I’ve never taken much notice of Dussek, famous for piano works but have beenb blown away by this work. I’ll append some reviews to wet your appetites!
Gramophone
The Solemnal Mass of Jan Ladislav Dussek (1760-1812) appears to have been composed for the name day in 1811 of the euphoniously monickered Princess Maria Josepha Hermenegilde Esterházy (née Liechtenstein). She it was who was entertained annually by Haydn’s six late Masses, as well as by later such works by the likes of Hummel and Beethoven (his Mass in C), despite her husband’s lack of interest in music much beyond simple march tunes. Dussek is best known now via his teaching pieces for piano, although he was a versatile and wide-ranging composer, popular in his day and accompanied by a whiff of scandal that saw him criss-cross the continent, covering an area from St Petersburg to London as he fled revolution, bankruptcy, accusations of sedition and, shamefully, his wife and daughter.
There is no proof that the Mass was performed at the time and it has since been known only as an entry in a Florentine library catalogue. Richard Egarr, intrigued, managed to extract the manuscript and have it edited for a performance in October 2019 that might well have been its first, and for this subsequent premiere recording. It’s an imposing work, ranging widely in mood but without the tautness that so characterises Haydn’s late Masses; in terms of language, it sits somewhere between Haydn and a constellation consisting of the likes of Beethoven, Cherubini and even Berlioz. Choral writing alternates with sweet-sounding solos and ensembles – especially a charming ‘Benedictus’ – and is not without some well-crafted counterpoint at the traditional points. Perhaps there is little of real depth, although an emotional response is hinted at in the hushed urgency of the ‘Sanctus’ and ‘Agnus Dei’.
Dussek himself could scarcely have hoped for a performance as fine as this one, with the Academy on top form, a well-drilled choir of 20 clearly in thrall to Egarr’s infectious enthusiasm for the work and four finely matched soloists imparting plenty of personality. The presentation, too, is worthy of the evangelical nature of the project, with a 100-page booklet containing biographical and musicological essays, bespoke artwork, performance photos and facsimiles of the manuscript, not to mention recipes for treats that Dussek might well have consumed – he clearly enjoyed food and liquor, and died, corpulent and gouty, not long after writing the Mass. It’s a fascinating work and an important project, impressively recorded, exquisitely presented and enthusiastically recommended.
Music Web
The Messe Solennelle by Czech composer and pianist, Jan Ladislav Dussek here receives its premiere recording in a new performing edition by Reinhard Siegert taken from Dussek’s autograph manuscript score for Richard Egarr, who secured the work’s release from a Florence library especially for this recording. The single disc has been issued in a deluxe presentation, with a hundred-page hardback book in a sturdy, gatefold digipack which takes up the same room as a multi-CD box, and it is a real gem.
My exposure to the music of Dussek has been somewhat limited*,* having heard only a couple of discs of his solo piano music, although this has been bolstered in the last few years by the admirable Hyperion discs of the piano concertos with Howard Shelley (CDA68027; CDA68211). I therefore have no experience of his vocal music, so this new disc is more than welcome, and will launch me on a path to new discoveries as I further investigate the composer. Devotees of Joseph Haydn’s late masses will be familiar with the name of Princess Maria Josepha Hermenegilde Esterházy; this work, like Haydn’s last six masses, was apparently composed for her name day, but the evidence for that is sketchy and it might never have been performed – or, at best, just given just the once before being filed away.
The music seems contemporary with many a work of the day, although I would say it is a little inferior to those magnificent late masses by Haydn. That said, this mass does not deserve to have languished in obscurity in a Florentine library for over 200 years. This is a Messe Solemnelle and is therefore more solemn in character than Haydn’s offerings, but it still contains some exciting and expansive writing, which, at times, contains real pathos and emotion. Try the Sanctus or Agnus Dei, for example, and you will hear that this is a must for anyone interested in early nineteenth century music.
The Messe Solemnelle gets a performance here that deserves to resurrect it from its period of obscurity and unjustified neglect. The four soloists are first-rate, giving a performance which betrays no sign of the work’s obscurity. Their interjections are excellent; from the very first entry, the duet between Stefanie True and Gwilym Bowen in the Christe, we hear what they have to offer, and I am glad to say that the singing of both Helen Charlston and Morgan Pearse is also up to the mark. The twenty-voice chorus is absolutely wonderful, tender and subdued when called for, but also at times sounding larger than you would expect from their numbers. They perform well with the vocal soloists, but for me it is with the orchestra that they really excel; just listen to their interaction in the Cum Sancto, where the chorus and orchestra blend so well, especially when the brass enters. As we have come to expect from their earliest days under Christopher Hogwood to their modern incarnation with Richard Egarr, the AMM orchestra is superb. This really is a performance to savour, one which deserves - and has certainly received from me - repeated listenings.
The recorded sound is excellent, and, as I say above, the booklet is an impressive amalgam of history, musicology and details of the editorial and musical practice employed in this performance. This, combined with lavish illustrations, facsimiles of the music and a full text and translation, offers the listener all they could want to know about this work. I do not know if there are other language options available in other countries, but the English texts are clear and succinct, which aids easy reading. This adds greatly to the music and its performance, making this a highly recommendable release which, I imagine, I will be regularly enjoying for a long time to come.
