Описание CD

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  Исполнитель(и) :
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  Наименование CD :
   Nuove Musiche

Год издания : 2006

Компания звукозаписи : ECM

Время звучания : 52:16

Код CD : ECM New Series 1922

  Комментарий (рецензия) :

CD, стоящие на полке рядом : Classics (Reconstruction)      

Recorded October 2004

Rolf Lislevand is a lutenist and guitarist; a professor of lute and historical performance practice in Trossingen, Germany. The reason for mentioning the academic credentials is because Nuove Musiche is anything but an "academic" recording. Quite the contrary. on this offering, Lislevand (a former member of Jordi Savall's Hyperion XX), and his septet "say goodbye once and for all to the authenticity creed." They know the rules, they understand the music inside and out, and they refuse to believe that the only way to perform it is the way it was supposedly heard nearly half-a-century ago. The rules are not broken so much as they are extrapolated upon by the often sketchy nature of the original scores. Lislevand believes that to try to perfectly replicate a performance from centuries ago is boring and perhaps a conceit - because this approach tries to erase all that we have learned about music from hearing it in the interim between then and now. His opinion would mean nothing if the music found here wasn't so utterly seductive, compelling, and quietly moving, and he and his band didn't perform with such authority, elegance, grace, and adventure. To think that it's possible to make something from Baroque era sound so contemporary without pillaging the original music, to take it out of the academy and the institution and bring it to the level of the modern sensibility without selling out the composer is a small marvel. But Lislevand does it all through the 52 minutes of Nuove Musiche. Other instruments in the ensemble are triple harp and voice (both courtesy of Arianna Savall) percussion (used then, but it was never scored), double bass and colascione, organ, and clavichord, the nykelharpa, and the 12-string chitarra battente (a Baroque "strumming" or "beating" guitar). The album was beautifully produced by ECM head Manfred Eicher. The sound here is full and warm, the playing quietly and deliberately passionate. Source material comes from composers such as Kapsberger, Pellegrini, Piccini, and Frescobaldi, among others. The delivery center for most of these pieces begins is the passacaglia. According to Lislevand, these formed the heart of the 17th century lute and guitar books. His group brings sharp rhythmic interplay and inventive chromaticism into the mix with slightly angular dissonances that increase tension, but also bring the music its sense of drama, life, sensuality, and even the hint of danger in places. What happens is that the mystery and subtleties and poetry in these works come to life. That period in history remains at the music's heart, but its bloodline is renewed with these performances. Nuove Musiche is not to be missed; there is something in it for everyone. It is simply unlike anything we have heard before.

All Music Guide


Is it fair for baroque to sound so sensual? An elegiac soprano voice wafts above an instrumental piece by Giovanni Girolamo Kapsberger. Flamenco rhythms underpin a passacaglia. Then suddenly we hear the typical harmonies and ornaments of Celtic folk music. Is that how this music really sounded in Italy in the early 1600s? Of course not. But what the Norwegian lutenist and guitarist Rolf Lislevand and his six colleagues bring off on Nuove musiche, their debut album for ECM, has all the earmarks of a manifesto. Their vibrant and literally unheard-of readings of early baroque music from Italy are meant to grab the listener directly, as if it really were 'new music'.

'For years people tried to play early music as closely as possible to the way it was played at its time of origin', Lislevand explains 'But that's a philosophical self-contradiction. The first question is whether it's possible at all to replicate the performance of a musician who lived centuries ago. As far as I'm concerned, reconstruction is not really interesting at all. Do we really want to act as if we hadn't heard any music between 1600 and the present day? I think that would be dishonest. With this recording we say goodbye once and for all to early music's authenticity creed.'

This doesn't mean that anything goes - on the contrary. Lislevand, who learned his craft at the famous Schola Cantorum in Basle, has been professor of lute and historical performance practice at Trossingen Musikhochschule since 1993. He has turned out many prize-winning recordings, some of them with his Kapsberger Ensemble, which forms the core of the musicians on Nuove Musiche. He avidly scrutinises every available scrap of information on what he plays and how to play it properly. But those are only the preconditions for a convincing performance. After all, one vital element in baroque music was improvisation: 'Pieces were played to meet the needs of the moment', Professor Lislevand points out. 'To play strictly according to the notes on the page would be tantamount to lying, for the scores were written in a sort of shorthand. They presuppose a good deal of knowledge and self-assurance from the player.'

