Luogo e data di registrazione		- Luthersge Kerk, Haarlem (Olanda) - maggio 1979 (Cantates) - Henry Wood Hall, London (Inghilterra) - ottobre 1981 (Suites)
	Registrazione: live / studio		studio
	Producer / Engineer		Andreas Holschneider - Gerd Ploebsch / Hans-Peter Schweigmann
	Prima Edizione LP		- Archiv - 2533 442 - (1 lp) - durata 38' 29" - (p) 1980 - Analogico (Cantates - intero) - Archiv - 2534 009 - (1 lp) - durata 54' 53" - (p) 1982 - Digitale (Suites - parziale)
	Edizione "Collectio" CD		Archiv - 437 085-2 - (1 cd) - durata 67' 19" - (c) 1986 - ADD (Cantates) | DDD (Suites)
	Note		-

CLÉRAMBAULT: CANTATAS · HARPSICHORD SUITES Louis-Nicolas Clérambault was a wellknown organist and composer in hisday, and, like many an 18th-century French musician, came from a family of musicians. His father, for example, was one of the 24 Violins of the King, and his own sons were to inherit some of the positions that he held during much of his life. These included the posts of organist at the Grands Augustins in Paris, at the Maison Royale de Saint Cyr near Versailles, at St. Sulpice and at the Jacobins in rue St. Jacques. His compositions comprised airs and divertissements, motets, works for organ and for harpsichord, solo and trio sonatas, and - above all - cantatas. It was as cantata composer that Clérambault was most highly esteemed indeed, he was widely regarded as the foremost exponent of this form in France. His Orphée and Médée were both published in the first of his five books of cantatas (1710-26), the collection containing all but five of his 25 works in this genre. The first book, described by the composer as Cantates françoises à I et II voix avec simphonie et sans simphonie appeared only four years after the first works of this kind were published in France: those by Jean-Baptiste Morin (1677-1754), who was acknowledged to be the originator of the French cantata. Yet Clérambault’s cantatas of 1710 give no impression of being apprentice-pieces; on the contrary, Orphée was universally judged to be the composer’s masterpiece. Indeed, the French cantata, for all its novelty in that country, emerged during the early years of the 18th century as a fully-developed form. What changes there were to it in later years were in the direction of compression rather than expansion. Clérambault belonged to that generation of composers in France caught up in a wave of Italianism that swept over Paris at the close of the 17th century, and like some others of that generation (such as François Couperin) he tried his hand at composing in the Italian style. There is, for example, an “Italian aria” by Clérambault included in Ballard’s anthology of Les meilleurs airs italiens (1708). Not surprisingly, such frank imitations led nowhere artistically, but the techniques gained from such exercises were put to good use when some composers were drawn to the possibilities of combining French and Italian styles. From this union sprang both the French sonata and the French cantata, two forms admirably suited to the intimate surroundings of the Parisian salon, which became to the 18th century what Versailles had been to the 17th century. If the sonata had to wait a little time while French violinists caught up on instrumental techniques borrowed from Corelli before it achieved a full measure of expression, the cantata, stimulated by the example of Stradella, Carissimi, the young Scarlatti and others, announced itself in a firm, full voice. Thus, some of the earliest French cantatas - like Médée and Orphée - are amongst the most resourceful. In uniting the two national styles cantata composers in France preferred to retain the essential character of French melody. Its style was summed up by writers of the period in the word douceur which implied sweetness, suaveness and simplicity. Thus, French melody avoided the wide leaps and athleticism found in many Italian arias. Its very structure was the result of elegantly balanced phrases rather than the product of motivic or thematic “development”. It was the retention of this style of melody which largely prevented the French cantata from sounding like a mere imitation of the form which had inspired it. While on the one hand the “Frenchness” of its expression was heightened by sensitive and delicate ornamentation in le goût français, many composers (Clérambault included) also introduced a degree of bravura new to French music of the period and clearly indebted to the Italian bel canto aria. In retaining the French style of melody composers were faced with the problem of extending the lyrical span beyond that of the short and simple airs which up until then had formed the repertoire of French vocal chamber music. They did this through recourse to Italian procedures: the “ritornello structure” (in which the vocal entries are separated by instrumental interludes, often quite extensive ones); the anticipation of the opening vocal phrase by the continuo accompaniment; the so-called devise opening (where the first vocal entry is interrupted by the obbligato before giving out the idea in full); by the almost total adoption of the da capo structure. If these helped achieve a lyrical expansion, the expressiveness of the melody was nevertheless still French. The Italian elements of expression lay more in the realm of rhythmic vivacity and in the rich resources of harmony and modulation. In the French cantata - especially those by Clérambault - are found some of