Handel: Complete Harpsichord Music Vol. 3

Description

Harpsichords, organs, and other keyboard instruments have always fascinated the composers of classical music. One could safely say that it is virtually impossible to be a good composer without being able to play the piano at an almost professional level, and, of course, a majority of great composers were also keyboard virtuosi. (Handel was certainly one of these, as his contemporaries were keen to affirm). Many had, and still have, the habit of composing at the keyboard – even when the finished work is not intended as having the keyboard as its destination; and, especially in the past, several compositions could better be defined as transcriptions of keyboard improvisations.
George Frederic Handel, as has been said, was an astounding organ and keyboard virtuoso, and his mastery of the instrument was undisputed and little rivalled. But his main skills did not lay in his capability to perform quick passagework and brilliant scales; rather, he was much admired for his proficiency in handling polyphony and complex textures. His forte was his brainpower, which allowed him to manage multiple lines and thick musical fabrics without losing control of any of them.
Some of the works recorded in this Da Vinci Classics album bear witness to this ability, and particularly those which, in various ways, are meant to evoke ensemble-playing. Keyboards, in fact, and as has been said, allow the performer/composer to play and conceive several melodic lines at one and the same time. This may result in either a genuinely polyphonic work, or in a kind of “block-writing”, structured by homogeneous units. Polyphony implies the coexistence of multiple melodic lines; its perfect expression is found in choir singing, whereby one or more people singe a specific tune, while others, in a seemingly independent fashion, propose their own melodic line. The seeming unrelatedness of the various lines is, of course, illusory. The illusion serves to entice the listeners into imagining a supreme freedom, a total creative liberty in which each person or voice moves in music with the utmost liberty, seeking just his or her own pleasure, but miraculously producing a unified whole in the making. The underlying philosophical/theological concept is that, in a healthy and blessed society, the individual’s good coincides with the common good; the pursuit of one’s true happiness (symbolized by the beauty of the individual melodic line) results in the global happiness of society. Of course, the impression of freedom is intended by the composer, and at the same time the result of very careful planning. Writing a good polyphonic piece is not much easier than solving combinatory calculus or successfully playing an extremely complex game of chess (or several games at once, as some champions can do).
The golden age of Western vocal polyphony was between 1300 and 1600 approximately, although good examples of polyphony are still being written today. Historically, however, the supremacy of polyphony seemed to slightly wane in the early seventeenth century, when the stage came to be taken by the so-called “cori spezzati”, or polychorality. This style was the brainchild (and spiritual child) of the Tridentine era. The need for a greater intelligibility of the sung text, but also the musical requirement of variety, encouraged composers to create a novel style, whereby several vocal ensembles, or choirs, were dislocated within a given space. Each choir tended to sing in homophony (i.e. without intertwining of the melodic lines, thus with a similar or identical rhythm), but variety was guaranteed by the alternation of the sounds’ origin. The listener could hear music coming from an ensemble at their right, from one at their left, from one in front or one in the back of the church. Thus, this style implied the presence of massive homophony (singing the same note-values together) and created “blocks” of homogeneous sounds coming from the same point of the church, to be followed by a response coming from another zone.
This style was among the originators of the Baroque concerto. Here the competing forces are instrumental, rather than vocal, but still the principle remains the same: “blocks” of sound in dialogue (here corresponding to soloist(s) and orchestra), even more clearly in the case of the Concerto grosso (where concertino, i.e. the soloist’s ensemble, and concerto grosso, i.e. the remainder of the orchestra played in alternation).
Several of the works found in this Da Vinci Classics album, continuing the complete recording of Handel’s keyboard works, seem to evoke these two principles, embodied in a rich keyboard texture. We have, in fact, an original transcription after a concerto, and the six fugues which at times are called “great”.
