Critic’s Notebook: Christophe Rousset & Atys opens Resonanzen Festival in Vienna

Also reviewed for DiePresse: Bei den „Resonanzen“ geht abends die Sonne auf

A large dose of deligthfully elegant French baqroque from Les Talens Lyriques and Christophe Rousset to open the Vienna Konzerthaus' "Resonanzen" Festival. Perhaps almost too much of a good thing?

“Resonanzen” is the name of the annual early music festival of the Vienna Konzerthaus – now in its 32nd season. Each year has to have a motto, of course, to which the concerts are then most tenuously related. This year’s is: “The Planets”, which spans nine concerts -- the Sun and eight planets (no love for Pluto here, either) – and plenty events, movies, exhibitions (including a sort of petting zoo for old instruments).

The opening concert – “Sun” – was given to Les Talens Lyriques and Christophe Rousset, ionarts-favorites in performance and on record alike. They brought with them Lully’s Atys, which befits the sun-title, given that this “tragédie en musique” is also known as “the King’s opera” for having so entertained Louis XIV… the “Sun King”.

J.B.Lully Atys W.Christie, Les Arts Florissants Harmonia Mundi

J.B.Lully Atys C.Rousset, Les Talens Lyriques Chateau de Versailles Spectacles

I’m sure it was grand entertainment, but then Louis XIV would have had the benefit of experiencing the whole thing in a presumably lavish staging, with the accompanying ballet. And a buffet. Both would have nice on this occasion, too, because without either, Atys can get a bit long. That’s not particularly surprising, really, because Lully didn’t just readily use the formulaic musical language of his time, he created many of those formulas. And he runs with them. Further: Although there’s drama near the end of this “tragédie en musique”, most of the rest is a pastoral idyll that murmurs along like the gently flowing rivulets described in the libretto of Lully-regular, Philippe Quinault: “Flow, murmur, ye clear streams / only the sound of waters / lulls the sweetness of such delightful silence.” Try not falling asleep to that!

Everything in this opera has a tendency to become lovely, sweet, cloying. That may be part of the point, but I couldn’t help to wish for Rousset and Les Talens to really kick it up a notch. To be just a wee bit less tasteful, less elegant, less refined, less excellent. He didn’t have to go full-Pluhar. But maybe a little bit in that direction. Alas, to no avail. A little thunder in the nightmare-scene just wasn’t enough for nearly three hours of rather early French baroque. (Handel and Bach weren’t even a glimmer in their parents’ eyes, when the work was premiered in 1677 – at the Château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, before the aforementioned excited King and an allegedly bored Parisian audience.)

Perhaps the hall was also a little big for the venture? The lack of immediacy of the accurate, pliable, but not very explosive orchestra, and the thin sound from Christophe Rousset’s own harpsichord suggested as much. The Chœur de Chambre de Namur, meanwhile, was not to be blamed: The fairly small, 21-headed, ensemble, had verve and diligence in spades and offered the greatest contrast when they entered the fray. The soloists, largely young and light-voiced, were equally fine – a little light on character but with considerable enthusiasm, led by Reinoud Van Mechelen’s experienced, cor-anglais-like tenor as Atys. Soprano Gwendoline Blondeel (Iris, Doris), too, stood out, for her round soprano voice with alto-undertones, a little unstable at first and then ever more dramatic and on-point.

It was William Christie who unearthed this work with his performances in the mid-80s and brought it back to the specialist conscience. His subsequent recording, long the only game in town, has become something of a something classic. And just this year, Christophe Rousset has added his own recording to the catalogue (the third, not counting DVDs). There’s a neat link between the two: Rousset was on second clavecin for Bill Christie, on the first recording, 37 years ago.

