Since 1991 when Jordi Savall contributed to the soundtrack of Alain Corneau’s acclaimed film Tous les Matins du Monde (type Q4828 in Search Reviews), he’s occasionally supplemented other mostly French and Spanish soundtracks with similar improvised music in keeping with the film’s period and theme. The movie featuring most of Savall’s music to date has been Jacques Rivette’s 1994 epic Jeanne La Pucelle, where he is credited for more than half of the movie’s score. This new Alia Vox offering titled Lachrimae Caravaggio (Caravaggio’s Tears) is Savall’s first non-soundtrack programmatic effort as well as the first recording devoted exclusively to his music.
The program is divided into seven “Statios” (stanzas) of four to five movements, each representing Savall’s take on seven works by the Renaissance Italian painter Michelangelo Caravaggio. Sharing equal billing with Savall in the project is the French novelist Dominique Fernandez, who provides seven brief complimentary essays about each of the selected paintings in the accompanying booklet.
This is one of the quietest, most meditative ensemble recordings Savall has ever made. The vast majority of the program is devoted to inordinately pensive string improvisations performed by Savall, violinists Riccardo Minasi and Xavier Puertas, and harpist Andrew Lawrence-King (Note: Savall’s son Ferran also is listed as one of the five “improvisators”, though his contribution is limited to light flamenco-like moaning in the four wisely dispersed “Deploratio” movements accompanied only by his dad).
Savall’s Sinfonia di Guerra (fashioned after the opening Sinfonia of Monteverdi’s seminal masterpiece Combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda–a work Savall often performs live though has yet to record), the (eventually) spirited Passacaglia Libertas, and the at times stunningly dissonant Spiritum Morientis count among the program’s very few, memorably upbeat moments. Andrew Lawrence-King’s solo improvisations in the Passicaglia Umbrae and very brief Transitio that opens the fifth “Statio” couldn’t be lovelier.
Alia Vox’s SACD sound is absolutely gorgeous; rich, well-balanced, and sumptuously detailed. The handsome spare-no-expense digipac presentation and 168-page booklet (translated in six languages) also is typical of the care Alia Vox continues to take in every one of its projects. Given the title of the program and the often dark, mournful nature of Caravaggio’s subject matter, it’s certainly understandable why Savall chose to keep the proceedings here so consistently low key. However, this 77-minute ride often gets a little tedious because of it. Recommended only to Savall’s most devout fans.
