The Tomkins Review
A Cleare Day: pieces from the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book
Kenneth Weiss
Munday, Dowland, Byrd, Philips, Farnaby, Gibbons, Peerson, Tomkins, Richardson, Bull, Anonymous
Virginals, Flemish & Italian Harpsichords
Satirino: SR111
Available: via retail outlets
Kenneth Weiss, a harpsichordist originally from America but with an international pedigree that can hardly fail to impress, has already recorded several volumes of high baroque repertoire with the stylish French label Satirino. Now he offers something different. Firstly, this is a recording of a live performance. And why not? It is all the more impressive to know that such virtuosity as one hears here (and it is considerable) comes naturally from the player's brain and fingers without excessive assistance from technology. Secondly, this is not a disc devoted to a composer or genre, but to a manuscript: the most famous one for early English keyboard music... the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book. And though the giants of the period (Byrd, Gibbons, Tomkins, Bull) are of course represented, we are also introduced to other composers who deserve to be heard but are scarcely known, except to those of us who live a good deal of the time inside the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book Munday, Peerson, Richardson... and good old Anonymous.
It is in fact John Munday who provides both the opening music and the title of the CD, with his strange Fantasy depicting various kinds of weather. This may be a rather brave choice of opening track. It is played on what is arguably the least immediately attractive of the three instruments, and the music is a touch idiosyncratic. But any listener hesitating to open up with praise is strongly advised to persist: for sheer beautiful sound, there is a gem coming up next, and on starting the CD for a second time, you are very likely to welcome Mr Munday back as a friend. He provides the performer with a chance to show his skill in communicating atmosphere as well as his undoubted technical command.
Then, after an initial display of virtuosity, one turns to the Dowland-Byrd 'Pavana Lachrymae', with high expectations, wondering how far Weiss can travel in a different musical mode. It is every bit as beautiful as one would hope and this is by no means the only track to deserve such an accolade. He loves the notes, but without over-indulgence. The sheer sound is blissful: an Italian harpsichord with a gentle but clear bell-like tone. When the track is over, one simply wants to repeat it. But... there are others of the same quality, and there is another gem of an instrument yet to come.
Another musical mode and another approach are demonstrated in a short Galliard by Byrd, which is given a crisp and (in a positive sense) percussive interpretation that strongly and appropriately suggests the dance form. One might not want to hear an entire recital in this performance style - at a fairly cracking pace, a good volume, and with a lot of unspread chords but as one element among different things, it is fine and appropriate. The rhythms are brought out with an exciting dash, and the rapid trills and turns executed with (in both senses) brilliance. There is no doubt about this performer's technique, here or elsewhere.
A minor but significant criticism is the failure to provide references for the pieces played: when the Fitzwilliam Book is the basis of the programme, it would seem an elementary assistance to listeners to identify by number. Byrd wrote more than one Galliard. Finding which piece is coming up next, among the possibilities in two large volumes, is a task the listener might have been spared. (This is the Galliard in d, CLXIV, Vol 2 p198 in the revised Winagron edition.)
So one approaches the fourth track already decidedly impressed only to find new heights revealed. A performance of Peter Philips' lovely setting of 'Amarilli' is the first opportunity to hear the third of the chosen instruments: an Italian virginals. Its sound is ravishing: delicately deep with a plumy mellowness, one might describe it as Italy's answer to the Flemish muselar. It is worth buying the disc simply to hear this instrument though fortunately, there are other reasons besides. The interpretation does full justice to the piece and is full of interest: Weiss does not hesitate to indulge in rubato at appropriate points and even to make considerable play on the rhythm of a gesture: his interpretation of what appears as four simple semiquavers is provocative, in a very appealing way. Such freedom may raise the eyebrows of those whose habit it is automatically to object to such things; but there is plenty of justification from both text and context. Like the Dowland Pavan, this is a captivating performance that one simply wants to repeat over and over again.
The collection does not disdain simple pieces - and rightly so, for they are part of the whole musical experience that the Fitzwilliam Book records. The simple one-page character piece 'Why aske you'? (the anonymous version) is given an appropriately straight-forward, nicely decorated performance. More substantial, but similar in essence, is Farnaby's 'Woddy-Cock', which is also treated initially with appropriate restraint the semi-quaver runs given clear articulation and the forward movement just relieved from time to time. All the more thrilling, then, when Weiss lets himself go with the triplets
Weiss's interpretation of the Gibbons Pavan is in the same mood as his Dowland and Philips pieces. The pace is gentle, with flexibility freely indulged in places. Whether this will suit those who like a clear sense of the underlying dance is debatable; on its own terms, it convinces declaring this to be art dance' music. Occasionally, however, even fans of the flexible may wonder... What, for example, justifies cutting short the three-beat chord that introduces the second section? The temperament used is quarter-comma meantone (not surprisingly, pace Davitt Moroney's bid for Pythagorean in his splendid Byrd set), and in this piece in particular one certainly hears the occasional spikiness.
