(Past) Remarks on Recent Recordings

Please also see the current listing.

The present "archive" consists of Remarks that have already been published on the page noted above, and dating from the format revision following October 2014. Pages will be moved here from the main listing on a haphazard basis, but this page will serve the purpose of retaining these remarks for future consultation — something that readers have requested. (The original format for this subproject did not involve long-term retention, and I do still question the increasing ubiquity of archiving everything forever.)

Comments remain in reverse chronological order, i.e. most recent first, here.

Another new musical discovery from the era (returning to last week's entry on the Leuven Chansonnier as a touchstone) is the complete Lamentations by Brumel, which musicologist Laurie Stras apparently stumbled upon recently in a library in Italy. Stras is associated with the ensemble Musica Secreta, which I remember from e.g. their Luzzaschi program of almost twenty years ago, but they've remained active, mostly around Renaissance or Baroque repertory associated with women & in Italy. Their new program, focusing on c.1500 Franco-Flemish polyphony, From Darkness Into Light, thus seems like something of a departure, although it also concerns Italian sources. In fact, the interpretations of these works are appealing, projecting an almost Italianate lightness that can seem dance-like at times, yet rejecting an "angelic" sort of vocal presentation. (And note that any potential incongruity between lamenting & dancing is answered by various traditional funerary dances around the world. It's not that human movement is antithetical to mourning, then, but about the sort of movement involved....) There's also support for lower parts from the organ, but this doesn't interfere with textural clarity. And while the other brief pieces have their interest, the impetus for the album was obviously the Brumel, which had previously existed in only a much shorter version: These Lamentations appear to herald the upcoming Italian madrigal, forging a "sacred drama" presented in "acts" rather than a liturgy oriented on ritual performativity. The result thus continues to mark Brumel as anticipating later developments, here in a highly motivic proto-"operatic" sort of work (that could be seen as completely refiguring the medieval passion play — although Brumel probably never knew such music). And although the glimpse (& accomplishment) of later sixteenth century style here isn't a priority for me, there's little doubt that this signature work can become relatively popular, particularly among people who value notions of "Renaissance" far more than they do the pre-modern per se.... Whereas Brumel already had such a reputation, it's perhaps (now) most strongly illustrated by this impressive cycle.

Evidently I couldn't help but foreshadow Blue Heron's new Ockeghem: Complete Songs Volume 1 in the previous entry, and I'm indeed excited: It's about time not only that someone revisited more of these classic outputs in a systematic way, but also that works beyond mass cycles come back into vogue for larger recording projects. In particular, Blue Heron is rather self-consciously issuing a followup to the classic set by Medieval Ensemble of London from the early 1980s: It's surely that ensemble's most impressive release — not as lengthy as their complete Dufay, but rather more accomplished, both in terms of selecting the program & performing the songs. In fact, Scott Metcalfe & Blue Heron follow many of the same stylistic choices, and the aura of that older interpretation continues to shine through on this new set, in spite or (perhaps) because of its ongoing refinement of materials & technique. The set itself emerges from Blue Heron's "Ockeghem @ 600" project, which includes a variety of concerts, including of the masses, but has announced only this double recording issue — with Volume 2 (whose cover already appears in the booklet of Volume 1) announced for 2022, at the close of the Ockeghem project. I guess that means we'll have to wait, and I don't know if other recordings are actually planned, but the first is tantalizing: Although I'd associated Blue Heron with larger choral works, and there are indeed many people involved in this production, each song is handled intimately, with individual singers selected accordingly. (In fact, the only doubling on the disc occurs, to good effect, in the lowest part of Petite camusette.) The sound of the bray harp, the main accompanying instrument here, is also handled carefully (as analogized to e.g. bray lute mentioned here recently), and indeed care seems to be the watch word: The music & interpretations are full of restraint, such that if anything, one could criticize the performance for lacking ecstasy. I'm not complaining, though, as the attention to detail is remarkable, all the way from the rhythms of the smallest phrases to large scale forms & ensemble timbres & colors.... The style isn't innovative — rather it involves taking the time to pursue every question around a complete set & its precise articulation. (A new musical edition of the songs is also in preparation....) It's thus at a different level of accomplishment than many of the items featured here, i.e. that are bringing repertory back into sound in a more provisional way, and was added to my personal list, displacing the classic set in anticipation of the second volume. That it doesn't seem "very new" tempers my excitement a bit, but this is a very accomplished & thorough presentation of some of the best music of the mid-15th century. And being able to admire recorded interpretations that don't seem particularly innovative seems like a welcome marker of maturity for this repertory (& it's been hard won).

I'm expecting a handful of new items of interest to arrive within the next month or so, and hopefully there'll be both some newly discovered or imagined music & some new ideas to articulate here. In the meantime, I do want to note the recent Leuven Chansonnier release: This manuscript, containing 50 songs, including well-known examples by famous composers such as Ockeghem, but also 12 unica not found elsewhere, was only discovered in 2015. Its previously unknown items are, of course, the most intriguing — & may eventually be attributed — but overall, the manuscript contains polyphonic secular music typical of its era. The album is also subtitled "Volume 1" although it doesn't mention future issues specifically (& these might be performed by different ensembles, as concerts debuting the material from the manuscript apparently had been). The (initial?) release of 14 items is by Ensemble Sollazzo, then, whom I see I hadn't really featured here: Their previous albums consisted of a selection of Ars Nova repertory, and were enjoyable enough while being unremarkable for their programs (& seemed to be discussed sufficiently elsewhere, where the interpretations did generate some enthusiasm). Leuven Chansonnier likewise involves a quality performance, although I'd also characterize it as a bit stiff and operatic-modern in its vocals, while (correspondingly) engaging in more doubling than I might prefer. The repertory itself might be said to occupy an intermediate position between more famous sources, e.g. Chansonnier Cordiforme & Grand Chansonnier of Margaret of Austria — less striking, but generally enjoyable.... Ultimately, it's good to see renewed interest in the fifteenth century chanson, with at least one more upcoming release (including a new item from Leuven, as it happens) & corresponding discussion to be devoted to that repertory as well....

The remarks made while adding the new Ensemble Gilles Binchois album to my personal list already express much of what I'd otherwise say here, but I do want to note a few things (more) concretely: For one, it took months for this album to make its way to me. I'm not loving the direction of music retail lately, that's for sure.... (I suppose that, among the world's various wars — of the "trade" variety & otherwise — & intensifying persecutions, the ability to receive recordings promptly from European media companies is among the least important issues, but it's still what makes this particular project possible....) It's also worth noting that, to this point, Vellard had recorded very little from the Ars Nova: He'd recorded a wide variety of earlier material, both of the polyphonic & (various) monophonic sorts, and then again with the generation of Dufay & Binchois, and further into a rather idiosyncratic selection of often much later music, but little from the Ars Nova beyond Machaut specifically. (Of course, his series of Machaut recordings — now decades old — continue to be represented on my favorites list, so I've actually enjoyed his work with the Ars Nova going back to the 1980s....) That seems curious now that I've really noticed, but this latest recording (devoted to Barcelona & Apt masses) also seems to follow the inspiration & logic of the previous album of Ars Antiqua selections closely, making for a parallel Ars Nova anthology: Given its wonderful interpretive command — superbly flexible, yet emphatic phrasing from both voices & instruments (when used) — such a parallel opportunity seems particularly worthwhile. And the individual pieces aren't necessarily selected for their technical brilliance, but do illustrate & articulate an era of sacred music rather well, and indeed serve to provide much continuity with Vellard's various plainchant explorations, not only from the earlier era, but extending to many out-of-the-way survivals from modern times. This program & interpretation are thus both incredibly detailed & part of a "long view." E.g. the exotic intervals for which Apt et al. are known come to sound quite right in this context....

I feel as though I should make some brief remarks regarding the recent O Rosa Bella program recorded in Italy by a couple of previously unknown ensembles (but including a few familiar names): Gilles Joye hadn't registered with me, but his work dates to decades that are central to my interests, and the monothematic program is generally enjoyable (including e.g. one of the strangest Ockeghem attributions in that composer's catalog). The performances employ large ensembles with doubling, as was common in Italy in the period (& as I've enjoyed e.g. for Dufay's more festive music), and are generally animated & forceful. As far as the Mass itself, it's a strange three-part piece, with the Kyrie as its longest movement, and e.g. the Credo in a simple cantilena style.... The comments in the notes seem ambiguous to me, so I'm not sure if they're suggesting that Joye wrote only this "O Rosa Bella" cycle or all three in the Trent Codices. Clemencic had recorded the four-part setting, a more solid piece.... (And some other items have been quite slow to make their way to me....)

To conclude a short series of discussions of a small flurry of recent releases, a recent duo recording of Josquin songs moves not only to somewhat later music (i.e. later fifteenth century and into the early sixteenth), but evokes another doubly retrospective view by engaging both later sixteenth century practice as well as the 1980s discography — in an eerie parallel to the new motet disc discussed here late last year: Perhaps it's too easy for me to link this sort of shift in perspective specifically to simultaneous shifts in what one is presented by search engines (no doubt in part around international politics & its "fake news" notions), but this sort of production does seem to be another bow toward more conservative (i.e. classical) audiences & their modern (in the broad historical sense) orientation. Before I get too embroiled in that topic, though, I do want to note that arranging Josquin's secular music for a single voice & single lute (or, in some cases, lute solo) is a perfectly sensible thing to do: It wasn't the orientation of Josquin's milieu, but it was to become a dominant musical idiom during the sixteenth century, including via many contemporary adaptations of Josquin's work (specifically), and leading into the "new monody" as one fount of the baroque (i.e. the "first global imperial" era). (Prior to the new monody per se, the frottola took a similar approach to highlighting the solo voice via — most often lute — accompaniment, and various instrumentalists were creating tablatures of both polyphonic music & various diminutions, etc....) So in that sense, the recent Adieu mes amours is indeed a sort of historically based production — but based in the period following Josquin: In this, sonorities are carefully considered, and instruments were built with appealing & detailed timbres, including a "bray lute" with buzzing resonators based on earlier harps, which appears (to good effect) on some tracks. The baritone voice is more rounded than I'd often prefer from medieval singers, more in keeping with a baroque aesthetic, i.e. with a more individual self-consciousness that the notes characterize as the "art of singing." In other words, although not in any way strident, the notes take on a similar tone to that on the prior motet disc (which likewise seems more naïve than strident), in that although they note uncertainties regarding Josquin's biography & output (especially in the secular music in the latter case), the sketch doesn't involve recent scholarship, but instead tends simply to repeat what was said decades ago. Moreover, there is a universalizing tendency at work in the notion of "composer" the notes construct, and especially in remarks on "actual art." It's thus another retro view, but also one that seeks both to exclude earlier (i.e. medieval) music from the (modern) category of "art" (& implicitly to elevate painting), and to assimilate Josquin more fully to the modern regime: Curiously, notions of Renaissance aren't actually articulated, but the perspective is similarly one of anticipating later modernity. And in another strange parallel, the album isn't only a later sixteenth century-based approach to Josquin — incorporating e.g. the sorts of ornaments & rhythmic interpolations that he specifically decried in his own era — but adopts the title of another 1980s Harmonia Mundi album that likewise served as an early recommendation here.... (So again, it seems almost like an attempt to make three decades of medieval music scholarship vanish into a new sea of conservatism & reorientation on universalist empire....) And indeed, I've been talking about Josquin secular discs in this space for a while, with a couple of others that I find more valuable... actually also involving later music as well! The "chapel" style album of five- & six-part music takes a rather heavy-handed approach via vocal doubling, and includes some later organ music by other composers (elaborating Josquin's material). And the more broadly instrumentally oriented program likewise includes some later lute music (plus a short c.2000 piece, with concerns different from those of this discussion) — as well as develops plucked string technique in general. (The latter does also include many tracks with a smaller instrumental ensemble, i.e. that don't involve intabulation, that I hear as nicely idiomatic for the period. The larger vocal renditions of Se congie prens likewise seem more overdone than significant stylistic departures in terms of rhythm, ficta, etc. I should probably also mention the recent Kaiser Maximilian I from an ensemble similar to that on Les fantaisies de Josquin, there in a simpler thematic program....) So why this sort of treatment for Josquin? Beyond any desire to assimilate the music to later styles & mentalities, it's also partly a matter of the uncertain contours of Josquin's output, and the many similar secular works distributed under his name, with no clear stylistic end point.... Or so I'll suggest. (Or is it more about the dated editions? That hasn't prevented new approaches here or elsewhere....) Meanwhile, people seem able to perform e.g. La Rue chansons with what seem like ensembles & techniques of the c.1500 period.... Anyway, beyond these broad considerations, I'd say that the result of this new Adieu mes amours production involves some tracks that work well, but that it never sounds much like Josquin. It's simply a more modern approach than his own. (And again, in the very limited sense of the latter statement, there's nothing inherently wrong with that: Inspiration is & can be multifaceted. A different sort of discussion would have been more welcome, though.)

Continuing the early fifteenth century orientation from the previous entry (now, on average, involving music a little earlier), but this time around Burgundian-Italian music, I also want to highlight the recent Johannes de Lymburgia program, Gaude felix Padua, by Le Miroir de Musique. It continues what has often been a basic Burgundian orientation for the group, including around Italian sojourns (& hence performance practice, mainly heard as instrumental doubling in these interpretations): In particular, only Latin music by Lymburgia has survived (& calling it "sacred" isn't quite in keeping with later designations, as it's not all liturgical), and so this program is rather different from the group's earlier album devoted to the de Lantins, which is secular (mostly in French, including some Italian & Latin items — but not the surviving liturgical music). Lymburgia had been illustrated on record only by an occasional short track elsewhere, and so this program reveals another distinctive, personal contrapuntal style (chronologically) between those of Ciconia & Dufay. (Besides the de Lantins, one might also compare e.g. to Brassart, who was apparently a somewhat younger contemporary: Perhaps he'll be subject of this group's next album? He & Lymburgia sometimes seem to collide in Buxheimer Orgelbuch style, if via the Codex Faenza in these interpretations....) The program also ranges from mass movements to laude-derived strophic songs, orienting on the composer's time in Italy. The quirky style in evidence here might not have had much subsequent influence, particularly with Dufay becoming such a dominating figure (not to mention the English input in the wake of the Hundred Years War), but it does help to elaborate (once again) the musical concerns of the era. The group's handling of the different genres is also quite deft, involving a sense of lightness when appropriate, and fine articulation in general. The pieces aren't all of the most striking individual merit (with the Magnificat being perhaps the most individually distinctive), but the result does end up being both enjoyable & broadly illuminating e.g. of Dufay's context.

Particularly since I used the previous volume largely to introduce a broader stylistic discussion of English-Continental oppositions (around the Ashwell disc from Graindelavoix), I want to give the third volume in the recent early fifteenth century English music series from the Binchois Consort, Music for Saint Katherine, its own entry: This is, once again, music from an intriguing era of musical change, performed according to up-to-date practice & by an ensemble with extensive experience in related repertory. (And I was delayed in making these remarks due to more changes in the music retail business....) It also continues a pairing of alabaster sculpture with music, now with a "sculptor in residence" involved: It's a curious choice for a multimedia program in 2019, i.e. photos accompanying a CD, but hey, why not? Music-wise, as noted in the brief previous mention here, continuing performances of Frye & Dunstaple highlight the major repertory involved, but these sorts of thematic programs also allow the inclusion of various stylistic oddball pieces from the era, which does help to illuminate the basic musical questions being considered at the time, i.e. beyond the larger outputs that came to involve more influence on subsequent generations. (My comment or question regarding the performances themselves actually involves sustain: I'm starting to get the impression that the voices are too active, and should be letting the resonances "hang in the air" a bit more, i.e. without forcing the vocal cords.) The Frye mass cycle here, also on the St. Katherine theme, hadn't been recorded previously, as far as I know, but they chose not to highlight that aspect: There have been a few single album productions devoted to Frye over the years, but no one has taken the plunge to record his entire output (which would fit on two CDs, if my calculations are correct), which I find kind of curious at this point. (Ciconia sports two complete 3CD editions, for instance.) Perhaps Frye's larger forms haven't been compelling enough for that, versus his popular shorter works, but one might compare his masses e.g. to those of Faugues in terms of basically elaborating song forms into longer movements.... More significantly, though (given his reputation), Dunstaple has even fewer dedicated programs from the CD era, and there's been little in the way of a systematic view of his output so far. Isn't it about time for a Complete Dunstaple? And how about a related program focusing on the late English isorhythmic motet per se? (But then, I guess I usually return to technical, rather than thematic, questions....)

Let me also take a moment to discuss a couple of other recent releases devoted to key 14th & 15th century repertory, even as my thoughts will be briefer & perhaps more ambivalent....

The new Orlando Consort album, titled simply Dufay, includes some of the more unusual secular unica in the great composer's output, but also comes off as a rather conservative production: In particular, although it moves decisively — as is the norm with this ensemble — to all-vocal renditions (& with one voice to a part), the group continues to use the Besseler-Fallows edition (1964/1995) of the songs, and even involves Fallows to provide the liner notes. These are interesting for some of their associations & discussions of the unique place of some of these songs, but also say little about the approach to performance. (What is considered is e.g. whether to take repeats, how to fill in missing material, etc. I.e., the basic sound & structure is taken for granted, making it a question of which verses....) In particular, the tuning here seems out of place to me from the opening, with strange passings & curious cadences, although it starts to seem a bit more idiomatic by the later part of the program (which is mostly later music). Such an impression is in sharp contrast to e.g. the recent The Dufay Spectacle from Gothic Voices, which might come off as relatively over-showy, and does include some bigger repertory & (sometimes overdone) instrumental doubling, but also provides a quite convincing sense of tuning & structure. Although it's partly due to specific repertory choices (as noted), that program is also more energetic, whereas the new Dufay comes off rather more subdued: In that, it recalls the same ensemble's Compère (where sound engineering is also an issue — seemingly worked out in the course of the group's Machaut Edition...), an album that seems quite valuable for its ongoing exploration of the later composer, but which often comes off as muddled & as a relatively random assortment. (There the similar tuning does seem more appropriate.) Maybe that album just needed more presence from the engineering to hear the lower voices better, but that Dufay takes such a conservative approach to performance style & sources is somewhat surprising. (The Machaut Edition is based on new, forthcoming editions.) And maybe this effort really revolves around an unstated insistence on later 15th century tuning principles, as they develop between Pythagorean & mean-tone.... Anyway, there are appealing moments — right from the beginning — and Dufay is always great, but I was disappointed by this project.

In contrast to the Orlando Consort, La Reverdie is a group that hadn't been very active lately (& indeed I'd mainly thought of their recent releases as reissues), but now takes up some core repertory in L'Occhio del Cor — devoted to Landini: The program takes an autobiographical approach around blindness, selecting songs that refer to sight — including in various metaphorical guises, to yield a distinctive sense of period perceptual hierarchy (in my terms from elsewhere). This involves six first recordings of Landini songs, for instance, making the program of particular note from a discographic perspective. And the liner notes are similarly detailed in the sense of discussing individual song content, but very little on performance style. (In fact, that section of the notes focuses on spelling, which was a surprising orientation for me — not that it doesn't provide guidance on articulation & phrasing, but a desire to come back to a focus on actual spelling seemed novel....) In this case, I tend to associate La Reverdie with the relatively simpler laud repertory of the period, although they've done more "academic" programs too (but not previously devoted to Landini, which kind of surprised me...), and the phrasing & articulation often tend to emphasize short phrases & to seek regular, even danceable rhythms. In contrast, Christophe Deslignes is incredibly fluid on organetto, and perhaps it was the possibility of this pairing that inspired their "return" to this repertory.... I enjoyed both Deslignes' phrasing & basic sound (very like a wind instrument) very much, and perhaps he makes the rest of the ensemble (which employs quite a bit of doubling as well) seem lacking in agility in comparison.... Although the new look at Landini is still welcome, I didn't get much musical insight on his work as a result. (E.g. the raw, emergent power of a Micrologus seems to be missing.) Somehow a lightness of individual tone combines into what seems like a heavy handed ensemble sound, with linear tension almost becoming an afterthought (other than in contrast with the organetto).

