Balancing act

Rinaldo Alessandrini in action.

What makes the period music movement so exciting is that it's in such ferment that there are dozens of different musical voices and visions jostling for space within it.  (There's really no comparable spectrum of interpretation among conductors of the "standard" repertoire - the BSO may vary a bit in quality from week to week, but it generally moves within a circumscribed artistic horizon of "excellence.")

And happily, we often get to see that ferment bubbling at the Handel and Haydn Society; whenever artistic director Harry Christophers is away (no slouch himself!) the Society invites major international figures like Richard Egarr and Roger Norrington to the podium, who reliably shake things up musically and intellectually.

Last week's H&H concerts proved no exception to this tradition, as the Society hosted Italian conductor and keyboard master Rinaldo Alessandrini (above), who has been tearing up the Continent in recent years with his acclaimed "Concerto Italiano" ensemble.  The program was territory Alessandrini knew well: Pergolesi's classic setting of the Stabat Mater for two voices, as well as his lesser-known "Salve Regina" (both composed at the very end of his short life), along with two concerti: Francesco Geminiani's Concerto Grosso Op. 3, No. 3, and Bach's Keyboard Concerto in D (BMV 1054).

So - to be honest, one sits down at these events wondering, "What's going to be the big idea this time?" Well, Alessandrini - a gently intense, romantically dapper presence onstage, who conducted from the harpsichord - says his passion is for “cantabilità.” Now this loosely translates as "singability," so it doesn't tell you much; but what was evident from performance was that Alessandrini is all about balance, detail, and harmonious proportion.  Hence these performances were models of delicate, graceful control - there were no large, daring gestures - and little impish eccentricity, either; refinement was the order of the day.  If there was a larger artistic statement to be gleaned from Alessandrini's finely-tuned engineering, I'd say it had something to do with another kind of balance: the intriguing way in which the text of Pergolesi's Stabat Mater exists in tension with its musical setting - which, as this concert convincingly argued, owed much to the new "singing" Italian style.  In other words, Pergolesi's suffering Virgin Mary stands (the Latin title literally translates as "Standing Mother") with one foot in the sacred but the other in the secular.

And right now, to be honest, a commitment to graceful balance is a perfect fit for the newly-remodeled H&H string section (which dominated these concerti).  I commented after the H&H season opener on how artistic director Christophers had brought a new sheen to the period orchestra's sound; and if anything, under Alessandrini the strings sounded more focused and flexible than ever; there was simply gorgeous playing on offer here, particularly in the Geminiani "Adagio."  (Unsurprisingly, the instrumentalists returned the love Alessandrini had clearly lavished on them with a stomping ovation at the concert's close.)

But you know me; I had my nits to pick.  The program was a thoughtful one, with a subtle and convincing argument tracing influences and echoes back and forth between the three composers on offer.  Still, if the intent was to highlight the emergence of the harpsichord as a solo instrument in the Bach, then I'd have to say its musical line still sounded slightly too submerged - not because of Alessandrini's playing, which was one sparkling, light-fingered flow, but rather because his conducting duties meant that his back was to the audience, and so even though the lid was off the harpsichord, its sound couldn't quite compete in size with that of the rest of the orchestra.

Meanwhile the singing - by soprano Liesbeth Devos and mezzo Emily Righter - was likewise generally transporting, but did make you ponder certain issues in transit.  The emphasis on proportion and "singability" meant that this Stabat Mater - which is, after all, rooted in Mary's suffering before the Cross - was only occasionally as piercing as I've heard in other performances (perhaps because things sounded a little rushed in places), although both vocalists impressed with the richness and gravity of their interpretations.  The strikingly statuesque Righter - slightly overdressed in a lavishly ruched turquoise gown - employed more vibrato than you usually hear in period performance, but her voice has a remarkably burnished, almost tragic lustre, and she seemed to go deeper emotionally than anyone else on stage.  Meanwhile Devos was perhaps more agile throughout her range (which glittered most at its top), but sometimes sounded as if she sympathized, but could not identify, with her text.  Such are the pitfalls, I suppose, of secular and sacred "balance"!  The good news is that the voices of these two did blend exquisitely - in purely musical terms, their timbres mapped memorably to the kind of evocative equilibrium Alessandrini seemed to be seeking.

The Lutheran hit parade

Yes, Hub Reviewers, there's yet more Christmas music to review!  Sometimes it seems like musically this season will never end - only frankly, I didn't want "A Bach Christmas," Handel and Haydn's intimate musical offering last weekend, to end.  This seasonal concert, led by chorusmaster John Finney, gives the H&H home team a chance to shine on their own, without any interference or upstaging from jet-set conductors or soloists.

And shine they did, in a lovely concert of familiar and obscure sacred music from the German tradition that reached its culmination in Johann Sebastian Bach (at left, with seasonal greetings). In his on-stage comments, Finney referred to his selections as exemplars of a specifically Lutheran tradition, but his earlier choices still felt quasi-Catholic (one, by Buxtehude, was drawn from medieval sources), and by now even Bach sounds ecumenically Christian anyhow.