Take the percussion instruments, for instance. We know they were used, but nobody around 1600 bothered to write down the parts. So we have no way of knowing for sure how they were used. Did they only serve as timekeepers, or was their timbre exploited as well? Lislevand has very strong views on the subject: 'The idea that it wasn't until today that we could freely express our feelings is not only naive but arrogant. Personally I believe that the people of the 17th century were much richer and more self-aware than we assume today.' It is only natural, then, that the percussionist Pedro Estevan offers a huge range of expressive sounds and rhythms on Nuove musiche.

Lislevand searches for points of contact between the 400-year-old pieces on this recording (by Kapsberger, Pellegrini, Piccinini and others) and the musical horizons of today's performers. Usually the starting point is the passacaglia, a set of increasingly dramatic variations on an unchanging bass pattern. Passacaglias formed the core repertoire of the lute and guitar books of the 17th century. 'They thrive on chromaticism, harsh dissonances and offbeat rhythms. If the composers tried to get these effects, then we have every right to go even further. My idea is simply to develop and elaborate things already there in the material. Arianna Savall's melody really does come from the Kapsberger toccata itself. Everything there that smacks of echoes from current popular music is already contained in the pieces. I just coax it out.'

Unlike Lislevand's earlier recordings, Nuove musiche was produced at the Rainbow Studio in Oslo under the auspices of Manfred Eicher using multi-tracking techniques. Each musician wore a set of headphones. Acoustical space - sometimes a problem for unamplified string instruments - gave way to virtual space. 'The sound we heard there was very inspiring', Lislevand recalls. 'Having better control of the sound, we could grant ourselves much more license, not only in tempo but in dynamics and timbre.' Many things emerged spontaneously during the recording sessions. 'Once, we'd just played through a toccata and Manfred Eicher signalled us to go on playing in order to keep up our energy. At first we were at a bit of a loss: after all, the piece was over. But then one of us varied the rhythmic pattern, and suddenly we felt the freedom we needed to go on without an original model to play from. Normally we wouldn't have dared.'

The final balance and spatial placement of the instruments were only worked out later at the mixing stage by Lislevand, Eicher and the studio engineer Jan Erik Kongshaug. Nuove Musiche: for Lislevand the term also means placing music in a new communicative context. The intimacy of the narrow rooms of old, where lute music was normally played, is a thing of the past. But the need for closeness remains: 'Things close to us, spatially and physically, also move us. When we speak of physical intimacy, we mean that the presence of the music must be felt. Otherwise it won't trigger our emotions. The artificial space of the studio can create this closeness. For far too long we made baroque music degenerate into a distant ritual, almost into a symbolic act. We're out to change all that!'


========= from the cover ==========

Nuove musiche

Some 400 years ago, a unique event took place in European music history. A group of leading humanists gathered together and pronounced the prevailing style of music dead and worthless. Out of the ashes arose their proud new concept: the nuove musiche.

In most other periods changes of style and taste evolve in the hands and minds of performing musicians and creative composers. This time, in Florence at the outset of the 17th century, a few scholars, artists and philosophers sat down and issued a decree: the dense polyphony of the 16th century, they proclaimed, is unsuited to modern times and modern man's need to express his spirituality, emotions and experiences. It must yield to a simple rhetorical style sculpted from ancient classical models. They called themselves the Camerata Fiorentina, and, from their desks, they changed music history.

In the wake of this new inspiration, brilliant composers such as Monteverdi, Frescobaldi and Caccini, Kapsberger, Piccinini, Pellegrini and Gianoncelli created extraordinary compositions and performance scripts in a completely new and different style. This was the "new music", the seconda pratica, their new way of thinking about music.

Some 40 years ago, in the belief that music history must be understood on its own terms, a few musicologists and musicians gathered together and proclaimed a new concept of historical performance practise. They proposed a new set of rules for approaching early music, a different procedure from the previous one practised by the heirs of European romanticism. We like to think of them as a Camerata Fiorentina of the 20th century.

Inspired by the beauty of Italian 17th-century lute and guitar music, and basically open to all cameratas, we wanted to allow the music to develop in the minds of the musicians, although certainly not without prior reflection. Many years of experience in this field have led us to set down a few basic principles:

Music should be performed on period instruments. The proper colour and language of a musical style are intimately related to the specific properties of the instruments used. Playing technique should be based on knowledge gleaned from period sources - prefaces, iconography, instructions to the performer-and from encounters with historical instruments. Performers must have training and years of experience in the 17th-century repertoire as a synthesis of musicological research and instinctive musicianship.