With their Obrecht Masses, Beauty Farm turn to two cycles that had already received worthwhile interpretations on disc — as opposed to much of their work, which has been devoted to relatively unknown music (or to new stylistic presentations of music that had been performed by prior generations). In this, they turn in an absolute tour-de-force performance of this music leading into 1500, likely the most forceful & richly detailed on record to this point. (One might add, crucially, that the sense of detailed variety doesn't interfere with the coherent sweep of the mass settings, which is a possible issue.) In this, the choice of Obrecht is also striking, in that his settings are especially transparent & sonically rich to the ear: This is exuberant & ecstatic music, then, in a sense that might be compared to Ockeghem, but within a more thoroughly structured form. Obrecht's music also tends to be relatively similar to itself, at least within broad bands, and so the individual relevance of the particular cycles is worth noting as well: The Missa Fortuna desperata is especially illustrative & even canonical in this regard, and so Beauty Farm's interpretation follows an enjoyable — but not particularly assertive or dangerous — reading by the Sound and the Fury, as paired with the technically similar Missa Rose playsante (another fine cycle to be sure). One might moreover compare Obrecht's setting to that by Josquin, who would appear to have been inspired by it, and particularly in the Tallis Scholars performance, which is both relatively more muffled interpretively & more subtle textually. (Although that interpretation seems relatively recent within this context, I should remind myself that it's actually from 2009, i.e. ten years ago. The Sound and the Fury performance was similarly over ten years earlier than Beauty Farm.... Time marches on.) The Tallis Scholars are also the reference for the previous Missa Maria zart, which as opposed to a mere decade of elapsed time, was my Record of the Year way back in 1996! (It always seemed like a strange issue within their catalog to me, but was also the first Obrecht album of the CD era, as well as a virtuoso piece known for its elaboration of extended sequences....) The structural consistency that Beauty Farm achieve alongside the pure vocal virtuosity of the extended sequences is, once again, at another level of mastery — & indeed their double CD was promptly added to my personal list. (Listening to this double album also proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that this music can be extremely powerful & well-articulated with only four singers!) The entire production combines excitement with gravity into an inexorable momentum that seems to define Obrecht's music.... That said, if Beauty Farm is going to start re-recording mass cycles, why not tackle Josquin? Neither they nor the Sound and the Fury have done so. Is there too much historical weight, a sense of the "war horse" as the figure goes? I think it's time: Let's hear, say, the two L'homme armé masses....

Although I haven't generally featured contemporary arrangements here, I do want to make a few remarks about Ars Nova - New Music, which features music by Machaut & De Vitry adapted for a modern string duo (of violin & double bass). In particular, the emphasis is on illustrating the importance of Pythagorean tuning to Ars Nova music — & the program thus includes a (9+') contemporary musical study on the divisions of the major third (as differing by the Pythagorean comma) as well. The Ars Nova selections are generally performed without repeats (although the most elaboration is reserved for Machaut's monophonic lai, Amours doucement me tente in its first recorded performance...), such that an "essential" quality is conveyed — particularly by the sequence of twenty different songs by Machaut. These are wonderfully crisp, & generally briefly evocative interpretations.... The Machaut selections don't visit his most contrapuntally involved music, though, which might give an impression of the limits of the project or approach, but then the program turns to the academic motet in all its glory (albeit at an earlier stage than much of Machaut's music), in the De Vitry motets from Le Roman de Fauvel. The technical precision in each case is superlative, such that the performance provides an exceptionally clear illustration of Machaut's melodic & contrapuntal sense, and then serves substantially to clarify & amplify the detailed interactions in the motets as well. (Note that the adaptations thus go beyond two-voice settings.) Although the performance itself is thus outstanding — & could serve as a worthwhile introduction to Ars Nova music in general — the historical comments included are more often dubious: I'd be inclined to look past them, given the fine performance, but they read specifically like something out of a music textbook from a couple of generations ago. When are these notions ever, finally updated? (Again, I think this is an emerging commentary on the increasing inability to find anything but mainstream commercial information online these days — at least absent much more effort than was required not so very long ago....) Also, there's an implication that these performers have somehow initiated Pythagorean tuning for this music, which likewise dates back nearly 40 years.... So although I strongly agree with the performers that Pythagorean tuning is essential to making much (sense) of the music, I simply find it strange that they seem to be operating so blindly with regard to decades of research on these points. (How is this even possible?) I guess I do have to give them a pass on that, though, since the actual sonic result is so polished & illuminating.

Finally (for this little burst of entries), to step back into a more technical orientation, particularly after enjoying their La Rue disc (& the Missa Inviolata — another setting on the Virgin — in particular), I want to turn to The Brabant Ensemble's new Févin program: This is another very long album from them, packing in a lot of material (& unfortunately using far too many track markers, as the Tallis Scholars also did on their new Josquin album), and supported by a quality technical discussion from Rice. Regarding the prior rant, I do often find Rice's group to be too "pretty" & distant, but he does take a thoughtful (& not modernist) approach to tuning & ficta, and so brings out a wealth of detail in phrasing, etc. So that's good (& I believe that he, along with Hyperion in general, reacts to the public preferences I mention below by simply recording more quietly & with less presence, which isn't ideal either...). So that said, Rice makes a good case for hearing more from Févin, and this is an important program to extend his large-scale discography beyond the Requiem. Févin actually died before both La Rue & Josquin, although he was apparently younger & writing in a somewhat newer style: Indeed, the sometimes light tone (& homophonic or alternating passages) suggest a later orientation (i.e. anticipate modern smugness), but there are significant technical challenges as well, particularly in working Josquin's famous Ave Maria into a mass cycle. The latter is an example of early parody technique, and seems to place the structural aspects almost secondarily: There's a sort of "prettiness" to the music, almost to the point that one might talk of "decorating" a structure, and that's what Févin emphasizes. And it's quite decorated — although in a very different mode from the swirling weirdness of the contemporaneous Missa Ave Maria by Thomas Ashwell (as discussed via swirling weirdness here in September, and as largely absent such a structural skeleton). This is the sort of style that leads into word painting, etc., and a comparison goes some way toward answering Schmelzer's call for a consideration of the distinctive quality of English (musical) aesthetics at this particular (almost early modern) moment. (There's also the little swap, an English group doing Continental music & vice versa.)

Whereas Ashwell might be said to remove the skeleton from under the decorations — or liberate them, as Schmelzer suggests — their contemporary (who did outlive La Rue & Josquin) Bauldeweyn presents more structural innovation: The Beauty Farm double album was revelatory in this regard, but now Peter Urquhart has indeed returned with a contribution of his own, in this case an album around the Missa Du bon du cueur with some related songs by other composers. Here I actually prefer the song performances, including for their consort arrangements around low instruments (including sackbuts). The result is distinctive & earthy (& reminds me of later diminution technique, e.g. as articulated by Ortiz), but the large ensemble used on the mass tracks (& these may date to different recording sessions), together with so-so recording equipment, lends a rather muddy result there too. Still, the solid structural clarity & sweep of Bauldeweyn's ideas do come through, almost like a powerful musical scaffolding. This is the sort of music that was soon to disappear, and these are workmanlike performances worth hearing.

A couple of recent Josquin albums give me an opportunity — or perhaps a command — to write a little more about public impressions of this music — which, as regular readers will know, I approach as late medieval. The latter is significant with a composer like Josquin in particular, i.e. one whose works are often hailed as anticipating Renaissance modernity (or in my terms, imperial-colonial modernity). In particular, even as performance practice evolves for earlier music, and indeed for the music of the Josquin era (as in e.g. the immediately prior La Rue discussion), there's still an urge to perform Josquin in a later 16th century style, or even to prioritize vocal aesthetics that originated with Restoration England. That the latter style is ahistorical when applied to Franco-Flemish polyphony of c.1500 is not only incredibly obvious, but has been discussed — including publicly — in great detail in the past couple of decades. Musicians know it, of course: The most recent Josquin program by The Tallis Scholars is a good example of improving command in this repertory, including of tuning, ficta, rhythm, etc. (All have been mangled, and were as a norm not so long ago, including by the Scholars themselves.) Their Missa Gaudeamus in particular is probably their most accomplished yet, for instance. (And, once again, there is no documentation provided regarding when the recording was made. For all I know, the entire cycle of cycles was recorded several years ago & is being slowly released over time.) Indeed, it's probably the single most compelling version of one of Josquin's most sophisticated — & best served on record, as opposed to some of the early entries in the Tallis Scholars' renewed series — masses, but also doesn't set new standards. Like their previous Josquin album, that featuring the Missa Di dadi, it's also paired with a lesser work, in this case the Missa L'ami baudichon. (However, whereas the pairing on the prior album was basically a throwaway, the latter has its merits. It's somewhat crude, but projects an appealing solidity... as first revealed by Peter Urquhart, to whom the next entry will partly turn. Once this series concludes, and this is the 7th of 9 albums, if prior comments are to be believed, the way that most have paired greater & lesser cycles will probably end up limiting its appeal somewhat. I suppose that's simply a consequence of whatever version of "complete" is being used here....) The Missa Gaudeamus is not an "odd ball" Josquin cycle, however (as was Di dadi), and so fits comfortably in a general survey of his style: One might invert such an assessment, though, and begin to suggest that unique cycles are far more characteristic of Josquin, and specifically for their lack of general characteristics: They often adopt personal stances, whether due to technical challenges, or some other sort of orientation, that yields a particular musical perspective & sonic (& aesthetic) result, not unlike motets (which achieve such a result in part via differing texts).

And I suppose that my continued refrain regarding motets, and so why so many groups are focusing only on mass cycles, has become tedious: Yet motets have long been regarded as Josquin's most significant output, so their neglect is particularly vexing. And so I was happy to see a new program finally appear: Indeed, even seeing the announcement reminded me of the Herreweghe classic (which was, coincidentally, relatively new when the EM FAQ project began, and so my first Josquin recommendation there), but the result felt more like a journey back in time than merely that: I don't mean it in a positive sense either, but rather as a regression in attitude & approach toward the music, i.e. as a renewed attempt to approach it from a later (largely Baroque, i.e. modern) perspective. Reading the liner notes in particular felt almost like my work had never existed: From trivial complaints such as never mentioning Absalon, fili mi at all (and so its more recent attribution to La Rue), to the pat absurdity of claiming that people wouldn't have been able to hear two melodies at once, they're utterly dismissive of a medieval orientation (& without even mentioning the possibility, almost as if part of a "there is no alternative" Thatcherist cant...). The performance follows suit (or perhaps the notes reflect the performance): The earlier repertory is performed in a wretched manner, with absurd ahistorical tuning & ficta, and indeed muddled phrasing that obscures the middle parts almost completely. This jumbled mess of turgid rhythmic interpolations & cadential "tics" does then start to sound almost appropriate by the time of the more motivic Miserere (as the program proceeds mostly chronologically), i.e. the title track & without cantus firmus.... One can barely pick out the tenor elsewhere, and so of course the various chants are obscured, and moreover, rather than emphasizing intervals around the tenor, tuning is allowed to move around (including there, in the "hold" voice) in order to emphasize a smooth, soprano-dominated texture. I haven't read any other discussion of this interpretation to this point, but I have no doubt that it'll be hailed by Baroque-oriented listeners (& people who just love Western imperialism, whatever else they might claim) who — pace e.g. the complaints regarding tuning by Ars Antiqua, which is at least according to a well intended approach, if not fine execution — want their music to sound "angelic" & placidly unchallenging, while anything premodern should indeed seem obscure & pointless. The result is a triumph in this sense! Do I know anything about who Daniel Reuss is? No, other than that he has recorded later music to this point, and that this is supposed to be the start of his series on the Renaissance.... The whole thing comes off as an unrepentant glorification of imperial modernity to me, and so quite far from clashing sorrows.... I mean, to be fair, there are some nice moments where some of the distinctive sweep of the famous motets reveals itself, but in obscuring most of the musical detail, that also comes off as imperious in & of itself. I try not to get too much into negative rants here, but "disappointing" doesn't begin to describe the resulting impact. (And yes, it also makes for something of a meditation on the passing of internet — & so general — relevance for non-commercial sites such as this. None of this should surprise me, yet hearing it really did offend me in a pretty basic way. Boo!) To return to the "back in time" observation, then, this album doesn't prompt me to look back to c.1500, but rather back to c.1980 — or perhaps (itself in distorted form) to c.1600. The latter seems to have been the intent.

Perhaps there are more items that'll be appearing, particularly if they were recorded only this year, but the 500th anniversary of La Rue's death has at least brought a relatively small but high quality set of releases, in particular the Beauty Farm double album from early in the year, half the fine Requiem disc from Diabolus in Musica, and now another double album of masses from The Sound and the Fury. (It still appears as though the latter has stopped meeting as an ensemble, as the recording itself actually dates from 2013, i.e. to shortly after the Pipelare double album that had been their climactic issue.) Whereas Beauty Farm's program consisted entirely of four-part cycles, however, The Sound and the Fury devote a (small) majority of the program to five-part settings — all based on monophonic material, though. In particular, whereas the second disc reprises the virtuosic program (of thirty years ago now) by Ensemble Clément Janequin, the first is perhaps more successful, providing striking & polished second (in both cases, as it happens) interpretations of both the Missa Paschale & Ista est speciosa (both in five voices, sung here one to a part): The Easter Mass is actually a later piece than the Christmas cycle included in the recent Beauty Farm set, and that much more restrained technically. (The notes suggest that it might be too severe to be successful, but I've found it to be quite successful since first hearing it by Ars Antiqua of Paris — in an interpretation that continues to draw a surprising amount of bile from the general public, but more on that in the next entry.) The Virgin Mass — one of a significant handful by La Rue — presents an even more exuberant, even sparkling setting, and is a real high point itself. In contrast, the second disc seems a little less accomplished interpretation-wise, but does reprise the Missa L'homme armé after a rather long interval, and moreover attempts the Requiem at pitch. Both end up a bit murky (including the low parts in the L'homme armé) — & do recall that Visse's group had been supported by organ, helping to bolster what was a relatively coherent interpretation for the time. (One might also remark that another L'homme armé setting, as attributed by Meconi, remains unrecorded. It's a later, canonic work, and one of only a few La Rue cycles that isn't recorded at this point. I might note that none of the individual mass movements has been recorded, however, which might not seem curious given the preoccupation with full cycles, but then many movements have appeared as extracts anyway....) So whereas the previous SATF La Rue album presented later technical tour de forces, here after the relatively youthful Missa L'homme armé, they've presented relatively straightforward (albeit still challenging) mature settings on plainchant themes. And so this disc was added to my personal list.

I'll have multiple items to discuss in this space within a few weeks (albeit perhaps not until the New Year), but I'm still waiting on at least one package from Europe so as to do some comparative listening. (In fact, I haven't yet listened to some of the recent items I've already received, since I've been quite occupied otherwise.) In the meantime, I do want to make a note regarding the sixth volume of The Orlando Consort Machaut Edition: The most notable item on this release is the extended Le lay de confort in three-voice canon, and the new rendition is clearly the most accomplished to appear so far. Although it can be a bit repetitive & cadentially oriented, it has to be considered as one of Machaut's most imposing individual works. (It had been recorded twice previously, but a full six of the monophonic lais have not. Nor has a rondeau or two of the ballades, all three for two voices. And Orlando have now recorded only three of the nineteen lais, so that genre starts to become the largest outstanding component of Machaut's output. Will anyone have the stomach to fill entire albums with unaccompanied, monophonic poetry? We might find out....) There's also the popular De Fortune (& the alternative version makes for a worthwhile comparison) & Je vivroie liement, as well as other appealing songs — no first recordings, though. I should note further that I'm enjoying the recorded sound at this point, so prior concerns have been resolved. This continues to be a worthwhile series.

I thought that I didn't have enough to say about the recent Binchois Consort album to be worth making a note, but now I'm thinking that it makes a good entry into a discussion of The Liberation of the Gothic by Graindelavoix: First of all, this is the former's second "multimedia" program around the English repertory from the Hundred Years War, in particular referencing alabaster figures of the Virgin, albeit only in the text that accompanies (and thus mediates) the musical program. Such a trans-sensory exploration has a general appeal, even if I didn't find myself especially intrigued. In particular, I mostly found myself thinking — amid this generally appealing, mixed program — that there still aren't ideal albums devoted to Dunstaple or Frye. (The latter has had nearly everything recorded, in generally decent performances, but usually scattered in broader programs. The former not only has fewer dedicated albums, at least of late, than his stature might suggest, but arguably, has yet to even have a thorough presentation of his overall style appear on record.) Returning to an orientation on The Liberation of the Gothic, then, both Dunstaple & Frye present parallels to Continental polyphony from the life of Dufay, the former with his early work, and the latter with his later mass cycles. In the following English generations, though, my interest tends to wane relative to Franco-Flemish polyphony (where it waxes), until reemerging around the mature post-Reformation style of Byrd et al., as again paralleling the Continent. (And in my case, it's the instrumental music that's of particular interest, likely — or simplistically — because the religious content of the sacred vocal works was strongly affected by political fashion. In other words, abstract musical considerations dominated instrumental music, although one cannot discount stealth messaging.) One can attribute such a decline in the later fifteenth century exactly to the events circumscribed by the Binchois Consort series, the ultimate defeat of the Plantagenets in the Hundred Years War, and then the political & social chaos of the War of the Roses, during which the remaining Plantagenets were exterminated as a political force. The wars provide a historical context for what the music itself suggests, namely withdrawal & introversion: Enter Graindelavoix with their program of two Marian pieces by John Browne, as well as the especially florid Missa Ave Maria by Thomas Ashwell. As the intro might suggest, it had been a while since I had given a serious listen to this repertory, as it had largely faded from my consciousness over the past two decades. Björn Schmelzer generally has intriguing things to say about his programs, though, and definitely tries to reimagine their contexts, so that provided my motivation to have a listen: Here, first of all, he not only makes the sensible observation that this era presents an opportunity to consider English aesthetics apart from strong Continental interaction, but further implies that since English aesthetics somehow came to dominate the world via Empire, we should better understand its early modern trajectory. (I agree that aesthetics are often more important than suggested by mainstream history, and so want to be sure not to imply that aesthetics followed Empire. The reverse is quite conceivable.) On this point, I've already suggested a notion of withdrawal, and indeed a renewed cloistering of English creative practice, such that the Dissolution of the Monasteries (only fifty years after the Tudor victory) created a sort of slingshot effect: Ritual music that had only recently become even more privately oriented was suddenly forced into public view, including via new (emerging capitalist) forms of economic survival, etc. (One might further note that there was not a similar musical — as opposed to economic — withdrawal in the closing days of the English Empire. Indeed, the "English Invasion" of the Beatles et al. was anything but a withdrawal, such that the modern era arrived in England with a far different trajectory than it ended, and not even with a real inversion: A last grasp at world relevance, perhaps?) Further, Schmelzer is concerned with a particular genre of private ritual, namely the veneration of the Virgin as exemplified in earlier generations by the English Ladymass. (And regarding patriarchy, veneration of the Virgin accompanied Christianity more generally, including throughout this era in Franco-Flemish polyphony, although perhaps nowhere more strongly than in England. After all, these people did ultimately accept a Queen, despite various contemporary laments. (And moreover, as discussed elsewhere [*], patriarchy actually intensified during the early modern period as a whole, so Schmelzer's liberation is more of a last gasp....)) He discusses these relations not with figur(in)es, then, but rather with architecture, and in particular, the Decorated Style — rather than the "solid" cathedral architecture of foundations, etc. In other words, and most of my remarks here are only inspired by Schmelzer, he's suggesting parallels (& inspirations) not with the free-standing architecture of cathedral building itself, but rather with the various internal "decorative" elements that suggest not only a womb-like sense of enclosure, but lend a general sensuality to those interiors. In prior decades, I had characterized the distinctive aspects of Continental polyphony according to rhetorical "foundations" — as opposed to the more abstract, florid style in England — but Schmelzer's remarks suggest that such a foundation was not only rhetorical, but more literal: It suggests music with a free-standing structure of its own, its own sense of solidity, rather than as sonic embellishment of other structures (i.e. cathedrals). So what is the historical-technical basis for such a divergent summary? One straightforward observation is that England's withdrawal was contemporaneous with "liberation" of the bass around Ockeghem, not the bass as another filigree part (as in e.g. the Ashwell Mass), and not simply to underline harmonies generated from the tenor, but as a structural element. Whereas "the irrational" remains prominent in Ockeghem's intuitive style, such a structural innovation was quickly placed into rationalizing contexts — i.e. large-scale, formal structures — by Continental polyphonists such as Busnoys & Obrecht. This is precisely the step that did not occur in England, and given Schmelzer's remarks, one might agree that an irrational sense of mystery was retained intentionally, and for religious reasons (that were demolished, particularly in England, by subsequent generations & their drive to worldly power). As phrases & motifs move around seemingly at random, as even the bass is indulging in diminution, rather than "supporting," there is a resulting disorientation for the listener, apparently intended to bring about religious insight. (And that such a sense of mysticism is more Catholic than Protestant is clear — even as Catholicism had developed a rather practical medieval philosophy as well.) Moreover, was such a capricious work as Ashwell's Missa Ave Maria constructed to trigger particular chapel resonances (& so messages from particular sources within the chapel decor)? Schmelzer does not suggest as much, but recall that similar claims have been made regarding Machaut's Nostre Dame Mass.... A very specific physical setting might have been involved (whereas writing for a non-specific setting might have inspired on the Continent, as manuscripts increasingly traveled). That said, and note that Ashwell's six-voice setting is roughly contemporaneous with the greatest cycles of Josquin & La Rue, not to mention to have become a significant influence on John Taverner, and thus on the post-Dissolution English musical world, his generation (the immediate pre-Dissolution generation) seems to have taken this sense of irrationality to its height. (And note that, lacking the Kyrie, English mass cycles start out with an unwieldy text, rather than one more suitable for establishing motivic relations. So a style yielding a sense of mysticism likely emerged from other constraints as well, although once again, there are chicken & egg questions: Which came first?) In the generation prior, as represented on The Liberation of the Gothic by the extended pieces by Browne, the Eton Choirbook is relatively more rational — if lacking the bass developments just noted. Indeed, Schmelzer makes an Obrecht comparison himself, and that's where my mind went, to the antiphons in particular. (I might also note a structural affinity to the long mass cycles by Faugues, in e.g. Browne's extended Stabat Mater: Phrases are linked similarly, although Browne injects more variety, while Faugues develops some early textural climaxes. And the structural foundation on the Continent allowed musicians to build long-form climaxes — beyond simply shifting revelry & in accord with a rhetorical impetus.) Obrecht's soaring lines do sound analogous, even if Obrecht's sense of structure becomes apparent in the written score (& so subliminally to the ear?), and moreover, one should probably associate "sensuality" with Marian music more broadly.... Such a soaring style then yields the even more filigreed & diversified settings of Ashwell et al., such that the "ethereal" English sound, as beloved by both the Restoration & twentieth century revival, begins to appear — only to transform into the gritty, grounded Elizabethan style. (And note that it was left to English consort music to explore a subsequent fascination with bass....) So all that said (and the complexity of my textual interventions is probably confusing too...), I do enjoy the Ashwell mass, although "intended to confuse the listener" is not generally my preference. (But frankly, why shouldn't it be? I've been fighting the overly rationalized for years.... I still believe in actual teaching at some point, though, not simply confusion!) Graindelavoix generally provides excellent, energetic performances, and this is no exception. Perhaps the result is too resonant, but then, maybe that's intentional too. Does the music evoke the (invaginated?) intimacy of a lady chapel? Does e.g. Ockeghem evoke (sensuous) physicality per se in his relatively early Missa L'homme armé? Perhaps. And specific music aside, thanks go to Schmelzer for provoking thoughts on cross sensory modalities in these more specific historical terms....

