Guillaume de Machaut was born in 1300. He served John
Luxembourg Czech king first, then he became the canon of Rheims during the
reign of Charles Navarra.
He was also a very famous poet. His pieces were found
in over 70 manuscripts - it is completely unique considering the 14th century.
This work of his is well known for it is among the first
pieces where the movements of the Mass are noted basically by one author. It
was customary to compile the insertions of a ceremony or liturgy from various
pieces in early times and even centuries later; however, everything is
interweaved onto one idea; the record frames this peculiarity supplemented with
some motets.
Why is it a speciality?
On the one hand, it is the era of
Ars Nova when the stock of musical devices was so different that we wonder how
we can listen to this record, on the other hand, Machaut composed with such
special musicality which makes it unique even today.
It was obviously noticed by many others too so Messe de
Notre Dame is well known enough, it became a stronghold on the horizon of Early
Music.
However, this performance is so different that it almost restructures
our hitherto opinions.
The question arises right away: did it sound this way in
Machaut’s era or not?
Critics seem to doubt it.
In the case of Graindelavoix
this opinion was nearly in the cards; mind you, the Ockeghem record was a big
stone thrown into the nice still water of the early choir performances; it
happened as long as 10 years ago, yet, the waves are still whirling.
Now the
situation is much more complex for this diction is expressively…what is like?
…Well, it is as if it wished to deliberately go against the canon.
Annoying?
It is.
One has the feeling that a flock of cavemen are locked in
the church. Cacophonic shouting, parts random entering, outslides near half and
quarter notes. The basics of Christian metaphysics were explained to a barbaric
tribe with great difficulties, they were taught to sing the songs and now they
can express themselves in this fashion.
When we try to make an opinion at first we might simply walk
into the trap of trying to explain things backwards of which we haven’t the
slightest idea how they worked in the past. When the well-bred, rice-powered
Bach fugue, strict and soulless precision is the starting point in which we are
stationary painted grey - then the failure of comprehension is guaranteed.
Björn Schmelzer had an entirely different approach. He
simply freed himself of the compulsory deductive forces of the performances of
Early Music and set off from his own completely intuitive standpoint.
Obviously, debates could go on till twilight over which approach is correct but
we had better forget all these while listening to the music. Even when it ab
ovo opposes the associative-compulsive operation of the human mind.
Anyway, we have seen something slightly similar in the
Mediterranean world; remember the comparison of Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater
versions. Le Poeme Harmonique too got enough in the neck when it - fully
rightly - was understood as part of a contemporary liturgy in some church near
Naples at the beginning of the 1700s. At present we are 350 years earlier
during Ars Nova where we can adore the dim stock of all kinds of theories even
nowadays.
Amidst listening to the record the assumption that we are
part of something magnificent is more and more silhouetting.
We realise that
those chaos entries occur according to a strict system; it attracts attention
that the half note drops are fully precise.
The voices are phenomenal, great
arcs interweave the whole performance.
Wildness more and more seems honesty.
When we do believe the story of Jesus Christ.
It is just like that when restoring an old painting or piece
of furniture: the forgotten colours and lights come to light. When we unwrap a
thin piece of china out of a wooden box and we are taken aback by the
delicateness of the hand painted patterns. For more and more inner delicacies
are turning up. We must move extremely carefully in a weird network of a
different musical language, in a vulnerable and transient matrix so that we can
feel the beauty of the patterns of the cobweb.
Thus the strange situation emerges where thin strings are
woven from this wild and implacable straightness in a way that their
reception…what does it do?
Well, let us say, it certainly civilises.
Like with
the porcelain. It civilises that the handle of the cup is not in the right
place, totally non-ergonomic, too thin, bad to look at, gets broken…fine but
then why all this misery? It makes our moves soft; if we do not want to spill
the tea we must heavily focus to avoid breaking it while looking at the
beautifully painted motives. And if we succeed in the manoeuvre then the
flavour of the tea will be completely different than sipping from the chipped
yellow cup. Or if we only carry it but do not understand, on our back, it is
big pressure, yet we cannot reach it despite the fact that it is all around us…
Is it highly recommended?
Not entirely.
Let us not tell lies especially to ourselves. We cannot like
both - this and String Serenade; there are things the Sun shines on
differently. Thus there are some who runs away, some shut their ears and yell
that it is cheap and meant for effect and let them torture with something else.
There are some who are fond of Peres’s conventional record. And some who adore
Bach collection rather or listen to the complete works of Mozart.
No any fault with their taste.
But there is a small part of the classical-music-lovers - whose tea will be of different flavour having discovered this CD.
This article was written for them.
Translated by Kenesei Andrea
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Thank you for the images.