Which is fine by me when it comes to Christmas programs. I'm no scholar of this period of German music, but I have to say that Finney's choices this year were remarkably consistent in quality; in fact the concert began to play as a kind of Lutheran hit parade. Buxtehude's In dulci jubilo was hauntingly gorgeous, as were Ein Kind is uns geobren ("Unto Us a Child is Born," after the same text as Handel's famous chorus) by Schütz, and Ehr sei Gott in der Höh allein (Honor be to God on High Alone) by Schein. Finney also included Telemann's sparkling Concerto for Three Oboes and Three Violins to give his period orchestra (led by a spirited Julie Leven) its own moment in the spotlight. The concert concluded with Bach's famous Cantata 140, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme, ("Awake, the watchmen's voices"), which includes beneath its bass recitative one of the most memorable melodies the great Johann Sebastian ever penned.

The vocalists, drawn from the ranks of the H&H chorus, were uniformly strong, with lush singing from soprano Susan Consoli and a powerful turn from tenor Ryan Turner in another Bach cantata, the beautiful but rather eccentrically-structured No. 122. Probably the best vocal performances of the program, however, came from local star soprano Teresa Wakim and bass Nikolas Nackley (who deserves a higher local profile). Together they made a delicately moving duet of Bach's "Dialogue between the Soul and Jesus." As with the rest of the concert, the duet was remarkable in both its spiritual depth and touching sense of humility. Humbleness is unusual in Christmas programs - the reason why, I suppose, is a depressing one, so let's not ponder it too deeply right now! Instead let's just savor its gentle power whenever we get the chance, as a few hundred lucky concert-goers did last weekend at "A Bach Christmas."

Jingle-bell Bach

The chorus of the Handel and Haydn Society.

It's rare that a classical music concert manages to be cozy, and actually capture something of a "just us friends" holiday atmosphere; but that's what's most striking (for good and, perhaps, a little bad) about Handel and Haydn's "A Bach Christmas," which repeats this Sunday afternoon at Jordan Hall. Conducted by H&H's longtime chorusmaster, John Finney, the program features two lesser-known Bach cantatas, No. 151 and 191 (yes, you read those numbers right, toward the end of his career the great J.S. was cranking out a cantata every week) as well as the famous Magnificat, and depends for its soloists on the singers of the H&H chorus itself (almost every singer, in fact, gets a solo).

This particular gambit provided the concert with much of its charm, but perhaps also set upon it certain limitations. For while there's no question that every singer in the H&H chorus has the vocal chops to take center stage, it's also clear that not all of them are actually happy there; sometimes it seemed one bashful wallflower after another was being dragged out onto the dance floor - where, whaddya know, it turned out they could cut a rug after all; after which they quickly fled back to the anonymous comfort of the chorus line. There were even a few goofy bows from folks for whom the spotlight was clearly an unusual event.

Still, some of these wallflowers did bloom before our eyes. Basses Nicholas Nackley and Donald Wilkinson, along with soprano Susan Consoli, clearly had the confident stage presence required for solo careers; more self-conscious, but still lovely, turns came from soprano Roberta Anderson (who seemed unaware her top notes were pure as pearl) and tenors Murray Kidd, Thomas Gregg, and Mark Sprinkle, as well as altos Susan Byers Paxson and Katharine Emory.

The orchestral soloists were likewise sparkling, including, as always, Jesse Levine and Paul Perfetti on natural trumpet (here almost comically long, like trumpets from Whoville, as J.S. tends to write for the top of that instrument's range), but in particular Stephen Hammer on "oboe d'amore" (I'm not kidding, that's what it's called) and flutists Christopher Krueger and Wendy Rolfe, who played gracefully together in one exquisitely fluid duet. Somehow the warm, humble sound of the flute seemed almost a signature of this concert, as conductor Finney (above left) steered clear of the magnificence that sometimes accrues, ironically enough, to the Magnificat - originally a kind of ode to the humility of Mary - and emphasized instead the rustic humility of the source story of Christmas.

That this gentle warmth is sometimes lost in both the secular and sacred expressions of the holiday only made Finney's approach more welcome. To be honest, I wasn't wild about his integration of orchestra and chorus (which seemed even smaller than it did in Messiah); perhaps due to its small size, the multifaceted vocal line seemed at times to blur into the instrumental playing, when my sense is both should be crisply defined components of the overall sound. After all, Bach (so unlike Handel!) essentially wrote for the human voice as if it were just another keyboard instrument - with somebody else handling the bellows offstage - and even when his mood is humble, his mode is always precise. Still, in the smaller ensembles the interweave of voice and instrument was impeccable and gently lively, and Finney is to be thanked for bringing a note of humble, but genuine, joy to the holiday season.