Ensemble Gilles Binchois has returned, once again, to Notre Dame repertory (or, in this case, the allied Codex Las Huelgas) with Fons luminis, an anthology involving a variety of genres from the period. I don't know that I really have much to say about this new effort (once again) on Evidence Classics, but do want to note here that I added it to my personal list. Performance practice seems to be quite advanced in this repertory at this point, which is always a welcome development. I guess I should add that it's something of a historical accident (with regard to interpretive programs) that there are two versions of Perotin's Sederunt principes on my list, but now none of its companion, Viderunt omnes. Isn't it about time for someone to take another pass at a "complete" Perotin album? (The present program is entirely anonymous, which is certainly not an indication of low quality, but does leave the pieces with less sense of history, however illusory that might be.)

When I first heard that Diabolus in Music was doing a Requiem program devoted to Ockeghem & La Rue, of course I wanted to hear what they had done with these pieces, but I also wasn't sure. After all, these are "war horses" in some sense, at least relative to repertory of this era, this being the 18th complete recording of the Ockeghem cycle & 12th of the La Rue. I also felt as though the Ockeghem cycle is fairly well "plumbed," so to speak, and indeed I don't think that Antoine Guerber & company show anything new about the piece, but they do produce an outstanding performance, and that's always welcome. I was even surprised that they incorporated some cadential ornaments, perhaps as a nod to Ensemble Organum, but as stated in the comments on my personal list, it works well. My misgivings on the La Rue arose from the notion of pitch & how the piece has typically been transposed to fit into a smaller overall range: Extreme Singing by the obscure Vox Ensemble was the first to perform it at pitch, and I found the result compelling. (Indeed, the 11th recording of the piece, that by Cappella Pratensis, appeared — together with the 17th recording of the Ockeghem! — shortly afterward, and despite its strengths, I wasn't really able to appreciate the transposed performance.) But Diabolus in Musica adopt this approach as well, so perhaps it is or will be generally accepted... it sounds correct to me. (Perhaps I should also note, somewhat indulgently, that they do not address my suggestion from a couple of decades ago that the "lost" Dufay Requiem is actually embedded in the beginning of Ockeghem's cycle.... Perhaps such a suggestion is simply unanswerable, or was disproven somewhere I didn't notice: As my center of gravity has shifted to more contemporary activities, I don't notice the non-recording literature to the degree that I once did....) Altogether then, as I remark in the other comments, this isn't a groundbreaking album, but it's quite welcome nonetheless. Now I suppose I should wonder (or worry) why the Bayard Musique label isn't more widely distributed....

I've kept an eye on Sequentia's productions of music prior to or from outside of the geographic or cultural confines of "regular" medieval music, i.e. the emergence of both the vernacular troubadour repertory & two-voice polyphony out of the Carolingian Renaissance and into the Notre Dame phenomenon. By the twelfth century, and especially into the thirteenth, whereas there are various musical mysteries of various scopes, there is also a large supply of documents & materials — written music, often from a variety of sources, theoretical or other textual discussions, etc. The volume of material allows for a kind of cross referencing, especially as iterated through various practical performance opportunities over the years, that in turn builds confidence in a correspondence between today's musical results & earlier sounds. I shouldn't overstate this confidence or correspondence, however, as e.g. details of tuning have only been investigated over the past couple of decades, and details of vocal timbre even more recently, etc. And so, whereas the earlier or adjunct material that has continued to fascinate Sequentia over the years comes with less direct information to study, and so brings more uncertainty, in many ways, that's only a matter of degree. (One might even say that this material brings more to study, as the absence of direct sources can prompt studying an entire surrounding web of indirect sources... up to the limits of cultural production in total.) Still, my interest emerges with those better known repertories, the pre- & Notre Dame polyphony, and the troubadours, and indeed intensifies with polyphony of the fourteenth & fifteenth centuries.... From that perspective, the mysterious monophonic songs pursued by Sequentia have seemed less compelling, musically speaking, and not simply more obscure. However, while this material might be musically obscure, it's often culturally just the opposite: E.g. the Icelandic sagas or indeed Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy are iconic, the latter having broadly conditioned Western thought well into the Renaissance period (after directly influencing e.g. Machaut & so many others...) & beyond. So all that said, whereas I wanted to hear the new Songs of Consolation reconstruction from Sequentia & scholar Sam Barrett, I had no expectation of putting it onto my personal list — but the music itself won me over, even to the point of rearranging some sections in that part of the site. The interpretation is largely based on deciphering (via cross reference, trial & error, etc.) notation surviving from Canterbury in the 1000s, i.e. roughly 500 years after Boethius. (And so, whereas one might consider the accuracy of this reading of 1000s notation, there is little or no way to judge its correspondence with the sixth century sound world of Boethius. I'll simply set such a presumptive correspondence aside.) This has not been Bagby's first attempt with this music either, but Barrett's work (published in a large 2013 study) seems to have taken the reconstruction to another level: Again, whether or not this music is "accurate" in any sense, it is certainly striking, and creates a uniquely affective album today. (And as the notes suggest, the principals spent many years working on this music, both together & separately. This result didn't arrive overnight. There is also apparently a "making of" video on Youtube, but I don't patronize the garish & obnoxious "Youtube," so can't say anything else about that.) In other words, I have no direct way to judge the accuracy of the reconstruction, but it's not derivative: It forges a real style, whatever that style may be. Beyond the murky "earliness" then — and the program includes some of the earliest surviving Western European instrumental tunes as well — this is also aristocratic music, in the direct sense with Boethius himself, but also prefiguring the elite impulses giving rise to the troubadours & Notre Dame (& indeed Western philosophy). Its historical influence is thus a highly charged one. Yet, crucial to this space, one actually has the feel of listening to something new... er, I mean, I guess, old. The strength of the musical result was thus also quite unexpected.

I suppose I've already said most of what I want to say about The Dufay Spectacle in the notes from my personal list, but perhaps some more thoughts are in order here: In particular, whereas the Cantica Symphonia album devoted to two masses, released in 2014, was an excellent & welcome interpretive development for that repertory, the secular music (& especially the chansons) have been relatively neglected of late. Dufay's output is vast & varied, and so such things may be understandable from a cyclic perspective, but then, secular music by composers of subsequent decades has been relatively neglected of late too... (as mentioned here so often already). Of course, with the complete set (recorded in 1980), not to mention intermittent attention for a century, Dufay's chansons are not truly neglected! Still, it surprised me that it had been so long since such a program, Mille Bonjours! recorded in 2006, appeared. That program, although it didn't include motets as here, was likewise in sections meant to evoke different moods. (Given the New Year's celebration theme of the Spectacle, it might also be compared to a program such as Clemencic's Machaut cycle in its mixed inspiration. Yet that program moves explicitly into church music, whereas this does not — despite that some of these ceremonial motets were conceived for performance in churches.) So I might have preferred an album focusing on the chansons, but the result is particularly good for the motets... albeit "only" five of them. The "lushness" of some of the tracks seems both appropriate & novel for Gothic Voices, so they should be congratulated for continuing to develop their style, and indeed the result here is an accomplishment. (I did not actually expect to enjoy this album so much from its description.) Perhaps there will be a followup album? Perhaps these are enough remarks from me for now....

The Orlando Consort Machaut Edition continues with Fortune's Child, which is the fifth issue. I don't have too much to say about this disc individually, and have yet to really rework my "personal entry" on the series.... (A crude count of Machaut's works suggests that they are not quite half done at this point. So there is much more to come.) Certainly it retains a stark quality in keeping with the English all-vocal interpretation. (The starkness can be an asset at times, but I also find myself sometimes wishing for more richness of timbre and/or ornament.) The precision & attention to detail remain welcome, as is the ongoing facility, which can only increase as the project continues.... There's also the issue of the recorded sound, which they've been balancing better. Still, I have to wonder why the insistence on such a resonant acoustic, and indeed on recording in a church? It doesn't make a lot of sense to me, and seems to be about making some sort of statement outside of the music. (And I suppose that since I'm hearing the CD version, it's entirely possible that the higher bandwidth digital versions that Hyperion is offering online render the sound quality an unmitigated asset. I don't know about that, but my question applies nonetheless.) Anyway, I'm continuing to appreciate the series, and wanted to note the latest release here.

I was expecting to enjoy the new La Rue double album by Beauty Farm, but it has exceeded expectations: Whereas I was most looking forward to another Missa Tous les regretz recording (as one of La Rue's most characteristic late parody masses on his own material), and had become intrigued with the Missa Almana (perhaps La Rue's first mass cycle, which is interesting enough) after it had been repositioned (again) as Missa Pourquoy non by William Kempster (including by his own recording from 2007), I didn't expect the other two masses to be especially notable. However, perhaps in part because of the emerging performance practice, meaning that these cycles are better interpreted & expressed than most others of the period at this point (in part by virtue of being the most recently addressed), the relatively early Missa Puer natus est & Missa de Sancto Antonio make strong individual impressions too. These are all four voice cycles, the similar forces contributing to the overall power of the program, meaning that they exist (particularly the one later cycle, Tous les regretz) in something of a different series from that of the five-part cycles (or the six-part "unicorn"). They're also, as opposed to the "premiere" assertion prominently displayed on the package, all second recordings, the first having been made by Kempster or Michel Sanvoisin in all four cases, which is curious enough: One might go on to ask what "really" constitutes releasing a premiere recording, but particularly given the analysis Kempster has published on Pourquoy non, the production thus comes off as somewhat underinformed or even disrespectful. (Nonetheless, although taking up some of Kempster's observations would have undoubtedly improved the Missa Pourquoy non interpretation, the result is impressive. That said, Kempster's recording, with amateur singers, is a credible interpretation too. Sanvoisin has likewise been focusing on La Rue for a long time, having recorded six mass cycles, plus a handful of other pieces, over the years.) The notes do make mention of the historical Pourquoy non ascription, but not of the more recent literature. I also find the suggestions that La Rue's reputation was mainly based on his mass cycles, and that he never surpassed his early works in the genre, to be flatly inaccurate. That said, perhaps the author is implying that La Rue's motets (as opposed to his chansons, which are clearly at the apex of their genre, or even his diverse "ritual works") are of relatively more modest stature (as a group) — and simply asserting (correctly) that La Rue's early cycles are not to be missed. All that said, this double album was an easy addition to my personal list, and something I've enjoyed over & over since receiving it from Germany only a couple of weeks ago: Both program & interpretation are so impressive! Although I'd still like to see Beauty Farm release more motet programs, this set of four mass cycles really shows how far interpretations of music of the period have come: It's one of the most compelling such albums ever to appear, and the fact that it consists of music that had been relatively anonymous speaks for itself. Exceeding (high) expectations is a wonderful thing, especially when so much from our contemporary moment (& so much more than medieval music recordings!) has been underwhelming (or worse)....

Jenkins' four-part consort music (mostly fantasias) continues to attract interest, most recently with a new complete recording from Fretwork. There's no discussion of how they decided what did & didn't belong in this "complete" collection, just as there is no discussion of repertory accompanying Spirit of Gambo's second volume — which includes material not on this set, but also fills some obvious gaps from their first volume. (It also includes some tracks involving organ, so that seems different enough.) I guess I hadn't been following some of Fretwork's recent albums, particularly as they continue to venture outside of "consort music" proper, but I do note that the personnel is almost entirely different from their days as pioneers: Richard Boothby remains, and so apparently this is his ensemble now (and maybe it always was?). In any case, it's worthwhile to be able to hear a different interpretation of this repertory (at least the fourth that's at least partially "complete"), and it's interesting that the four-part music seems to attract the most attention. Presumably this is because of its similarity (in forces) to the coming (and eventually dominant) string quartet oeuvre, but do note that Jenkins' fantasias are generally for treble, two tenors & bass, rather than doubling the top end. In any case, the Fretwork set is enjoyable, even elegant, but I'd call it more rhetorical than Spirit of Gambo, and less colorful. (This might be because the latter use larger instruments with less string tension, but then, Fretwork doesn't state the nature of their instruments in this regard.) There's almost an austere mood in comparison with the richer sound of the latter. The differences are modest, however, and the Fretwork set is perfectly recommendable as an illustration of some of the central music of this general repertory. That so many English consort performances come off in such satisfying manner these days is certainly a welcome development.

I've never been one to root around in archives or scour original sources for personal information about composers (nor have I wanted to be): I've been more interested in the music "itself" and simply read such personal details as others uncovered them. As the scare quotes imply, though, there's really no such thing as context-free music, and even though a general context for c.1500 sacred polyphony clearly exists, I'm obviously not immune to thinking about individual pieces according to the composers who wrote them. It can be helpful in appreciating the music — as can various other details of circumstance that sometimes emerge from the historical record, or alternately remain obscure. Meanwhile, given the high reputation of Josquin Desprez, if not the towering (and, to me, overstated) reputation sometimes portrayed, I always imagined that the details of his life & work chronology would eventually resolve themselves to a much greater degree. Even when the Milanese Josquin (Dascanio) started throwing question marks into some long-accepted narratives, I expected clarity to re-emerge. Well, at this point, biographical clarity is starting to look unlikely (or finally seeming impossible). Indeed, it seems we might have to accept never really knowing what is or isn't part of Josquin's body of work, and not only in a few fringe cases, but across a broad swath of otherwise major pieces. I've also been involved (at times) in making judgments on whether a piece "sounds like" it's by a particular composer, and sometimes I feel pretty confident about that, but at this point, Josquin's work is so diffuse — if that term makes sense — that it's actually becoming difficult to eliminate anything stylistically. (One might still make judgments based on quality, but there are early pieces, e.g. Missa Une mousse de Biscaye, that betray even that notion.) The alternative would seem to be to restrict his confirmed output to a handful of prominent works that are usually taken to anticipate later style (i.e. Palestrina), and that's part of the issue: Josquin's reception has been so strongly conditioned subsequently, and based on so many historical prejudices derived from "progress" orientations toward modern music, that such an "arc" of development has taken on a life of its own. However, as a recent recording, by a couple of previously unknown ensembles, of a Missa Quem dicunt homines — attributed to Josquin in its only source, but dismissed stylistically in the mid-twentieth century — indicates (and the accompanying discussion brings out many of these issues), there might be (among other things) later parts of his output that are in new styles. In fact, perhaps his stylistic range was quite broad: We seem to think nothing of this being the case for e.g. Isaac, but then, Isaac is not taken as the paradigm for modern musical development. (Moreover, similar questions have already existed around e.g. the Missa Di dadi, which I particularly enjoy, and are even being considered around other prominent works. So this has been a simmering issue.) Whereas the previously unknown singers do indulge in some clichés of modern Renaissance choral interpretations such as muted timbres, ritardandi, and sighing dynamics, they do actually keep a good pulse & project a strong rhythmic energy. (In fact, it's largely the opening Richafort motet to which those complaints apply, so that's probably a matter of the music itself.) Consequently, the interpretation didn't make a strong impression on me at first, but the more I listen, the more I appreciate the work they've done to bring this music to life, and the album has been added to my personal list. (I also wonder how long it took to make the recording, as this information is entirely absent from the documentation.) The mass cycle itself takes up some notions from the French court around Richafort & other composers who haven't particularly struck my ear: That circle, one Josquin would have taught & inspired, is the origin of the specific style of the mass, as well as of the original thematic material. Within that orbit, the present mass seems to have had some prominence: Josquin's former students convinced him to write a parody mass to join — or even validate — their project? It's an intriguing idea, and the result is impressive — even "showy," & as the notes argue, Josquin did like to outdo others musically. This is a parody mass of high density & uncharacteristic dissonance (for Josquin), but it also shows such a sense of elegance.... The fast repetition of short motifs is characteristic of Josquin in many works, but one thing this mass doesn't do is build to longer, more climactic movements — its arc is more centered, a la La Rue. (Perhaps this is due to the use of a motet for the Elevation, for unknown reasons. And I guess the entire mass is made to end with the feel of a question? That aspect could have been handled a little better in the interpretation.) So if the Missa Quem dicunt homines is by Josquin, it adds a new dimension to his output. (I guess that goes without saying. Perhaps the consonant, Italianate Josquin, in which I would e.g. include the Missa Pange lingua, was never the "final" Josquin then?) The first recording of Josquin's "other" genealogy motet also grows in prominence with exposure, seeming less awkward (that based mostly on the challenging text) & even potent. Altogether, this is an impactful album, seemingly from out of nowhere.

Although they've mostly focused on later music, and their interpretive style still owes quite a bit to the even later English Cathedral repertory (with its large, stratified ensembles), I was very appreciative of the Brabant Ensemble's La Rue disc, and especially its Missa Inviolata, which has become one of my favorite La Rue cycles. So of course I was going to listen to their Obrecht disc, which involves music from a couple of decades earlier still. (I'll also note that a recording like this, i.e. a late December release, would have made me crazy back in the days of doing year end reviews. I'm glad that's no longer an issue.) The major work on the program is the Missa Grecorum, presumably part of Obrecht's mature & characteristic outpouring of mass cycles c.1490, but it includes other premieres as well. The tune behind the Missa Grecorum is unidentified, but possibly has a connection to the Eastern Church via Vatican ceremonies. Unlike the more rhetorical Missa Inviolata, though, I don't hear the Missa Grecorum as a major "new" work: I'm not sure that it improves my appreciation for Obrecht at all, in fact, although it's an enjoyable piece of music. The (also premiered here) motet on St. Basil is more intriguing in this regard, but the performance starts to weigh on my appreciation: Although the feeling of "rhythmic shear" from e.g. the opening homophony of the mass is striking, the ensemble often seems to be playing catch up, i.e. to lack rhythmic vigor, even becoming mechanical & ponderous at times. It doesn't seem that Brabant's typical mid-16th century orientation fits Obrecht's music very well, since it requires rhythmic precision together with an ecstatic quality. The vocal blend likewise seems more out of joint here than on their La Rue (which deploys more explicit alternation anyway), with high voices sometimes sticking oddly out of an otherwise muddy texture. The opening Salve regina seems so foggy & stagnant... although the mass interpretation that follows has some appealing sections. (I'm not happy with the proliferation of track markers either, since as noted elsewhere, that makes it more difficult to program e.g. a single mass. Perhaps I should have complained more when A:N:S Chorus started doing this, but then, their recordings were truly new & exciting....) Nonetheless, this is the most ambitious Obrecht program in a while, and so worth hearing. Actually, it's unclear to me if there's anything exciting left to discover in Obrecht's masses (which remain his most important works). I wouldn't bet against it, though.

