The gulf that used to yawn between musical scholars and performers has been increasingly bridged over the last 40 or so years—a development to be cordially welcomed by all those who believe in music as a living art that needs to be heard: who, logically, should be better placed to present unfamiliar or recently discovered works than those who researched and studied them? Kate Eckersley joins that distinguished company. As a scholar she has contributed valuably to extending a knowledge of Domenico Scarlatti beyond his immense treasure of harpsichord sonatas, a task to which some of us have for long devoted efforts. (May I immodestly mention that I was the first to edit his violin sonatas and to broadcast extracts from his opera Narciso?)
The cantatas (each consisting of two arias plus recitatives) she has identified as Scarlatti's are not from his early period when, in Burney's words, ''his genius was not yet expanded'', but from his time in Spain. Evidence for this may be found in the Spanish traits in some works on the present disc, particularly No, non fuggire, whose first aria contains curious fioriture suggestive of cante jondo and whose final aria is a fiercely rhythmic Spanish dance (though it might sound less so if taken less fast). All the cantatas are full of florid passages totally unlike those of Scarlatti's contemporaries Bach and Handel, reminiscent of the bold leaps and energetic motion of his harpsichord sonatas: the vocal line of Qual pensier especially, in its first aria octave-hopping and in its second with huge jumps, would seem instrumentally conceived were it not for its aptness to the verbal content. The sense of drama is particularly conspicuous in this work, with abrupt changes of mood from lyricism to vehemence.
As a performer, Kate Eckersley has an agreeable voice, abundant spirit and exemplary clarity of enunciation, and she copes valiantly with the demands of what Burney called Scarlatti's ''wild, fanciful, difficult and eccentric'' music; but her top notes approached by leap are often not very secure, and the detail of some of the huge fioriture (notably, ironically, one on the word ''spietato''—''merciless'') does not stand too close scrutiny. None the less, she deserves our thanks for bringing to light these interesting and completely unknown works (of which the duo cantata is the least unconventional), and praise is also due to Katherine Sharman's alert bass line and Timothy Roberts's ornately inventive but never obtrusive continuo.'