Luigi Rossi: La lyra d’Orfeo & Arpa Davidica. L’Arpeggiata, dir. Christina Pluhar, featuring Véronique Gens, Jakub Józef Orlinski, Valer Sabadus, Giuseppina Bridelli, Philippe Jaroussky, and Céline Scheen. Erato, (p) 2019. (4.5/5 stars)

Luigi Rossi brings back memories of Pluhar’s earlier recordings, featuring composers from the earlier half of the baroque period. The double album features two collections by the composer, and in reading the liner notes, an interesting story emerges. But first, some background on the composer:

[Rossi] was born in Torremaggiore in Puglia, but at an early age moved to Naples, where he was trained by Jean de Macque, one of the last of the Franco-Flemish musicians and composer of some of the most fascinating examplesof the late Italian madrigal. From 1620, Rossi served the families of two popes, first the Borghese and then the Barberini. Upon his arrival in Rome he was employed as a musician in the household of Marcantonio Borghese, and from 1636 he was organist of the church of San Luigi dei Francesi. Around 1641 he entered the service of Cardinal Antonio Barberini, nephew of Pope Urban VIII, and remained one of his famigliariuntil his death in 1653.

Rossi’s activity is somewhat contemporaneous with Claudio Monteverdi, who eventually settles in Venice. Today, Monteverdi is the more widely recorded, but Pluhar’s new release aims, no doubt, in exposing more of us to the art of another early Italian baroque composer.

For those unfamiliar, Pluhar and her ensemble are well-known for modern interpretations of baroque repertoire; they sometimes employ a mixture of historical and non-historical instruments. I always find their performances to be well-executed for the audience; their aim has seemed, from my viewpoint, to go beyond the role of museum curators. Behind presenting historical musical art, they often succeed at also entertaining their modern audience. And I see this, philosophically at least, as a change as the ensemble has evolved. Their earlier recordings tended to be more historically-focused. To learn that this new recording is actually compiled from three sessions, the oldest made fifteen years ago with Véronique Gens, makes the presentation here rather interesting.

It’s interesting for similarities between the ensembles years apart, the consistent, high artistic quality of the performances, and the music’s relevance to a modern audience.

Pluhar writes:

However, a legal dispute made the Rossi project stall and prevented our lovely CD recording from being issued for nearly fifteen years. When the dispute finally came to an end, I wanted to respond with the only means I had available: music.

The album, to be fair, does include a number of tracks that are world premier recordings. This is music we haven’t heard before. That’s rather striking and something worth noting. I see the same phenomenon taking place with opera literature written for castrato roles, as these albums continue to present world-premier recordings of rather challenging arias.

Rossi’s music is perhaps a harder sell for modern audiences. A Porpora aria, say, may have enough vocal fireworks to amuse us, no matter the text. But Rossi’s music, while affective, really requires us to be more cognizant of the text. Luckily the digital version I auditioned via Qobuz also includes the liner notes and the lyrics, with translations.

The more common feature of Pluhar’s later recordings is to use multiple singers, and in the case of this album, the first part is dominated by just one, Ms. Gens, and the second half features a handful of familiar artists to L’Apreggiata. While Sheen and Jaroussky are my favorites, the wise choice to present a combination of singers works well both for the music and for the enjoyment factor by the audience. Pluhar does a good job in choosing to work with vocal artists who connect with the music. The choices, across the board, do not betray this belief.

I applaud Pluhar and her partners for making this recording possible and the music of Luigi Rossi palatable to today’s listeners.