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Photo © Manuel Chemineau

Briefly Noted: Rousset's Artful Fugue

Bach, Die Kunst der Fuge, Christophe Rousset (released on January 12, 2024) Aparté AP313D | 83'02"

Christophe Rousset waited until he was nearly 60 years old to record J.S. Bach's Die Kunst der Fuge for the first time. Captured at the Hôtel de l’Industrie in Paris toward the end of the pandemic year (November 29 to December 2, 2020), this new disc quickly rises to the top of the list of recordings on harpsichord, which actually are not that numerous. It is certainly in the running with Gustav Leonhardt's two recordings, as well as the exhaustively complete version by Davitt Moroney. Both of those were made decades ago. Rousset plays on a German harpsichord made by an anonymous craftsman, now in an unnamed private collection. The sound is close and warm, showing off the musician's smooth, connected touch and his patient unwinding of the piece's contrapuntal complexities, at often introspective, leisurely tempi.

Rousset has chosen not to record the incomplete "Fuga a tre soggetti" added as Contrapunctus XIV to the 1751 edition of the work, the version edited by and possibly added to by Bach's sons. (Leonhardt also left this final piece of the posthumous edition unrecorded, while Moroney composed his own completion of it.) A brilliant booklet essay by Gaëtan Naulleau, a musicologist at the University of Tours and formerly a recording reviewer and editor at Diapason, explains the thinking behind rejecting this late addition to the score. After playing Contrapunctus I to XIII in order, Rousset concludes with the four canons, leaving Canon I to the very end.

After treating Contrapunctus XIV as spurious, it seemed a little odd to include the two-harpischord arrangement of Contrapunctus XIII, a version also included only in the 1751 edition published after the elder Bach's death. The younger Belgian harpsichordist Korneel Bernolet takes the second part in this piece, a gesture recalling the younger Rousset's doing the same with his older colleague, Christopher Hogwood, many years ago: a sense of in turn handing on a tradition is poignant as Rousset himself moves closer to retirement. (Bernolet has assisted Rousset, as both conductor and harpsichordist with his ensemble Les Talens Lyriques, since 2014.) Both Contrapunctus XII and XIII are mirror fugues, meaning that the original notation of the fugue and its mirror notation, with all the parts inverted, both adhere to all the rules of counterpoint. Rousset and Bernolet play both rectus and inversus versions of both pieces, presumably adding their own arrangement of Contrapunctus XII for two harpsichords.

Naulleau, in his essay, notes an interesting possibility, that Bach's title for this dense work, The Art of Fugue, could be seen as a clapback aimed at an anonymously penned article lamenting that Bach had obscured his musical genious by an "Allzu-grosse Kunst" (all-too-great art). Indeed, for most listeners, the unrelenting contrapuntal density of the work can be stultifying if listened to in a single go. "One person, however, can follow the work from beginning to end without exhausting himself," he writes, "thanks to his profession, his training and the support of the score: the performer. For the pianist and musicologist Charles Rosen, The Art of Fugue is 'above all, a work to be played for oneself, to be felt under one's fingers as much as listened to'." One is only too happy to accompany Rousset as he goes on that journey.


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Briefly Noted: Christophe Rousset (CD of the Month)

Le Manuscrit de Madame Théobon, C. Rousset (released on February 18, 2022) Aparté AP256 | 122'

The story behind this delightful disc is almost too good. First, Christophe Rousset is the musician, one of the most exciting harpsichordists playing today, last heard live in Washington in 2013. Second, he is playing two discs of music drawn from a newly rediscovered manuscript, now in the private collection of Rousset, who managed to acquire it from a bookseller over Ebay. Third, he is playing this wide array of brief pieces, arranged in the order of their key centers, on a harpischord made by Nicolas Dumont in 1704, around the same time that the music was likely copied. David Ley restored this instrument, which Rousset owns, from 2006 to 2016. It is one of only three Dumont harpsichords known to have survived.

