Volume 10, and one feels the surface has hardly been scratched. The series’ consultant musicologist, Dinko Fabris, who at the start promised Neapolitan baroque discoveries of striking quality (and quantity, too), is as good as his word. Cappella De’ Turchini, who have mostly been absorbed by the leading regional figure of the day, Francesco Provenzale, turn their attention to a twilight figure, a Cavallo or Cavalli (probably not the famous Venetian, and anyway ‘o’ and ‘i’ were as interchangeable in the 17th century as sonata and canzona), who is thought to have frequented the monastic order of ‘Oratorio di Napoli’, maybe as a priest. What we know for certain is that the institution attracted thousands of manuscripts from leading composers in the city. Il giudizio universale (one can’t say the G-word without thinking of the Terzetto in Act 2 of Figaro !), or ‘The Last Judgement’, is something of a rarity in the collection since the majority of ‘spiritual melodramas’ or ‘oratorios’ are now lost.
Written in 1681, Il giudizio was probably performed by one of the established conservatories in Naples. Its demands are unusual: short, swiftly interchanging sections of instrumental ritornellos and pairs of protagonists, be they angels, mortals, damned souls or blessed souls, all expostulating on their precarious condition. This contrasts strongly with other oratorios of the period, such as Stradella’s Giovanni Battista, in which action is more markedly offset against extended, reflective lyricism. This is a ‘hot to trot’ theatrical melange.
The musical characterisation is unquestionably the work of an accomplished composer who can, in cricketing parlance, play down the right line. Cavallo has a tendency to work a strong musical idea for as long as the text demands. Only some of the recitatives test his (and our) patience, but these are in Part 2, preparing the way for the all-important sorting of the saved and the damned. This is where bold colouring, a strong harmonic presence and attractive tunefulness lead us to a skilful five-part choral conclusion, complete with imitation ‘last trumpet’ calls. Before that, Antonio Florio expertly guides his receptive soloists to rapturous arias for the saved souls and descending chromatic figures for the ‘howling amidst horrid lakes’. There is something terrifying about Cavallo’s fire-and-brimstone Christ, who seems so resolutely trapped in the spirit of Jeremiah; and something comic about the saved souls gloating, ‘Go now, you damned’ – a kind of ‘we’re all right Jack, on yer bike’. It relieves the formulaic and stilted juxtaposition of good and evil which not even the ebullient musical shading of Cavallo can entirely conquer.
The singing, apart from occasional lapses in intonation, is commanding and atmospheric. The first soprano, Roberta Invernizzi, is vocally mesmerising and the ensemble carefully matched. The strings sparkle and then soften with the doubled recorders to match the instrumental palette to the theatrical commentary. It all makes for an engrossing experience. For just under an hour, a perfect college production alternative to Dido. Recommended.'