Paul Cienniwa plays Handel_ Passacaille in G Minor

A fascinating book by Beverly Jerold, Music Performance Issues: 1600–1900

Readers of The Diapason’s July 2018 issue most likely remember Beverly Jerold’s article about two eighteenth-century concerts of Handel’s music as reviewed by the Berlin Court Kapellmeister Johann Friedrich Reichardt, who attended the programs during his 1785 visit to London. Ms. Jerold has spent much of her life researching for period information about musical performances as reported by the persons who experienced them. One could see in the stunning color headshot of this intrepid author that she has a firm chin and twinkling eyes, ever on the lookout for authentic information about the topic that she is researching. These period verifications serve as guides for those who seek stylistic authenticity in their own present-day performances.

From the many varied essays that Jerold has published in a wide range of journals she has selected nineteen articles for her book Music Performance Issues: 1600–1900, issued in 2016 by Pendragon Press, Hillsdale, New York, as a paperback edition comprising 359 pages of useful knowledge (ISBN 978-1-57647-175-0, list price: $65, available from www.pendragonpress.com).

I would enjoy sharing many of her remarkable discoveries and observations with you, but it would be unfair for me to present you with Jerold’s discoveries, and it might rob you, the readers, of the surprises that you may have when you read the book for yourselves. I do encourage you to access the volume and to enjoy Jerold’s findings, offered with the utmost clarity and complete references to her sources. To whet your curiosities, here are the titles of the book’s chapters:

• Dilettante and Amateur: Our Evolving Language

• Bach’s Lament about Leipzig’s Professional Instrumentalists

• Choral Singing Before the Era of Recordings

• Why Most a cappella Music Could Not Have Been Sung Unaccompanied

• Fasch and the Beginning of Modern Artistic Choral Singing

• What Handel’s Casting Reveals About Singers of the Time

• Intonation Standards and Equal Temperament

• Eighteenth-Century Stringed Keyboard Instruments from a Performance Perspective [LP: You may be surprised about the clavichord!]

• The Tromba and Corno in Bach’s Time

• Maelzel’s Role in Beethoven’s Symphonic Metronome Marks

• The French Time Devices Revisited

• The Notable Significance of Common Time and Cut Time in Bach’s Era

• Numbers and Tempo: 1630–1800

• Overdotting in Handel’s Overtures Reconsidered

• Notes inégales: A Definitive New Parameter

• Distinguishing Between Artificial and Natural Vibrato in Premodern Music

• A Solution for Simple (secco) Theater Recitative

• How Composers Viewed Performers’ Additions

• The Varied Reprise in Eighteenth-Century Instrumental Music—A Reappraisal

Telemann Sonatas for Violin and Harpsichord

Totally unfamiliar music by the most prolific baroque composer Georg Friedrich Telemann (1681–1767) fills a recent compact disc featuring violinist Dorian Komanoff Bandy and harpsichordist Paul Cienniwa (Whaling City Sound, WCS 108). Originally published in Frankfort-am-Main in 1715, these six four-movement works, each comprising alternating slow-fast-slow-fast movements, were composed with the burgeoning amateur house music musician in mind. A seventh sonata of similar style and length that has survived only in the composer’s manuscript preserved in the Dresden State Library receives its world premiere recording to fill out the program.

In disc and numerical order the sonatas are in G Minor, D Major, B Minor, G Major, A Minor, and A Major; the extra seventh sonata is in F-sharp Minor. Each composition bears the TWV (Telemann Werke Verzeichnis [“work catalogue”]) number 41, followed by an indication of its individual key (in German style: g, D, h, G, a. A, fis).

I had met the harpsichordist during a long-ago Boston Early Music Festival visit. He has recently relocated to the warmer climes of Florida where (now Dr.) Paul Cienniwa is music director of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Delray. Thus it was not difficult to locate an email address for this fine artist. I especially wanted to learn who had built the harpsichord used for this recording and to ascertain whether the works were being played from a realized score or from the more probable two-line original engraving. It turned out to be the latter, which made my admiration for such beautiful collaborative musicianship ascend even several units higher. Especially an elegant solo harpsichord introduction to the “Cantabile” of the B-minor Sonata had moved me deeply, and I appreciate the sensitive musical realization of the figured bass throughout. It also pleased me that Cienniwa lists among his musical mentors Jerome Butera, a longtime editor of The Diapason and currently the magazine’s sales director. (File that in your “Small World” folder, please.)

The fine-sounding instrument, it turned out, is a single-manual 2 x 8 example inspired by the unique 1681 Vaudry harpsichord (an instrument that our readers encountered briefly last month through the illustration for Jane Clark’s article on François Couperin). It was built in 2008 by Kevin Spindler. For those who might wish to acquire this music, violinist Bandy suggests IMSLP for downloading (https://imslp.org), or, even better, a facsimile of the 1715 edition published by Anne Fuzeau Productions (http://www.editions-classique.com/en/index.php). With such a fine example of the collaborative harpsichord line for consultation, one might not be so reluctant to realize that figured bass.