Rousset has identified the manuscript's first owner as Lydie de Théobon, a one-time attendant on Queen Maria Theresa, wife of Louis XIV. The king began a two-year affair with her at the Château de Chambord in 1670, shortly before Molière and Lully premiered Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme there. The king's powerful mistress, the Marquise de Montespan, ousted Lydie from the queen's retinue in 1673, after which Lydie moved to the household of the Princesse Palatine, wife of the king's brother. She died at the Château de Marly in 1708, still in the orbit of the Sun-King. Although there is no record of her having been a great lover of music, the collection was likely compiled by her clavecin teachers.

The pieces copied into the book represent a sort of favorites list for the period. Music by prominent composers (Lully, d'Anglebert, Chambonnières) rubs shoulders with less known names like Ennemond Gaultier, Jacques Hardel, Nicolas Lebègue, and Pierre Gautier. Rousset identified some of the pieces because of his wide knowledge of the period, but others remain anonymous. Quite a few have been recorded here for the first time, at sessions in November 2020 at the Hôtel de l’Industrie in Paris. All are fairly brief, some as short as thirty seconds in duration. Rousset notes in his program notes that only one of the pieces in the manuscript ("Les Échos") explicitly requires a two-keyboard instrument, with the echo effect written out on the page.

The Dumont instrument has a big, brash sound, heard to orchestral effect in the Overture from La Grotte de Versailles, for example. That piece is one of many arrangements of excerpts from the most popular operas at the French court, including Armide and Atys. In a time without recordings, this was the only way to relive one's favorite past performances. Rousset also reveals the intimate side of this harpsichord, with delicate registrations in pieces like the "Sommeil d'Armide." A charming little Menuet by an unknown composer is recorded here for the first time, along with its "doubles," written-out ornamented repeats that give a glimpse into the ephemeral art of embellishment. As he often does, Rousset brings out many unexpected sounds, as in the "Branle des gueux," a pugnacious, folksy tune over a raucous drone pattern in left hand, made to twang almost like the timbre of a mouth harp.

Briefly Noted: More of Rousset's Salieri (CD of the Month)

A. Salieri, Tarare, C. Dubois, K. Deshayes, J.-S. Bou, J. van Wanroij, Les Talens Lyriques, Les Chantres du Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, C. Rousset (released on July 12, 2019) Aparté AP208 | 2h45

Among Christophe Rousset's major accomplishments as a conductor is his revival of the operas of Antonio Salieri. We took note of his recording of the composer's Les Danaïdes a few years ago. The latest in the project, Tarare, coincides with Alex Ross's on-point reconsideration of Salieri's place in music history. The superlative playing of Les Talens Lyriques, especially the whisper-fine traverso flutes, reveals this melodically rich score in its best light.

Tarare has some interesting overlaps with Mozart's career at the same time. Beaumarchais himself wrote the libretto for the French premiere in 1787, the version recorded here. Then Lorenzo da Ponte reworked it in Italian as Axur, re d'Ormus for the Viennese premiere the following year. (In the film Amadeus, Salieri is seen conducting the finale of the Viennese version, its success earning Mozart's scorn.)

Beaumarchais drew the story from a curious literary source, a collection of English exotic tales published as The Tales of the Genii, or The Delightful Lessons of Horam, the Son of Asmar. The author, James Ridley (the pseudonym of Sir Charles Morell), claimed to have translated the stories from a Persian source, but they are decidedly European visions of the East. Salieri, master of the dramatic gesture, has the orchestral intro to the Prologue interrupted by entrance of the soprano Judith van Wanroij as Nature, accompanied by the chorus of unchained winds. In the frame narrative of the French version, the shades nominate one of their number to become the despotic ruler Atar and another the soldier Tarare. The five acts that follow are the account of what became of them in their lives.