The Concerto found as the opening of this collection has a very complex genesis, mirroring Handel’s habit to “recycle” several of his best works. Originally, it was a concerto “a due cori”, i.e. written in an antiphonal style (just in the fashion of polychorality, as said slightly earlier); this work had been interpolated within the performance of Handel’s Oratorio Judas Maccabeus (1747). Indeed, earlier versions of some of its movements are found in Handel’s opera Partenope (1730), in his Overture HWV 424, and influences are also identified coming from Suites by Gottlieb Muffat. This Concerto, furthermore, exists in two versions: 305a, for organ and orchestra, and HWV 305b for solo keyboard. It should also be added that Handel himself did not supervise its first publication (1797), which was crated posthumously by Arnold, in London, on the basis of a four-movement work (the printed edition numbered three further movements). The general inspiration for this and other similar works by Handel comes from Corelli’s model; of course, in essence this means a dialogue between soloists and orchestra. But skilled composers were able to create the illusion of a “concerto” for a keyboard instrument alone. The inverted commas are indispensable: the Italian word concerto may derive from certamen (duel, struggle, competition), and/or concentus (making music together), but in either case is the presence of more than one musician rather indispensable. However, by employing stops and by skillfully writing for the keyboard, it is possible to structure the scoring texture in such a way that there is a sufficient contrast between a thinner fabric (representing the soloist or soloists) and a thicker one (the orchestral ensemble). Johann Sebastian Bach had transcribed for solo keyboards (organ or harpsichord) a variety of Italian concertos, and had ended up writing a “fake transcription” of an inexistent orchestral work, i.e. the Italian Concerto. Something similar appears here; Handel is such a master of keyboard and compositional technique that the result is an illusion of musical multidimensionality. In order to evoke the work’s origins, furthermore, the concluding Marche reminds the listener of the much-applauded oratorio Judas Maccabaeus.
This movement is preceded by an opening French Overture. This musical form was a symbol for solemnity and kingship throughout the Baroque era and beyond; Handel himself would adopt it, for instance, at the beginning of Messiah. French Overtures consist of a slow section in dotted rhythm, followed by a fugato section.
Another highlight of the rich programme recorded here is the F-major Air HWV 464, which – as many listeners will easily recognize – is an arrangement derived from the eponymous movement in Handel’s first Water Music suite (HWV 348). It is a fascinating piece, blending a serene mood, a noble pace, and a melodious handling of counterpoint.
The other most important item in an album which features many more small gems is the series of Fugues HWV 605-610. It has been surmised that they were composed precisely shortly after Water Music, which saw the light in 1717. At that time, Handel had to face the closing of the Opera in London, and therefore dedicated himself mainly to instrumental music. He composed the great suites for keyboard, which became the best-known example of his keyboard output; however, these Fugues should not be underestimated, since they were abundantly appreciated by the public. For instance, two theorists such as Johann Mattheson and Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg cited profusely from them in order to exemplify proper fugal composition in their treatises. Handel himself seems to have been fully satisfied with these works, as is witnessed by his reworking of some of them within other important compositions. Fugues HWV 605 and 609 ended up as part of one of Handel’s most admired oratorios, the splendid Israel in Egypt, respectively as “He smote all the first-born of Egypt” and “They loathed to drink of the river”. Fugue HWV 607, instead, has both a “pre-history” and a “post-history”, since it was derived from the Sinfonia which opens Handel’s Brockes Passion HWV 48, and was to be found again in the second Concerto grosso op. 3 no. 2; in the Concerto grosso immediately following it (op. 3 no. 3), the third movement is an arrangement of Fugue 606. Finally, Fugue HWV 610 can be recognized as the model for the second movement of a Trio Sonata, op. 5 no. 5.
Finally, a short mention should be made of the Chorale HWV 480, which is a setting of one of the most beloved Lutheran Chorales, Jesu meine Freude (which is, among other things, at the basis of one among Bach’s most splendid motets). Handel cites the chorale tune in the piece’s alto part (which is a rather unusual collocation), thereby framing it between the outer parts, freely composed.
Together, and with the other pieces found in this album, these works are a faithful representation of Handel’s skill as both a keyboard player and as a composer whose mastery of form and melodic fantasy are revealed in all the pieces recorded here.
Chiara Bertoglio © 2024