Fanfare
October 2001
Both label and performer are new names to me, but then
it's not often I'm invited to trespass on what is normally the territory
of Haig Mardirosian. Christopher Stembridge is an English organist and
keyboard player currently based in Italy, where he teaches and gives
master classes on historic organs in Brescia and Arezzo. Doubtless that is
the reason he has chosen to give this wide-ranging program of English
keyboard works on an Italian organ, a small, single-manual instrument
located in the Church of the Ospedaletto in Venice. It was built in 1751
by the leading Venetian builder of the day, Pietro Nacchini, and has
remained unchanged since, having been restored in 1983. Full
specifications are given in the informative booklet, along with the
individual registrations employed for each work.
As the performer points out in his notes, his program
has been dictated by the limitations of his instrument, which like most
English organs until the 19th century, has no independent pedal, and a
restricted range, the latter the reason for the paradoxical omission of
Purcell. (Paradoxical because the disc takes its title from the famous
bass air in Purcell's 1692 Ode to St. Cecilia.) The program covers a
period of over two hundred years, from the strange, almost hypnotic,
anonymous "Uppon la mi re" and Hugh Aston's well-known "Hornepype"
variations (played on the characterful regal "Tromboncinin"
stop) through to cornet voluntaries by Boyce and William Walond. Every
form employed by English keyboard composers during this period is covered:
dances, variations, the early repertoire based on sacred canti firmi, and
free fantasies and voluntaries. Particularly impressive examples of the
last named are the two Gibbons Fancys (MB 7 and MB 8), beautifully crafted
pieces in mainly three-part counterpoint. Among the sacred works, the four
based on the plainchant hymn Eterne rerum by William Blitheman (c.
1525-91) are especially fine.
Purist will probably claim that this is too broad a
repertoire to be played at a single pitch (A1=438), and indeed several
works have been transposed. As a nonspecialist I found the program a
satisfying entity, not least because Stembridge's playing is highly
accomplished both in it musicality and technical command. The instrument
too, is appealing, the Principal both clearly defined and mellow, while
the flute stops are most attractive. Given the diversity of the program,
the high quality of the music, and the excellent performances, the disc
warrants a strong recommendation.
Diapason
October 2001
“Wondrous machine!/ To thee the warbling Lute,/
Though us’d to conquest, must be forc’d to yield:/ With thee unable to
dispute,/ The airy Violin/ And lofty Viol quit the field;”
Thus wrote Nicholas Brady in his Ode on St.
Cecilia’s Day (1692). The
wondrous machine featured on this recording is the Pietro Nacchini organ,
op. 160, built in 1751 for the Church of the Ospedaletto and restored in
1983 by Fanz Zanin. The Ospedaletto
was one of the four Venetian ospedali (orphanages) that were noted
for their musical activities in the 17th and 18th
centuries. Legrenzi, Porpora,
and Vivaldi were among the teachers of the girls who studied and lived at
theses institutions, and indeed, the didactic methods of these early conservatori
becoame the foundation of later conservatories in Paris, Berlin, and
London.
Christopher Stembridge has chosen 29 pieces by English
composers from John Bull to Handel to perform on this organ, and the match
of repertoire with instrument is felicitous. In his excellent liner notes, Stembridge explains his choice
of repertoire: “Like its Italian counterpart, the English organ before
the nineteenth-century was often a relatively small single-manual
instrument without an independent pedal section:
This description fits the Nacchini exactly, for it has one manual
and a pull-down pedal. The
specifications reflect the Italian tradition of creating a unified chorus
based on divisions of the 8’ principal, with stops at 8’, 4’, 2, 1
1/3’, 1’, 2/3’, ½’, 1/3’and
¼’, (bass only) A
hauntingly beautiful and full-bodied Voce Umana (treble only), flutes at
4’ (divided stop), 2 2/3’, and 1 3/5’ (treble only), and a
wonderfully snarly Tromboncini ( a divided regal) make up the
compliment of stops for the manual. A
Contrabasso 16’ and 8’ is available in the pedals, which are
permanently coupled to the manual.
The temperament is modified meantone, and pitch is slightly lover
(a=438) than a modern organ. A
picture of the organ and stoplist, as well as a list of the registrations
used on the pieces performed provides complete information about the
instrument. Stembridge shows
off the organ expertly, using creative and varied combinations of stops. The 8’, 4’, and 2’ foundations are solid and
well-blended, and the full chorus, heard only on the last piece, a Chaconne
by Handel, is brilliant but not overpowering.
Among the most memorable sounds are the Voce Umana, in the Vers
of John Blow (unfortunately, the only piece on the disk in which this stop
is used), and the Cornetta 1 3/5’ and Tromboncini 8’
used as alternating solo colors in the Voluntary I by William
Boyce. The Flauto 4’ has a pure, sweet sound, well-suited
to the simple piece on which it is used alone (My Lady Careys Dompe,
anonymous).