The king, jealous of the happiness and popularity of the soldier, orders Tarare's wife, Astasie, to be kidnapped and transferred to his harem. In a twist of reversal from stories like The Magic Flute, the slaves in Atar's household are Europeans -- and singers to boot. The chief eunuch, Calpigi, is even a castrato from Ferrara, who reveals his king's evil plan to have Tarare killed. Tarare manages to elude all of the plots to torture and kill him and is eventually named king after the suicide of Atar. Salieri uses jangling Janissary sounds throughout the opera, starting with the loud overture that introduces Act I. One unusual facet of the plot involves the disguise of Tarare as a black slave, who is then to be married to his own wife, who ends up sending another servant in her place. Such wife-swapping aspects crop up in Figaro and Cosi, among other works of the period.

Briefly Noted: Rousset Surveys the Nations

F. Couperin, Les Nations, Les Talens Lyriques, C. Rousset (released on January 25, 2019) Aparté AP197D | 109'01"

While Washington's concert presenters gave us a lethal overdose of Leonard Bernstein's music last year, the anniversary of a far more prolific and talented composer went largely unnoticed. Only Christophe Rousset, on an extraordinary visit to the Library of Congress last fall, offered a tribute to François Couperin, a composer distinguished from other members of his family by the epithet "The Great." With his ensemble Les Talens Lyriques, Rousset has also released a complete recording of the composer's fourth collection of chamber music for instruments, published as Les Nations in 1726, a few years before the composer's death.

Each suite in Les Nations is named for one of "the four political powers – French, Spanish, Imperial (the Holy Roman Empire), and the Savoy dynasty of Piedmont – that for many years influenced Couperin’s world," as esteemed French musicologist Catherine Cessac puts it in her savant booklet essay. The music, however, is largely reworked from earlier sources, as Couperin himself explained in the preface to the collection, making it more a survey of his own trajectory as a composer. The four suites all open with a long "sonade," a trio sonata in which Couperin gives homage to the Italian music of Corelli and Lully, "both of whose compositions I shall love as long as I live." An array of dazzling, shorter dance pieces in the French style fills out the rest of each suite, merging the true "nations" of the collection, France and Italy.

Rousset achieves a diverting range of sounds from his small ensemble -- two violins, two traverso flutes, two oboes, bassoon, viola da gamba, theorbo, and himself at the harpsichord -- covering the four parts (two treble lines, sustained bass instrument, and continuo). Varied instrumentation movement to movement yields any number of registrations from intimate to full. While all the playing is at the highest level, the pastel breathiness of the flutes is especially striking, as in the slender "Gavote" of the second suite, L'Espagnole, a compact, quiet minute of concentrated charm. Even the locale of the recording is apt: the Galerie dorée of the Hôtel de la Vrillière, once the residence of the Comte de Toulouse, second legitimated son of Louis XIV and his mistress, Madame de Montespan, and harpsichord student of François Couperin. Now it is the home of the Banque de France, which has opened the restored space to musicians and occasional public visits.

Briefly Noted: 'Les Danaïdes'

A. Salieri, Les Danaïdes, J. van Wanroij, P. Talbot, Les Chantres du CMBV, Les Talens Lyriques, C. Rousset (released on August 28, 2015) ES1019 | 108'26"

Antonio Salieri (1750-1825) had a memorable start as an opera composer. In 1783 he began to assist Gluck in completing an opera to be called Les Danaïdes, but the opera was not that far along. Salieri ended up completing the opera himself, which was first presented under Gluck's name and then revealed as Salieri's work when it achieved success. It remained in the repertory in Paris for a long time, at least until the 1820s where it had a strong influence on the young Hector Berlioz. A essay in the booklet for this new recording of the opera by Christophe Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques quotes Berlioz's Memoirs, where the composer, thirty years after that night at the opera, claims Salieri's music convinced him to abandon the study of medicine.

Salieri, tutored well by Gluck, dedicated the opera to Queen Marie-Antoinette and went on to enjoy great success in Paris, producing two more operas there, Les Horaces and Tarare, the latter with a libretto by Beaumarchais, before the Revolution. A few of Salieri's operas have been recorded: Il Mondo alla Rovescia, La Locandiera, Falstaff (several), and even Les Danaïdes (more than one). This new version by Christophe Rousset and Les Talens Lyriques, recorded in the Arsenal of Metz in November 2013, is in the same lavishly produced series of booklet-CD sets from Palazetto Bru Zane that brought us David's Herculanum.