Equally at home with historical keyboards and the piano, Michael Delfín is a top prizewinner of the Jurow International Harpsichord Competition and is a member of The Diapason’s 20 Under 30 Class of 2021. Based in Cincinnati, Ohio, he is artistic director of Seven Hills Baroque. For information: michaeldelfin.com.

Foes find friendship: Händel vs. Scarlatti

Händel vs. Scarlatti, Cristiano Gaudio, harpsichord. L’Encelade, ECL 2003. Available from encelade.net.

Georg Friederich Händel: “Toccata I in G Major,” “Toccata VI in C Major,” “Toccata IX in G Minor,” and “Toccata XI in D Minor” from the Bergamo Manuscript; Sonata in G Minor, HWV 580; Suite II in F Major, HWV 427; Chaconne in G Major, HWV 435; transcription of Violin Sonata No. 10 in A Major, HWV 372. Domenico Scarlatti: Sonata in F Major, K. 82; Sonata in F Minor, K. 69; Sonata in D Minor, K. 32; Sonata in D Minor, K. 64; Sonata in G Minor, K. 43; Sonata in D Major, K. 33; Sonata in D Major, K. 53; Sonata in C Major, K. 86; Sonata in C Minor, K. 84; Sonata in C Minor, K.58.

Competition very often follows musicians throughout their lives, sometimes in healthy ways and sometimes not, and competitive events often yield memorable outcomes. The Saxon Georg Friederich Händel and the Italian Domenico Scarlatti first met in 1708, and at the instigation of the patron of the arts Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni in Rome, the two engaged in a musical duel for an audience drawn from the nobility. Rather than speak critically of each other as Mozart did of Clementi, flee town in fear as Louis Marchand did with Johann Sebastian Bach, or storm out of the city as Daniel Steibelt did after losing to Ludwig van Beethoven, Händel and Scarlatti became friends and admirers of each other’s skill. Händel was declared the superior organist, while Scarlatti was deemed the superior harpsichordist.

Händel (who later Anglicized his name to George Frideric Handel) settled in England and composed in as many genres as he encountered on his travels, while Scarlatti settled in Iberia, eventually marrying into the Spanish royalty and composing over 550 keyboard sonatas, among other works. Although the musical program of this duel has been lost to history, harpsichordist Cristiano Gaudio captures the spirit of two twenty-four-year-old virtuosos vying for the public eye in an impressive and brilliantly played album entitled Händel vs. Scarlatti.

As we know from their careers, Händel and Scarlatti could not be more different as people and composers, but this album pits them together on the level playing field of the harpsichord. Both were lauded for their virtuosity, and both were highly skilled in the art of improvisation at the keyboard, and Gaudio’s album highlights both traits. His program selections stem from Händel’s younger years and most likely Scarlatti’s as well (as best as the Kirkpatrick numbers may yield). The variety of styles places the listener in the front row of the audience, hearing the two young composers show off their skill and challenge each other to more and more daring feats at the keyboard.

Händel starts the first round with a stirring toccata preserved in the newly discovered “Bergamo” manuscript. Händel’s toccatas in this album showcase his brilliant improvisations as an organist, and as this opening selection resembles the more sectional, improvisatory sonata movements of Corelli, perhaps the German Händel is showing his skill at a more Italian vein to impress his hosts. However, Scarlatti takes the Saxon to task and plays a fugue at a presto tempo, showing his mastery of a more German learned style! (Gaudio’s super-charged performance is especially breathtaking.) He then demonstrates a more sensitive, suave approach to the harpsichord that would highlight his slower sonatas to come. In Gaudio’s hands, this Bruce Kennedy Italian harpsichord sings sensuously, and Scarlatti’s Spanish flair enticingly emerges.

Back and forth the composers square off, with Gaudio refereeing the musical melee. Händel takes a turn at fugal style while Scarlatti pares back his fingerwork for a gentler approach. (Gaudio’s tasteful embellishments in the latter seem to emanate from within the sound of the instrument.) Händel produces multi-sectional toccatas, to which Scarlatti replies with paired sonatas. Händel then attempts a languid and suave sound through an organ sonata movement, but Scarlatti disrupts this aria with an allegrissimo in the same key. At this point the composers play off of each other, as Händel continues in G minor with another toccata, this time joined to a capriccio. Perhaps these mutual segues hint at the respect the two men gained for each other upon meeting each other in “battle.”

