Between heaven and earth InAlto finds its voice

The concert was built around the theme love and death. More specifically, it referred to the love stories marked by the death of Charles V and Isabella of Portugal, and to the death of Caterina Martinelli, one of the favorite singers of Vincenzo I Gonzaga, the Duke of Mantua.

The seventy years between both events gave musical leader and cornet player Lambert Colson the opportunity to draw from a particularly broad repertoire, with everything between Josquin and Monteverdi. Moreover, a mix of secular and religious repertoire was presented. Possibilities in abundance, then. But in my opinion, therein also lies a pitfall.

The concert opened at the back with a playful La Spagna by Josquin. This well-known bassa danza immediately set the qualitative tone of the concert: high! Very high! And always in a natural way. The overwhelming start was immediately followed by what could almost be regarded as a piece of chamber music: soprano Alice Foccroulle brought her message to a knight in a very intimate vocal manner, set to music by Gombert.

Immediately thereafter followed, for me, the first highlight of the evening: the lamentation on the death of Isabella by Nicolas Payen, until then a fairly unknown Franco-Flemish composer to me. With four lines of text, he wrote a poignant motet, centered around Cur requiris? Why do you ask? Vivit, non obiit. She is not dead! She lives. This thought would ultimately become the red thread running through the entire concert.

The motet Mort m'a privé (on text by Charles V?) by the well-known Thomas Crécquillon paved the way toward his mass, composed on the same theme and with many references to longing, death, and so forth. A work that in itself deserves a place as a centerpiece.

And here lies, in my opinion, a programmatic weakness. By choosing a specific theme, one can, especially with early music, guide the contemporary listener through recognizable situations into a repertoire that might otherwise be difficult to access. As stated: from Josquin to Monteverdi. But if there is also a mix between secular and liturgical repertoire, it becomes quite complex. For with a mass, you immediately enter the core of something that is no longer secular.

In theory, the same could be said of songs about love and longing, but mass movements carry a different connotation, I believe.

I remained, in all honesty, somewhat unsatisfied with Crécquillon's mass. I initially did not know why. It was performed more than competently. The lines expressing longing and depth were executed superbly, among others by the full bass voice of Jimmy Holiday. Could it have had to do with the fact that all mass movements were 'accompanied'? That also sounded beautiful and could very well have sounded that way. Yet I had the feeling that the whole remained somewhat flat and was sung with little inspiration.

This approach was unfortunately carried through in the well-known motet Todos los bienes by Encina. There are so many performances of it: slow, fast, with Northern restraint, with Southern passion. I missed a clear direction here. The reason became clear soon enough.

After a brief and pleasant intermezzo in which Lambert Colson provided some explanation, he performed Vergine bella by Cipriano de Rore as a soloist, accompanied by lutenist Johannes Ötzbrugger and continuo player Joseph Rassam. The latter two, incidentally, created an essential 'backdrop' throughout the entire concert.

This was a masterstroke.

I sensed that Colson at that moment made the bridge between the heavenly and the worldly. His extraordinarily virtuosic interpretation of the motet was precisely that. Although Petrarca's text can be regarded as rather secular, the motet is clearly also a heavenly hymn of praise. I think De Rore intended it that way as well.

And then, from that moment on, the concert shifts into a different tempo. Just like the artists.

All color palettes of singing and instruments were opened up in a heavenly Incenerite, spoglie by Monteverdi.

What text interpretation and expression! You saw the tomba, you felt the ira, and you could only lament together with the pianto.

Truly!

Here the concert got underway and transcended the proverbial review description of 'competently performed'. If I were Colson – however much his academic approach is in its proper place – I would trade the mass movements for, if it really must be religious, motets that also express love, death, and longing. Countless options!

Perhaps Colson felt exactly what I wrote above, for In die tribulationes, a powerful motet by Guami, was interpreted solely by instruments. A justified choice, in which the fantastic trombonists Defendi, Hanssen, Van Passen, and Vrooman convincingly did their thing. They showed once again how they manage to present every polyphonic line clearly and distinctly.

What a feast for the ear… even though it is about 'days of tribulation'.

In the following Monteverdi madrigal, Dunque, amate, reliqui un mar di pianto, I was particularly struck by the high tenor Andres Montilla. What text interpretation, with correct vocal placement at the right moment! Together with Benedict Hymas and Ricardo Pisani, these 'three tenors' formed a wealth to listen to, each with their own palette.

There was also room for a solo part with organ and lute alone. Beautiful and soothing. Often you have the feeling that the lute disappears into the whole. That was not the case here. It gave – literally – that 'keystroke' to make everything just a bit spicier. Well done.

As I said: after Vergine bella, the concert took an emotional and musical turn for the better, with numerous highlights. The well-known Lasciate mi morire was one of them.

Colson clearly chose a more restrained interpretation. Where it is often sung theatrically and with Southern passion about 'let me die', the singers here chose a performance that was much more inward-looking. The questioning ending, however, always remains standing!

Special mention also for mezzo-soprano Maria Dalia Albertini, who like Foccroulle brings the necessary calm and conviction in her solo.

The concert ended with the strophic song Questa vita mortale by Cavalieri.

At the beginning I wrote: Vivit, non obiit. She is not dead! This thought forms the red thread. Here it is confirmed: on the one hand by the realization that heaven gives life and the wind blows it away, but on the other hand also by the hope and wish of those left behind that they will surely find each other again in a safe haven.

And so the concert navigated between heaven and earth, between passionate rapture and religious earnestness.

A daring programmatic choice, which found its strength especially in the second half. InAlto proved once again, and extremely successfully, her idiosyncratic approach. That was appreciated by the sizeable audience. Probably not only in the church, but also at home, because the concert was broadcast live and can thus perhaps still be listened to again.

I would say: do it. This is the kind of concert that is 'riper' the second time than the first.