Although it's later music than I most often mention here, I wanted to make a few remarks about the new album by Graindelavoix featuring Cypriano de Rore, Portrait of the Artist as a Starved Dog. First of all, Björn Schmelzer discusses the title in relation to both actual portraits of De Rore & an image by Dürer (with the "actual" starved dog), as well as in relation to notions of "divine" artistry applied (not for the first time) in the sixteenth century, e.g. especially to Michelangelo. The program focuses on Rore's madrigals, but also includes secular motets, a hybrid genre of the period with similar themes & expressivity, and divides his output into three phases. They also approach the singing without diminutions, and so despite some instrumental accompaniment, produce a rather austere reading: Yet this is precisely a reading that illuminates Rore's previously unprecedented emotional range. I've generally found Schmelzer's interpretations to be thought provoking, and as the forgoing remarks suggest, this is no exception. It's also not unusual for me to be drawn more to interpretations of later music by musicians who have mostly worked with earlier music — rather than the other way around — and Graindelavoix bring a firm fifteenth century (& even Ars Antiqua) footing to this mid-sixteenth century repertory. From the perspective of a medievalist this music is indeed late, but from a perspective critiquing Western global imperialism (the world-defining activity of the historical "modern era" per se), it's early: One can note the (relatively novel, then, to become more common with Monteverdi et al.) turn to imperial (Greek & Roman) antiquity for themes & inspiration, and one can ponder the emotionality (differing from the relatively staid previous couple of generations) in response to world conquest. Rore was writing a couple of generations after the epochal change announced by Columbus' voyage — barely longer than we are now from the end of the modern era (by my rough periodization, as e.g. articulated elsewhere) — and so one can further note the uncertainty, the tragedy, the interrogation of hubris & anguished human feeling deriving from the antique thematic material. Such an orientation is in sharp contrast to the feelings of mastery that would be consolidated with the so-called "enlightenment," i.e. the era of the subsequent "classical period" in musical terms, and is moreover prior to the regularization of rhythm e.g. via bar lines (definitively with Corelli), not to mention the (anti-polyphonic) hierarchical rigidity of recitative-continuo style. One can in turn note the impetus toward elitism deriving from these neo-imperial concerns, not only the far-flung dramatic material (that would soon manifest even more spectacularly in the "opera" genre, particularly as it came to emphasize the soloist), but the separation of "the composer" from humanity more generally — as implicitly traced by Schmelzer's discussion of divinity. (And indeed the rise of portraiture per se in this period marks a rethinking of the subject in modern terms.) In other words, this music retains the feel of a newly globalized class structure becoming intensified & yet still distended — much as now: This is music of extremes (articulated quite persuasively by Schmelzer & his group), with nothing cute or quaint. It traces a human tragedy that the "divine" De Rore was still able to feel directly — if articulate indirectly. (There is nothing of the smug perfection of e.g. Mozart here, although one might also contrast the systemization of musical affect by e.g. Marini, writing only fifty years after Rore.) This is dangerous music, without a (conceptual) net, and so some of the most dynamic to witness & grapple with the early modern (epochal) transition.

With their fourth album — nearly two hours of four masses by Noel Bauldeweyn — Beauty Farm heads off into unknown repertory, after largely mimicking The Sound and the Fury with two Gombert albums followed by an Ockeghem album. (The latter was also released this year, so they're increasing their pace too.) They also seem to have confirmed an emphasis on mass cycles once again, an emphasis that doesn't necessarily thrill me, given the ample repertory that is correspondingly (& badly) neglected, but I do understand: Not only are these mass cycles impressive monuments, but emphasizing a single genre has allowed these (related) ensembles to focus on counterpoint & personality, and (technical) details in general, without worrying so much about different genres & texts. So it makes sense, but hopefully soon e.g. some other motet albums will appear. The previous album — and perhaps The Sound and the Fury's last? — where the repertory per se made such an impression on me (as opposed to the interpretation of relatively known repertory) was the Pipelare double album, and in that case, I had every reason to rue not having paid more attention to Pipelare previously: There were previous albums devoted to his music, although none had managed to make a big impression on me. (That changed significantly, given the sheer originality, scope & quality involved in the tantalizing selection of four complete masses.) In the case of Bauldeweyn (ever Baldwin?), however, there had been almost nothing to hear, making him quite obscure today, and so in that sense, his music is even more of a revelation. Like Pipelare, Bauldeweyn (who was apparently younger, but didn't live as long, although all of this is sketchy) was apparently a contemporary of La Rue, with his most important works also documented by the Alamire scriptorium. In that case, he's also a direct contemporary of Josquin (again maybe not by age, but by years of peak activity), and whereas the notes suggest that Bauldeweyn is something of a bridge between Obrecht & Gombert — a perfectly good suggestion, although I don't really hear much Obrecht, personally — his music also shows some of the same rhetorical or discursive skill & focus. The previous comparison is related to the general density of Bauldeweyn's writing (at least here), which doesn't show the same predilection for rests or reduced forces as Josquin, but the textual orientation nonetheless suggests similar concerns. (One might think e.g. of a less motivically insistent version of the Josquin of Missa Malheur me bat et al. — otherwise the most Obrechtian Josquin, I suppose.) The resulting style is distinctive, and so Bauldeweyn must enter conversations regarding the greatest polyphonists of the greatest age of Western polyphony — and the album is duly added to my personal list. Beyond Pipelare, whose style shows even more vitality & variety, La Rue's Missa Incessament — one of his masterpieces, and one that would benefit from an updated interpretation — comes to mind by way of comparison for Bauldeweyn's opening Missa En douleur en tristesse, perhaps the biggest highlight. Impressive. So who or what does Beauty Farm have in store to reveal next?

I should also note William Kempster's most recent La Rue mass premiere — on a compilation album of mostly 20th century (& some 21st?) choral music by a student ensemble. Although not as crucially placed in La Rue's oeuvre as the Missa Pourquoy non? of Kempster's previous student choral album, the Missa de Sancto Antonio of this latest release is nonetheless highly appealing, with an enticing combination of sonic beauty & technical intrigue. It's a relatively easy mass to appreciate.

Although it was some of the first repertory from the c.1600 period that I really enjoyed, I've yet to hear an amazing performance of Gibbons' consort music for viols, so I decided to give the recent L'Achéron disc a listen. There's a nice tone... a certain delicacy one might say... that could also be characterized as being tentative. The recording requires active listening to engage, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but still lacks punch or impact. It probably seems like a particular letdown after Phantasm's recent Tye album, so I'm sorry if I'm being unfair to this (new to me) ensemble. I'll still dream of that perfect Gibbons album, though.

I welcomed a new recording devoted to Tye's consort music by The Spirit of Gambo in 2014 (which still seems very recent), as performance practice does continue to develop & become more idiomatic & sophisticated. Whereas I was excited for a change then, that wasn't necessarily the case with the even newer recording by Phantasm. The latter does include all of Tye's consort output, and doesn't employ a vocalist (which Spirit of Gambo did on only a couple of tracks), though, so in that sense, it's a more canonical program — the same 31 tracks as the classic (& dated) Savall program. I still thought, however, that this would be one of those situations where I'm slowly deciding between two excellent interpretations: That sort of thing is basically a limit case for the project here, which was devised around music for which performance practice was rapidly developing, and so for which better interpretations were always (sometimes very easily) imaginable. (Although one wouldn't say exactly the same of the contemporary improvisation that has been more of my focus the past few years, obviously, those are still "exploratory" performances, and so similar in a sense.) I haven't been feeling very engaged when I've spent time lately trying to distinguish & rank very similar, both more than adequate, performances then.... Anyway, although I've appreciated Spirt of Gambo, that didn't turn out to be the situation here at all: The Phantasm album is fantastic, and an easy choice. (On another tangent, I'm still trying to figure out which of two excellent recordings of Feldman's Piano, Violin, Viola, Cello I prefer. Kind of a silly task, as noted....) They bring such a command of the music, and project a strong sense of individuality for each piece. I should probably pause to note what a wonder it is to have this music performed so confidently & idiomatically — it certainly wasn't always this way. There's another question, though, and it's why Tye? Why does this seemingly obscure composer, someone whose vocal music has never stood out to me, occupy such a place in the history of instrumental ensemble music? Laurence Dreyfus discusses this topic in his notes, and not uninterestingly, but conclusions are scarce. Whereas Dreyfus talks about the Protestant-Catholic conflict that simmered in England throughout the period (becoming the Royalist-Puritan conflict soon enough, animated by the latter group's fear of art), it's also worth noting that Henry VIII had seized the monasteries as well, and had turned their members — craftsmen, artists, etc. — out into public space. So although Dreyfus notes Tye's Protestant "connections," the intellectual eruption of later 16th century England should be viewed in this context. It's undoubtedly why I hear some of the last flowering of the medieval artistic mindset in this music, and continue to feature it, despite its relatively late date. (I should also note that Henry's mindset regarding English monasteries was appropriation, i.e. absorbing their talents into a secular economy, but his mindset regarding Irish monasteries was soon to be suppression.) It's a strange intersection. What of the music then? Well, much of it is basically an unordered set of variations illustrating a wide variety of idiosyncratic contrapuntal treatments. The appeal (for me anyway) is not really in what it might have modeled for the future, since after all, (imperial) music of the 17th & 18th centuries is generally not my thing, but in the projection of earlier polyphonic ideas onto the "blank slate" of the instrumental medium (i.e. without a text). Note further, for instance, that this is not treble-dominated music, as was already appearing on the Continent. What does this mean? Physically, singers of high vocal parts were young (or possibly women) — or else (not so young?) men singing in other registers, i.e. less "naturally" — and for similar reasons, players of the smaller string consort instruments tended to be smaller people. So... it's not as though women & children were suddenly more respected when virtuosic high vocal (& other) parts became fashionable: Usually the opposite in the early modern period, at least in general... such that such a shift can be viewed as another appropriation. Well, let me leave things there, and refer the reader to Lawrence's excellent technical discussion of the music (which leaves these points entirely aside). And yes, his new Tye album was added to my personal list.

It's actually a recording made back in 2005, but I wanted to note the Compère Missa Galeazescha recently released on Arcana. I had forgotten about it, but this production directed by Paolo Da Col, bringing together multiple ensembles, was included in the first issue of the music magazine Classic Voice. I did have a pointer to the recording here at the FAQ, courtesy of information from Da Col, but hadn't sought out the magazine to hear it. Anyway, I don't know what became of the magazine, or if it's still around, but this is an impressive production worth remembering. The mass by Compère is from his time in Milan, from the local tradition cultivating masses with alternative texts, rather than those of the usual mass ordinary — a mass of motets, as it's often called. This is not the first time such repertory has been explored, particularly since there's material of this type with Josquin's name on it (although now thought to be by a different Josquin), but this is an especially lavish production. I'm not into the big fanfares, but some of the instrumental tracks are quite enjoyable & direct, and the performance in general is first rate. The cycle itself shows a real majesty that I hadn't heard much from Compère's music in the past. (The more recent Orlando Consort recording does open with a Magnificat about which similar comments could be applied.) This was obviously meant to be showy music, and it's given a showy production here (not so unlike e.g. Cantica Symphonia's Dufay albums with various instruments, although here with even more). Many of the intervening tracks aren't by Compère, with some of the best moments coming from Agricola, and there is also a relatively extensive investment in Weerbecke's music — also from Milan, and a composer who has yet to be truly featured on a commercial album (and in fact, Odhecaton was already one of the few ensembles to program one of his motets): His music comes off as some of the most straightforward here, with clear phrasing & linear momentum. The Compère cycle is more involved, and is projected here with excellent energy, as well as strong melodic & rhythmic sense. This album should have been less obscure already.

Following on their album devoted to Arnold & Hugo de Lantins, which was a secular program, Le Miroir de Musique has released a Tinctoris album that also includes mass movements. The result is something I have to characterize as a Huelgas Ensemble-style program, mixing various genres: Although that has not been my preference, the quality of the interpretation, together with the quality of the music of course, makes this release too compelling to quibble, and so it's been added to my personal list. The previous album listed was that by the Clerks Group, which consisted entirely of two mass cycles. That performance was never particularly compelling, and actually handling these masses via excerpts seems OK. There is certainly far more of interest in this newer program than the two masses. Besides some motets & liturgical music, the secular songs are featured, and this comes on the heels of Ensemble Leones including a couple of Tinctoris pieces on their album Straight from the Heart — a notable inclusion for the simple reason that they come from the Segovia Manuscript, rather than the Chansonnier Cordiforme, which otherwise forms the basis for the program. Those two pieces appear again on Secret Consolations, an album that also notes that there are no pieces known to be from the last decades of Tinctoris's life. Most of the music appears to date from his time in Naples, and given the approach of performing some Latin works on instruments, a clear comparison for this new album is in fact Cantica Symphonia's L'homme armé cycle, from a Neapolitan manuscript associated with Busnois. There's no clear attribution for that cycle, and Tinctoris as its author is not out of the question. Anyway, although there are similarities, Secret Consolations comes off as less grand or stately. When this ensemble does perform an all-vocal mass movement, they do it admirably, showing clear potential for that sort of music. Mass cycles still appear to be the prestige repertory for this era, so I suppose one can expect Le Miroir de Musique to record an album dedicated to them soon. In the meantime, I welcome these secular pieces as well. They come off quite coherently & with wonderfully varied sonorities.

I should note the latest issue in the Orlando Consort Machaut Edition, Sovereign Beauty. There isn't much more to say about this fourth album, but I did incorporate it into my previous "list" file. As far as the series goes, I don't know the exact plans, but counting by number of pieces — and I made no effort to tabulate the length of pieces, although obviously the Mass is substantially longer — they're just under a third of the way. This latest album is mostly early works, and doesn't feature any first recordings. Several of the lais have not been recorded, but the longer piece here is Un lay de consolation, which is both somewhat uncertain (as far as Machaut's work goes, which is generally uncommonly secure), since it appears in only one major source, and unusual in that the stanzas combine into two-voice counterpoint. The Medieval Ensemble of London had recorded the piece. There are some other favorites here, but it's mostly about filling in the project. Such an emphasis on these early works will probably be useful for the quartet as it moves back into Machaut's later music.

It was actually released in December, but I didn't learn of Tetraktys' Matteo da Perugia album until more recently. (The Etcetera label continues to lack distribution here, although its production standards remain high.) This is an obvious followup to their Chantilly Codex trilogy, although Matteo's music comes from the Modena MS, where it's by far the largest single contribution to what is otherwise a manuscript of many more Ars Subtilior songs. The liner notes, mostly by Kees Boeke, are rather technical, discussing the music & text of each of the pieces in turn, including some comparisons to other pieces in the repertory. Matteo's music thus comes off as less improvisatory than that of some contemporaries, for which arguments have long been made that they may be subsequently notated improvisations, and much more carefully prepared as regards both consonance & text — the latter something that Matteo apparently tended to write for himself. The musical result is distinctive & sophisticated, with a variety of allusions (as is typical of the style). Boeke also discusses instrumental factors including text underlay, and intervallic structures in some lines. This sort of analysis provides a welcome antidote to what has sometimes become a dogmatic intent to perform everything from this era on voices alone — not that that style hasn't had its own triumphs. Boeke & Tetraktys are in excellent positions to interpret Matteo's music, not only because of their previous series — and note that Tetraktys continues to evolve as an ensemble, with a previously unknown soprano (Stefanie True, who is wonderfully idiomatic, and very much in keeping with the traditional sound of the ensemble) fronting this new album — but because of various previous endeavors. Following some modest early attention (including as early as the 1930s), then a more-intriguing-than-satisfying full program LP by the Medieval Ensemble of London, the Huelgas Ensemble (as so often, in this & other repertory) produced a coherent anthology in 1998, and this was followed quickly by a Mala Punica release in 2000, on which Boeke is a prominent participant. Whereas the Huelgas album includes mass movements & an independent motet, it does illustrate 5 songs, including 2 in common with this new production. Mala Punica recorded an entire program of secular songs, also with 2 in common (which suggests the breadth of Matteo's output), although particularly by the "Erato era" of their recording career, Memelsdorff et al.'s style came off as far too orchestrated & busy for me — basically baroque. Here, and via the Chantilly series & otherwise, Boeke brings the technical facility gained in that project into a more idiomatically medieval conception, though. So it was added to my personal list. Whereas I won't claim that it blows the Huelgas interpretation away on all points, it's revelatory for its sense of detail & just how clearly it articulates Matteo's intricate formal counterpoint. It really answers any lingering doubts as to the quality of the music. This year continues to be slow for medieval releases (and this one is actually from last year), but quality has been high, as this is another very worthwhile offering.

In what I can only assume is a coincidence, Hyperion Records — which seems to have renewed a dedication to medieval repertory — released Beneath the Northern Star by the Orlando Consort & Music for the 100 Years' War by the Binchois Consort in consecutive months. Although the programs don't have the same motivations, and don't cover exactly the same time period, they both feature English polyphony from much of the 14th century & into the 15th: Indeed, they both include pieces by Power & Dunstaple, and even an identical track, the "musicians' motet" by the shadowy Alanus. It's been a while since this music was featured on a program, particularly given that technical aspects of performance practice continue to improve, and so these feel like well-timed submissions & in turn a fortunate juxtaposition.

Beneath the Northern Star is the more technical of the two programs, meaning that the pieces seem to have been selected in order to illustrate musical & contrapuntal developments, rather than to connect with broad historical events. In that, I find it to be very successful: The notes do describe the pieces, but there is no hint of the mechanics of how the program was actually chosen. Given its technical orientation, that seems like a crucial point, and I'm curious how selection functioned in practice, but we do get to hear the results. (Admittedly, this is how it normally works. We aren't told how programs are specifically selected, but this one takes in a lot of territory.) The Orlando Consort take a real "nuts & bolts" approach to articulating the music as well, with an emphasis on clarity in all lines, such that consonances themselves come into focus according to the logic of the individual pieces. (In other words, external — typically modern — notions of consonance are not imposed on the music a priori. Some of these pieces are allowed to pose questions such as what is counterpoint, what is consonance, etc.) This is a very welcome & even critical aspect of the performance, given that this era — & the English output in particular — was critical to a changing sense of musical consonance & counterpoint: Much of this music would not be considered "proper" only a few decades later. Part of the approach here involves forgoing explicitly sustaining vocal tones: Such an approach seems to draw upon the work of John Potter et al., most recently on Conductus 3, where lower voices take on their own phrasing contours rather than simply hold long notes. Such an approach then relies on the resonance of the space itself to supplement the feeling of simultaneous harmony by leaving those tones hanging in the air. On this point, I've had some criticism of the recorded sound on some recent Hyperion releases, but I think they've navigated the issues very well on Beneath the Northern Star: One can hear the voices clearly, closely, with some resonance audible but not obscuring the actual articulation with its echoes. The ideal situation, then, and unfortunately I don't have such a situation myself, would be to play the recording in a rather resonant space. In other words, although resonances are important in this repertory, if they're allowed to obscure direct articulation, one simply can't recover the ability to hear what the singers are doing once it's committed to record. In person, without the reduction of a recording, one's ear can choose. (And since some of this repertory involved itinerant courts, it likely did not involve the "perfect" space anyway.) Moreover, the time span of the program overlaps Machaut on both ends, and one can thus appreciation the elegant articulation of the quartet's Machaut Edition as expressing a universe parallel to this English material. This is a further juxtaposition by the Orlando Consort, then, making recording Beneath the Northern Star seem especially well-timed. It was added to my personal list.

It's curious that, as these two ensembles take up Dunstaple's music again, the most impressive full program continues to be the old Orlando Consort Dunstaple recording from 1995. Perhaps the groundwork of articulating this English repertory will now pave the way for new, more sophisticated Dunstaple programs & interpretations. After all, he's often described as one of Western Music's most influential composers, so the relative gap in recordings is surprising. Of course, these things tend to come in waves, such that e.g. the previous recording I had most admired for the English 14th century was Diabolus in Musica's album from 2002 — a long time on the scale of medieval performance practice, although I'm often surprised to see how long it's been since a particular recording appeared. Time flies. (Anyway, it's closer chronologically to the Orlando Dunstaple album now than it is to the present day.) That album is highly resonant, featuring quite a bit of sustaining tones, but also reflected Diabolus in Musica's extensive experience with specific Ars Antiqua genres. Anyway, it had already followed interest in this repertory from famous English ensembles that had formed in the 1980s into the early 90s — the peak of contemporary medieval production. (Exploration of Old Hall etc. at that time had already deemphasized Dunstaple somewhat, at least relative to attention in the earlier 20th century. It was a time to expand the repertory beyond the big names.) Now it's famous English performers again....

As already suggested, including by its title, Music for the 100 Years' War is more concerned with historical events than contrapuntal curiosities, but of course it does seek quality music. Still, some of the tracks don't do much for me. (I find the Agincourt Carol rather abrasive for instance.) The style is also less intricate than what the Orlando Consort projects, although with plenty of sophistication of its own, particularly given the Binchois Consort's experiences in tuning c.1420 repertory. But there is quite a bit of part doubling, and more sustain — in short, less emphasis on clear articulation, but one does get a powerful (& smoother) sound, with an emphasis on soaring lines. (The recorded sound is also satisfying.) This is also something of a "multimedia" project, paired with English alabaster carvings of the period. Although it might not fare as well, given the way that I've approached the juxtaposition of these two releases that seem to demand comparison, illuminating different historical cross currents across media is a fine idea, and Music for the 100 Years' War is an enjoyable album that features some particularly elaborate music by Dunstaple.