Music must be played from original manuscripts or sources.

We are all improvising musicians. All scholars of 17th-century music agree that improvisation was an essential skill for a good performer of the period. The present tradition of early music performance is still in its adolescence when it comes to improvisation. In fact 21st-century historical performance practice is hamstrung by a most inconvenient contradiction in its ambition to achieve authenticity in improvisation. More than most aspects of early music, improvisation poses an obvious problem to anyone who thinks we can hear music performed today as a 17th-century listener would have heard it.

To interpret an existing work is to position oneself at a precise moment in history. When improvising on historical material, this normally entails beginning where the last imagined performance in a historical period left off. The next performance from this position involves adding new material, not merely assembling all known material, and taking the music a few steps further in its organic evolution through improvised performance. After all, improvisation is simply a spontaneous form of composing. Reproducing the same performance merely replicates a past performance rather than producing a new and unheard one.

What probably led to this confusion is a fact that we interpreters of early music always struggle with: at some point the performance tradition was interrupted, and several centuries went by before people tried, as we now are trying, to rediscover it. During these centuries, of course, man continued to invent and play music. And this music is part of the language any musician of the 21st century uses to express himself. Musical experience and training in a very specific and limited style can add to a musician's means of expression, but can never replace his musical upbringing. It can never make him forget the first lullaby his mother sang to him, or the rhythms of the first dance he heard one summer's night.

As in all music, the nuove musiche grew out of sound and musical silence in space. As in all music, the musician is forever inseparable from the sound of his instrument or voice. The space in which the sound arises is like the surface on which a picture is drawn: it is the canvas on which a painting emerges, or the time and space from the beginning to the end of a movement in a dance.

Intimacy of sound is the first condition for the transmission of musical emotions, and each historical period obtains this intimacy in its own way. The society of 17th-century Italy reserved that experience for a select group of people, and could thus completely control the conditions under which music was performed and received.

But alas, the physical space for the sound of 17th-century music no longer exists, not even in the most carefully preserved Italian palazzo. Our current physical space for this music is virtual, a creation of modern technology, as long as we listen to music on recordings.

In our age we reproduce these conditions through technology, which allows us to share this experience with other members of society. In both cases the music evolves within its social conditions. This may be why the nuove musiche took shape as it did, developing a prevailing taste for surface, space and colour, a new conception of the relation between time and information, and a simplicity of structure and architecture that allowed affects and experienced feelings to be transferred directly to the emotions without having to pass through the rational mind,contrary to widespread 16th-century belief. This may be why our own new music emerged by means of a very baroque procedure: changing and renewing aesthetics by changing the proportions of an artwork. The intimate sound of the clavichord, once whispered into a young noblewoman's ear, now flies into a nearby microphone. The seductive crystalline sound of the chitarra battente, once strummed by a young courtesan's fingers under southern skies, is now teased with reverb. The sensual touch of a fingertip on the gut string of a lute is now captured by a microphone capsule.

We found ourselves confronted with the typical forms of early 17th-century Italian instrumental music: toccatas, galliards, correntes, ciacconas, and the emblematic passacaglia,the central work on our recording. The concept of passacaglia deserves special attention. Most of the major 17th-century composers for the lute and guitar left behind an important contribution to this genre. Originally a passacaglia was an improvised variation on a diatonic descending fourth. It was used as incidental music in Spanish theatres, as an exercise in style, as a musical testament, as a Wohltemperierte Gitarre for Italian composers in the first half of the 17th century.

As so often, the tighter the formal restrictions, the more powers of invention come to the fore. Thus it happened that the genius and inspiration of most 17th-century guitar and lute composers find their clearest manifestation in the extremely simple form of the passacaglia. In the vision of Domenico Pellegrini, the passacaglia grew into a masterwork of more than 29 pages of tablature, passing through all the chromatic tonalities, modulating its way through all the tones and colours. It is unlikely that his work ever was performed in its entirety - an almost impossible task for a single baroque guitar. Pellegrini probably left later generations the challenge of finding a way to communicate his music according to their own needs and conditions.

