Here is one of the more delightfully strange recordings I’ve heard in a long while. Yes, as the liner notes somewhat guiltily suggest, the title is misleading. The music is nothing more than the 18th-century European-baroque-and-classical-style work of several distinguished and very capable black or mulatto composers who lived in Brazil during the 1700s. Of course, these composers, all of whom were slaves or freed slaves, had to learn their craft either on their own or from studying with musicians who were trained in Europe. They often held positions in churches and were valued above “ordinary” slaves for their special artistic abilities. The music–in this case mostly religious vocal ensemble pieces–has the freshness and raw enthusiasm born of unrefined yet promising talent. Luis Alvares Pinto’s Te deum is a colorful and unselfconscious expression unencumbered by concern for formal structure. Just when you think you’re going in one direction, you’re yanked in another–pleasantly so, but yanked nevertheless. Joao Esteves, a Portuguese composer who influenced the Brazilians and who also spent time in Rome, must have encountered the works of Gesualdo, from the sound of some of the more adventurous harmonies in his beautiful and often surprising Magnificat.
There’s nothing novel or even all that inventive among these seven works–including the two instrumental pieces (sonatas for organ and for small ensemble); but their interest lies in their irresistible charm and earnestness, and in the purity and unadorned loveliness–and sometimes sheer startling strangeness–of much of the writing. Some of it sounds for all the world exactly like Mozart or Haydn or even Palestrina–and suddenly it doesn’t. The musicians–four singers and several string, keyboard, and brass players–seem to totally relish the chance to bring these works to our attention, so there’s no lack of good-spirited energy here, nor is there much to trouble the most critical ear as far as intonation, blend, and balance are concerned. (A little more care might have been taken with balances, but overall the engineering is very well managed.) Much more than a mere curiosity, this recording helps to fill some of the gaps in 18th century music that often are left out of catalogs and history books. It also offers an extremely enjoyable and enlightening hour of listening!
(Incidentally, I was curious about the name of this record label, K 617. A Mozart catalog number, perhaps? For what it’s worth, K 617 was Mozart’s last chamber work, a quintet for glass harmonica, flute, oboe, viola, and cello, premiered in August, 1791.)
