early keyboard music, Professor Emeritus David Fuller, from the State University of New York at Buffalo, whose research and writings have formed the basis not only of my own presentations, but, as I have noticed in researching the topic, nearly everyone else’s. As the authority who published “Accompanied Keyboard Music” in the journal Musical Quarterly (60:2, April 1974, pp. 222–245), as well as the subsequent articles on Duphly and the Accompanied Sonata in the New Grove Dictionary of Music, Fuller has been both leader and guide for Duphly studies. I came to know David better when I was asked to write his biography for the American Grove, and also when we “shared” a harpsichord major student, Lewis Baratz, who, after completing his undergraduate study with Professor Fuller, graced the master of music program in harpsichord at Southern Methodist University, before going on to earn his doctorate in musicology.

And I cannot think of, or play, Duphly’s music without remembering a beloved mixed-breed pet—part Dachshund, part Lhasa Apso—who loved to listen to the harpsichord, usually unaccompanied. Adopted from the local SPCA animal shelter, where his name was listed as “Blue,” he shared our Dallas lives for the larger part of two decades, during which time he seemed at ease with the more distinctive name I had chosen for him. ν

Comments or questions are always welcome. Please send them to [email protected] or Dr. Larry Palmer, 10125 Cromwell Drive, Dallas, TX 75229.

Larry Palmer is harpsichord editor of THE DIAPASON.

Facsimiles from Fuzeau: Sources for Lifelong Learning

Alternately fascinating and frustrating, facsimiles of original manuscripts and printed editions have become increasingly available. For the harpsichordist there is little that is more rewarding than playing from an actual musical “picture” as presented by the composer. Reading from the “original” certainly does not answer all questions, but it does give an unadulterated source as basis for making one’s own musical decisions. For this reason, I heartily recommend playing from facsimiles as a challenging, and often a cleansing, exercise in musical growth.

To utilize these recent scores from publisher Jean-Marc Fuzeau of France, it will help to have an adventurous spirit, as well as a willingness to learn the occasional unfamiliar clef, frequently used in earlier music manuscripts to avoid excessive employment of ledger lines.

Alessandro Poglietti: Rossignolo  [Collection Dominantes Number 5905].

Works for harpsichord or organ by the Italian composer who died in 1683 during his flight from Vienna following the Turkish siege of that city. Three main sources for these pieces are introduced by Peter Waldner, whose notes in French, English, and German include both biographical and bibliographical information and a listing of available modern editions. Fuzeau’s publication comprises three slim paperbound volumes in a folder: an autograph manuscript from the Austrian National Library, Vienna (Cod. 19248), an early edition from the Music Library of the Benedictine Monastery of Marienberg, Burgeis (60/q 366), and another copy of an old source, now housed in the Deutsche Staatsbibliothek, Berlin (Mus.ms. 17670). All utilize the soprano clef (notes written a third higher than the customary G clef) and the familiar bass clef on F. Individual pieces include a Toccata, Canzone, Allemande Amour, Courante, Sarban, Gigue, Ayre, as well as Il Rossignolo Capricio [sic] and a Petitte Ayre gay “in imitation of the Nightingale.”

Johann Kuhnau: Neue Clavier-übung, Partie I (1689) [Collection Dominantes Number 5716], consists of seven short keyboard suites in C, D, E, F, G, A, and B-flat, prefaced by eleven pages of introductory material by Philippe Lescat. Each group of pieces begins with a Prelude (the fourth suite, a Sonatina). The volume is engraved in a large, clear format employing the first line soprano clef and the familiar bass clef on F.

For a modern performing edition of these works (and others, including the popular and appealing Biblical Sonatas) by Bach’s immediate predecessor as Cantor of Leipzig’s  Thomaskirche, consult the beautifully-presented two-volume set of Kuhnau’s Collected Works for Keyboard edited by C. David Harris, available from The Broude Trust, New York (ISBN 0-8540-7660-4).

Christoph Graupner: Monatliche Clavir Früchte (1722) [Collection Dominantes Number 5855].

Not surprisingly, this collection of “Monthly Keyboard Fruits” comprises twelve groups of keyboard pieces illustrating the months of the year. (I suppose one could create a larger work--Seasons--by playing these suites in groups of three!) Graupner, student of and assistant to Kuhnau in Leipzig, spent most of his distinguished career in Darmstadt. Soprano and bass F clefs, notes by Oswald Bill.

Louis Marchand: Pièces de clavecin (Book I, 1699; Book II, 1702), Air (La Venitienne) [La Musique Française Classique Number 5761].

