Follow Us Quietly
CDs:
I'm not willing to march into Harry Lime's amoral world (though he would make an engaging drinking buddy), and I'm even less prepared to speculate on whether a society in upheaval or one at peace produces the better art, though I'd note that neutral Sweden gave us Ingmar Bergman.
What I have no doubt about is that Renaissance art speaks to us as eloquently today, and if you care to test that notion, drop by the National Gallery or find a Lenten choral concert in one of the DC area churches.
"They" tell me that early music is always the hardest sell to someone just approaching classical music. The conventional wisdom is that you bait the hook with a little Baroque, a little Beethoven, and then reel them in, but save the Gregorian chant, the medieval mystery plays, the crumhorn, and the Tallis Scholars for a later point in the musical education.
Yet I find it difficult to believe that anyone with, say, a taste for klezmer bands or the Chieftains or perhaps even certain types of bluegrass wouldn't warm to early music ensembles.
What I no longer recall is whether early music sounded strange on my ear when I first heard it (though I confess I found the crumhorn a rather rude instrument). Perhaps it gained a beachhead during my childhood when my father took us to see The Play of Daniel in New York. If I can't summon up that music in my inner soundtrack, at least I remember the production's visual aspects and also that it was my first real exposure to early music outside of liturgical chant.
At any rate, in my days at Olsson's in Bethesda, I used to bait the hook with early music discs and see who I could reel in. Among the the groups passed the test of drawing customers to the counter to check out the play list were the Baltimore Consort and the Toronto Consort.
Happily, the Toronto Consort has a new CD out, The Da Vinci Collection, which would probably pass the play list test as well. And in case you're wondering if that title is a bit of unsettling cross-promotion in the service of Dan Brown, bear in mind that we are talking Italian music from the time of Leonardo. As the Marquis Music website has it, not only would he have known some of the composers, but he probably would have heard the some of the music as well.
The acid test, though, is whether the group and its chosen material are worth your time. Wonder no more; the music is utterly beguiling. Included in the collection are sacred and secular material, vocal solos and ensemble work, and instrumentals, including dance tunes. There's even an instrument I'd never heard of before, the saz, which is apparently a variety of Turkish lute.
I'd previously become addicted to the Toronto Consort's Dorian CD of medieval travel music, The Way of the Pilgrim, and therefore it was a pleasure to encounter the gang again, this time in the heart of the Renaissance. The instrumental ensemble features the hurdy-gurdy, viola da gamba, renaissance flute, and more familiar instruments (along with the aforementioned saz). I found the women's vocals particularly affecting, pure but not colorless. Kudos to mezzo Laura Pudwell and soprano Katherine Hill.
And when you're passing by the browser containing the EMI sale CDs, keep an eye out for Madrigal History Tour, by the King's Singers. This monster collection (34 tracks from five different cultural traditions) of Renaissance vocal music was very much a steal when it was in EMI's mid-priced catalogue, but now it's budget and therefore they're practically giving it away.
The recording itself stems from the early '80s, when the line-up of the King's Singers consisted of countertenors Alastair Hume and Jeremy Jackman, tenor Bill Ives, baritones Simon Carrington and Anthony Holt, and bass Colin Mason. For me, this was always the definitive incarnation of the group, though you'll want to explore further efforts by other singers. Remember too that footage of the King's Singers' performances pop up on Classic Arts Showcase.
This particular album really shows off their vocal agility, ease with various languages, and of course their trademark humor and sense of fun. And if you are into major springtime frolicking, or at least yard work, you could do worse than to let the boys provide the soundtrack. Thematically speaking, it goes from birds and gardens to raging hormones, bliss, heartbreak, and back again. Try bouncing around the garden to Morley's "Now is the Month of Maying" or Hassler's "Tanzen und Springen," for example.
I bought the disc back in its mid-price days and was thrilled by the liner notes: texts and translations, complete credits, multilingual commentary on the madrigal. In short, it's perfect for gaining a toehold in the world of early music.