The music itself has a
wondrous variety. Stembridge
groups the pieces into three categories: dances and variations, liturgical
music, and fantasies and voluntaries.
Thirteen named composers and three anonymous ones supply keyboard
music from a period of two and a half centuries.
From the simple two-note ostinato bass of My Lady Careys dompe
to the luxuriantly florid lines of Orlando Gibbons’ Fancy (MusBrit.
8), no musical texture or style of the early English school is absent.
Stembridge has written excellent liner notes about the music, composers,
organ, pitch, and eighteenth-century pieces for solo stops.
Scholarship is mixed with humor as when we are told that Gibbons
“once was referred to as ‘the best Finger of his Age,”’ Stembridge
draws on his knowledge of Italian instruments and lifelong interesting
Italian keyboard music of the Renaissance and early Baroque periods for
his performance on this disc. He
plays incisively, expressively and rhythmically with an intuitive grasp of
the essence of every piece. When
the instrument, music, and performance are so perfectly matched,
historical music come to life. Highly
recommended.
The Organ Magazine www.theorganmag.com
November 2000
Anthologies of early English organ music are not
commonly encountered on record, so this new release is a welcome addition
to the catalogue. The programme encompasses some 200 years of composition
in England, moving roughly in an chronological order from Redford and
Alwood at the beginning to the closing Chaconne by Handel. The rather
austere fantasias are offset by lively dances, which do much to prevent
what could easily be a boring programme from being just that. Thus,
Redford's Lucem tuam is introduced in a delightful fashion by the skittish
My Lady Wynkfylds rownde by that well known composer, Anon. An increase in
inherent variety maintains the interest as the programme progresses,
moving towards to the voluntaries by Boyce and Walond, in the usual
slow:fast style.
The performer is a great scholar, particularly of
renaissance and early baroque Italian music – the similarities between
such music and the English repertory are large, and without a doubt
Christopher Stembridge proves an ideal interpreter. He currently teaches
at the School of Church Music in Brescia, and this perhaps explains what
may appear as a strange choice of instrument. Built in 1751 by Pietro
Nacchini for the Conservatorio dell'Ospedelatto in Venice, it contains the
typical stark Italian specification, coloured by flute mutations and a
rasping tromboncini.
However, the delicacy of 16th and 17th century English
organs has long since been replaced by weightier sounds, but in an Italian
instrument such as that at the Ospedelatto it remains, and such an organ
proves itself to be an ideal companion for the repertory. The tromboncini,
a trumpet regal rather than a full length trumpet, is the perfect
substitute for the regal, an instrument found in Henry VIII's court
amongst other places. In this capacity this rather bucolic rank sounds
just perfect for Aston's Hornepype , but its use in the Walond Trumpet
voluntary I was less happy with.
The recording is extremely good, preserving the chirpy
voicing of the pipework without forcing it on the listener – all too
easily the high pitched ranks such as the Vigesimanona ½ and above can
become piercing and overbearing.
The Living Church
September 2000
Wondrous Machine is what Nicholas Brady called the organ
in the Ode on St. Cecilia Day, and a notably wondrous one is on exhibit in
the CD by the name from Quilisma. On an organ built in 1751 by Pietro
Nacchini for the Ospedaletto of Venice, organist Christopher Stembridge
plays music by English composers of the 16th-18th centuries. The largely
unfamiliar music and the almost completely unfamiliar sonority of the
organ are attraction enough for curious music lovers. For the scholar some
serious questions emerge. English music of this period on an Italian
instrument built after it was all written? Musicological eyebrows might
well be raised.
The Commonwealth saw to it that no English organs of the
16th-17th centuries survived. Italian and English organs of the era
resembled each other, and the Italian instruments changed only slightly
over time. Thus the choice of this instrument is not an impossible one. If
anything, the Italian organs had a greater selection of stops,
particularly those up to 1 ½ ft., and Stembridge uses these imaginatively
to create a wide variety of sounds.
The 29 compositions are placed in four categories:
dances and variations, liturgical music, fantasy and voluntary, and
18th-century pieces for solo stops.
Stembridge plays throughout with a slightly detached
touch, undoubtedly appropriate for the period. In at least one instance he
is perhaps too zealous in solving the organist's perennial problem- the
instrument's lack of an accent capability. We generally handle this via a
slight silence robbed from the note before the one to be accented. In at
least one case Stembridge may have overcompensated by delaying the
accented note to gain an even bigger pause, causing a somewhat annoying
disruption in the rhythmic flow. Taken together, though, this is a richly
rewarding musical presentation.
Mark Siebert
