Mark Fewer, violin; Myron Lutzke, violoncello; Kenneth Stowik, harpsichord. Smithsonian Chamber Music Society FoM 36-802.
If you don't recognize the name of Italian Baroque composer Giovanni Antonio Pandolfi Mealli (c. 1630 - c. 1669), don't feel bad. Scholars didn't rediscover his music until 1901, and even then nobody in the music world took him too seriously until the 1980's. If you did recognize his name, give yourself ten extra points and move to the head of the room.
The fact is, we know little about Pandolfi Mealli. All we have are two collections of his music, the two sets of violin sonatas (with harpsichord or, as here, with harpsichord and cello) labeled Opuses 3 and 4. Maybe he wrote a lot more music than that, maybe not. Maybe he wrote Opuses 1 and 2, maybe not. Known facts: He worked as a musician at the court of the Austrian Archduke Ferdinand Karl around 1660, which is about when he published the two collections of sonatas we have here, and he dedicated many of the sonatas to friends, relatives, and patrons.
The term "sonata," incidentally, apparently meant something a little different in Pandolfi's day than it does in our own. Today we think of a sonata as "a composition for one or two instruments, typically in three or four movements in contrasted forms and keys," as the Random House Dictionary puts it. In Pandolfi's time, however, a sonata simply referred to any work written specifically for the violin repertoire and made up of relatively short contrasting sections.
In the case of Opuses 3 and 4, they consist of six sonatas each, with each sonata lasting from three to eight minutes. Although there are tempo variations within the individual sonatas, each of them tends either to favor slow or fast paces; but because of their short length, Paldolfi alternates them for maximum effect. People can debate whether he intended this effect or not, but the fact is that the listener can enjoy each set of Opus numbers as a complete work unto itself. It's rather like listening to Vivaldi's Four Seasons as a complete set rather than four separate concertos. Of course, the six sonatas in each of Paldolfi's opuses don't hang together quite as well as Vivaldi's music, but you get the idea.
When the sonatas are in their slow phases, they can range from contemplative to downright melancholy; when they are moving faster, they can appear bright and sprightly. The common denominator is their virtuosity, which the trio of Mark Fewer, violin, Myron Lutzke, cello, and Kenneth Stowik, harpsichord, bring out exquisitely with their exactitude and affection. These performances do not seem like stuffy run-throughs of ancient music but lively, spontaneous interpretations played in a smooth, casual, yet refined and ultraprecise style. Incidentally, this is only the second recording of the complete sonatas in the catalogue and the first one to include a cello.
It's fascinating, really, to note how cultured and flowing the music is, how much more modern it sounds than the seventeenth century. This may be early-to-mid Baroque writing, but the works seem more like the compositions of the late Baroque or possibly early Classical periods. Even though there is nothing about them that stands out like hit-parade favorites, these tunes should appeal to most classical music lovers; especially the way Fewer and his companions play them. The sonatas are charming, almost-lost little gems, notable for their aforementioned virtuosity and for their endless ingenuity and creativity.
The sound, recorded in October of 2008 at the Eglise Saint-Augustin, Mirabel, Quebec, is as ideal as one could want for a trio of players. The performers are simply there, in the room with you, each instrument sounding as clear and natural as it might sound on a stage or in a large room setting, with just enough ambient bloom to provide an added dimension of realism. Spacing, imaging, depth, frequency response, etc., are also ideal. It's some of the best sound I've heard from a chamber group.
About the Author
Understand, I'm just an everyday guy reacting to something I love. And I've been doing it for a very long time, my appreciation for classical music starting with the musical excerpts on The Big John and Sparkie radio show in the early Fifties and the purchase of my first recording, The 101 Strings Play the Classics, around 1956. In the late Sixties I began teaching high school English and Film Studies as well as becoming interested in hi-fi, my audio ambitions graduating me from a pair of AR-3 speakers to the Fulton J's recommended by The Stereophile's J. Gordon Holt. In the early Seventies, I began writing for a number of audio magazines, including Audio Excellence, Audio Forum, The Boston Audio Society Speaker, The American Record Guide, and from 1976 until 2008, The $ensible Sound, for which I served as Classical Music Editor.
Today, I'm retired from teaching and use a pair of bi-amped VMPS RM40s loudspeakers for my listening. In addition to writing the Classical Candor blog, I served as the Movie Review Editor for the Web site Movie Metropolis (formerly DVDTown) from 1997-2013. Music and movies. Life couldn't be better.
It is the goal of Classical Candor to promote the enjoyment of classical music. Other forms of music come and go--minuets, waltzes, ragtime, blues, jazz, bebop, country-western, rock-'n'-roll, heavy metal, rap, and the rest--but classical music has been around for hundreds of years and will continue to be around for hundreds more. It's no accident that every major city in the world has one or more symphony orchestras.
When I was young, I heard it said that only intellectuals could appreciate classical music, that it required dedicated concentration to appreciate. Nonsense. I'm no intellectual, and I've always loved classical music. Anyone who's ever seen and enjoyed Disney's Fantasia or a Looney Tunes cartoon playing Rossini's William Tell Overture or Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 can attest to the power and joy of classical music, and that's just about everybody.
So, if Classical Candor can expand one's awareness of classical music and bring more joy to one's life, more power to it. It's done its job.
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