The story concerns the slightly nutty origin story of the kingdom of Argos, when Danaus was forced to marry his fifty daughters, the Danaids, to his brother's fifty sons. Following their father's orders, the sisters kill their cousin-husbands in their marriage beds, except for one, Hypermnestra, who spares her husband, Lynceus, and they become the first rulers of Argos. The opera, on a down and dirty libretto by Le Bland Du Roullet and Louis-Théodore de Tschudi (adapting the Italian original by Calzabigi, intended for Gluck), includes a dramatic second act set in the Temple of Nemesis, where Danaus forces his daughters to swear vengeance, a fourth act ending in the massacre of the husbands, and an over-the-top conclusion where the palace is exploded by lightning, revealing a view of Danaus and his daughters tormented by demons and the Furies in the underworld. Shabby little shocker, indeed.

Soprano Judith van Wanroij has dramatic edge in her voice as Hypermnestre, if not always the sweetness for the slow pieces. Philippe Talbot is a somewhat anodyne Lyncée, outshone by the smooth baritone of Tassis Christoyannis as Danaus. Les Chantres du Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, prepared by Olivier Schneebelli, are strong in the various roles played by the chorus.

Christophe Rousset, Musical Journeys

Charles T. Downey, Christophe Rousset on the harpsichord
Washington Post, April 15, 2013

J.-P. Rameau, Les Indes Galantes, C. Rousset (Naïve, 2009)

In the right hands, the harpsichord can be a mesmerizing instrument. Christophe Rousset, in two concerts over the weekend, took listeners on unforgettable musical journeys: through two centuries of French music for the harpsichord, through musical depictions of world cultures, through the portal of life and death.

At La Maison Française on Friday night, which happened to be Rousset’s birthday, the French harpsichordist began with music of the 17th century, in a concert called “In Praise of Shadows.” The shades of the giants of the French harpsichord school were headed by a stately, pensive pavane by Jacques Champion de Chambonnières. The three suites that filled out the program, played without intermission, each ended with a “tombeau,” a musical tribute by one composer to another composer who has just died, like a sculpted portrait placed upon a tomb. To the dances of Johann Jakob Froberger’s 19th suite, Rousset appended Froberger’s tombeau for the lutenist Charles Fleury de Blancrocher. This cerebral piece ended with a crashing minor scale down the bass keys, a reference to Blancrocher’s death after falling down a flight of stairs, where he died in the arms of his best friend, Froberger. [Continue reading]

Christophe Rousset, harpsichord
La Maison Française (April 12)
Library of Congress (April 13)
[See my preview article]

Christophe Rousset in Concert

Froberger, Suites de clavecin, C. Rousset (Naïve, 2010) L. Couperin, Suites de Clavecin, C. Rousset (Aparte, 2010) J.-P. Rameau, Les Indes Galantes, C. Rousset (Naïve, 2009)

We are big fans of the harpsichord playing of Christophe Rousset around here. The French harpsichordist and conductor has a vast discography to his name, with discs of music by a startling range of composers, some largely unknown, most of them excellent. As much as we love his playing and have savored so many of his recordings, we have yet to review him in concert, with only a near-miss when he played on the Estate Musicale Chigiana during my summer in Siena a few years ago. That is all about to change, as Christophe Rousset will play two concerts in Washington this weekend: first at La Maison Française this evening (April 12, 7:30 pm) and tomorrow afternoon at the Library of Congress (April 13, 2 pm), with two completely different programs. At the French Embassy Rousset offers a concert called Éloge de l’ombre (In Praise of Shadows), which opens with a pavane by Jacques Champion de Chambonnières (c. 1601-1672), followed by three suites that all end in a tombeau (a tribute by one composer to another, dead composer), by Johann Jakob Froberger (1616-1667), Louis Couperin (c. 1626-1661), and Jean-Henry d'Anglebert (1628-1691), the last one ending with a tombeau to Chambonnières. At the Library of Congress, Rousset plays a program he describes as a "keyboard travelogue," with dances and other pieces by François Couperin (1668-1733) and Jean-Philippe Rameau, all representing exotic locations and nationalities, "from Peru to China and the Far East."

