‘Op reis van Biber naar Buxtehude’ (Travels from Biber to Buxtehude)
The Rare Fruits Council / Manfredo Kraemer

‘Charming’ is not an adjective often associated with German chamber music from the turn of the eighteenth century. However, The Rare Fruits Council’s performance of music from Biber to Buxtehude, led by violinist Manfredo Kraemer, was exactly that: delicious in its lightness, easy phrasing and refusal to take itself too seriously. There was imagination, stillness, exuberance and everything in between, but above all, charm.

An unexpectedly playful rendition of Biber’s Sonata VII opened the concert, which set the tone for the performance as a whole. Although the programme was at first glance staunchly Germanic, it was an Italianate liveliness that prevailed throughout, born of the stylus fantasticus that Athanasius Kircher described in his Mursurgia Universalis of 1650 as ‘the most free and unrestrained method of composing…instituted to display genius.’ The style originated in Italy with Claudio Merulo and Girolamo Frescobaldi and was later imported to Germany by Frescobaldi’s student Johann Froberger. Streams of German musicians heading south into Italy, and Italian musicians traveling north into Germany and Austria ensured that the style remained alive in both places, if somewhat more reserved in the Germanic lands. Free and unrestrained The Rare Fruits Council certainly were; and if they did not quite reach the loaded and lofty heights of genius, they came pretty close.

Biber, despite his allegiance to the stylus fantasticus, often suffers from having his German roots too solemnly interpreted. Happily, The Rare Fruits Council was having none of it. Brisk tempi, matter-of-fact virtuosity and a strong unity of purpose supported a light-hearted, almost mischievous spirit, although a slight cautiousness prevailed now and then. Their Biber is Italian through and through, and indeed, Biber was geographically the closest of all the featured composers to Italy. Born in what is now the Czech Republic, he spent nearly all his life in Austria and is one of the most important composers in the development of the violin, blending the extravagant Italian style of the time with German polyphony to pave the way towards a new school of violin playing.

Pachelbel’s Partita VI followed Biber, a luminously energetic interpretation that still left room for some subtle French influence in the elegance of the Courant and Saraband. The admirably unflappable Luca Guglielmi, who moved with ease between organ and harpsichord for different movements and provided an imaginative and rhythmically-driven continuo throughout the concert, held the group in check during a few dangerous moments of rhythm and tempo. During Pachelbel, he was paired with Xavier Puertas on violone, a choice of bass instruments that was not always successful. Both organ and violone were muffled even in the calmer moments, although those movements with harpsichord were much clearer. Nonetheless, the ensemble produced a raw, generous sound, fizzing with character.

The journey from South to North Germany continued with Rosenmüller and Buxtehude. Johann Rosenmüller’s short sonata was given the full virtuoso treatment, although the piece itself had little impact. The composer is the only one on the programme who spent time in Italy; he fled to Venice in 1655 to escape allegations of homosexuality in Leipzig, and lived there for more than twenty years, working as a trombonist at S. Marco and later as composer at the Ospedale della Pietà, some twenty years before Vivaldi arrived.

Buxtehude’s Sonata in G (BuxWV 271) was a much more substantial work, but perhaps the least effective of the programme. The ease with which The Rare Fruits Council plays can be glorious, but, in this case, it left one wanting more drama. Refreshing though it was to hear Buxtehude performed as something other than ‘Bach on a bad day’, their predominantly light Italian approach could in this case have been balanced with a weightier German style. Indeed, Buxtehude’s scoring for violin, viola da gamba and continuo is a combination found commonly in Germany, Austria and England, but almost never in Italy. His sonatas break away from the traditional Italian four-movement structure, and beneath the improvisatory and sometimes apparently random structure is a well thought out plan. Though The Rare Fruits Council found all the quirks in Buxtehude, they overlooked some of the stability. Tempi were unclear (although Guglielmi again deserves credit for his unfailingly rhythmic playing), and Kraemer’s personality was so dominant that one sometimes missed the input of the other players.

Manfredo Kraemer’s mellow, powerful sound was characteristic of the ensemble as a whole, and he seemed at times to exert iron control over his group and at times to let them get on with it. Yet his musicians all provided their own distinct voice and matched Kraemer’s simultaneous control and insouciance note for note. One might have hoped for a little more from violinist Guadelupe del Moral and violone player Puertas, who at times seemed overshadowed by Kraemer’s energy, but, while their voices may have dimmed, they were never lost. Occasionally, one also wished that the musicians would push a little harder to capture more the ‘fantasticus’ of their stylus fantasticus repertoire, if only because there was a sense that all of them had so much more to give. This was confirmed in their encore, an Argentinian dance, which was as captivating as any piece on the programme and showed the group at its best and most relaxed.

The final work, Johann Adam Reincken’s Sonata VI, was also the most overtly German, reminiscent of early Telemann. Indeed, Telemann arrived in Hamburg in 1721, one year before Reincken’s death, and would almost certainly have familiarized himself with the other’s music. In keeping with a Telemannesque approach, Reincken’s sonata was also the work which most clearly blended German, French and Italian elements together, and The Rare Fruits Council fully exploited all of them. Lively tempi were matched with poignant tranquillity in the quieter moments, and ensemble, excellent throughout, was exemplary in the final Gigue, during which the group seemed to embody the perfect sum of five parts. From gambist Juan Manuel Quintana we heard several moments of such unexpected and unassuming beauty, that the concert would have been worth listening to again for those spots alone.

There was no revolutionary playing in this concert; no startling discoveries or surprises. There did not need to be. The concert was not without its troubles: intonation was a niggling issue throughout, parts felt under-rehearsed and there were uncertain rhythms and tempi flying around. Or perhaps it was just The Rare Fruits Council living dangerously. Did it matter? Not a bit. For those touching moments of poise and charm, one could forgive anything.