As the contest progresses, the virtuosi move more into their own worlds—Scarlatti into Spanish dance and keyboard pyrotechnics, and Händel into orchestral writing. K. 33 signals a Spanish jota, a vigorous dance in 3/8, but Scarlatti also takes time to improvise between phrases. Gaudio’s timing of these moments keeps the listener on edge as the movement seemingly halts, then precipitates into the dance once again. Although Scarlatti’s Spanish flavor would come later, its presence in this album makes his music contrast most spiritedly from Händel’s. K. 53 also signals guitar-like writing and more visually the hand-crossings that would make Scarlatti’s sonatas legendary across all keyboard instruments. Gaudio’s fiery virtuosity is so very enjoyable that one almost forgets the demands of this music!

Not to be outdone, Händel enters the fray again, this time with a gem from his first volume of suites. He steps away from the organ and becomes an orchestrator, perhaps attempting to outdo Scarlatti through his own use of the harpsichord’s sonority and register, which differs in each movement. Gaudio equally demonstrates the ability of the harpsichord to imitate orchestral voices in a concertante setting, both solo and grosso. The opening aria’s florid melodic line rivals that of the most beautiful aria-like sonatas that Scarlatti could write, and Gaudio captivates the listener from the very first note. Vigorous violin-like writing characterizes the second movement, which is similar in key and brilliance to the opening soprano aria of Partenope, an opera Händel would write in London some twenty years later. The shock of the third movement’s key paves the way for individual lines in a concerto grosso-like texture to permeate the aura created by this new solemn affect. Gaudio shapes each line elegantly and leaves the listener wondering what could happen next. The final ebullient fugue is a tour de force and features both Händel’s training in counterpoint and zest for flair at their best. Gaudio’s energy is relentlessly exciting, though one may wish at times for more articulated shape in each fugal line, not just pell-mell energy.

For the final stretch of performances, both composers offer their most personal craft. Scarlatti’s three sonatas treat the listener to memorable elegance, more fireworks, and one last demonstration of the learned style. Gaudio highlights the whimsical air of K. 86 with expressive elegance, shows off the brilliance of K. 84 with great freedom and edge, and holds together K. 58’s structure amid gnarly chromaticism. His freedom in timing sometimes detracts from the pieces’ architecture, but the elegance in K. 86 ensures that the listener is never lost in the weeds but is always at home in the flowers. Even though the sense of meter in K. 84 disappears in pauses and drastic tempo shifts, the listener is allowed a glimpse at the overtly brilliant keyboard writing that characterizes Scarlatti’s most difficult sonatas. In this sonata, Scarlatti snarls at his foe! He then continues one-upping Händel in a virtuosic, chromatic fugue, demonstrating both a command of the keyboard and the epitome of learned-style counterpoint, with a subject based entirely on the chromatic scale. Gaudio’s performance of K. 58 breathes more here than in Händel’s imitative writing, but one still might wish the fugue subject were crafted with a greater sensitivity to meter. However, even with occasionally blurred chromatic lines, the overall structure of the fugue is most convincing.

Händel’s wild last toccata and the great “Chaconne” cement his improvisatory prowess in the audience’s memory. Gaudio gives an elaborate and gripping performance of this incredible latter work, and his addictive energy holds the audience’s attention to the very end. His brilliant fingerwork at times relies more on speed and clarity than shape in the many running lines, but the rhythmic energy of the whole movement compels the listener’s attention and applause. Gaudio ends the album with a lovely encore in the form of a transcription from a violin sonata. One can imagine the two composers reading this movement together on separate instruments (or perhaps the same one!) before going their separate ways with newfound reverence at each other’s mastery.

So who carries the day? You be the judge, but Gaudio clearly gives a winning performance as the referee. The two instruments by Bruce Kennedy offer timbral variety, and one can imagine both composers taking turns at each instrument and even the same instrument. This brilliant album leaves the listener inspired, breathlessly excited, and eager for more, and Mr. Gaudio delivers the styles of the two giants with ease, taste, and exuberance.

Kimberly Marshall plays the Ciacona in E Minor by Dieterich Buxtehude on the Paul Fritts & Company Opus 12 organ (1991) at Arizona State University, Tempe, Arizona; two manuals and pedal, 28 stops, 36 ranks. 
http://www.frittsorgan.com/opus_pages/galleries/opus_12/photo_gallery.html 
https://musicdancetheatre.asu.edu/about/venues-facilities/organ-hall

Kimberly Marshall currently holds the Patricia and Leonard Goldman Endowed Professorship in Organ at Arizona State University and the Hedda Andersson Visiting Professorship at the Malmö Academy of Music.

See Kimberly Marshall’s artist spotlight: 
https://www.thediapason.com/artists/kimberly-marshall

See http://www.kimberlymarshall.com/ or visit https://www.facebook.com/KimberlyMarshall.organist.

Adam Brakel plays the Praeludium in D Minor, BuxWV 140, by Dietrich Buxtehude