Rousset recorded some of these pieces a while ago, but at left are a few of the recent recordings that include music to be featured on his Washington concerts. Rousset will play a Froberger suite from his earlier CD of that composer's music, but he has recently released a disc of more suites from Froberger's extensive output. Froberger was from Stuttgart, but because he worked much of his career at the imperial court in Vienna, musicologist Guido Adler featured his music prominently in the collection of music he edited, Denkmäler der Tonkunst in Österrreich. His distillation of the French style brisé kind of dances into a suite -- Allemande, Courante, Sarabande, [Optional], Gigue (although Froberger did not always have all of these slots, or have them in this order) -- had a major influence on subsequent composers in German-speaking countries. One part of the appeal of Rousset's recordings is that he has made them on a series of interesting historical instruments -- on the Froberger disc and others, instruments now in the museum of the Cité de la Musique in Paris (in this case, a 1652 Couchet harpsichord here). The result is playing that is not only pleasing, musical, diverting, and affecting -- but with lessons to be learned by matching historical music to an instrument like that for which it was likely destined. The 12th suite is especially moving, with the first movement given over to a lament on the death of Ferdinand IV (eldest son of Holy Roman Emperor Ferdinand III), who died of smallpox in his 20s. At the end of the lament, Froberger has the right hand rise up the keyboard in a C major scale, ending at the highest C, where he drew a bunch of heavenly clouds in the manuscript.

The harpsichord music of Louis Couperin, the uncle of François Couperin who was mentored by Chambonnières himself, is becoming more familiar to audiences, heard recently in concerts by Blandine Rannou and Mitzi Meyerson, for example. At La Maison Française, Rousset will play this composer's F major suite, and his recorded performance of the work is embedded below. The "travelogue" program at the Library of Congress will conclude with a section of one of the strangest pieces in the Baroque repertoire, the fourth suite from Rameau's own transcription of the music from his own opera-ballet Les Indes Galantes. This arrangement has been recorded before, but some of the pieces in the fourth suite appear impossible to play on the harpsichord -- especially the Ritournelle, written on three staves, and the Adoration au Soleil (Adoration of the Sun), written on four staves. Rousset plays everything, except one tiny introductory piece, on a mostly unaltered 1761 Jean-Henri Hemsch harpsichord.

Never Enough Rameau

Available at Amazon: Rameau, Overtures, Les Talens Lyriques, Christophe Rousset (remastered, October 9, 2007) Rameau, Les Indes Galantes, Orchestra of the 18th Century, Frans Brüggen (remastered, 2006)

After having recommended a beautiful DVD version of Rameau's Les Boréades, it seems a good time to point out two recent remastered re-releases of classics in the history of Rameau recording. The remarkable rediscovery of Rameau's music has been due to two factors: the scholarly edition of the composer's complete works, which finally undid the misconceptions about just how advanced Rameau's orchestration was, timed perfectly with the advent of specialized performance ensembles interested in playing and, much more importantly, recording the music.

Universal has decided to reintroduce the Oiseau-Lyre label, a happy occasion for fans of historically informed performance, as its catalogue included many excellent recordings like this one of Christophe Rousset's take on the overtures of Jean-Philippe Rameau (yes, both Naïs and Zaïs are included). Rousset's crack ensemble, Les Talens Lyriques, brings an extraordinary range of color and texture to this survey -- 17 tracks of nothing but overtures! The playing is crisp and the textures clear, without too much of the ultrafast approach sometimes criticized in Rousset's work. These are festive, colorful works, worthy of the same broad appreciation given to the works of Handel, who drew upon many of the same French influences in his overtures.