The programme is well designed, with appropriate alternation between the simple and the complex, the dreamily affective and the powerfully virtuosic and also between the mellower Italian instruments and the powerful Ruckers. So Martin Peerson's 'The Fall of the Leafe' is well placed between the Byrd variations and 'Barafostus' Dream', one of the most substantial pieces in the recital. Weiss takes an entirely justifiable view of Peerson's attractive character-piece: such flexibility as might be quite out of place in one of the more formal contrapuntal pieces of the period is very successful here. The characterising of what would otherwise be dull repetition of a rhythm, for example, in the third bar, the way in which the performer gives life to the semiquavers at the opening of the second reprise, or the just less than indulgent dwelling over cadences... such things exemplify the difference between playing a piece and offering an interpretation of one.
Weiss lets the spiky rhythms of the third bar of Tomkins' Barafostus' dictate his approach to the whole: there is nothing to object to in that, and much to admire, as the result is a virile and generally stylish performance. There are points, however, where an over-articulated manner is perhaps counterproductive, such as the rising three-note motif in bar seven of the second section: Weiss loses the natural rhythm through his subordination of the second quaver. This is a pity, as the gesture is a key one, and as played here it disappoints on every occasion. But that is a small point and very much a matter of opinion: by no means does it spoil an extremely fine performance. The execution of this challenging piece is impeccable, with all the runs crisp and the theme always triumphantly connected. And though the approach is very bold, it is not relentless: the easing of momentum and mood in section six, and again in section eight just before the conclusion, gives welcome relief and broadens the meaning conveyed by the performance. This is a valuable addition to the Tomkins discography.
Before coming to an end with another substantial set of variations by one of the foremost keyboard composers of the period (Bulls' 'Walsingham'), the programme demonstrates the heights to which composers sometimes took dance forms: we have an Alman, a Pavan, and a Galliard. The Queenes Alman' by William Byrd is performed with perfect clarity, but with some quite generous shaping of the tempo to mark the ends of short sections a modestly carefree approach which suits the happy atmosphere of the piece. Then come a Pavan and Galliard, each with variations, by Richardson. Weiss takes a flexible approach to the Pavana, almost as if ideas are being worked out by improvisation which is arguably quite appropriate; yet when the music dictates fixity as often happens here, with sets of strumming crotchets in one hand the performer responds logically. For the Galliard, the approach is as different as the character of the piece demands, with exciting forward movement, if not quite relentless, then certainly dominant. The rapid semiquavers in the variation are brilliantly executed. The two styles are entirely appropriate to the music.
Bull's towering 'Walsingham' variations bring the recital to a close, showing to the full the virtuosity tasted in the opening piece. There is so much more here than a pretty little snatch of a tune: the whole point of the piece, surely, is paradox: what appears to be a little tune is in fact the vehicle for deep thought sometime theatrical, sometimes wistful, sometimes disturbing, and sometimes triumphant. Weiss captures all the moods.
In short, this is an excellent CD: it has excitement, originality, real beauty in the sound, and interest in the interpretations. There is strong evidence of personal style at work, but it is intelligently applied to suit the varying character of the music, and so is logical and convincing. The entire recital is hugely enjoyable. No one who is keen on early keyboard music should be without this disc; but such is the variety and attractiveness in the programme, the styles of performance, and the sounds of the instruments, that it should also please and stimulate the general listener.
This new Review is named in honour of Tomkins, of course, but will have much wider scope. It will offer considered reviews of a range of new and notable recordings and books in several early-music fields. Particular specialisms will be...
- keyboard music of the Renaissance and baroque periods
- organ music... of earlier periods in particular
- choral music... particularly of the English Renaissance
- CDs produced by traditional cathedral and collegiate choirs
- relevant chamber music of the earlier periods
The Tomkins Review will by dynamic, not static. Reviews will be detailed but primarily positive in tone: analytic rather than assertively evaluative. Any ripostes from artists or record companies will be welcomes and published as notes to the review; comments from readers will be noted and (where permission is given) published as notes to the review, subject to the usual editorial discretion.