Book One contains a Suite in D minor, consisting of a (measured) prelude and eight dance movements (including an elegant Chaconne with four couplets) engraved primarily in soprano and third line F clefs (with occasional deviations to G and third line C clefs). Book Two contains a Suite in G minor, the prelude of which has some unmeasured passages. Seven short dance movements follow.

Edited by Thurston Dart, Marchand’s two suites were published by Editions L’Oiseau Lyre in 1960. Dart’s edition does not contain the short Air (printed by Ballard as the character piece “La Venitienne” [in Pièces Choisies pour le clavecin]), included in the facsimile (with easy-to-read G and F clefs). Introductory notes to Fuzeau’s publication include an essay on “French Harpsichord Makers of Marchand’s Time” by Philippe Lescat. An amusing attribution in his Bibliography replaces American harpsichord maker and instrument historian FRANK Hubbard’s first name with the more Gallic spelling FRANCK.

Christian Gottlob Neefe: Zwölf Klavier-Sonaten (1773) [Collection Dominantes Number 5880].

Twelve early classic works for clavichord by Beethoven’s teacher; published in Leipzig with a dedication to “Herr Kapellmeister [C P E] Bach in Hamburg.” The original print featured a clear, clean text (soprano, bass F clefs). The inevitable printer’s errors are noted and corrected in introductory material by Pascal Duc.

Number Twelve in the Fuzeau series Méthodes & Traités  fills two volumes, each containing more than 200 pages. Clavecin presents in chronological order selections from the most important French sources concerning the harpsichord. A reading knowledge of French would be helpful, but for those who are challenged by the language, a great amount of enjoyment may be gleaned from the generous offering of harpsichord-related images, easily-deciferable information, and the many musical examples.

Beginning with tuning and building information from Mersenne’s Harmonie universelle (1636) and Denis’ Traité de l’accord de l’espinette (1650), volume one continues with ornament tables found in the keyboard volumes by Chambonnières (1670), d’Anglebert (1689), Dieupart (1701: a volume dedicated to the Countess of Sandwich), Le Roux (1705), François Couperin (Book I, 1713), Dandrieu (1724), Dagincourt (1733), Michel Corrette (1734), Louis-Claude Daquin (1735), Rameau (1736), Van Helmont (1737), Jollage (1738), and Royer (1746), plus complete facsimiles of Saint-Lambert’s Les Principes du Clavecin, (1702) and Couperin’s L’art de toucher le clavecin (1717). [Consult the original layout of Couperin’s Troisième Prélude (page 175) to substantiate a correct reading of the never-corrected faulty first bass note at the beginning of the last score: the guide (guidon) from the preceding line shows it to be a “C,”  but the engraver actually notated a “B-flat,” creating a chord unidiomatic to an 18th-century piece.]

Also included are two documents including important information for stylistic performance of French keyboard music: a letter by Le Gallois concerning the playing of the prélude non mésurée (1680) and Rameau’s two-page commentary on proper touch at the harpsichord (1724), ending with his intriguing comment that the same techniques are applicable as well to the organ.

Volume Two continues this rich treasure trove with Michel Corrette’s Les Amusemens du Parnasse, a short and easy method for the harpsichord (1749). This includes a simple Suite in C for beginners, with fingerings provided AND utilizing the familiar G and F clefs, followed by an additional twelve pages of easy pieces. At the end of the volume Marpurg’s Art de toucher le clavecin (1797) gives a fin de siècle example of keyboard instruction, concluding with another lengthy set of easier pieces by Mr. Sorge, organist and mathematician of Lobenstein (once again using “modern” clefs).

Other gems reprinted in this second volume include composer Duphly’s handwritten remarks on fingering (1769) as preserved in the copy of his Pièces de clavecin, Book I, belonging to his student, English Lord Fitzwilliam; illustrations of harpsichord construction from Diderot’s Encyclopédie (1751- 1772); Lessons and Principles of Harmony by Bemetzrieder (1771) reproduced from a copy once owned by the important 19th-century musical reformer Choron; and several more enchanting engravings of variously styled harpsichords with other instruments from the Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne by Laborde (1780).

For more complete details, including current prices, consult the publisher’s website: <classical-music.fuzeau.com>. A recent promotional offering, a miniature volume of selected pages from facsimile publications, is offered at this address. Let your discoveries begin!

Send news items or comments about Harpsichord News to Dr. Larry Palmer, Division of Music, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, TX 75275;

<[email protected]>.