I already noted the curiosity of the relatively new ensemble Beauty Farm, working in the same manner from the same monastery in Austria as The Sound and the Fury, releasing two Gombert albums followed by an Ockeghem album — just as The Sound and the Fury had done. Well, Beauty Farm's Gombert programs, concentrating on the motets, were rather different. And now, instead of duplicating that earlier Ockeghem program (which it had been my understanding they had intended to do), Beauty Farm has released Ockeghem Masses, featuring only half of the same program, namely the Missa L'homme armé. I had not been particularly taken with Ockeghem's Missa L'homme armé, despite its seemingly significant historical position, until recently: I very much enjoyed the Ensemble Nusmido recording (another young ensemble), and thought they finally made the piece make sense. (I also enjoy their recorder consort versions of the Busnoys & Ockeghem companion pieces.) I feel bad to abandon them so soon, but Beauty Farm takes a similar approach to phrasing, and ends up with a more forecful reading. It's quite enjoyable. The Missa Quinti toni has not been recorded as frequently, and my favorite had long been the Lyrichord recording of the three-part masses. This is another obscure reading, I suppose, much like Nusmido, so Beauty Farm tackled some pieces with performance I already enjoyed, but which were probably not so widely known. Regarding the three-voice masses, there is an offhand remark in the notes about the Missa Quinti toni being the only securely attributed one, and I suppose that makes sense, given that the Missa Sine nomine (which I have long enjoyed) never fit very well into an Ockeghem chronology. (I don't know any further details on this remark, however.) Still, I lament this turn of events (too), since these interesting mid-15th century masses seem to disappear from the repertory whenever someone determines they weren't by one of the most famous composers — or worse, are anonymous. Too bad. So I did add this new recording to my personal list, and it's enjoyable — I don't want to suggest that it isn't — but I do also hope that Beauty Farm will tackle some less-traveled material again next.

The release of Ensemble Gilles Binchois' recording of Isaac's Missa Virgo prudentissima was delayed a bit by acquisitions in the music publishing business, but did nonetheless happen last year. The album marks perhaps the ensemble's most direct essay illustrating the height of Franco-Flemish polyphonic style, although they had previously recorded the Spanish sixteenth century — a time & place that supported some of the older trends, together with some of its own innovations — somewhat extensively. So this music is more modern than in most of their discography, but certainly not extreme in any way. (Indeed, they not only recorded Palestrina in 1993, but have continued to examine various old-fashioned repertory surviving in practice as late as into the nineteenth century.) This is also Isaac's most elaborate large format setting, although it does retain some of the emphasis on chant & homophony that marks his most functional music, i.e. his enormous output of Propers etc. — emphasizing clear articulation as it does in forging the composite Franco-Flemish-Austrian style that was to have such a lasting effect on music in Central & Eastern Europe. In this sense, the present liner notes suggest the Missa Virgo prudentissima as a particularly "mixed" piece, an elaborate cycle intended for Maximilian's coronation in Rome, and so mediating the various stylistic influences, but not toward simplicity as in so much of Isaac's output. The six-voice counterpoint thus underscores the gravity of the occasion, making this his "most important Ordinary" by at least some measures. (This is the second complete recording, after a 1998 production from Munich.) The interpretation itself shows a careful attention to plainchant, which both plays to the long-term strength of the ensemble & reflects what seems often to be Isaac's own concern. With the mixed vocal ensemble, and the sharpness of the sopranos, not to mention the frequent alternation of Isaac's formal style, the music tends to soar & return in compact phrases that emphasize its clarity amidst a big overall sound. Framed by a couple of Isaac's polyphonic Propers pieces, the program is thus a clear & admirable expression of (apparently?) his most elaborate large-scale cycle.

Maurice Bourbon continues his Josquin mass cycle series with Josquin: Messes Pange lingua & de beata Virgine, apparently the sixth album (or the fourth, according to the current notes, which makes little sense) in a planned series of ten. (Note that, as opposed to The Tallis Scholars, Bourbon has now re-recorded the Missa Pange lingua, and his earlier recording does not number in the current series.) These are both two of Josquin's best known cycles, and perhaps the most closely based on imitative harmonizing of plainchant: In that sense, they present something of an ascetic return to an emphasis on chant amid the turbulence of religious strife, and as emerging from the most elaborate contrapuntal expressions of the period. (This is why various people have viewed Josquin as anticipating the Counter-Reformation, although obviously I'm more interested in music prior to those events. Note that such "events" conspicuously include the beginnings of New World genocide as well.) This is well-known music, then, and I didn't feel as though this newest interpretation added much to the discography: It basically follows what one would expect, given its precedents both for the singers themselves & for the repertory more broadly. That said, there are also some niceties of rhythm & tempo that might be taken as idiosyncratic at times. A motet program presumably would have been more worthwhile, although I do welcome Bourbon finishing his intended series. Perhaps there are some revelations still to come.

I had always had misgivings about albums from Cappella Pratensis, since they usually seemed to be softly articulated, hazy, just not very forceful or confident. (Their strength has been attention to plainchant, using original notation around a choirbook, and otherwise a non-dogmatic approach.) In fact, in keeping with the previous entry on Josquin, even their prior album featuring the Missa Ave maris stella (released in 2014) left me with some similar misgivings (despite adding it to my personal list). In fairness, this issue might have arisen in part from the way their albums were recorded. However, with their Visions of Joy album, focused on La Rue's Missa Cum jocunditate, the misgivings vanish: This new release projects a great sense of gravity & intensity, a real grittiness — not "hazy" at all (and perhaps this is due in part to some influence from Graindelavoix?). So this is a very welcome development, and hopefully it will continue. Whereas I think the new album is one of the best-performed albums in the La Rue discography, and indeed for music of this era, the material itself does not excite me so much, unfortunately. (It seems strange that I'm continuing to recommend their prior Josquin album instead, since the performance style isn't as developed, but that's the situation. One might think that there'd be many great recordings of Josquin, but that simply isn't the case. Somehow, there are more good ones devoted to La Rue these days.) For some reason, the Hilliard Ensemble selected the Missa Cum jocunditate — with its early ostinato style & buoyant mood — for their EMI album devoted to La Rue, certainly one of the most significant of its time, and that choice was (apparently) copied by Henry's Eight when they recorded a related program several years afterward (but almost twenty years ago now). Although I've found some of La Rue's earliest masses to be intriguing, this one just doesn't do it for me. Perhaps it's too straightforward. (In this, I contrast with the recent Missa Inviolata recording from September, since I found that cycle to be quite compelling in its internal rhythmic proliferation. Perhaps it's also time for a new interpretation of the Missa Sancta dei genitrix, a later ostinato mass.) The remainder of the program doesn't help much: It's based on confraternity manuscripts & practice from 's-Hertogenbosch (also home of the ensemble), and although I appreciate adding polyphony, instead of only plainchant for the liturgical pieces framing the mass, the choice of pieces is rather idiosyncratic & not terribly appealing. I don't understand the choice to use the separate O salutaris hostia, for instance, despite that it was a known practice, and indeed La Rue's own Missa de Sancta Anna survives in only that form (i.e. without a section of the mass setting). This is not the case for the Missa Cum jocunditate, which expands to five voices (with a homophonic character) in the Credo (a procedure La Rue reprised for the similarly themed Missa Ave Maria), which survives intact, though. Indeed, the overall program is remarkably similar to their Josquin program, where the latter is oriented on Sistine Chapel practices. Both include a worthwhile, concluding motet, for which there is "some evidence," at least in the Low Countries. Indeed, the Sistine program seems retroactively motivated by Northern practice — which, of course, would have been a major influence at the time. In this case, there are also tracks with organ, and I enjoy those: The sixteenth century organ has a wonderful sound, and is played with great command & grace. So again, the performance is excellent, even if the program is strange. The mass cycle's recognizable sense of joyful triumph should make it popular, however: Visions of Joy becomes a quite reasonable choice for introducing the general public to large-scale Franco-Flemish polyphony (pace the caveat about the overall program).

I confess that I had not paid much attention to the Missa Di dadi, attributed to Josquin going back to at least Petrucci, largely because it is not considered to be one of his representative or mature works. Indeed this piece, particularly as performed so crisply & articulately by The Tallis Scholars, might not even be by Josquin, and so its situation only underlines our relatively tenuous knowledge of his overall output & timeline. At one point, I expected these questions to resolve themselves, at least to a far greater extent than they have, but apparently the fact that labeling a piece as by "Josquin" was a great way to bring attention to it, not to mention the existence of (possibly more than one) contemporary composers with similar names, has made a mess of the situation such that it might never be resolved. Anyway, the Missa Di dadi isn't much like Josquin's securely attributed mature cycles, unless one counts the tendency to build to a climax, something many mass cycles of the earlier generation did not do, but it's a rather masterful essay in its own style, more evocative of the years during which Josquin (if we even have a sense of his actual age) would have been young. On this point, there seems to be little doubt regarding the earliness of the Missa Une mousse de Biscaye, and this is apparently the first recording of the cycle, although Josquin's song of the same name is found on a few anthologies: Frankly, this is a deeply flawed cycle, and quite forgettable. I don't blame Peter Phillips for including it, not at all, and hey, now it's been recorded. The notes from the distributor also state that this is album six of nine in their Josquin series, which seems to mark a quite concrete plan, revealed (at least to me) here for the first time — i.e. they apparently do not intend to redo their earliest Josquin interpretations (which are also deeply flawed, yet of some of his most famous music). The previous album was nice enough, but features some of Josquin's best-known settings, basically in the style of harmonized chant (and I'll have a bit more to say about the Missa Ave maris stella, likely in the next entry), so that's been broadly appealing to the public. Here we have something more unusual — and I might imagine the Missa Di dadi as coming from the circle of Busnoys or Caron (per a recent entry in this space): The notion of using the throw of dice also appeals to me, both because of the (continuing) 20th century trend for stochastic music, and for my own further exploration around medieval concepts of chance or fortune. (Josquin's Missa Fortuna desperata is, of course, an explicitly relevant setting on this exact theme, with its musical "turning of the wheel.") Despite that I only enjoy half of this program, I added it to my personal list. The Missa Di dadi does seem to be something of a monument, to whatever it actually is.

Coincidentally, I'll return immediately to the Huelgas Ensemble & their long-time "unicorn" production of the Cypriot "O"-antiphons, indeed their second recording (from 1989, after a recording from 1983): Björn Schmelzer & Graindelavoix have now made their own recording of this cycle, including a variety of both Eastern & Western chants for context. Whereas the Huelgas recording used instruments on some lines, and emphasized doubling & parallel motion amongst the complexity of the isorhythmic construction, yielding (perhaps paradoxically) a relatively sparse contrapuntal result, Graindelavoix continues with the sort of gritty chant-based style that they recently developed around Ars Antiqua motets & especially the Machaut Mass (as discussed here in May, particularly regarding its drones) — the companion album to this, their Cypriot Vespers disc, per Schmelzer. The notes also attribute the entire Turin manuscript to the previously obscure Jean Hanelle, and ask how single authorship affects reception of the rather large manuscript. Apparently preparation of the manuscript was supervised personally by Hanelle from 1434-36 after he had left Cyprus. His is now the largest known output of the era, although the manuscript itself shows no sign of practical use. Schmelzer uses some of these facts to interrogate the entire idea of a masterpiece, and I continue to be impressed by the isorhythmic antiphon cycle: Who knows how many large-scale isorhythmic works of the period — paralleling parts of Dufay's output in that form, in this case, and Hanelle is now claimed as one of Dufay's teachers — are lost to us, but within that relative vacuum, this remains fascinating music. (And I enjoy Hanelle's secular music as well.) In any case, the cycle thrives with the more flexible & melodic (purely vocal) articulation from Graindelavoix, making this another item for my personal list, replacing what had been one of the oldest recordings in the Huelgas DHM disc. The (still?) strange-sounding sort of "backward" cadential ornament pioneered by Van Nevel is retained, however. Schmelzer actually attributes the affective success of this cycle to the careful placement of text in the closely supervised manuscript. (He also improves the tempo relations in his interpretation, as more a result of improved general understanding over the past 30 years.) Although the unique character of this cycle doesn't suggest that lessons of the interpretation will be applicable to much other music, the album does build conceptually on Graindelavoix's previous crossings of e.g. Ars Antiqua & Machaut (as noted), and even earlier efforts such as their increasingly iconic (and quite ample) Cecus album, with its own crossings. So what's next from this increasingly intriguing group?

I had no idea that the Huelgas Ensemble has been releasing so many albums for Sony on their Deutsche Harmonia Mundi imprint the past few years, but a correspondent recently let me know. In fact, that information, which included several albums about which I had been totally unaware (presumably because "majors" feel no need to publicize), came only days before I would have been confronted with the existence of their new Caron album anyway: It appeared on a listing I regularly check. It seems a little strange for the Huelgas Ensemble to continue their long-time series of "selections" albums (here, canonically, with a mass cycle formed of movements from five individual mass cycles) with Caron, considering the recent & very extensive Sound and the Fury set (not to mention that group's landmark earlier album), but that's just what they've done. One might even portray this as the opposite of the Pipelare situation, where a Huelgas Ensemble album (this time with a full mass setting!) was followed 18 years later by the Sound and the Fury album that really cemented that composer's reputation for me. Regardless of such niceties, it's great that Caron continues to receive attention after so much neglect, and the Huelgas album is actually among their most compelling performance-wise. The mass sections are given emphatic & strong rhythmic articulations, clearly illustrating their various intriguing qualities. The chansons, as on the Pipelare album & others, are given a more idiosyncratic interpretation, performed in multiple versions leaving out one voice or another — so as to illustrate various musical relations, per Van Nevel. The chanson performances are not the strength of The Sound and the Fury set — and indeed I mistakenly believed something I read about this reduced set being somehow canonical — and so the Huelgas interpretations are generally welcome, although done in this strange way, since they include a couple of different songs. Van Nevel also casually remarks that Caron may have been in the circle of Busnoys in Naples and may be the author of the cycle of six L'homme armé masses (most recently attributed to Busnoys in a recent tour de force album, but of course the Huelgas had already recorded sections as well). His remark is so offhand that I can't even tell how serious he is. In any case, while this album has its appealing qualities, and Van Nevel continues to be one of the most knowledgeable people working in the field, it's tough to prefer a brief set of extracts. I'd still like to see an entire album devoted to the chansons.

The strangeness of Van Nevel's continuing program choices is even more evident in the Malheur me bat album released last year that I (also) only just noticed. How is it that a "major," of all things, puts out such a weird "music nerd" album? I don't understand that, but as a music nerd, I was interested in listening to Van Nevel's musical deconstruction of Malheur me bat, a song he describes as the most famous composition in the Phrygian mode, and as one whose original version — even whose text — will never be known. So this program employs various extracts, including e.g. performing sections of Josquin's Agnus Dei with only some of its parts, to illustrate aspects of this piece. They even vocalize an organ piece by Cabezón, and if Van Nevel is to be taken literally, the singers wore masks for that! Indeed, the album starts with a mysterious air, as various sections do not have semantic articulation, so as to emphasize the unknown quality regarding the original lyrics. This mysterious air is, of course, reflected in the album title, but also makes for a rather inarticulate album, one that seems to want to hide. This is what Van Nevel says that Malheur me bat itself does, before being definitively "unmasked" by Josquin. So Van Nevel finds his setting to be definitive, I guess, and thus ends a rather strange album (that also includes extracts of other masses already recorded complete by others) with it. Anyway, it's good to know that this sort of production has been occurring: It seems almost like a public seminar.

Although I was very enthusiastic about Beauty Farm's first album, devoted to Gombert motets, I guess I never did provide much detail for my appreciation of the music on my personal list. Now with Gombert Motets II, not only has Beauty Farm made its second album another Gombert album, just as The Sound and the Fury had done, but they've announced a third album for next spring devoted to Ockeghem, and to include the Missa L'homme armé — also as The Sound and the Fury had done on their third album, albeit without duplicating the entire program. Regardless of this oddity, and it is indeed rather odd in my opinion, the second Gombert album is quite welcome, and once again features some fine motets. I've recently lamented that motets of the era — and Gombert is "end of era" for me — aren't being recorded much lately, so this is an obvious exception. Personally, I'd like to see Beauty Farm direct similar attention to Josquin's motets. Four hours of Josquin motet classics, with this kind of attention to detail & energy? That would be fantastic. In any case, I'm happy that Beauty Farm continue to record, since I particularly enjoy their style. At some point, maybe I'll finally say something more specific about the individual motets on their Gombert programs.

Marc Lewon & associates continue to make a welcome assault on the vast lacuna of late fifteenth century & early sixteenth century secular music on recording, this time with Straight from the Heart from the Chansonnier Cordiforme. The latter is clearly one of the leading, if not clearly the leading, source of its era (c.1470) for such chansons (& beyond, since it includes Italian pieces & even one Spanish song). The earlier Consort of Musicke recording is of course a classic as a triple album from 1979. Although I find many recordings from that era to be grating, especially as regards tuning & ensemble blend, I could still warm up to the Consort of Musicke performances for some reason, probably mostly the great music itself. Nonetheless, a new performance is very welcome, and I've added it to my personal list. The new program is much shorter, but well chosen so as to illustrate a variety of genres from the manuscript, as well as a variety of performance styles that have been or can be used in this repertory. It still sounds very familiar, presumably on account of familiarity with the songs themselves, but also because David Fallows is once again centrally involved, and indeed his arrangements from the old triple album are often used again here. (I also heartily agree with Fallows' crack in the notes about how bass lines became so boring after this era, and for about 500 years! I mentioned something similar in the previous entry.) Although not all of the interpretive styles are exactly to my taste, the variety is welcome, and the result is an immediately compelling album that is not only enjoyable for us long-time participants in this project, but would seem to make a great introduction too. (So Marc, how about a Busnoys album? None of his songs from the chansonnier were included in this program....) If you're reading this because you're interested in the other repertory I discuss, and might have a vague interest in medieval (secular) music, this would seem to be a great album for you too. The notes do say which pieces are in which style, how they're performed, etc., so that part is easy to follow.

Generally speaking, I've been more interested in listening to ensembles moving from earlier music to later music, e.g. working with Machaut, and then performing Ars Subtilior, etc. Not that there's only one way to do historical performance, but this approach does have the advantage of following the historical arc of a piece, i.e. it sounds new (rather than old) relative to what the group did before — in much the same way that all creative music sounded new relative to its own precedents. Anyway, the Brabant Ensemble's recording of La Rue is more of a retrospective look from an ensemble that has mostly recorded music of later decades. It's true that they've already recorded Brumel & Mouton, but both of those contemporaries of La Rue are known for their "modern" chordal style, i.e. their music fits more easily into a general sixteenth century aesthetic. It's hard not to hear the doubled, mixed choir in this way, right from the opening, what with its soaring highs & staid lower lines, but the disc nonetheless makes an important contribution to the discography: The relatively early Missa Nuncqua fue pena major (on a villancico by Urrede) had only appeared completely on a rather obscure recording, and the mature Missa Inviolata is a premiere. I wrote the prior before reading the liner notes by Rice, and there he does emphasize things like chordal or homophonic passages & makes note of his performance decisions to slow the pulse at some points. It's no secret that I'm no fan of the latter technique, decried by Josquin among others, although it did quickly become a feature of the sixteenth century, with its generally more placid & smooth polyphony. Here there's also a similar & related tendency to sectionalize the music & reduce each to a particular gesture. Again, such an approach reflects the Counter-Reformation, for which composers adopted a simplified approach in order to emphasize comprehensibility for the public. (Much of the simplification might be said to have focused on the bass, whereas La Rue wrote great, dynamic bass lines.) The Magnificat performance, using alternation (as was/is typical), is consequently the most immediately ear-catching on the album, with the later mass — and its relatively smooth style — coming off better than the earlier one too. The Missa Inviolata does present as a significant piece, one with no immediate analog in La Rue's output despite not possessing a distinctive organizing trait (as some of his extraordinary masses do), and the album is well worth hearing. The energy of the group becomes infectious, and the Missa Inviolata in particular paints an amazing sonic portrait. Perhaps the more modern orientation of the performance will bring more attention to La Rue.

Not unlike some other albums featuring a La Rue mass, most recently Missa Pourquoy non?, but going back to Missa Incessament, etc., despite some misgivings regarding the interpretation, the Missa Inviolata makes this disc too intriguing to ignore. It thus finds its way onto my personal list. The filigree approach to selfhood & internalization, constantly leading further inside itself, while apparently criticized by some writers as inaudible, ultimately makes the Missa Inviolata one of La Rue's most intriguing. The polished distance of the present ensemble might even be an asset there.

Finally, the present liner notes again assert that the mass is the center of La Rue's oeuvre, which I think is far from clear, but regardless of whether some people feel that way, where are the other programs? I sometimes feel as though I ought to be tempering my criticism for fear that, some decade hence, I'll be lamenting the lack of mass recordings. (It's also fair to wonder what my remark really means, given that I've just featured this album for one of its masses.) Nonetheless, I must openly wonder why such a preponderance of recordings of music from this era continues to focus on the mass in recent years.

It took a little extra time to find its way to me, but I do want to make some brief remarks on the Orlando Consort's third volume of Machaut songs. I dutifully added it to the same entry on my personal list as the previous two volumes. Perhaps I should make the same remark about the recording quality here: I don't understand why it has been or would be a challenge to record this music clearly, but the production continues to improve in this regard. (I can't help but think that there have been conscious decisions to record reverberations, rather than the voice more directly, in accord with some sort of historicist aesthetic. I really don't agree with this notion, regardless of whether a church audience — which wouldn't be relevant for most of Machaut's work anyway — would have heard a lot of its music only indirectly in this sense.) Anyway, I want to hear the singers clearly, and with A Burning Heart, we get more of that experience. The vocal technique is increasingly impressive, particularly in details of articulation & tuning, and indeed the way those two aspects interact. After some tentative qualities to the first volume, it seems the Orlando Consort is really finding their stride with this material. And it's only some of my favorite.