Classicalexplorer
When superior musical execution meets highest musical scholarship, angels cry with joy. OK, perhaps they don’t, but there is certainly much to celebrate about this recording of Jan Ladislav Dussek’s Messe solemnelle (or Solemnal Mass, as it is translated in the lavish booklet).
This is a premium product, one disc but in a box with not only full text and translations but also a trove of background (including a partial Dussek discography). Born in Časlav, Bohemia, in 1760, Dussek’s music belies its years (he was born only four years after Mozart; he died in 1812, three years after Haydn died, and yet his music can be felt to point forwards in time significantly).
Richard Egarr is a fierce proponent of Dussek’s music. In October 2019 he led a performance of his Mass in G (1811) at the Barbican (there’s a review here); not to mention both performing and conducting Dussek’s G minor Piano Concerto in Edinburgh in 2013 (review here). The adventurous nature of Dussek’s music is a big part of what fuels Egarr’s enthusiasm. The disc was recorded n St Augustine, Kilburn, London at the end of last October.
Almost operatic in outlook, this is vital, bracing music, but also music of great beauty. The contributions of the soloists as a group in the ‘Quoniam’ is an example of the latter, as it is in the ‘Et incarnatus est,’ with baritone Morgan Pearse providing a firm foundation; even the contrapuntal choral moments in this movement have a gentleness that takes them far way from the schoolroom. Sometimes the choral writing resembles that of Haydn in his Masses (perhaps most notable in the trumpet-saturated ‘Et resurrexit’?), elsewhere Dussek stretches far forward, a case in point the daring paring down of texture in the soprano and tenor duet for the ‘Christe’. Lovely to see tenor Gwilym Bowen as tenor soloist, who has impressed many times previously, including in a Purcell Fairy Queen with Egarr and the Academy of Ancient Music (review). Soprano Stefanie True offers the perfect complement to Bowen.
Hearing this on authentic instruments (and at A = 438 Hz) actually adds to the daring textures Dussek employs. The piece is a vital melding of academicism (there’s more than one double fugue knocking about) with faith from the heart. Try the emotive orchestral opening to the ‘Sanctus,’ or the gentle caressings of the soul in the ‘Agnus Dei’.
It is wrong to describe the Dussek catalogue as stocked with anything, really, but while there are a fair few recordings of Piano Concertos and Piano Sonatas, this recording stands in splendid isolation when it comes to major choral music.
Hummel and Spohr are two composers who also are ripe for further exploration, although in fairness Hyperion has been doing pretty well for both. Meanwhile, please find below not only links to the Dussek via Spotify (plus Amazon purchase link) but also a highly informative Gramophone podcast that finds Richard Egarr in conversation with James Jolly around this highly laudable project.
Early Music Review
That Jan Ladislav Dussek composed a Mass will doubtless come as a surprise to those that think of him nearly exclusively as a composer of piano music, though he did also provide music for a couple of stage works during the period he was in London in the 1790s. And indeed anyone thinking that can be forgiven, for the present ‘Messe Solemnelle à quatre voix’ lay undisturbed in the Library of the Luigi Cherubini Conservatory in Florence for some two hundred years after its first performance in 1810 or 1811. Bearing a dedication to Prince Nicolas Esterházy, it was composed for the nobleman’s name-day celebrations, thus falling into a distinguished series of works that includes the six great late Masses of Haydn and the C-major Mass of Beethoven. It owes its modern revival to the tenacity of the conductor of the present recording, Richard Egarr, who directed the first – and most likely only – public performance since the work’s premiere at Esterháza in London in 2019. The recording took place a few weeks later.
The work is planned on an extensive scale, although the proportions are unusual. The opening Kyrie, divided into the usual three parts, takes nearly 15 minutes in this performance, longer than the entire Credo, while the Agnus Dei is dominated by its final words, ‘Dona nobis pacem’, at first treated with prayerful invocation that turns to strident demands, rather in the manner of Haydn’s Missa in angustiis, the so-called ‘Nelson Mass’ of 1798. It is of course worth remembering that Europe was still in a ‘time of anxiety and affliction’ in 1810. The Mass is largely dominated by the chorus, with passages for the four soloists generally restricted to ensemble work. These often feature imitation, passages such as Benedictus, complimented by felicitous wind writing that betrays the composer’s Czech heritage. Only ‘Et in Spiritum’ is set as a true solo, an arietta for soprano in the shape of a flowing larghetto with warmly rich lower string textures that are something of a feature of the Mass. The opening Kyrie is melodically distinctive, the work as a whole having an engaging, sunny character far removed from the stern, rather old-fashioned Viennese tradition that continued to dominate the church music of Haydn, Mozart and even to some extent Beethoven.
The performance reflects strongly Richard Egarr’s declared devotion to Dussek in general and the Mass in particular, being imbued with a passionate drive in more dramatic passages, which frequently have a thrilling intensity, and real affection in Dussek’s lyrical, at times quasi-folk-like music. He draws splendid playing and commitment from the chorus and orchestra of the AAM, while his soloists blend well, although some will feel soprano Stefanie True displays too much vibrato for this repertoire.
In keeping with the other AAM issue to have come my way (Eccles’ Semele) the presentation is outstanding, with a lavishly illustrated 100-page booklet that includes no fewer than nine scholarly articles in addition to the usual artist biographies and text of the Mass. If I don’t feel able to go all the way with Egarr in his description of the Mass as great music, it is certainly both imposing and companionable. I am delighted to have made its acquaintance and hope others will too.