The Father, The Son & The Godfather: 2x Bach & Telemann - Paradiso Musicale (2011)

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The Father, The Son & The Godfather: 2x Bach & Telemann - Paradiso Musicale (2011)

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The Father, the Son and the Godfather is a snapshot of a time when composers were offered a tremendous freedom in their choices of genres and styles and features three composers who knew each other well: J.S. Bach (the father), C.P.E. Bach (the son) and Georg Philipp Telemann (CPE’s godfather).

We thus get Johann Sebastian’s rigorous, intellectually demanding Sonata in B minor, ample examples of the elegant and tender Empfindsamer Stil of his son C.P.E., and in two Trio Sonatas a taste of Telemann’s ‘world music’

This is the first recording of Paradiso Musicale, an ensemble featuring the acclaimed recorder player Dan Laurin and made up of an unusual combination of instruments.

Composer: Georg Philipp Telemann, Johann Sebastian Bach, Carl Philipp Emmanuel Bach
Performer: Mats Olofsson, Dan Laurin, Henrik Frendin, Anna Paradiso
Orchestra/Ensemble: Paradiso Musicale

Reviews: It’s hard to resist the humor conjured by this album’s title, The Father, The Son, and The Godfather , but I shall suppress the urge. What we have here is a collection of late German Baroque chamber works in exceptionally well-executed performances that, despite being on period instruments, are not all necessarily consistent with historical practices.


Let’s start with J. S. Bach’s B-Minor Sonata. Questions of source origins and even authenticity continue to engage scholars regarding a number of Bach’s works for flute. Only the harpsichord part exists in autograph for BWV 1030 and it dates from after 1735. So, assuming Bach did write the piece for flute, by this late date it’s virtually a given that he would have written it for the transverse flute, not recorder, the instrument Dan Laurin of Paradiso Musicale has chosen. This is but one example of where the best-intentioned of period-instrument players not infrequently assume that performing on old instruments, by definition, is all it takes to replicate period practices.


With regard to the performances of the two Telemann trio sonatas and the C. P. E. Bach sonata, error runs in the opposite direction. The official Telemann-Werke-Verzeichnis (TWV) catalog lists both the D-Minor and G-Minor works, TWV 42:d7 and TWV 42:g9, as trio sonatas for recorder, viola da gamba (my italics), and continuo. Ditto, viola da gamba in C. P. E. Bach’s catalog of works for the G-Minor Sonata, Wq 88. Where Laurin substitutes the older alto recorder for a transverse flute, here Henrik Frendin substitutes the newer viola for Telemann and Bach’s specified viola da gamba. Again, execution is beyond criticism, but so much for historical authenticity.


Perhaps I’m being too hard on Paradiso Musicale’s players, for at least insofar as the Telemann sonatas are concerned, of the very few recordings that exist, I find none in which a viola da gamba is used, but I do find one or two, including one of TWV 42: g9, in which the eminent early-music specialist Jaap ter Linden plays the part on cello. Gambists, of course, don’t grow on trees, but they do exist, and there have been some wonderful recordings of Baroque music in which actual gambas are used, not least in this very C. P. E. Bach sonata, including one with Friederike Heumann, praised by Brian Robins as far back as Fanfare 30:1. I’m merely suggesting that period-instrument musicians who aspire to re-create historical period practices might want to start by playing the music on the instruments for which it was written. Otherwise, the whole movement is called into question and we end up with Vivaldi’s concerto for mandolin played on a psaltery (see entry under Facco in Fanfare 34:6) being justified as legitimate 18th-century practice. The point isn’t the period of the instrument—the viola existed in Bach’s day alongside the viola da gamba—it’s which instrument the composer intended.


Having gotten that off my chest, I do want to be clear that Paradiso Musicale, which also includes its namesake, harpsichordist Anna Paradiso, and cellist Mats Olofsson, is a splendid quartet of players who together make music of the highest caliber and most splendid beauty. All my carping about instruments is instantly and completely silenced by the gorgeous tone these musicians produce and the irrepressible exuberance of their performances. There comes a point at which quibbles over instrument choices simply recede into irrelevance and one realizes what really matters, which is the pure pleasure and joy experienced in listening to beautiful music beautifully played. Paradiso Musicale delivers that in spades, so in spite of everything I said earlier, I wholeheartedly recommend this release to you for more than an hour’s worth of unalloyed bliss.