Apollosaal, Staatsoper Unter den
Linden
Sonata in three parts, in G
minor, Z 790
Fantazia upon one note in five
parts, in F major, Z 745
Fantazias in three parts, Z
732-4
Fantazias in four parts, Z
736-7
In
nomine in six parts, in G
minor, Z 746
Fantazias in four parts, Z
738-43
In
nomine in seven parts, in
G minor, Z 747
Sonata in three parts, in A
major, Z 799
Laura Volkwein, Ulricke
Bassenge (violins)
Helene Wilke (viola)
Egbert Schimmelpfennig (cello)
Joachim Klier (violone)
Joachim Elser (trombone)
Matthias Wilke (director, viola, organ)
The Staatskapelle Berlin traces
its history back to 1570, making next year its 450th anniversary. (On
New Year’s Eve, alongside the traditional Beethoven Ninth Symphony, Daniel
Barenboim will also direct Mozart’s KV 450 from the piano.) Preussens Hofmusik,
drawn from the orchestras’s ranks, takes the era
of Frederick the Great as its centre of gravity. For this Apollosaal
concert, part of the Staatsoper’s Barocktage, we heard music from somewhere in
between. As a prelude or pendant – depending on when one sees it – to a new
production of King Arthur we heard
fantazias and sonatas by Purcell, directed from the viola or, in the case of
the latter, the chamber organ, by Matthias Wilke.
First we heard the G minor Sonata
in three parts, Z 790, here given with two violins, violone, and organ. It made
for an excellent introduction, equally expressive in a refreshingly
undemonstrative way of Purcellian melancholy and vigour, as aristocratic,
learned, and courtly as it was ‘popular’. Dissonances told, yet so did its
transmuted dance rhythms, never confusing genre for function. (The reader may
grimly recall the absurdity of those fashion victims who claim Bach’s St Matthew Passion should dance, and so
on.)
After a brief spoken
introduction by Wilke, we then heard the Fantazia
upon one Note, followed by the three works ‘in three parts’ (in the order
1, 3, and 2), the first three ‘in four parts’, and the G minor In nomine, in six. All pieces sounded as
they are: small and perfectly formed, leaving one wishing for more. Although
performed on modern instruments (more or less), there was no sense of anachronism,
but rather of a reinvention of Purcell’s consort that went beyond the merely
archaeological. Members of the consort, both personnel and instrument, changed
for each piece, revealing a greater as well as subtler differentiation in
instrumentation and texture than the cynic, or indeed the merely uninformed,
might suspect. A couple of puzzling false starts suggested that it was not
always entirely clear who would be playing what, but such human fallibility
would upset only the sourest of audience members. Melody and counterpoint were
kept in fine balance. Combinations such as violin, viola, and cello (for the G
minor Fantazia, Z 734) matched relative darkness of timbre to mood, without so
much as hinting at inappropriately (post)Romantic gloom. Indeed, that piece,
like many others, quite rightly looked back more to the consort music of
Purcell’s English predecessors – Lawes, Locke, Jenkins, et al. – as to the
chamber music of the eighteenth century. That said, once one had come to the F
major Fantazia, Z 737, it was difficult to resist the sense, however
anachronistic, or at least unduly teleological, of losing oneself in
counterpoint as one might with Bach. The closing In nomine – of this section, that is – gained, as did its G minor
successor in the next section, from adding a trombone to voice gently the cantus firmus. Such creative archaism,
if that be what it was, afforded clarity as well as variety.
Preceding that second In nomine, we heard the remaining
Fantazias in four parts (Z 738-47), all but one in the minor mode. Far from
precluding variety, that seemed to encourage one to listen all the more closely
for difference and distinction, as of course did the ongoing plan of assigning
different players and instruments to each piece. A courtly serenity to the C minor
piece, Z 738, set us on a fascinating path culminating in an elegantly involved
D minor Fantazia, Z 743, and the seven-part In
nomine in which we finally heard all players together. The full sound of
its close was relative, not in the slightest overblown, and all the more
welcome for that. A further trio sonata, that in A major, Z 799, both returned
us to close where we had begun and reminded us that the experience had rendered
such return illusory. It offered a winning contrast of mood, infectious both of
rhythm and broader style. Looking forward more overtly to the next century,
there was perhaps a sense of greater security than had always been the case in
the Fantazias. Perhaps those few off-moments had simply required a little more
rehearsal. It was salutary, in any case, to be reminded that is far from easy
music to perform.