the most telling harmonies in French Baroque music. In Orphée, for example, there is a biting dissonance at the words “un sort affreux” (a hideous fate) which wonderfully conveys the hero’s grief. In the same work the music moves into F# major and G# minor, keys rarely touched upon in French music of the previous century. The expressive possibilities of modulations and chordal relationships were used to fine effect in the recitatives of the French cantata. While some composers, like Clérambault, moulded their declamation along the lines of Lully (in a measured flow with changing time-signatures) rather than copy the style of recitativo secco, they infused it very often with an intensity made possible through the new harmonic resources. Like most French cantatas, Orphée and Médée are based upon mythological incidents. The practice stemmed, of course, from the Italian cantata, but became stronger in the country of its adoption through the authority of the poet Jean-Baptiste Rousseau (1671-1741) who early in his chequered career cultivated the writing of cantata texts to the level of a minor literary form. Rousseau tells us that he chose mythological subjects because they lent themselves very readily to allegory, this being revealed as a kind of “lovers’ maxim” in the final verse. At the end of Orphée the moral is very clear: even as far as the gloomy regions of Hades love’s flame is triumphant. Médée, however, concludes with no such maxim. Neither of these cantatas used texts by Rousseau. Orphée is by a M. de Rochebrune; Médée by an anonymous poet. Both go well beyond the six verses of alternating recitatives and arias favoured by Rousseau. Clérambault was obviously drawn to these two texts because of their impassioned outbursts: Orpheus pleading to the stern God of the Underworld to release his beloved wife Euridice; Medea raging at the infidelity of her husband Jason. In conveying these feelings Clérambault’s music rises to powerful eloquence. Both works are scored for high voice with an accompaniment of violin, flute and continuo (harpsichord with cello or bass viol). Comments from composers and performance-manuals of the day make it clear that cantatas for high voice may be sung either by soprano or tenor (in the case of the latter some adjustment to the accompaniment may occasionally be called for). While it may seem logical for a cantata dealing with Orpheus to be sung by a tenor, yet it is a recorded fact that whenever Clerambault’s Orphée was performed at Philidor’s Concerts français (an offshoot of his famous Concert spirituel) it was sung by Mlle Le Maure. In Orphée the soloist takes the “roles” of Orpheus, Narrator, Pluto and Chorus; in Médée they are confined to Narrator and Medea. Although the instrumental forces are relatively slender, Clérambault produces a remarkable variety of sonorities in these two works, including passages of the utmost delicacy when the keyboard part is lifted high into the treble register and the violin replaces the cello or viol to play the “bass” line. When this happens in Orphée (“Monarque redouté...”) the effect is that of a lyre accompanying the hero’s words. It is also in movements such as this and in the Evocation scene of Médée (“Cruelle fille des Enfers...”) that Clérambault reveals his French background, for although the music blends together elements from both schools, the imperceptible merging of lyricism and declamation has its source in the operas of Lully. Yet the expression is Clérambault’s. In uniting the styles of French and Italian music Clérambault brought the elements together in a personal way. As D’Aquin de Chateaulyon said of the composer shortly after his death: “He has found out melodies and means of expression which are his alone, and which result in his being held up as the one and true model” (Siécle littéraire de Louis XV, 1754). David Tunley ····· Clérambault’s two harpsichord suites were first published in 1702 (a few extra pieces were added to the edition of 1704). Although they belong firmly to the tradition of late-17th-century clavecin music, Clérambault shows himself quite familiar with the more modern Italian styles as well: while the unmeasured preludes, the C minor Allemande, the Double and the Sarabandes are very French, the C major Allemande (marked gay) and the C minor Gigue (in running 12/8 time) are more Italian. Clérambault was primarily famous for his cantates, a very French cantata form which he made his own. It is not surprising, then, to find in his music a subtle melodic gift, which is here heard particularly in the sarabandes, never obscured by the opulent ornaments and chords. The C minor Allemande is particularly beautiful, a model of Clérambault’s style. With a long opening phrase it sinks down more than an octave, followed by a comparable long descent in the bass line. This exploration of the harpsichord’s whole range leads to an increasing fragmentation of the phrases, the introduction of snatches of imitation, and finally - in the second half - to an extended sequence in which a very short phrase is passed back and forth between the hands, again forming a gradually sinking pattern. It is this kind of large-scale control of the progress of a movement, allied to a fine awareness of the smaller details, that confirms the composer’s stature and places Clérambault’s harpsichord works, despite their being few in number, among the most admired of his generation. Davitt Moroney