I've also been oblivious to the last few releases from Tetraktys, put out as Olive Music imprints by Etcetera: They haven't been released in the US, and there was no mention by anyone. Sigh. This is a group whose interests overlap my own considerably.... Anyway, I did stumble upon the albums myself, eventually, so let me recap the three most recent:

Released in 2013 was the Johannes Heer Song Book, a personal Swiss-German collection of music from the early 1500s. The material comes off a little stiffly to me, and the compiler was somewhat isolated after his studies in France, but it's long been considered a fascinating slice of repertory from the period. Tetraktys give a credible performance as a quartet of one singer & three instrumentalists. This is later music than the ensemble has previously performed.

The ensemble was enlarged to two singers & four instrumentalists for their next album, devoted to early fifteenth century chansons & released in 2014. (Note that Baptiste Romain, whose own recent album as a leader was featured here in March, and which features material from roughly the same time period, appears on all three of the albums discussed in this entry.) This material dates from roughly a century earlier than that on the previous album, and is selected so as to take a rather detailed look at technical transitions from Ars Subtilior style to smoother "Renaissance" contours. It's quite an achievement, particularly based as it is on this ensemble's (and these performers') extensive prior experience with Ars Subtilior repertory, such that these shifts can be portrayed as arising from history, rather than retroactively isolating the Ars Subtilior itself as somehow outside of proper historical narrative. Much of the material has appeared on programs by other ensembles, but this is the first to gather it in this way, not to mention provide such a detailed presentation. Consequently, it was a belated addition to my personal list. I'm actually feeling rather embarrassed that someone released an album, back in 2014, of material for which I had been calling for more attention, and I only recently noticed. This is very much one of the most intriguing recent chanson albums, and so hopefully my lapse in attention didn't harm its reception.

The third volume from the Codex Chantilly is actually a new album this spring, although it remains coincidence that I noticed it so soon after its release. (Most of the delay in discussing it here is simply the delay in obtaining a copy from overseas.) The first two volumes were already on my personal list, and as that discussion has been updated to reflect, the interpretations continue to gain in stature with experience. Here we have three vocalists, two who are new to the project, and again four instrumentalists (with only one change). Silvia Tecardi continues, together with Kees Boeke himself, from the beginning of the project. The singing continues to become more supple, a trait that seems important for capturing the freewheeling imagination of the style. There's no mention of whether a fourth volume is planned, but hopefully the project will continue. It has taken many years & much practice in order to bring this music (at least to this degree) to life, and there is surely more life that can be found in this repertory.

It's probably fair to say that I haven't given the Cantigas de Santa María sufficient attention, perhaps not in the site overall (pace our massive discography), but more specifically, among my personal interests. After all, they form a huge body of music, one of the largest surviving sources for (quasi-)secular monophony of the medieval era. Perhaps my relative coolness toward them can be seen first in that "quasi" qualification, i.e. that the Cantigas exist as a hybrid genre, and not merely a hybrid genre, but one that largely reproduced earlier melodies. In the latter sense, the technical-musical significance often comes down to having preserved melodies that would have otherwise been lost — although likely as contrafacta. In that sense, they don't have the "rush of creation," i.e. forging a melodic style themselves, but rather consolidate & catalog it. Moreover, regarding the contrafacta point, such a consolidation involves a dominant organizing logic, i.e. transforming preexisting material into songs about the Virgin, or applying preexisting (musical) material to stories about the Virgin. That this preexisting material involves various influences — such that one can perceive an echo of Andalusian style, for instance — is one of its charms, but also suggests a fundamentally conservative project. That the various passions involved are transposed into the register of acceptable religious narrative only underscores this point. All that said, the new album from Discantus is both directly enjoyable & worth a listen, as well as presents an opportunity to interrogate (briefly, at least here) the feminist implications of the Cantigas: Can this massive collection function as some kind of emancipatory project because or in spite of its nature as technically conservative, and very literally an act of conservation? Discantus is one of many all-female medieval ensembles, an act of formation that seems to involve a bit of subversion on its face, but is also the ensemble with the closest connection to other interpreters of medieval music that I typically enjoy. Surprisingly, this is their first album to feature the Cantigas, and it displays a wide affective range: There is festivity, melancholy, etc. Voices alternate to suggest dances, as well as modulations of collective expression, etc. The Cantigas are also supplemented by other sources associated with women in the period, to add some genre variety to the album: The result is a lively & accomplished interpretation that spans Marian production of the period, beyond the Cantigas per se. Whereas a source such as the Codex Las Huelgas originates in a female setting, though, and whereas the late troubadours presented in the program have direct connections to the Cantigas themselves, were those Cantigas ever really women's production or activity? The evidence suggests not, or at least to the extent that the underlying material might have been associated, it was clearly masculinized in the work of Alfonso X & his compilers. Is this not the only conclusion? So how might one further peel away such a layer, and reveal underlying practice? I actually believe that Discantus has accomplished a step in that direction via the basic affectivity of their production. The material continues to be of only intermittent technical-musical interest, however, at least relative to the troubadours & trouvères, in whose music those technical innovations did take place, and upon which (at least that of the former) the Cantigas were modeled — albeit in a rather sternly moralizing vein. What remains unchallenged, though, is the historical interest of such a compilation.

As I've mentioned (probably more than sufficiently), I've had more difficulties learning about new releases of interest over the past few years. Distribution of record labels can suddenly change, and I might not know, thinking I'll be seeing their releases as before. For instance, Cut Circle's first album arrived at my door unsolicited, but their second album, another two-CD set, was released last year (with no US distribution) on the same label, and I didn't hear a word about it until a correspondent recently informed me. In this case, unlike the first album, which focused on little-known Sistine Chapel polyphony c.1490, the program documents some of the monuments of mid-fifteenth century music, the four tenor masses by Dufay. (The notes do not discuss other masses that have been subsequently attributed to Dufay, so these are the "classic" four.) Although one might rightly wonder whether the prominence attached to these mass cycles today is more of a retroactive consideration, given that so much of Dufay's fame was attached to his earlier music, and that other composers were involved in developing the cantus firmus style, the quality of the music continues to assert itself. It would therefore appear that the album was conceived as a major undertaking, documenting these four cycles according to current interpretive techniques. Hence, I will go ahead and make some belated comments. Already, the impact of the release was blunted by the Cantica Symphonia recording, which in all likelihood crossed in production, i.e. was not known to these performers. That album contains an amazing & forceful interpretation of the two earlier masses, emphasizing some of the older (quasi-)isorhythmic relations that that ensemble had already explored so extensively in their earlier Dufay recordings. Cut Circle's approach seems comparatively modern: The landmark Dufay of the 1420s is left far behind, for a choral style evocative of the 1490s or even later. The doubled, mixed choir involves a bit of what I call "choralisms," those sorts of figures & approaches that seem to accompany modern productions with a conductor, etc. — despite emphasizing standing "shoulder to shoulder," Cut Circle also has a conductor standing in front. Whereas previous generations of interpreters took liberties with things like tempo relations & proportions, here they are well-observed, even to the point of a pulse that is perhaps too regular. They likewise don't shy away from ficta or dissonance, avoiding what can come off as a sanitized feel to this music (at least in some earlier interpretations). There is thus plenty to like about the performance. Although the notes discuss various details of the music, they make few specific arguments regarding performance choices (an exception being the decision to sing the cantus firmus texts in the Missa Ecce ancilla Domini), seemingly taking them as a given, and the result is then rather more "vertical" or chordal (i.e. more modern) than I might ideally favor. Whereas Cantica Symphonia's recording blunts the impact of the first half of this set, the later two masses have not been recorded so recently: My favored Ensemble Gilles Binchois recordings of the Missa Ecce ancilla Domini & Missa Ave Regina cælorum are rather dated at this point, particularly the latter. Cut Circle's new interpretation improves upon it in some tangible ways, but doesn't have the suppleness of line that I enjoy so much in those older recordings (particularly in the former, building as it did on a close interrogation of plainchant). Perhaps the Missa Ave Regina cælorum will soon receive yet more attention — as Dufay's final mass cycle, and given his huge discography, I guess I'm a little surprised that it hasn't received more.

I also went ahead and added the new album featuring La Rue's Missa Pourquoy non, as discussed here last month, to my personal list. Although the recording is rather distant & takes a bit to "get into," the mass itself is quite a tour-de-force, an apparently youthful essay in full virtuosity. Indeed, La Rue's music often revels in virtuosity, as illustrated by such albums as Extreme Singing, and we might only just be glimpsing the sort of ensemble polyphony of which some of these chapel singers were capable. One might reframe the comments about Dufay above according to individual singing virtuosity versus ensemble coordination: What I've called "choralism" emphasizes the latter, i.e. emphasizes keeping things under control. One can certainly take the criticism above as relative to the other interpretations available: For some music, simply rendering a credible interpretation onto record is a welcome achievement; for other music, it requires more to impress. (One might even characterize Cut Circle's efforts, perhaps unfairly, as rendering Franco-Flemish polyphony into a generic aural form, the value of which can be perceived immediately as dependent on other possibilities & non-possibilities for hearing the music.) In any case, hopefully La Rue's discography will continue to develop. This is amazing music.

After their series of recordings oriented on an itinerant thirteenth century organ builder, recorded in a short span of time but released over a few years, Graindelavoix has produced a new album, this time featuring one of the most prominent individual pieces in the medieval repertory, the Machaut mass. Whereas I very much appreciated the approach they took in that previous series of albums, I found the material itself somewhat prosaic — which, of course, was part of the point, i.e. to illustrate "everyday" music. Here a charge of obscurity or ordinariness certainly cannot be leveled against their material. On the other hand, it's a rather unusual performance, and the notes themselves spend most of their energy arguing over well-worn thoughts on the impossibility of reproducing a medieval performance per se, as well as that such impossibility can & should be taken as an opening for other approaches, and indeed that given Machaut's intent of "commemoration," a perceived "strangeness" to the performance is a way of enacting that commemoration via authentic distance. (The notion of affect is explicitly raised as a consideration often lacking in contemporary historical musical scholarship, yielding readily to historicism. The point on authenticity, then, is that it's the distance itself that is authentic.) I don't have a problem with this argument, and really don't think it needs to be made, but I do understand that some people have extremely narrow views on what is acceptable in medieval performance. Anyway, my complaint, such as it is, is that the actual technical aspects of the performance are barely mentioned, and I'd have been more interested in Schmelzer's thoughts on that. He does mention the Pérès performance as an inspiration, and it has a somewhat similar sound. (The next most similar is probably Clemencic's recording, which did have a run on my "favorites" list, in particular for its rethinking of the declamatory style of the Gloria & Credo.) Whereas Pérès looks to Eastern techniques of ornamentation, Schmelzer mentions "southern European" confraternities that continue to sing in this style. In that sense, he is engaging a contemporary & ongoing flow of commemoration, although perhaps paradoxically by collapsing the distance between the fourteenth century & contemporary (albeit "traditional") style. For Schmelzer, this is about hybridity & fabulation, two other important contemporary theoretical concepts, but there are various sorts of potential hybridities, and fabulation is of course open-ended by nature. (So, in other words, there can be nothing "canonical" about this style, but per the notes, there needn't be.) An immediately obvious aspect of the interpretation is the degree to which the voices sustain tones: I have been getting comfortable with the idea that Ars Antiqua music did not involve as much explicit "sustain" as previous generations of modern performers have used, instead letting cathedral resonances themselves preserve the echo of tones which could in turn be articulated more subtly by the singers. So whereas the tracks I most enjoy are what seem to be almost Ars Antique style approaches to the two Machaut motets — and continuity with that style does seem to emerge rather clearly in the interpretation, with the proportions serving to hold together the parts as they emerge more quickly (relative to the older music), yet retaining a discursive style (vs. yielding to architectonics) — that enjoyment is because and/or despite their rather alien feel. (Such continuity is underlined by the inclusion of one of Perotin's most famous pieces, dutifully accompanied by sustained harmonic tones.) Within this style of explicitly sustaining & emphasizing resonance, maybe even forcing it, vocal ornaments come to emphasize harmonic relations that serve to further articulate the music. I.e. ornamentation starts to feel structural. (It almost sounds like a traditional Bulgarian choir at times, and I also wonder why Schmelzer is using 10 singers for this 4-part music, but he never mentions that. Perhaps all the sustaining is the obvious answer.) Over in my jazz thoughts, I've recently been discussing interrogations of presence, and this album can be approached in just such a way: It has an almost overbearing presence, paralleled by the almost combative liner notes (both figuring "disruption" as respect), that does yet serve to highlight the distance between us & Machaut. So it's rather successful on its own terms, and interesting to hear. I guess my only real disappointment is that I know the Machaut Mass so well that I hear "it" clearly regardless. Listening itself is diagrammatic in that manner, too, and engages with memory to form personal narrative (as I put it elsewhere). The album thus emphasizes the impossibility of hearing the music entirely the same as others do, let alone historically, as well as of hearing it entirely anew. (Well, maybe someone will truly be hearing this music for the first time, but that's not an experience I can access.)

I was a bit surprised to see another album devoted to Lescurel, considering that so many other prominent trouvères haven't received dedicated recordings at all, and considering that there was the recent Ensemble Syntagma release based on facsimile, and including a performance of an extensive "dit" together with some of his classic songs, as well as the classic Ensemble Gilles Binchois recording. However, whereas the new performance by Ensemble Céladon doesn't mark a real break with previous practice, and indeed one might need to look actively for ways in which their approach differs from e.g. EGB, both the level of mastery in the interpretation & the completeness of the program make for an outstanding album overall, and so it was added to my personal list. (They did prepare new transcriptions of the original notation, this time into notation without bar lines, so it's not as though they are slavishly following previous approaches.) Regarding the notion of a complete program, Ensemble Syntagma's efforts on the dit are toward a literary work with no surviving musical notation. Ensemble Céladon's complete performance comes from a particular manuscript in which the series of 31 songs appears with notation & is attributed to Lescurel — a manuscript that also features the famous Roman de Fauvel & material by De Vitry, etc. I hadn't really noticed this previously, but one striking thing about this series of songs is that they're very nearly in alphabetical order, and stop with G. (I immediately wondered if stopping with G might have something to do with the musical notes, but beyond the very uneven distribution of starting letters, including none with E, the songs themselves don't suggest such a technical orientation.) So one might conclude that the manuscript illustrates a partial output — or, I guess, that Lescurel (who died young, so perhaps left the project unfinished) was rather idiosyncratic in this regard. The complete program was also facilitated by "letting" the songs remain short, instead of padding them with interludes & repeats. Indeed, Paulin Bündgen remarks that this is one of their charms (that Lescurel "gets to the point") & expresses a real passion for Lescurel's music in the notes, a passion that shows through in the richly detailed interpretation: A wide variety of subtle accompaniment is used, as well as different voices in the ensemble to illustrate different points of view (male, female, neither in particular) in the songs. Lescurel's single surviving polyphonic song, which appears elsewhere in both 3-voice & monophonic versions, is also used as a basic model for polyphonic accompaniment elsewhere. The notes also raise the question of whether these are more "middle class" songs versus the aristocratic orientation of the troubadours (which in turn interrogates concepts of virtuosity in performance, at least obliquely). I think that one can easily overstate such an observation, but there's no question but that Paris of the era, especially with its university, fostered some different social relations. Lescurel is sometimes portrayed historically as a criminal, but there's no question that he had quite a sophisticated sense for melody.

The album itself is by a student ensemble, and mostly features contemporary choral music (although only a slight majority by duration), but I did want to mention William Kempster's argument for accepting the title Missa Pourquoy non for the La Rue mass that Honey Meconi calls Missa Almana and lists first in her hypothetical chronology. Kempster's upcoming article in The Choral Scholar makes a good case for the "pourquoy non" assignment, and potentially raises interest in the mass. (Kempster also characterizes the masses as the "core" of La Rue's output, and I feel a need to register some disagreement there: That would be the chansons, despite that they don't possess a scholarly edition. That several masses derive from chansons, not the other way around, illustrates this point.) Anyway, it's nice to hear these investigations continuing, and I've modified the discography accordingly.

John Potter & Christopher O'Gorman, increasingly joined by Rogers Covey-Crump, released the first volume of their conductus project back in 2012. Even when the second volume was released in 2013, I demurred on taking a real stance on the project, stating that I would wait for the third volume. Before talking about the music & its interpretation, I want to make a few remarks about such a sequence itself: Particularly with what I perceived to be a delay with the third volume (which was recorded in 2014, so after the first two were released), I started questioning my own relative lack of support. Would the planned third volume even be completed? I wouldn't say that I didn't support the project per se, but rather that I guess I remained skeptical in my public statements, even as I certainly remained interested. I need to find a better way to articulate such a stance here, so maybe this discussion will help. (The "favorites" approach to organizing musical discussion here has worked against such a perspective, just by itself.) Perhaps as something of an excuse for myself — and waiting for the project to complete let me defer making judgments, so it was at least partly a matter of laziness — I want to note that the documentation did explicitly state that there would be three volumes, such that suspending judgment in anticipation of the third volume was almost solicited.

In any case, anticipation of an announced third volume had also led to anticipation of some sort of consummation for the project. If there's a consummation, however, it's not obvious, and there's no mention in the documentation of this actually being the end either. One change is that Volume 3 doesn't feature Marian material, but most of the difference is rather simply a matter of continuing to develop an interpretive style, particularly in regard to rhythmic articulation of these often complex melodies. The trio continues to develop their command, to the point that Volume 3 does indeed set new standards for articulating both metrical & free passages, including in their alternation in some cases. The singing remains highly detailed, and continues Potter's exploration of a similar basic style with Red Byrd: Amazingly, even Volume 1 of the conductus project was recorded a full ten years after their second volume of Leonin organum. (Time sure flies sometimes, at least from my perspective. I still think of those explorations as fairly new, so obviously I need to update myself.) As these comments already suggest, the trio is both setting new standards for interpretation of this material, and in turn exploring that material more deeply than it had been in the past: Although there have been many albums to feature the conductus, the size of the present project is simply unprecedented.

So, setting new standards for this material, both in interpretation & repertory exploration? Just how compelling is the material then? That's the real question, and I've wanted to take my own time with it. First of all, there are hundreds of these conductus pieces, mostly monophonic, but ranging up to four parts, that survive. They are not as voluminous as plainchant, however, and plainchant suggests one ready point of reference, what with its own (sometimes elaborate) system of melody, or rather systems & styles (plural). In that sense, the conductus was rather more specialized, as it seems to have been oriented on Paris & a small number of prominent institutions, perhaps emphasizing an academic connection. Moreover, the Latin text of the conductus (although Potter et al.'s third volume includes some vernacular) has facilitated lumping it into a broad category of paraliturgical music, and such an assessment is often supported by the religious themed texts. However, in a society permeated by Christianity, including theological ideas in one's elaborate lyric poetry hardly comes as a surprise. In any case, debates over what the conductus was actually "for" continue. Beyond plainchant & the paraliturgical outputs more broadly, the conductus, particularly in the wide stylistic range illustrated in these three volumes, accommodates pretty much the full scope of the melodic exploration of the period. In other words, one can as well hear echoes of secular melodies, such that the larger surviving conductus repertory provides something of a context for e.g. troubadour songs, etc. (Rather it can possibly provide such a context, but considering that it is much less known, that context has yet to be developed.) One might also consider the various other lyrical traditions of the period, around Robin, Tristan, etc. It appears that the relative sophistication of the conductus repertory, and the corresponding difficulties of interpretation, actually served to push it into more obscurity.

This is indeed very sophisticated music from a melodic-rhythmic standpoint. (The sorts of counterpoint employed have already been fairly well explored, and are reflected by the more famous organum repertory, etc. Note the direction I've posited there. Of course, such counterpoint does offer different features with different sorts of melodies, at least to some extent.) It seems natural to compare it with Eastern chant, and particularly with Arabic lyric forms. Whereas the starkness of the interpretations on these albums is one of their strengths, because it highlights such melodic-rhythmic exploration, I can easily imagine an orchestra of traditional instruments providing punctuation in the classic North African or Syrian styles. Indeed, I think I'm finally convinced that this is among the most significant surviving repertory of its time & place, and will reward far more exploration & development. Perhaps more in the way of "pure enjoyment" will develop as well, since as noted, these albums do come off starkly. The repertory has had life breathed into it now, and for the first time on this scale, but will require more attention to really become vibrant. In that sense, these albums once again problematize the "favorites" concept I typically employ here, but have been added to my personal list nonetheless.

When I've suggested more recordings of fifteenth century chansons, I wasn't necessarily thinking of Arnold & Hugo de Lantins, but the new album from Baptiste Romain is quite welcome nonetheless. The de Lantins, who are generally assumed to be brothers, although the precise relation remains unknown, employ a melodic, yet thirds-infused style that is clearly aligned with Binchois & the early Dufay. Moreover, their journey from Liege to Italy mirrors that of Ciconia, and some of their songs come off analogously, although reflecting the fast-paced musical changes of the 1420s. (Listening to this album specifically as a followup to some Ciconia songs is recommended.) Lyrical counterpoint by the de Lantins had previously appeared most extensively on record in a sacred cycle analogous to Dufay's hymns, i.e. harmonized chant in the top line, etc. In the secular works, however, the keen lyrical sense remains, but the pieces engage more with historical forms & contrapuntal complexity. The result makes for an enjoyable album, one buoyed by a credible interpretation from Le Miroir de Musique, an ensemble that seems to have been formed originally to investigate instrument technology of the period: I don't necessarily appreciate the heavy instrumental doubling at times, particularly in the opening track (which sets the mood), although their inspiration seems to have been Italian practice of the period, and indeed much of this music would apparently have been written in Italy, even as it exemplifies Burgundian style. Despite a bit of a heavy hand at times, in that sense, the performance comes off rather nicely overall, definitely giving one a strong sense of the music. It was thus added to my personal list.

