Eugène Delacroix’s Angelica comforting the wounded Medoro is to be the centrepiece for Hobart Baroque 2014.

The classical period ensemble take a look at the musical melting pot that was London in the 1790s.

The Russian coloratura is making her Australian debut at Hobart Baroque, but how did she get here from there? Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

How the countertenor, who started out as an actor, found his voice singing baroque opera’s shadier characters. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

When Heifetz told Schoenberg that he could not possibly perform the latter’s Violin Concerto unless his own left hand were to acquire a sixth finger, the composer allegedly replied: “I can wait.” Perhaps a similar sentiment governs the harpsichordist confronted with Handel’s decidedly tricky solo pieces. On paper they might not look overpoweringly difficult; but often they fall awkwardly under the hands, in a manner which Richard Egarr’s impressive booklet essay compares to Brahms’ pianistic style. At least the piano has a sustaining pedal to help out with polyphonic interplay (Glenn Gould, Sviatoslav Richter and Andrei Gavrilov all tackled these works). No such luck with the harpsichord. Besides, stylistic problems – greater than anything in Bach’s English Suites or French Suites – also bedevil the player. How Handelian should they seem, given that their free-and-easy preludes echo the French clavecinistes, and their intricate counterpoint passages do not resemble much in the oratorios or concerti grossi? Altogether it is unsurprising, if regrettable, that (except for everybody’s favourite movement, The Harmonious Blacksmith concluding Suite No 5) this music has been traditionally underestimated. Egarr’s curiously frivolous interpretations seem to me unlikely to win converts. The man has technical brilliance to burn, but he rarely…

Richard Egarr sets out to push boundaries while staying within the confines of historically informed music-making. Here he’s got our limited concept of the symphony in his sights, and has put together a program that demonstrates the enormous diversity and rapid development of the genre from Handel to Haydn. It’s an instructive journey: already you can hear the germ of the symphony in the Sinfonia from Handel’s oratorio Saul (1738), while the Grande Simphonie No 7 by Franz Xavier Richter (c.1740) and Stamitz’s Sinfonia in D (c.1750) demonstrate the stylistic and technical revolutions that were taking place at the famed Mannheim Court at the time. Mozart’s Symphony No 1, composed when he was just eight-years-old, reflects not only the influence of Mannheim but that of JC Bach; finally, one of Haydn’s masterpieces, the Symphony No 49 (La Passione) epitomises the Sturm und Drang style of sharply contrasting extremes of emotion, thus prefiguring Beethoven. The AAM are perfect advocates, their playing crisp and light yet virtuosic and given to extravagant gestures where the musical rhetoric demands it. This is most evident in the Mannheim works, where the loudest fortissimo and the quietest pianissimo are rendered with painterly skill amid a hail…

Handel’s Serse of 1738 with its buffo elements and fast moving structure baffled the critics of the day who singularly failed to recognise Handel’s dramaturgical innovations; it was dismissed by some as a mere “ballad”opera and Charles Burney took him to task for reinstating the tragicomedic that had been banished from opera seria. Relying less on the static three-part da capo aria in favour of short snappy one-movement numbers it suits the light, nimble touch of Christian Curnyn and the Early Opera Company whose excellence in this field is a known quantity and the cast is ideal. Anna Stéphany is superb in the title pants-role, caressing the ear in moments of contemplation yet with sufficient metal in the voice to suggest the warrior king without going over the top and turning the character into a basket-case – her Se Bramante d’amar is a lesson in dramatic projection. Rosemary Joshua’s Romilda is her father’s child with nobility in the voice yet also a vulnerable femininity while her beau David Daniels is as strapping and heroic as a counter-tenor can manage. Thankfully the more comic characters are played relatively straight; Brindley Sherratt avoids conventional bluster as the soldier prince Ariodate, Hilary… Continue…

Early music royalty in a program of English music to raise the spirits. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

International superstars, the finest Australian Baroque ensembles and a fully staged Orlando are among the highlights. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in

Paving the way for the triumph of home-grown music over continental, Saul was presented in 1739 as part of a London season notable for the complete absence of Italian opera. It was a revolutionary work in many ways. It was the first English oratorio with a male lead; it was the longest English music theatre work to date; and it required larger forces than any theatre work previously performed in England. Harry Christophers delivers a highly charged, dramatic reading of the score, from the grand, ceremonial opening choruses, through the more intimate court settings, right up to the spooky scene where the Witch of Endor raises the spirit of Samuel. Listen to the sonorous use of three trombones (a German import in their day) in the battle music. Military kettledrums (which Handel borrowed from the Tower of London) enhance the famous Dead March. David’s ravishing harp solos and a specially commissioned carillon complete the novel line up and Christophers gives each its moment in the spotlight. Christopher Purves is Saul, a fine baritone and an even finer singing actor. His kingly descent through jealousy, fury and despair is meticulously mapped out with singing of enormous bite and panache. Although the…

  Following on from Reinventing Guitar Vol 1, Greek classical guitarist Smaro Gregoriandou here combines innovative guitar technology with wide-ranging musicological research and a formidable technique to bring ancient sound worlds alive. For this recording Gregoriandou uses four extraordinary modern instruments: a double-course pedal guitar and a single-stringed pedal guitar with scalloped frets, both in soprano and alto sizes. It might sound gimmicky but the results speak for themselves. Take the five Scarlatti sonatas with which the program begins, all but one played on the double-course instrument. The rich, bright sonority of the harpsichord is evoked rather than made explicit, while the Iberian flavour of the music is underscored by the complex timbre and Gregoriandou’s fluid articulation and ornamentation. Bach’s famous Prelude, Fugue and Allegro BWV 998 benefits from the crisp, slightly dry sonority of the scalloped frets while in the following Toccata BWV 914 Gregoriandou employs the double-course instrument to great effect; the fugue is especially impressive in clarity and colour. The scalloped-fret guitar works well with the Handel items, The Harmonious Blacksmith and the Chaconne No 2. Gregoriandou’s phrasing and tonal balance is incisive and compelling, the cumulative effects the luminous offspring of the union between intellect and…

Paul Dyer treats Australians to a tasty dessert courtesy of Stefano Montanari – a violinist as cool as an Italian gelato. Continue reading Get unlimited digital access from $4 per month Subscribe Already a subscriber? Log in