Review: Charlotte Wilson, Vincentius Virginals

Benton Fletcher Collection at Fenton House

Thursday 3rd June

 

Playing an original instrument dating from circa 1600, Charlotte Wilson explored the boundaries of the baroque:-

The very best recital experience is to come away feeling entertained, interested, affected – and to some extent educated as well. Such was Charlotte Wilson's recital given on the Vincentius virginals at Fenton House (Thursday, June 3rd 2010). The initial surprise was that the recital was described as an exploration of the baroque: one thinks of the virginals as essentially, though not exclusively, a renaissance instrument. The composer list brought similar thoughts: Byrd, Bull, Sweelinck, Frescobaldi, Froberger – of whom one might consider only the last a baroque composer, with Frescobaldi perhaps as transitional, and the first three as fairly firmly belonging to the renaissance. But of course, the first interesting thing about periods is the folly of defining them sharply or according to any single principle. Charlotte Wilson defined baroque in terms of effect, rather than textual character. Interesting, too, were some brief but important remarks she made about the instrument. Belonging, of course, to the Benton Fletcher collection of early keyboard instruments at the National Trust's Fenton House in Hampstead, the Vincentius is an Italian virginals from the turn of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. To a listener, its most obvious characteristic is a comparatively brittle treble partnering a resonant baritone that is powerful yet mellow; to a player, Miss Wilson pointed out, the effect of the instrument's action was to suggest a general slowing down and some specific revision of ornamentation. She floated a profound idea: that perhaps our tendency to embrace rapidity – as allowed by modern reproduction instruments – may not be the way this music was automatically approached by performers on instruments contemporary with the original composition. Amen to that.

The performance exemplified both its declared principles. One could see and hear the influence of the instrument's action on the player, and the predominance of gentler tempi contributed well to the effect-based approach. If there was a degree of orientation about the first few bars of Frescobaldi's Toccata Quinta, that was an insignificant – and perhaps not inappropriate – sacrifice. There were riches to follow. Before we had got far into that piece, a sense of gathering and relaxing energy began to provide special interest – and remind us of the 'baroque' principle behind the recital.

The first of two Froberger suites was an absolute delight. The Allemande was taken gently, with a lovely cantabile; that gave the further indirect benefit of allowing the Courant to move happily but without the slightest rush – connecting and contrasting with the Allemande as it should. Miss Wilson's command of gesture was most impressive. The Saraband was beautifully decorated without any loss of its essential rhythm: this was a truly 'affecting' movement, and was brought to a profoundly moving ending. Those of us who had travelled across half the nation for this recital knew that the time taken had been well worthwhile.

The earliest pieces came in the middle of the programme: Sweelinck's 'Unter der Linden grune', two works by Byrd, and one by Bull. The Sweelinck variations were performed with a refreshing delicacy but no lack of excitement. The runs were impressive: clearly technical challenges fail to challenge this performer. But, despite the extravagance, thematic sense was quite rightly paramount. It is difficult to establish the high points in a recital of this quality, but one might offer the personal view that the English pieces and the Froberger dance suites were the icing on a rich musical cake. Charlotte Wilson's playing of the famous Byrd 'Woods Soe Wylde' was the antithesis of the mechanical versions one often hears ground – or even bashed – out: it was not too quick and had a lilting rhythm. 'My Ladye Nevels Grownde' had much the same character as the Sweelinck work, and was equally impressive: rapid gestures and decorations were handled with ease – and yet lines were always kept clear and meaningful. The Bull Paven just sang from the start: in her grasp of both run and sustain, Miss Wilson had the whole character of the piece. It would be well worth travelling to hear her play it again.

The programme concluded with two more Frescobaldi Toccatas framing a second Froberger suite. The Frescobaldi Toccata Decima enacted the relationship between an improvisatory style and the capturing of emotion in music. The Froberger suite (this time from 1656) was as successful as the first – demonstrating in addition that a gigue does not have to be played at great speed, and is often better taken more moderately. Once again, the Saraband was exemplary in its demonstration of balance between freedom in performance and the given rhythm essential to the genre. After such a combination of emotion and profundity, it was hard to make the final Frescobaldi toccata – the Ottava – anything more than an anti-climax. Once one had got over the disappointing realisation that we had heard all the Froberger, however, and had become reaccustomed to Frescobaldi, one saw the reasons for ending with this piece. As in the opening Toccata, the gestures were gathered in a way that gave them significance and contributed to the significance of the whole. We were left with a sense of meaning in freedom.

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