Another factor to discuss regarding this album is that one of the tracks includes a misogynist acrostic. David Fallows points this out in the liner notes, or the listener would likely never notice — likely not even if reading the lyrics. I don't say this by way of excuse, but do want to note that this issue was explicitly raised by the production itself. I do tend to downplay such issues here, and try to take music on the terms under which it was written: Many times & places have featured mainstream, or non-mainstream, ideas with which many of us here & now would disagree, and personally, I'm not even Christian, so medieval music in general presents something of a disconnect in this sense. However, it's a lot easier to enjoy, or even identify with, the more positive sentiments. One thing I'll suggest that the acrostic does is raise some of the tension of the courtly poetic forms more explicitly. What did people writing these conventional lyrics of love & devotion really think of women? There is plenty of tension already from the troubadour lyrics, etc., but by the 1420s, this poetry was highly stylized. It's hard not to read some of it as sarcastic anyway, even when it keeps to form. In that sense, what with all the lyrics about lost love & such, it's difficult to imagine that anger wasn't in play. (Adding to the tension, this is also the era of Christine de Pizan, as discussed in the previous entry.) As I said, I don't want to offer excuses, but I guess I do feel a need to excuse my own enjoyment of this album. Lengthy explorations of world & historical traditions have yielded, perhaps, a personal inclination to "suspend disbelief" (so to speak) on this point, but it's certainly worth noting what we're really hearing. (And lest we feel too superior, let's remember the many flaws of our contemporary society & its own cultural production.)

I'm not normally a fan of medieval music anthologies, you know the sorts of albums that span a dozen styles over centuries of music, and indeed, I have to say that that's still my main musical reaction to VocaMe's Christine de Pizan album. In this case, there's no surviving music for most of Christine's poems & dances, and so the ensemble had no choice but to use other music. I definitely agree that this was a worthwhile idea, and so want to note the album: Christine de Pizan figures prominently, for instance, and together with Hildegard von Bingen, in Gerda Lerner's The Creation of Feminist Consciousness, and she's been considered a major historical figure off & on since her lifetime. Her writing uses the typical formes fixes of the period, and so finding suitable music generally seems to be feasible, although the ensemble did note that finding just the right combination took considerable effort. They also note how it seemed appropriate to them to use music from literally more than a century before Christine's birth, which I regard as a very dubious choice that works against letting the listener into her sound world. Also, although it's easy to pick out some well-known tunes (such as Ventadorn's Quan vei la lauzeta, multiple Machaut songs, etc.), none of the music, other than the well-known Binchois track, is actually credited. Perhaps they thought that identifying the composers (or sources) would draw attention away from Christine, but this is something else that compromises the value of the album for the general listener: How are they going to seek more of favorite musical tracks? However, the album is nicely packaged, and includes quality translations (albeit with some typos) of all the lyrics, so one can get to know Christine's texts, despite the musical issues raised.

Readers interested in less traditional explorations of early music repertory might also be interested in discussions I've written this month in my "Jazz Thoughts" section regarding Quatour Machaut from Ayler Records & Lachrymae by James Falzone.

A recent program by Cappella Romana presents pieces from the relatively well-known Turin manuscript of Ars Nova music from French-ruled Cyprus alongside contemporaneous Cypriot music from Eastern sources in the Byzantine tradition. My knowledge of the Byzantine material, and its musical history in the period, is minimal, but the opportunity to hear it alongside the styles of Western Europe is valuable. (And the pieces of the Turin manuscript have long been ascribed something of an "exotic" character, sometimes encapsulated by its "Ars Subtilior" periodization, but generally exceeding that label.) That these musics coexisted on the island would certainly seem to suggest that they cross-fertilized each other, although it's unclear if the Cypriot Turin manuscript had any subsequent influence on French or Italian music. It's usually viewed as a dead end in that sense, albeit one whose musical quality has been admired for at least a few decades now. In any case, the interpretations by this vocal ensemble from the Pacific Northwest — with which I otherwise have had only limited exposure — seem credible, and the performance is enjoyable.

Cantica Symphonia has released an impressive Isaac program, the most recent repertory that they've recorded in a while (although an older part of their discography includes albums devoted to Festa, and even Monteverdi). Much of the program is stated to be a first recording, including the mass at its center, as inspired by a recent doctoral thesis by Giuseppe Zanovello. (A couple of the motets are also reconstructions by Giuseppe Maletto.) The interpretation continues the ensemble's Italian orientation in its use of extensive instrumental doubling on some tracks, and indeed the notes emphasize Isaac's continued connection to Florence, even after he was forced to relocate in the wake of the Medicis being deposed. Whereas Isaac has not been a composer who has inspired me so much personally in his individual works, this release does illustrate more of the wonderful variety of easy-going polyphony that he was able to write in such quantity. (In that, he could be compared to Obrecht, but without the architectural-visual emphasis.) Isaac's "easy" style might make his individual pieces of secondary interest, but his massive output as a whole, precisely because of its consistently idiomatic quality, is of much significance for appraising the musical output of the era as a whole. The legacy of the Franco-Flemish school would not be the same without Isaac, and here listeners can hear an impressive & scholarly up-to-date interpretation of some of his appealing, italianate sacred music. The overall impression is very much one of solidity, rather than delicacy: The large ensemble used on some tracks gives Isaac's lines an imposing quality, evoking the spectacles of the Medicis, without sacrificing much in the way of clarity. One can consequently imagine that the solidity of his writing invites such treatment, particularly in some of the celebratory motets, but even in the clear-cut phrasing of the mass (and even if it's sung one-to-a-part here).

I was expecting more copious liner notes from an album titled "The Evidence", but they are actually rather brief. However, I did want to make a note of Pastor's impressive plucked (and a little bit of turned) finger-work on a half dozen medieval-derived instruments. The playing sounds idiomatic to me.

Let me also note that Psallentes, an ensemble generally known for singing plainchant, has included an early sixteenth century (anonymous) four-part mass cycle on their Missa Transfigurationis program. The brief mass cycle is more interesting as part of a historical phenomenon than for its musical setting per se, but Psallentes is entering this arena with a quality interpretation. (I wanted to note it in part because it wasn't clear to me from the cover that there is any polyphony on the album, which also includes two pieces by Févin.)

Another recent release to discuss is The Orlando Consort's second recording devoted to Compère, titled simply Loyset Compère, on Hyperion. I was a bit surprised by this release, because it came in the midst of their Machaut series, and so seems like a change to rather different material. Moreover, of the 79 original recordings we have listed in our Compère discography, there are actually two devoted entirely (or over half) to Compère, and both are by the Orlando Consort, with this second album joining the first twenty years later. (Two of four singers are in common between the two recordings.) Indeed, there are three other Orlando Consort albums with tracks by Compère, so it is probably safe to call them by far his biggest fans in the recording industry. Here, in keeping with their Machaut series, the focus is on chansons — plus a (lengthy) Magnificat, a (short & questionable) motet, & a motet-chanson. I've been calling (perhaps tediously, at this point) for more attention to chansons from the second half of the fifteenth century, so this is a welcome program. I suppose it's all a matter of fashion, but it continues to amaze me how dated the (relatively few) available programs of some of this secular material are at this point, and of course, Compère's secular music had never received such concentrated attention at all. (For instance, the Chansonnier Cordiforme set by the Consort of Musicke is from 1979!) Anyway, hopefully more will continue to appear.

Sadly, this recorded production seems to follow almost on cue from my previous, opposite comments about Beauty Farm: Here, the recorded sound is quite distant & blunted, such that whereas the top line can still be penetrating, it is often difficult to hear the lower voices. Note that this is not an issue with the Orlando Consort per se, as e.g. their Busnois disc, which also includes some chansons (and is rather more stiff in interpreting them than this more recent performance), does not suffer from this problem. There, on Harmonia Mundi, the voices are all relatively equally audible. In retrospect, this is an issue on their Machaut recordings (for Hyperion) as well, particularly the first. However, in the case of Compère, it is the lower/middle voices that generate much of the motivic structure, and include so many of the original details. So it's a bigger problem here, and detracts from the otherwise fine one-to-a-part all-male vocal conception.

That said, the liner notes continue a reappraisal of Compère's historical position, now crediting him as a major developer of the more motivic style. He's also seen (now) as an older contemporary of Agricola, the two writing the last innovative music in the formes fixes, which Compère apparently goes on to abandon (according to what the chronology seems to suggest). I would add a comparison to Caron's songs here, which are from a similar era, but demonstrate different (mostly temporal) innovations. (The older layer of Compère's songs might also be compared to the two surviving songs by Regis, who was older still. The newer layer involves even the frottola & other catchy material, anticipating the later Parisian chanson. This latter sort of material is not my favorite, however.) This transitional era thus produced a lot of intriguing & innovative material, before chanson styles were standardized again, perhaps most spectacularly in the masterful songs of La Rue, which were by then entirely different in style from those of e.g. Dufay, whose echo one can hear in early Compère. (Although The Sound and the Fury's recording of chansons on disc three of their Caron set is quite welcome, it is not their best interpretive work: The music comes off somewhat disjointed.)

Despite my concerns about the recorded sound (or mixing or mastering or whatever is precisely the issue), which is indeed quite lamentable for this specific material, this album was added to my personal list.

What appears to be the debut of a new all-male vocal ensemble called Beauty Farm has been released by the Fra Bernardo label, a double album of Gombert motets. As I wrote in adding it to my personal list, the interpretation is revelatory.

I don't know if it was a conscious choice for Beauty Farm to start with similar repertory to The Sound and the Fury's first two albums, but it's impossible not to compare, and indeed to reflect on ten years of recordings from The Sound and the Fury: Their first album, devoted to Gombert, was recorded in 2005. The second album, from 2006, was also devoted to Gombert, and although I liked those albums, and added them to my recommendations fairly promptly at the time, of course I had no idea that their discography would otherwise come to feature earlier music — with the exception of a third Gombert album from 2008 — and indeed feature several recordings of either iconic fifteenth century masterpieces, or previously neglected repertory (and sometimes both at once). The first two Gombert albums, as well as their first Ockeghem recording, which didn't make much impression on me, included a female soprano, but they were soon to abandon that practice, including on their third Gombert disc. This change facilitated their focus on tuning according to the middle lines of the textures, rather than the "angelic" top-down style that became so characteristic of English interpretations. (Quite possibly, the gender of the performers isn't important to this outcome in any technical sense, but it does seem to have an effect, if only in the matter of subsequent interpretive choices.) In any case, Beauty Farm seems to be on the same page as The Sound and the Fury regarding these interpretive developments (and includes bass Joachim Höchbauer in common), and indeed they produce even more clarity within the style: There is less resonance to the recording, hence less background "buzz," and so the listener is better able to follow the interior interplay. The lines sound more independent, with greater sonic space in which to operate, while their dependencies (particularly in motivating each other forward) are also set in sharper relief. It's an impressive result, and I saw something on Beauty Farm's site about plans to record Ockeghem & Barbireau. So that could be exciting. Maybe they intend to focus mostly on earlier music too?

Regarding Gombert himself, although he is generally described as "neglected," his discography is actually rather substantial at this point. I place him at more or less the end of the medieval style, or as one might say at this point, in a small post-medieval bubble. In other words, he follows La Rue & Josquin, etc., and doesn't turn to the simpler Renaissance harmonies. Some writers call his "the lost generation" of Franco-Flemish polyphony, musicians working in the wake of the European conquests in the Americas & elsewhere, i.e. in a very changed world, but retaining some of the previous understanding & attitude. With the next generation, presumptively not "lost," of Palestrina etc., we are more thoroughly into what I call (from this medieval perspective) modern music, i.e. music of the modern age, post-Council of Trent, etc. This generation starts to fall outside of my own interests (although in writing this, I start to think that perhaps I should look/listen over Lassus's large output one more time, as some writers consider him to be the last of the Franco-Flemish polyphonists). Gombert is specifically associated with Charles V, and the emperor did attempt to forbid abusive behavior toward native Americans, without much success. Those were difficult times, and Gombert's life had its own famous difficulties. In any case, he was also able to write some amazing music, developing & extending the polyphonic invention of the previous generation. After that, the demand for simpler music carried the day.

Beauty Farm focuses on the motets, which have generally been considered (at least since Reese) to be Gombert's best work. We seem to have had a phase, followed also by The Sound and the Fury, in which it became obligatory to include a mass cycle in any recording of Franco-Flemish polyphony. Although there are many amazing mass cycles, and it's great to have them recorded, I'll be glad for the passing of this obligation. The motets of the era are often every bit as brilliant, and their shorter length means more variety on an album. And with a double album, of course that variety is even more. Most of these motets were recorded by The Sound and the Fury as well, but here they are sung in a new edition by Jorge Martín, who surely deserves much credit for this release. Martín, quoting writers of the sixteenth century (hardly for the first time), describes Gombert's use of dissonance as "unprecedented." Some of the technical features of this music really are stunning, but I don't want to dwell on that, because the result is just so affectively compelling. This is indeed brilliant music, brilliantly executed for our ears today. It's nice to be reminded that the Europe of the sixteenth century could manage more, if only in small & paradoxical niches, than vomiting violence & death across the world.

Please excuse my two months delay in discussing it, as I had various other commitments intervening, but Phantasm continues their fine series of English consort music with their second album in a row devoted to William Lawes, this one oriented on the massive set, The Royal Consort. They perform the four viol & theorbo version, and supplement it with the remaining sets to the organ that might have otherwise fit on their previous album (plus a small miscellany). The liner notes are extensive, describing various details of the individual pieces and their allusions. Phantasm continues to develop their interpretive style, and indeed this album is very compelling, and added to my personal list. I had not really taken to these pieces previously, but those were other interpretations. Here the strange dances, with their irregular beats and sometimes humorous or magical implications, really come to life. This might not be practical dance music, but the physical references remain tangible. The Royal Consort is the height of a particular style, at least in the dance idiom, soon to be wiped away by the English Civil War & puritanism. The more rational style of the Restoration is simply not the same. This is unique music, even within Lawes' extensive output.

Diabolus in Musica might be the ensemble that has released the most albums, over the longest span of time, devoted to Notre Dame polyphony. I am not going to attempt to quantify that statement in detail or assess some kind of "winner" in this arena, but I do want to set a context for their latest Notre Dame oriented release. The other piece of context is that it was actually a 2014 release, but only recently, finally, appeared in this country. So, now I have heard it, and that makes commenting very much easier, to say the least.

The program, titled with rather too ubiquitous a term — Sanctus — to search for readily, continues the recent trend in this repertory, more broad than with Diabolus in Musica alone, for more expansive performances of fewer pieces. The downside is less different music on an album, but the less hurried character of the performances provides for much more satisfying individual tracks. (Whether this is the result of the well-known process of — ironically — "sanctification" of classical repertory, i.e. increasing stature leading to slower performances, or is more historically based, I'm not sure. It does seem to fit the music well.) The ensemble continues to feature (contemporary) tenor voices & lower in this repertory, a choice I also enjoy. Their execution of some of the multi-voice cadential ornaments is superb, as is the rest of the interpretation, and I've promptly added this album to my personal list. (It was four and a half years since I last made a change to that particular sub-list, which seems like a long time!)

I don't really have anything new to say about the significance of this repertory per se. Clearly it is a particular historical apex, and continues to receive at least moderate attention on recording.

Hopefully some other items of high interest will appear here before too long, but I have nothing specific on the horizon in this properly medieval domain.

I had previously heard of neither the label nor the ensemble, but the recording of Ockeghem's Missa L'homme armé by Ensemble Nusmido is quite an entry into the repertory. The ensemble consists of former students of Rebecca Stewart singing one to a part, and also playing the instruments on the instrumental tracks. Stewart's chant-based approach included numerous insights, and indeed her legacy was recently acknowledged here with (her former ensemble) Cappella Pratensis's recording of Josquin's Missa Ave maris stella. With this new ensemble, however, the rather rhythmic underpinning of the chants on that album from last year is replaced by a rhetorical sweep that allows Ockeghem's lines to spin off in all directions. Although regular readers might recall that I've never thought that highly of his Missa L'homme armé, the rhetorical sweep of the present interpretation lends an entirely new perspective to the music, such that its open-ended quality seems to fit the topic in exemplary fashion, probing the nature of war, arms, etc. Although the ensemble downplays the significance of a technical approach in the notes, this sense of form is taken (at least in part) from their determination to sing from original notation, gathered around the manuscript, as well as a resulting emphasis on tonal alignment in the middle voices over a top-down (external) hierarchy — an approach to tuning for which I've praised The Sound and the Fury in the past. The unusual (31-beat) rhythm of the theme is thus able to drive diverging lines in what otherwise seems to be a straightforward cantus firmus setting: The seeming rigidity of the cycle, enforced in previous interpretations, thus melts away into meditative indeterminacy. (And let us not forget that some accounts consider Ockeghem's Missa L'homme armé to have been of special historical importance, at least within his output. Unfortunately, we might never know the exact chronology of these cycles, although the earlier provenance of Dufay's has recently been reasserted, including by Cantica Symphonia's recording.) Beyond such success with a piece I can only now describe as having been enigmatic, Ensemble Nusmido's performance of Busnoys' In hydraulis (on winds, with bell as hammer) is simply amazing: I feel as though I'm also really hearing it for the first time. Pairing it with Ockeghem's response to Busnoys, the puzzle canon Ut heremita solus (a work that seems to have particularly attracted wind performances already), makes for a brilliant sequence, and Agricola's famous Cecus is enjoyable here on winds as well. Finally, closing with maybe-Morton's Il sera par vous setting of the L'homme armé theme, in which the voices imitate the strum of strings, shows yet another facet of ensemble technique. I was very pleasantly surprised by all of this, and so the album was added to my personal list. After such a debut, what will this ensemble possibly do next?

Ensemble Syntagma has released a mediabook devoted to Lescurel, including an extensive essay on the poetry & rhetoric of his Dit enté, Gracïeux temps. The emphasis on French poetry per se thus marks something of a change for the ensemble, although I'm told that they already intend another mediabook dealing with other 13th or 14th century French poetic repertory. Besides providing an extensive discussion of the intellectual history behind Lescurel's use of poetic form & rhetorical imagery, the notes call into question some commonplaces of his biography, conclusions I had previously accepted without much thought: They argue that the identification of this Lescurel with someone hanged in 1304 is incorrect, for instance, and that the only known manuscript of his music — also containing the Roman de Fauvel — was most likely written in 1316, perhaps by Lescurel himself. Identification of Lescurel with the trouvère generation (an identification I've followed here, calling him perhaps the last of the trouvères) was already well-established with Sequentia's recording in 1982, and continues with that of Ensemble Gilles Binchois in 1991, even if the latter does emphasize Lescurel's single surviving polyphonic piece. However, Ensemble Syntagma emphasizes the new styles Lescurel adopted via musical notation, and especially with his own achievements in poetry, thereby identifying him stylistically more with the 14th century than the 13th. In some sense, anything to do with periodization is academic, but such an orientation does allow an amazing analysis of Lescurel's Dit, placing it more carefully in its precise historical circumstances. Lescurel's achievement thus includes the sort of spontaneous formal creation within his writing that e.g. Machaut was only able to follow (rather than continuing to innovate). My emphasis here is on music & sound, though, and not poetry per se, even if there is important overlap. Within that orientation, although it's remarkable that it's been over 20 & 30 years since the earlier prominent Lescurel albums, the present mediabook's emphasis on the Dit makes for relatively few musical pieces (as compared with e.g. Ensemble Gilles Binchois' program). The songs included are strikingly performed, however, with a real vibrance gained over this period (and partly, no doubt, due to newer recording equipment). The notes also remind us that the single manuscript of Lescurel's music is alphabetical and cuts off at G, so it's likely that much has been lost. I'm actually reminded of e.g. Alla Francesca's recent Thibaut de Champagne program, which has a similarly striking vibrance, as well as some dramatic recitation. (Thibaut would have already been dead a few decades by the time Lescurel was born, however.) In that sense, I've already endorsed the sorts of sound & voice effects found in the Dit performance, even if dramatic tropes aren't necessarily my main interest. In any case, the mediabook is very successful at its intent, illuminating the various subtle relationships within the Dit, together with its historical context, including by surrounding it with some of Lescurel's most appealing songs. I consider poetic analysis of this sort to be invaluable, and indeed I believe that far more people should learn medieval rhetoric in the way it's presented here: Hopefully this work will lead to increased attention to the more musical side of the repertory, too.