We captured the free flow of Pellegrini's ancient passacaglia in an improvised fantasy based on the master's own material. Thus the first Passacaglia andaluz grew out of the descending bass line of his work, recalling the native Iberian sound of the baroque guitar. This was how the daring and modern chromaticism of Pellegrini's minor-mode passacaglia turned into a free chromatic improvisation (chromaticism was a transgression permitted in any period of music history). The beautiful line of Pellegrini's E-minor Passacaglia suggested the ancient Con que la lavare, one of the earliest tenor melodies of the Spanish renaissance, and a melody likewise constructed on the passacaglia bass.

Some people say that a musician is born with a very special sound in his mind and spends a lifetime trying to find that sound on his instrument. We arrived on an autumn afternoon in Oslo with a clear expectation of a sound in our minds. The next few days demonstrated how the imagination of a sound, and the very music itself, fell into place and blended naturally and completely.

The toccatas of Kapsberger and Piccinini had attracted us by their wealth of invention. We extracted the elements from them which spoke most directly to our sensibility. We wanted to play around with their modernist elements - underlining or highlighting them; turning them into sequences or leading themes, recreating and reconstructing them by changing their proportions in the baroque manner.

The word "toccata" derives from toccare, which in Italian means "to touch". It may refer to the lutenist's first welcome touch of the strings, or to his first occasion to touch the hearts and brains of his listeners. The improvisatory spirit of the toccata is embodied in our recording of Kapsberger's Toccata prima. Having finished the definitive take, still caught up in the intense emotion of this short piece, we received encouraging online signs from our producer to continue in the same vein! The magic spell of the sound was still upon us. Hesitant at first, we shook hands and established communication, and each musician leapt into a dream of a new toccata -the toccata Kapsberger never wrote but always dreamt of.

This happened because of a sound we all had in our minds-a sound which no Camerata Fiorentina had told us to make, and no early music scholar had told us not to make. We were guided by the voices of our ancient instruments, reborn into a new context of time and space, engulfed in another play of light and shadow. Once again the music became a slowly moving object, highlighted from one side and slowly circumambulating its own radius.

Someone once said that when music and words merge, poetry gives music a direction of meaning and music gives poetry a depth of understanding. Frescobaldi's words in his Aria dipassacaglia - "Cosi mi disprezzate"- gave us emblematic poetical material. We wanted to treat the voice as our most perfect and fulfilled instrument. As with the music itself, the words of the poem were taken out of context and used to create themes and impart unity to the recording.

The words from Frescobaldi's passacaglia reappear in Piccinini's intriguing Toccata cromatica. The middle of the piece leads us into Piccinini's chamber of horrors, a profusion of chromaticism where all sense of meaning and gravity seems to vanish. Our journey through the imaginary realm of the new Italian baroque music comes to an end in the tender whisper of Arianna's voice, leaving the last words to the music itself: "Non ho piu parole."

We opened our tribute to Italian 17th-century lute and guitar music with the very last word from Frescobaldi's passacaglia:"addio", the humble Latin ritual of abandon. Kapsberger's Toccata seconda arpeggiata conceals an expressive and beautiful vocal line behind the harmonies of the original piece. Everything is sung on this singular syllable. We leave you the choice of deciding whetherthis"addio"is a final farewell to a gracious lady called Historical Performance Practice, or whether a better term might have been "arrivederci"...

- Rolf Lislevand

  Соисполнители :

Arianna Savall (Harp)
Bjorn Kjellemyr (Double Bass)
Guido Morini (Organ)
Marco Ambrosini (Viola D'Amore)
Pedro Estevan (Percussion)
Thor Harald Johnsen (Theorbo)

№ п/п

Наименование трека



   1 Arpeggiata Addio         0:07:21  
   2 Passacaglia Antica I         0:02:09  
   3 Passacaglia Andaluz I         0:02:36  
   4 Passacaglia Antica II         0:02:04  
   5 Passacaglia Cromatica         0:01:52  
   6 Passacaglia Antica III         0:01:48  
   7 Passacaglia Cantus Firmus         0:02:34  
   8 Passacaglia Celtica         0:02:00  
   9 Passacaglia Spontanea         0:04:14  
   10 Passacaglia Andaluz II         0:02:19  
   11 Toccata         0:05:32  
   12 Passacaglia Cantata         0:04:13  
   13 Corrente         0:02:18  
   14 Corrente         0:01:56  
   15 Toccata         0:02:38  
   16 Ciaccona         0:02:57  
   17 Toccata Cromatica         0:03:45  


 T   'щелкнуть' - переход к тексту композиции.

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