Likewise, Philips has remastered the Orchestra of the 18th Century's recording of the overture and dance music suite from Rameau's Les Indes Galantes. This is a vivid rendition, with conductor Frans Brüggen using percussion and wind combinations to draw out as many contrasts in style as possible. There is a reedy Musette en rondeau (track 5) not quickly forgotten, paired with a breathy, languid Air pour les amants et les amantes (track 6), for example. It is an approach that might not work in a live performance with dancers but is viscerally exciting on disc. Both discs, if you missed them the first time around, now have better sound and are priced competitively.

L'Oiseau-Lyre 475 9107 / Philips 438 946-2


Rameau, Overture to Les fêtes d'Hébé
Les Talens Lyriques, Christophe Rousset

Harpsichord Like Rarely Ever

J.S.Bach, Klavierbüchlein, C.Rousset Ambroise 9977 J.S.Bach, Klavierbüchlein, French & English Suites, C.Rousset Ambroise 196

From his early harpsichord-playing days to conducting the early music band Les Talens Lyriques (just check out the Lully opera Roland for absolute delight) Christophe Rousset is one of the more exciting figures working in Baroque music. And back at the harpsichord he is – after stints with almost every important record label (Virgin/EMI, L’Oiseau-Lyre/Decca, Naïve, Harmonia Mundi) - he now records one set of Bach works after another for Ambroise. I have passed by his English and French suites, unsure if doubling up in that repertoire would be worth the somewhat hefty price tag on these luxuriously presented double-disc sets. Now I’ve come into possession of his Clavierbüchlein für Wilhelm Friedemann… and I cannot stop listening to it. His Rosette-winning Decca recording of the Italian Concerto may have much acclaim and it is very fine, indeed… but it does not have that “Wow!” effect. This recording does – and instantly so.

From the first notes of the familiar Praeludium 1, BWV 846a (the name may not be familiar, but you will recognize it if you’ve ever played piano even at the most rudimentary level) on you are drawn in by one of the richest, cleanest, and enchanting harpsichord sounds I’ve heard on disc. I cannot imagine anyone so immune or disinclined towards that instrument (tiring as it can sound at times – especially in large quantities) that they would not at least admit that the sound is simply gorgeous. Chritophe Rousset’s instrument, a Johannes Ruckers from 1632/1745, restored in 1787, just blooms while retaining such precision that every single note could be followed. The Klavierbüchlein is the first set of keyboard instructions of Bach’s for his eldest son’s ninth birthday. It contains a handful of works by composers other than Bach, too, including Telemann and Stölzel. (The other sets, in order of increasing difficulty, are the Two-Part Inventions, Three-Part Sinfonias, WTB (of which one can hear the first ideas in these works) and finally the Trio Sonatas for organ.) The works here may be composed for a nine-year-old and they may be relatively simple… but they are Bach, full of beauty and anyone should want to be able to play them like Rousset. Only listening to them all too many times in a row will bring out the fact that they are, ultimately, inferior to any of Bach's suites, for example. Still, many recordings can delight harpsichord devotees – few can convert those who find the harpsichord’s pleasures to be dubious ones- and this one should do the trick.

The only ones that may not find this completely convincing are those who wish their German Baroque played as straight and rhythmically steady as possible. Rousset gives the music a Romantic tension, a painful magnificence, by pulling the tempi a little, by indulging us with rubato. For me that makes the recording as vivid as I had hitherto not been able to imagine these works played – a revelation along the lines of Alessandrini’s Four Seasons (see my review). Speaking of the devil… he just came out with the Brandenburg Concerti. We might not be able to resist that temptation long, either.

EDIT: Now available as part of Ambroise 196 (pictured above).