- The Toronto Consort: The Da Vinci Collection
- The King's Singers: Madrigal History Tour
I'm not willing to march into Harry Lime's amoral world (though he would make an engaging drinking buddy), and I'm even less prepared to speculate on whether a society in upheaval or one at peace produces the better art, though I'd note that neutral Sweden gave us Ingmar Bergman.
What I have no doubt about is that Renaissance art speaks to us as eloquently today, and if you care to test that notion, drop by the National Gallery or find a Lenten choral concert in one of the DC area churches.
"They" tell me that early music is always the hardest sell to someone just approaching classical music. The conventional wisdom is that you bait the hook with a little Baroque, a little Beethoven, and then reel them in, but save the Gregorian chant, the medieval mystery plays, the crumhorn, and the Tallis Scholars for a later point in the musical education.
Yet I find it difficult to believe that anyone with, say, a taste for klezmer bands or the Chieftains or perhaps even certain types of bluegrass wouldn't warm to early music ensembles.
What I no longer recall is whether early music sounded strange on my ear when I first heard it (though I confess I found the crumhorn a rather rude instrument). Perhaps it gained a beachhead during my childhood when my father took us to see The Play of Daniel in New York. If I can't summon up that music in my inner soundtrack, at least I remember the production's visual aspects and also that it was my first real exposure to early music outside of liturgical chant.
At any rate, in my days at Olsson's in Bethesda, I used to bait the hook with early music discs and see who I could reel in. Among the the groups passed the test of drawing customers to the counter to check out the play list were the Baltimore Consort and the Toronto Consort.
Happily, the Toronto Consort has a new CD out, The Da Vinci Collection, which would probably pass the play list test as well. And in case you're wondering if that title is a bit of unsettling cross-promotion in the service of Dan Brown, bear in mind that we are talking Italian music from the time of Leonardo. As the Marquis Music website has it, not only would he have known some of the composers, but he probably would have heard the some of the music as well.The acid test, though, is whether the group and its chosen material are worth your time. Wonder no more; the music is utterly beguiling. Included in the collection are sacred and secular material, vocal solos and ensemble work, and instrumentals, including dance tunes. There's even an instrument I'd never heard of before, the saz, which is apparently a variety of Turkish lute.
I'd previously become addicted to the Toronto Consort's Dorian CD of medieval travel music, The Way of the Pilgrim, and therefore it was a pleasure to encounter the gang again, this time in the heart of the Renaissance. The instrumental ensemble features the hurdy-gurdy, viola da gamba, renaissance flute, and more familiar instruments (along with the aforementioned saz). I found the women's vocals particularly affecting, pure but not colorless. Kudos to mezzo Laura Pudwell and soprano Katherine Hill.
And when you're passing by the browser containing the EMI sale CDs, keep an eye out for Madrigal History Tour, by the King's Singers. This monster collection (34 tracks from five different cultural traditions) of Renaissance vocal music was very much a steal when it was in EMI's mid-priced catalogue, but now it's budget and therefore they're practically giving it away.The recording itself stems from the early '80s, when the line-up of the King's Singers consisted of countertenors Alastair Hume and Jeremy Jackman, tenor Bill Ives, baritones Simon Carrington and Anthony Holt, and bass Colin Mason. For me, this was always the definitive incarnation of the group, though you'll want to explore further efforts by other singers. Remember too that footage of the King's Singers' performances pop up on Classic Arts Showcase.
This particular album really shows off their vocal agility, ease with various languages, and of course their trademark humor and sense of fun. And if you are into major springtime frolicking, or at least yard work, you could do worse than to let the boys provide the soundtrack. Thematically speaking, it goes from birds and gardens to raging hormones, bliss, heartbreak, and back again. Try bouncing around the garden to Morley's "Now is the Month of Maying" or Hassler's "Tanzen und Springen," for example.
I bought the disc back in its mid-price days and was thrilled by the liner notes: texts and translations, complete credits, multilingual commentary on the madrigal. In short, it's perfect for gaining a toehold in the world of early music.
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