How many Belgian baroque composers can you name? ''Ah well'', you may say, ''Fiocco was an Italian''. The facts are that he was born in Brussels, probably never set foot in Italy and, to judge by the two harpsichord suites (published c. 1730) under consideration here, Joseph-Hector Fiocco was more francophile than italophile. The suites contain mixtures of French and italianate movements, as well as a few in the more galant style of les gouts reunis. Couperin's influence is evident in such extemal details as the titles, ornamentation—although a good proportion of that is the stylish invention of Ton Koopman—and the exquisite melancholy: but Fiocco also mastered the forms, textures and harmonic progressions epitomized by Couperin's music. And while Fiocco never surpassed the sublimity of his model he did compose powerful and often sombre music worthy of wider circulation.
Each suite is a microcosm of contemporary forms. The G major encompasses many contrasts of mood (as with the two rather galant rondeaux and Les Promenades in parallel keys) and style (L'italiene—a parody of Handel, surely—is followed by the Couperinesque La Francoise). For all the French movements, including the rich-bassed La Plaintive and the allemande L'Inconstante, Fiocco's first suite ends with a four-movement Italian sonata of which Vivaldi might have taken pride (the Allegro, in fact, will be well known to amateur pianists).
The D minor suite is less structured: there are dance movements graced with interesting technical challenges (especially in the Sarabande and Ramellian Les Sauterelles), three rondeaux and a lively, stylistically integrated finale (La Frinqante). The rondeaux are particularly noteworthy: L'inquiette (cleverly set out in two sections of three couplets, each with its own refrain) begins en passecaille with a descending bass, L'agitee is a virtuoso piece incorporating doubles; and Les Zephirs lives up to its name.
Throughout, Koopman plays masterfully, interestingly and with unimpeachable taste. He has written the extremely informative booklet, revealing much about both the music and his approach to playing. Players should heed his warning about the collected edition version (1936) and consult the Paris original. The variety and aptness of his own ornamentation in both French (his gradation of inegalite delights the sensibilities) and italianate movements can serve as a valuable guide: this is the crux of his performance and what brings the music to life.'