Not many will have heard of Carlos Hacquart, a Benelux man of the C17th capable of producing all the spriteliness and stylized sweet langour required of a musician of his age. It is only that there were so many of them that means we can't be familiar with them all but I'm sure he was glad of this rare outing to have made his 'small body of published work' worth the effort and one was struck by the clarity, confidence and dexterity of this quartet of star instrumentalists in preparation for even better things to come.
I had thought it unfortunate that the Buxtehude Trio Sonata on the programme was not my preferred option among Buxtehude Trio Sonatas but that turned out to be a blessing because after hearing the Andante in the flesh as opposed to two recordings on disc, its luminous, soaring interplay between the parts brought to mind the Bach double concerto and it will be on the turntable soon for further consideration, leading to rapture, and the piece instated alongside the previous lone favourite.
Buxtehude doesn't need much of a musical idea to produce electrifying music, wrapping and layering what was no more than a few notes into hugely satisfying, and convincing, compositions. I realize Bach is bigger and better but that does nothing to diminish Dietrich who, although apparently best-known as an organist, writes gorgeous violin parts. Choral music dominates the Opera Omnia and it is the organ music I rarely listen to. But the piece justified the journey even if central London doesn't get any easier to deal with as one reaches greater maturity.
Trevor Pinnock has been a mainstay of this period repertoire for as long as I've been aware of it but they don't spare the old warhorse. As the younger generation took a rest, Mr. Pinnock offered Suite no. 12 in C for harpsichord, catching our attention with a vertiginous climb up the keyboard scales at the end of the opening Lament. Spending by no means all, but much, of the rest of the concert sparkling or jangling along as continuo, it was only right that we should hear the harpsichord on its own terms, too, and as a billing that did nothing to detract from this as the chosen visit, he was in good form.
But if anyone was going to upstage Buxtehude, you can always rely on Handel whose music is full of a glory that his temperament as reported in so many anecdotes was said not always to be.
I haven't been in error in listening to more Handel opera than any other Handel in recent years but one can't concentrate on everything. I was as thrilled by Matthew Truscott's violin as by Sophie Gent's, who I take to be of slightly higher renown, but the programming was right and you can't not finish with Handel.
The Passacaglia encore tacitly accepted that once you've arrived at Handel, you can't take a step back. I only hope that Fiona Talkington escaped her post in the Radio 3 announcer's chair, directly in front of me, so that she didn't have to tell every passing member of the audience what they'd just heard. The rest can find out by tuning into the repeat on Sunday lunchtime, which is what I recommend you do anyway.
London is indeed more of an effort these days and one needs a good reason to make a date there. Us provincial types have settled into a more sedate pace. But I wouldn't have wanted to miss this, for real and only a few yards away rather than refracted through the airwaves. It'll never be over for me.