The Orlando Consort has released The Dart of Love, the second volume of their Machaut Edition for Hyperion. So that project appears to be moving along. Although I don't share the obsession that some (particularly in England) appear to have with all-vocal performances, the resulting consistency of approach & sonority does have something to offer for a complete edition. I'm not sure how well the consistent timbres will appeal to the general listener over many hours of the ultimate result, and it continues to be audibly clear that some lines would be more idiomatic on strings, but I find the exercise worthwhile. That said, as the timbre comment suggests, the performances can also be a bit distant & low in energy sometimes. However, they do reward attention, and the two first recordings (both two voice ballades) have some intriguing melodic twists. One step this program takes, at least in the liner notes (by Anne Stone), is to dig into the chronology of Machaut's music, and how some of his songs relate to other songs of his era. This is a valuable step, as to this point, Machaut's music has usually been treated monolithically, perhaps broken down according to particular publication or by genre. The former approach does imply a particular point in time for a program, at least (although I don't know that anyone has studied possible recycling of material), but hasn't supported explicit exploration of the relation between the music and what comes before. (Even these notes make no mention of e.g. the virelai's hybrid cultural roots.) This is a welcome development, and the inclusion of some of the music that directly influenced Machaut has the potential to make this "edition" more interesting than I might have anticipated. In any case, I've added this item to the existing entry on my personal list, and look forward to future volumes. How many years do they intend to take? There are potential positives both to going quickly & going slowly, but I do want to note that the present pace suggests approximately a decade long project.

I've enjoyed The Spirit of Gambo's Jenkins discs: It's good to hear different perspectives on this music beyond the English consort ensembles, it's good to hear people pushing forward with interpretive ideas, and more specifically, I find this group's approach to both the instruments (by which I mean making them, mechanically, etc.) & playing together to be excellent & fitting for the music. So receiving their new album devoted to Tye was very welcome. In this case, they expand on their quartet lineup (as the vast majority of the music is in 5 parts), and the music is also almost a century older: These might be reasons for concern, but I found their Tye album quite enjoyable too. The Savall album was recorded over 25 years ago, which is kind of difficult to believe somehow. (Spirit of Gambo's was released last year, but for some reason, I don't see these right away.) It did succeed in attracting me to this music, but I always found it a bit fussy, and never entirely satisfying, so a new album has been welcome, and was added to my personal list. The other piece of this discussion, which I mention in that entry, is why Tye? How or why was he the guy to write this series of In Nomine works — an extended series of 21 variations, perhaps to be compared with the Goldbergs or Diabellis in the world of keyboard music? Not too much is known of Tye (c.1505-c.1573), but this record does note that he received doctorates from both Cambridge & Oxford, a degree that was not typical of musicians in his era. His political associations seem somewhat problematic to me, but I guess it was a symptom of the "free thinking" (that freedom could somehow involve restriction is nothing new, but the Puritans — whom Tye's benefactor seems to also reject, in anticipation, as too extreme — certainly put the icing on that cake) of the time. In any case, and given what appear to be family references & such in the variations, it seems that they were written (or at least conceived) over a number of years. I've not been as enthusiastic about the broader English repertory of this specific era as some people, but it was still a time of not only great change, but change that played a significant role in shaping subsequent centuries around the world. For whatever reason (and perhaps it's mostly a matter of access), Tye, via these pieces, is one of its iconic musical figures, in this case working within the instrumental idiom. I've never found his choral music to be as compelling, presumably because of its more public character. The consort music continues to be relatively singular, given its scope, something to be matched by other composers only decades later.

I should also note the new Jenkins Quartets album from Alberto Rasi & Accademia Strumentale Italiana, recorded a full five years after The Spirit of Gambo's first (which still seems very recent to me). I enjoyed many of Rasi's releases from several (or more) years ago, but had not noticed anything from him recently. It's interesting that his group is back (to releasing international albums) and calling itself a viol consort. This album didn't do much to dislodge my admiration for The Spirit of Gambo's Jenkins quartet albums, but I look forward to future releases from this newly rededicated ensemble.

In August, when discussing Alla Francesca's previous album devoted to troubadours, I openly wondered where future productions would turn for repertory. Already we have an answer from Alla Francesca themselves in their album devoted to Sephardic-trouvère connections: Trouvère melodies & interpretive techniques are used with Jewish texts (whether in Hebrew, or only thematically). This album was actually prompted by non-medievalist forces documenting Jews in France, and so I'm sure that project was happy to be able to access Alla Francesca's expertise. Juifs et Trouvères is an enjoyable album, although as the forgoing suggests, I'm not sure how significant it is from a musical perspective. It makes for more of a speculative accompaniment to other projects, and perhaps demands a multimedia presentation.

Longtime readers will know that wide-ranging programs are usually not my favorites, but I thought I should make a note of Argentum et aurum by Ensemble Leones. (Of course, this ensemble has also released other recent programs, in particular centering on instrumental music of the great Franco-Flemish composers, that have very much appealed.) In this case, the impetus was a research study on the music being performed in the vicinity of Vienna during the early Habsburg period. The notable aspect is the fine interpretive job that Leones do with such a broad range of repertory, both chronologically & stylistically: Very vivid, with contrasts. The album will probably appeal to a wider audience with its variety.

I had previously noted anticipation for Graindelavoix's third & final release in their series around Villard de Honnecourt, Motets. This is the only album in the trilogy that focuses on polyphony, so that makes it of more general interest to me, and indeed the Ars Antiqua motet can be especially fascinating. Motets comes from the same recording sessions, summer of 2010, as the other albums in the Villard series, and so it seems natural to wonder what Graindelavoix is doing now. (Their most recently recorded album is actually Cesena from 2011.) Are they even still active?

In any case, Motets continues the emphasis on "repertory in motion" — i.e., these aren't the most exceptional works, or even especially original for the time, but they do represent the way the broader repertory was articulated at a particular time & place. As such, the program illustrates more of the "in progress" potential of the Ars Antiqua motet than it does any point of arrival or consummation. (Already we had Clemencic demonstrating the layers of creation in the motet repertory, although his program uses a masterpiece for each illustration.) In that sense, its value as an album becomes exemplary of something beyond itself: The situation is not unlike my attempt to list favorite albums for improvisatory music, where the condition of listening to the album multiple times is radically different from the condition of its production. My "snapshot" of favorite improvisatory albums is thus immediately a distortion. We can say the same about medieval music albums, especially of the Ars Antiqua, since the day to day affair of music was of a totally different character from the formation of a canonical repertory, set in stone not only in a recorded performance, but in writing. It's difficult to keep in mind the exceptional character of almost every medieval album in this regard, not only the unusual character of music being written & surviving, but the unusual character that usually motivates a selection for recording: The vast majority of music surviving from the era is plainchant, after all. In keeping with its emphasis on Villard, it's easy to describe Motets, correspondingly, as an audio sketchbook. As such, its achievement is more in the associated process, and in turn in the sort of thoughts I'm articulating here, than it is in the "final" audio result itself. For one thing, most of these are simple 2-voice sketches, sometimes filled in (in the performance) with other versions from more prominent sources. So the program doesn't fit well into a "favorites" model in the sense I've typically used, i.e. about the music on the album, although as I hope this discussion shows, I find the resulting contextualization of & by this album to be quite interesting & worthwhile.

The conception & notes for Motets are a real tour-de-force of Deleuzian theory: We find not only the "nomadic," articulated both in the person of Villard and in the way musical materials themselves were passed around, but also machinic logic. Indeed, the notes present such a cogent argument for viewing Ars Antiqua motets as machinic assemblages that it's difficult to view them as anything but canonic in this regard. (I find it rather satisfying that such assemblages should come through so clearly in an arena far removed from what Deleuze & Guattari seem to have ever considered.) For one thing, the motets threaded together the sacred & secular in their different voices, operating in different time scales, suturing domains that were considered inherently unreconcilable. This "suture" is necessarily of a fluid character, linked closely to passing affective response. The album thus emphasizes the practical (as with Villard) and non-scholastic character of this music. Speaking for myself, I have long felt resentment toward any discussion that presents this music as of only theoretical interest, not for practical purposes, etc. I didn't necessarily know how to articulate my resistance to this idea, other than to say that I was quite certain I was enjoying the music as music, but here we do have an articulation according to the machinic linkages between the different layers: Different domains can continue in their own way, but they do interact if not intersect, and these kinds of interactions eventually lead to what we would later call motivic logic. (The notes also consider the motets as proto-cinematic machines, given their exploration of time scales, as well as becoming-minor in their incorporation of language. The latter, again, seems like a perfect example, yet presumably not one for the original authors.) The machinic linkages are practical in the sense that they do, in fact, assemble different modes of thought. This is a step, then, in schematizing linkages between different modes, as many different versions of similar material are worked out in affective practice. (It must be emphasized that these pieces explore the way the mind works in many ways. I should also note that, having presented this work as "a step," being locked into a more rigid conception was not already implied, but merely a retrospective assessment.) The conception of the world that emerges in the motet-machine is very different from that of the modern era, and certainly different again from what the modern era has projected onto the medieval era. However, particularly taking up the latter thread (in a kind of unraveling), the schemes here & their assemblage via proto-motif challenge our conception of the creation of modern thought itself. For one, these motets are basically open systems: It's with the modern, i.e. tonality, that we encounter a closed system reterritorialized via inscription in the tonic-dominant space: That world is dictated via container instead of being explored via (multiply) internal motion. (And it's probably worth noting specifically that modernity foreclosed according to transcendental logic, leaving practice as a messy residue. Politically, modernity then levels this very claim against the medieval world.) The notes do not discuss the origins of the instrumental pieces, but they are basically fantasies on some of the secular melodies, dance as another thread of machinic assemblage. Unsurprisingly, this is exactly what Schmelzer & Co. went on to explore further in Cesena; we just had to wait a few years to read/hear this intervening step, the step that places the logic itself in sharp relief. So what now?

I appreciate that Michel Sanvoisin continues to record previously unrecorded La Rue pieces, particularly masses. (I don't necessarily appreciate that it's particularly masses, but that's what he's particularly recording.) His latest album features the Missa Tous les regretz, certainly overdue for a recording. (The Nunca fué pena mayor is also worth hearing as one of La Rue's more distinctive early large-scale works.) The interpretation does show enough to make it clear that the Missa Tous les regretz is indeed one of La Rue's major masterpieces of 4-voice motivic style, but the overall result, including the recorded sound, is just so uneven that it's difficult to recommend for anyone but the specialist. There's something to be said for getting this music onto record, though, so thanks to Sanvoisin for that, and I hope the effort will bring more attention to La Rue's discography.

I want to acknowledge the final Hilliard Ensemble album here, perhaps as a concession to nostalgia. (I think one could argue that I typically take a rather non-nostalgic approach to this music, at least considering it is by nature historical. Perhaps I delude myself with that remark.) The material, English carols & motets of the mid-15th century, is not of high interest to me, but it is material the ensemble selected as their favorite. I think back to their old recordings of Dufay, La Rue, Josquin, Dunstable, Perotin, and especially Ockeghem. These had a large effect on me in the circa 1990 time frame. Who knows if I would be writing on these topics today if not for the Hilliard Ensemble. What they brought to this music is obvious enough: A sense of vocal ensemble virtuosity, driven by the singers themselves. Whereas the actual sonic result might be rather different, there can be no doubt that a sense of vocal ensemble virtuosity marked the original creation of this music. That's the ensemble's biggest legacy, beyond the performances & recordings themselves. That they continued to be a productive group for around 35 years is also amazing (and that they could announce a "retirement" in an album is also the exception).

To exhaust my backlog for the moment (while a couple of other potentially intriguing items already appear on the horizon), I turn to music only a few decades older, but in some ways, seemingly of a different world, Dufay's masses of 1453. This is the sixth recording devoted to Dufay by the Cantica Symphonia ensemble, dating back fifteen years. Consequently, although their style incorporating instruments — reflecting Italian practice, as they are an Italian ensemble — is not to the taste of some scholars & audience, it has had a lengthy period to be developed & refined. Indeed, this is their third recording devoted to Dufay's mass music, and the most clear & accomplished to date. It was consequently added to my personal list, where I make some other remarks. This is highly significant music, both from a historical perspective & in turns of "pure" enjoyment (a nonsense concept, ultimately, it must be admitted), and here it receives a very lucid & convincing interpretation. Although someone might prefer a different type of ensemble performing it, it's difficult for me to imagine a reading that uncovers anything more in these rather well-worn masses. In fact, the Binchois Consort recording of the Missa Se la face ay pale, released in 2009, already illustrated that mass rather well. (And it was their own fifth recording devoted to Dufay, and possibly their last?) The present recording doesn't really reveal new details, but it is more forceful, and has the benefit of pairing the Missa L'homme armé, a work that has had a large number of recorded interpretations, none of which I had found all that compelling. So the latter is the main impetus for my preference here. The year 1453, just before the fall of Constantinople, and resulting consummation of the epochal shift in trade routes that had already begun, will always appear as something of a historical apex for Western Europe. Here we have its most celebrated music: Readers from other cultures might want to have a listen.

Apparently I should have paid a lot more attention to the Huelgas Ensemble recording of Pipelare back in the 90s, considering that the recent Sound and the Fury recording is among the most striking "new" programs I've heard from the era in a while. (Whether the previous program fitting that description is their La Rue or their Caron depends on what "new" means. The La Rue program amazed me, but in some sense I expected it. Of course, making this comparison only underscores how much The Sound and the Fury has done for c.1500 sacred music over the past several years. They are in a league of their own when it comes to introducing previously neglected material.) In fairness to me, not that I deserve any slack, I was not terribly taken with the Huelgas Agricola recording from a few years later, and never have been that taken with Brumel, whose contemporary fame they inaugurated with their Earthquake mass recording at the beginning of the 90s — this marking their main entry into the repertory. The style was & remains kind of muddy, and some of their programs relied on extracts. Moreover, I noted the similarity between Pipelare & La Rue immediately, but at that time, La Rue's discography was a mess (as was c.1500 music in general, with so many problems of ficta & rhythm), and it was difficult to discern Pipelare's relative status — I took him to be a lesser figure with a similar style. I was mistaken on that point, as the new recording amply demonstrates, and the fact that I feel a need to revisit this history of almost twenty years ago underscores just how mistaken I was. (There is also a recording from 1940 on 78rpm, making the current release the third with Pipelare in its title.) I even created a Pipelare discography here at the FAQ, a mere two weeks after stating I wouldn't be adding new resources (a statement I still maintain in principle; I don't mind being contradictory), partly to attempt to correct my error.

In making some adjustments to my activity here, I have yet to fully articulate for myself the distinction between comments on this page and those at my personal list, where this Pipelare set has been added. That page does make a few remarks that I will not try to repeat here. Consequently, beyond those remarks, I'm not sure what else to say here, other than noting the history above. Pipelare's style is quite distinctive & compelling, and his apparent eschewal of prominent positions — he left the only one he had rather quickly for unknown reasons — is perhaps a sign of the changing times. World conquest was underway, the Reformation was brewing, and musical style would soon be standardized over the same period that saw increased oppression not only applied to some unfortunate world cultures, but at home in Europe as well. Soon would come the age of famines & the second serfdom, and freely styled creative music such as Pipelare's would be forgotten, or at least removed from the highest circles of power. It's this shift that marks the end of an era, musically, and why I & others persist in calling it the Golden Age. By way of appendix to that point, perhaps it's worth noting the very different provenances of composers such as Agricola, La Rue, and Pipelare: The latter evidently emerged from the piper's guild to receive a theoretical education. Talent could emerge unexpectedly, and unconnected with consolidating power, an observation I'll simply leave dangling.

I have begun to lament the relative lack of attention to the Franco-Flemish motet repertory recently, as my frequent calls for recordings of the secular music have started to be heard, apparently. (More could certainly be done.) On the sacred side, although the mass repertory, as the "symphony" of the period, is well worthwhile, and recent recordings, particularly by e.g. The Sound and the Fury, have illuminated & clarified a great deal in this area, it's worth remembering that the motets have been considered at least as important, both at the time & earlier in twentieth century scholarship, with a preference toward mass or motet attributed on the basis of individual composer. For one thing, masses are almost "instrumental" in impetus with their predesignated (pro forma) texts, whereas motets allow for more selection, or even composition of text (as in the chanson). For example, Gustav Reese considered Josquin's motets to be his most distinctive compositions, in large part because of his handling of texts. (And here I don't mean "word painting" in the sense of using the text to mediate musical decoration within a standard modal or tonal scheme, but rather conceive the form itself relative to the text.)

So at this point, we really need more motet recordings from the Golden Age, and The Spy's Choirbook, a double album by Alamire (the ensemble), is a start. This is a rather interesting historical program, derived from an ornate manuscript that Alamire (the scribe) sent to Henry VIII in 1516/7, a collection of motets from some of the leading composers of the period (all anonymous in the manuscript). The interpretation uses a rather large vocal ensemble, sometimes including instruments as well. Consequently, although there is a good overall formal sense for this music, i.e. cadences & tonal relations are articulated clearly with their large-scale structural relations, smaller-scale interactions & motivic development are often obscured. (The handful of all-instrumental performances are actually some of the most compelling in the set, often bringing out more motivic & passing details.) This is more of an issue for some of the motets in the program than others, but personally, I most enjoy the music that has a lot of detailed small-scale interaction to go along with interesting formal progressions. The two opening, paired (stately) pieces are topical, related to conceiving an heir, and although the topicality sets the program, the pieces themselves are rather stiff from a musical perspective. That doesn't set great expectations for the program, but there are highlights: The La Rue & Josquin (possibly including the very striking Tota pulchra es) motets are appealing, for instance, although they immediately call for more detail. (The series on Dulces exuviae is another highlight for those who like to compare.) Regardless, this is easily the most substantial program of motets from the period to appear in quite some time. It's thus well worth hearing.

I have a series of Franco-Flemish polyphony recordings to discuss, as "release" season seems to be fully underway. This time of year is usually the most active, and once again we are seeing a strong batch of releases. It's good to see there's still life out there when it comes to recording this repertory. I don't take it for granted at this point. I've been slow to write these discussions, preoccupied with other happenings, and I'm not sure how long it will take me to treat the whole batch, but I'll get to it — or at least the part where I have something to say.

Anyway, let me start with perhaps the easiest to discuss: The Brabant Ensemble released a Brumel album. Not coincidentally, this is some of the earliest music they have recorded, if not the earliest, at least judging (quickly) by titles. Brumel, among composers of this period, has generally appealed to listeners (and musicians) who are mostly interested in later music. Stephen Rice's liner notes oblige that orientation, with their frequent implication that this music, being prior to the Council of Trent, is particularly early. Among the major composers of his generation, of course Brumel is known for an emphasis on homophony & rhythm: The same rhythmic figures might repeat in different places in the texture, for instance, perhaps insistently, rather than participate in motivic development. There is imitative writing here, but a lot of "light" chordal writing too, which Rice aptly describes as Italianate. The music can remain relatively close in tone to the plainchant on which it is based, but decorated with harmonies (in a sense, not so unlike hymns of several decades earlier). So that probably summarizes pretty well both why Brumel is popular with some listeners, and relatively unpopular with me (although, as should be obvious, I am listening & writing still). The performance is well-conceived, with a shameless exuberance singing out Brumel's rhythmic figures. It works well, and this ensemble's experience (even if it's mainly with music a few decades later) shows. They clearly interpret & show what makes Brumel Brumel.

Chronology tends not to be very clear for this music, and so when Franco-Flemish pieces (such as mass cycles) from the Golden Age show similarities, it's difficult to know who influenced whom (or indeed if a lost example is involved). So whereas Marbrianus de Orto seems to have been a close contemporary of Brumel, and some of their approach to counterpoint (when Brumel engages in it) sounds similar, it is challenging to order the masses on The Sound and the Fury's De Orto album relative to Brumel's work recorded above. I might suggest the L'homme armé mass was earlier, and the Mi-Mi more contemporaneous. In any case, relative to Brumel is only one aspect of chronology to mention: The De Orto album was actually recorded a month prior to The Sound and the Fury's Ockeghem Mi-Mi album, inverting what is certainly the original order (and perhaps adding some insight to the Ockeghem interpretation). This is also a download-only album, a trend I do not welcome. (A friend helped me hear it, since I don't want proprietary software on my computer.) De Orto's discography was a relatively late addition to the FAQ (prompted by the Cut Circle album, making the current release the second to put De Orto in its title), but this album confirms he belongs, at least among the second tier of his contemporaries, even if for the purpose of discussing influence & chronology. One significant choice for the interpretation of the L'homme armé mass was breaking long (perhaps instrumentally conceived) lines into vocal syllables fitting more with the surrounding texture. Although the Mi-Mi setting uses a variety of plainchant, it does not follow Ockeghem's modal implications, and ends up having some of the same improvisatory feel as the L'homme armé. (One might compare to Agricola, although the two have very different styles.) This is someone with a lot of fluid ideas. Between its age and the download-only factor, I am probably prejudiced against this album, so it hasn't been enough to convince me to add De Orto to my "favorites" list. Ultimately, I guess the music needed to blow me away, and it doesn't: There's nothing I can really put my finger on that sets it apart. It's well worth (maybe I shouldn't say that, given the specific circumstances, but in the abstract) hearing, though, and helps paint more of the total picture for this repertory.

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