Emma Kirkby, Susanne Rydén, Peter Harvey - The Queen's Music: Italian Vocal Duets & Trios (2010) CD-Rip

The source for the songs on this release is a manuscript in the library of Christ Church College, Oxford. Its title page bears the following: “Musica del Signor Angelo Micheli/ Uno de Musici della Capella / de Reyna di Swecia / Uppsaliae Martii 21 / 1653 / a 2 et 3 voce.” The mystery of how a collection of Italian secular songs of the mid 16th century was compiled in Sweden and ended up in England is, fortunately, relatively easy to solve. In 1651, Queen Christiana requested that the bass Alessandro Cecconi put together a company of Italian musicians to reside at the Swedish court. He gathered a group of at least 15 singers and instrumentalists mostly active in Rome, and led by a Carissimi student and celebrated organist, Vincenzo Albrici. They came to Sweden in 1652, and remained there until Christiana’s abdication in 1654.

The “Signor Angelo Micheli” referred to above was the ensemble’s theorbist, Angelo Micheli Bartolotti, who can be tentatively identified as the copyist who took the manuscript’s material from his company’s stock of up-to-date repertoire. Its recipient was Bulstrode Whitelocke, Cromwell’s ambassador to the Swedish court while negotiating a treaty between the two nations. Whitelocke’s diary mentions hearing the Italians repeatedly, and being given “a book of their songs.”

Those songs in two and three parts were, naturally enough, of contemporary Roman origin. Luigi Rossi was at the end of a long and fruitful career at that time, and in fact died within a couple of years of the musicians’ trip to Sweden. They must have taken a lot of his music along, for Bartolotti copied out a great deal of it for Whitelocke. Rossi accounts for seven selections on this album, written in the mixed aria-arioso-recitative style one might expect for the emotionally complex texts thus set. Stylistically, his Monteverdi roots show in a theatrically expansive, at times disruptive interpretation of the text, but always to good advantage. Cesti was in his 30s at that time, and Già son morto is more striking for its imaginative use of contrasting timbres than any particular expressive content. He would go on to achieve great success in opera, however. Carissimi is also represented, naturally enough, given Albrici’s presence; and Christiana must have enjoyed his music, for after she stepped down from the throne and moved to Rome, he accepted a position as her Maestro di cappella del concerto di camera , composing a wide assortment of cantatas and songs for the former ruler’s pleasure. The rest of the program includes anonymous Italian songs of stylistic pertinence and quality (thankfully not omitted because their parentage is unknown), and instrumentals by Frescobaldi, who spent much of his active career in Rome.

The performances are what you might expect, given the forces involved. Emma Kirkby is expressive as ever, her intonation razor-sharp. The voice itself, while not bright, proves still perfectly capable of meeting whatever considerable requirements are placed upon it. Susanne Rydén has a tighter, almost flicker vibrato when she chooses to use it. (Both sopranos employ vibrato regularly as a coloring device, as several prominent contemporary Renaissance theorists and composers require.) Her tone possesses a brilliant sheen that would be the envy of many another Baroque and Classical specialist, though she aspirates her runs in Lasso benché mi fugga. As with Kirkby, Rydén uses dynamics, definition, slurring, accents, and syllabic lengthening and diminution to realize these pieces where text and music are one. Much the same can be said of Peter Harvey, with a solid, dark baritone. If the vocal blend between Harvey and Kirkby is not ideal, her instrument lacking fullness next to his, the partnership between Kirbky and Rydén is very successful. Which is fortunate, as these latter duets comprise eight of the pieces on this album. Rossi’s O Cieli pieta is typical, the two sopranos trading off theme and accompaniment, unisons, thirds, and echo entries with an ease that bespeaks long practice. I could wish a more energetic tempo on a few of these selections, such as Occhi belli and Dito o Cieli , where the music suggests something livelier, but that is my only criticism, so disarmed am I by the art these singers display. The instrumental accompaniments couldn’t be bettered, while Mime Yamahiro Brinkmann in particular displays a rich tone and great agility in Frescobaldi’s Canzona Settima.

Unfortunately, the engineering is less than optimal. While the instrumentals find the musicians placed very close to the microphones to good effect, the singers are moved back somewhat, perhaps with the understanding that more of a dose of church ambience (the recording was made in Länna Church, Norrtälje) would add a sheen to the sound. It does: a kind of echoing space that has a mildly deleterious effect on both tone and definition. The results are certainly still enjoyable, but it’s as though you had a seat in the third section of a typical early-music concert set in a large church. However much you might enjoy the music, having it come at you several times with a slight delay from a variety of directions is not the best way to experience it.

But if you can get past that—and I suggest trying this album before buying—then you’ll enjoy this album of excellent works performed with style and feeling. -- Barry Brenesal