Monteverdi…
Unignorable, an absolute must in early music - although this
statement is perhaps too academic, representing rather a musicologist's point
of view.
So, what could nowadays be a true reason to take a liking to
Vespro? The answer might be but a couple of random thoughts, different for
every single listener, diverging neccesarily and at a great angle from the
objective line of textbooks and data on the net.
It is a church music, therefore, according to the rules of
the era, rather conventional in its structure. And this is very important,
being true not only for the frames, but also for the "stuffings". And
even if we can no more understand the old system, having become outsiders in
the meantime, and we no longer know what comes next and why, in a strange way
it does not affect the quintessence of the piece, at least not significantly.
Sublimeness and solemnity - these two features take hold of
us immediately. By the way, how nicely a methaphysical aspect is expressed by
latin sublime, meaning literally "up to the lintel"!
Looking into it a little deeper, an impressive framework is
unravelling slowly before our eyes. The vespers with all the psalms, the
Magnificat's paean, all rooted in the Holy Bible, are at least as complicated,
as the tools of the musical expression: the intro, the use of soloists and the
choir, and the way the different keys follow each other, develop into a
grandiose service following a multitude of rules, which were that time parts of
a familiar and fluently spoken musical language that in our time can only be
unfolded by real experts. Don't worry though – the heart of contemporary people
opens with the same little key it opened 400 years ago.
The introduction might be familiar from the Orfeo –
fanfare-like, a little too harsh perhaps, but attention-drawing, as if
advertising a circus, and somewhat alarming for sensitive souls, who maybe
think: God, would it be the same all over? Well, it is just the ad, no reason to
worry, no need to run away. After the intro comes an antiphone, an ancient
gregorian chant, conducting the way to the next movement, and it goes on like
this, and since the complexity of structure is fortunately overpowered by a
strong feeling of unity, from then on we are being amazed again and again.
As for the music itself, is is thoroughly fantastic, and in
the interpretation there can be felt a breathtaking emotional tension.
Something far from being usual. The orchestra is naturally
playing perfectly well, they are simply doing their job so to speak, but there
is an elusive, tender thrill coming from somewhere inside. Seemingly capricious
micro-wawes. The voices are great, even genious, but there is much more in
them, than that. Something strange, almost queer. The voice of Montserrat
Figueras is pulsing lightly in the lower register, a voice that is otherwise as
steady as a rock, here is quavering a little bit, yes, trembling, as if she
would stand at the age of twenty in front of an ultra-rigorous audition jury.
Well, it's something, under whose influence we slowly begin to get numbed. What
the earth is happening here? The choir is singing so wonderfully, that our
souls begin spiralling, somewhere upwards...
Then, later on, things become clearer.
For this is very early baroque, rooted deeply in the musical
tradition of the renaissance, therefore there is no such things here as
over-emotional, quavering vibratos, common only in romanticism much later, no
tears and sniffling-crying-snivelling, accompanied by touchingly sad
puppy-eyes, neither the egoist „me-me-me”, my faith, my emotions, my problem,
my psychoanalyst…
No, the quintessence is coming from above, and not from
inside, singers being nothing more than mediums here.
However, they are naturally humans, full of real feelings.
And still... they must have got a little crazy from this kind of music, because
they came to Italy from far away Catalonia, to this church named Santa Barbara;
jolting-wobbling there with much toil, to he place where the Vespro was first
performed, just because this bearded chap, this Jordi got the idea to honour
Maestro Monteverde by recording the CD right there. You get it? They did not go
to Cardona, their habitual place, where they have always gone, and are still
going to make their recordings, where they could travel easy and fast, would
sit on fine and comfortable, yellow-streaked chairs, and go on foot to their
favourite caffé nearby, and the trumpet player can ride on bycicle to the
rehearsals... Instead, there was much packing and fagging, an immensely
expanded budget, endless travel on bus, much dust and cold, because it was
January, then the horror of tuning the over-sensitive gutstrings after such a
journey, and the top of it all the effort needed to rehearse this
not-at-all-easy piece with an unfamiliar, absolutely unknown, local choir… And
still, it can be heard that everyone, really every single member fully
understood, why it was so important.
This incredible determination is really touching, and it
elevates the level of the interpretation in such a way, that it outruns all the
other recordings in beauty. In the booklet Jordi Savall also refers to „this
outstanding emotional” thing, but only delicately and casually, although as a
matter of fact its intensity must have been so strong, it could hardly fit into
the Santa Barbara.
Many-many years later, when dedicating this CD after a
torment of listening through the
Musikalisches Opfer at the Budapest Music Academy, I asked him, trying
to seem innocent, whether he could still remember the recording sessions, and
then he immediately got struck, pen swaying idly in his hand, eyes full of
remote starshine, and he said, yes, of course, and adding how beautiful it was…
I could hardly breathe… then it was over, both of us coughed politely, he
signed me my CD, while angels were fluttering around us, very close…
Some parts, like Nisi Dominus or Ave Maria, require quite an
effort not to rewind them over and over, not getting involved more and more,
and not to get infatuated too much.
What is this music really like, then? Well, it combines the
pureness of renaissance poliphony and the swell of great choir movements, it is
as melodic as Vivaldi's music much later, and it elevates the soul to such
height, that would only be reached by the strictly rigorous Bach in his most
beautiful cantatas.
The quality of sound is especially fine – if we listen to it
on a good chain, we almost hear the number of choir members growing, and next
to the breaths we begin to hear heartbeats as well. A paragraph in the booklet
tells us that after some faint-hearted attempts they decided to record all the
music with a single pair of omnidirectional mic, with the minimum of motion of
the musicians and singers, which, regarding the complexity and diversity of the
piece, is more than surprising. The result, however, is simply enthralling.
The original first recording is now available only at the
price of gold, but the remixed SACD is the best-sounding classical music
recording I've ever encountered.
It has been my favourite for almost 20 years. Those who like
Vespro, have already got it in stock for sure, but for those who are just
getting to know Monteverdi or the era, it is definately a great choice.
In May, 2012, there was a devastating earthquake in the
region of Mantova, and Santa Barbara got seriously damaged.
However, there must have been something in the air, perhaps
an extreme concern and love for old things, I don't know, but the church was
reconstructed in a very short period, labourers floating between Earth and
Heaven, like the souls of ancient saints, trying to bind together the lower and
the higher things again.
