Regardless of Rolf Lislevand's excellent performances of the highly influential Barbe manuscript, potential listeners to this CD should first be aware of all they're in for. For instance, the program opens with the sounds of seagulls and surf intended to provide "atmosphere and poetry to the record" since "the April night was full of sounds of birds and animals wanting to join the music..." However, it turns out that the additional natural sounds appear only at the beginning, end, and intermittently between the pieces and never actually "join" them, instead remaining respectfully (and thankfully) silent while Lislevand is playing. To further enhance the poetic atmosphere and create a more engaging sense of intimacy with the listener Lislevand also recommends that you "...don't put the volume down too low!"--a near impossibility here. Even at moderate levels you hear not only every slide and percussive nuance of his wall-to-wall lute, but also Lislevand's often loud heavy breathing, anguished sighs, and (in Mouton's La Princesse) moans. While certainly sincere in his pretensions (in the liner notes he waxes poetic on subjects as diverse as love and death, the Sony "Walkman", and the European Union's threatening to eliminate particular cheeses) Lislevand also happens to be one of the greatest lutenists performing today.

For instance, his performance of the title selection, Denis Gaultier's La belle homicide, is brilliant as he deftly maneuvers the work's seductive momentum with expert selective use of ritardando. Compared to the otherwise fine performances by Hopkinson Smith (Astrée) and Louis Pernod (Accord) Lislevand's rendering is spikier, more sharply accented, and in turn more poignantly dramatic. Gaultier's cousin Ennemond's composition La Poste equally intrigues with its stark extended opening chord, brisk thematic progression, and clever recapitulations. In other seemingly less virtuosic slower selections, such as Jacques Gallot's La Lucrece, Lislevand's sensitivity is equally keen. Here he judiciously broadens the work's underlying rhythmic structure, heightening the feeling of extemporaneous improvisation while never compromising the dance.

In the notes Lislevand explains that for this recording he recreated an "authentic and historically perfectly correct performance situation" by spending "a few days alone in the countryside with my lute" and suggests that today's recording techniques "will allow you to share this experience with me." Those up for sharing Lislevand's very personal, "perfectly correct" scenario will find much to enjoy here. You may even be inspired enough to "join" him occasionally. But the distractions are also very real, and potentially annoying--so be warned.

--John Greene