Frescobaldi was first and foremost a composer of keyboard music, and the recent interest in his vocal production has not stifled the steady (if relatively modest) stream of recordings of his toccatas, capriccios, partitas and other sets of variations. Pierre Hantai focuses primarily on the toccatas, of which Frescobaldi published two books (1615 and 1627), perhaps the freest and boldest genre of all. The rather wild rubato adopted is absolutely idiomatic, since the composer himself stipulated that “the manner of playing ought not to be subject to a beat, just as we have it in today’s madrigals”. Hantai negotiates the tightrope-like ebb and flow of the rhythms with considerable subtlety and great elegance. The result is strongly improvisatory, but the specific character of each toccata becomes more apparent with repeated listening. A number of contrasting pieces, notably the sets of partitas (variations) on well-known ground-basses, are delivered rather more strictly, but that is as it should be, for an entire recital consisting only of toccatas would probably leave the listener feeling rather disorientated. In short, a delightful and well-judged recital, showing off both composer and performer in the most flattering light.
The Capricci of 1624 are altogether different beasts from the Toccatas, conceived in a more obviously contrapuntal vein and notated in score format with each voice being given its own staff, a somewhat archaic practice by that time. Deliberate archaism is also indicated by the use of scholastic soggetti such as the La Sol Fa Re Mi which had been made famous by Josquin well over 100 years previously. John Butt’s approach to these pieces is accordingly more staid than Hantai’s from the rhythmic point of view, even though he leaves Gustav Leonhardt well behind in terms of actual speed (he gets through all 12 in just over an hour, where the CD reissue of Leonhardt clocks in at 74 minutes, despite the omission of the Capriccio cromatico con ligature al contrario). The difference in conception may also be a response to Butt’s modern chamber organ, recorded in a relatively dry acoustic. I admit that I originally found his approach a bit dry as well, but it is certainly an entirely plausible alternative to Leonhardt’s more mannered view, and has since grown on me. Yet in those pieces where sonic impact seems to matter the most (the Capriccio sopra il Cucho or the Capriccio obligo di cantare la quinta parte), Leonhardt retains the edge on account of the superior quality of his instruments (a German harpsichord of 1681 and the 1551 organ of San Martino in Bologna). Similarly, Harry van der Kamp is the more impressive ‘fifth voice’ in the Capriccio obligo, though in any case it seems likely that Frescobaldi intended the instrumentalist to sing the part himself!
The question of rubato in this music seems to me very closely linked to the tuning system adopted: the more acute the latter, the greater the freedom permissable (perhaps even desirable) with regard to the former. Listen to the Capriccio di durezze, on both these recitals and on Leonhardt’s, and you’ll hear what I mean. The latter’s choice of tuning-system conveys those durezze most effectively, and he also happens to make the greatest play with rubato. In that respect, I regret that none of the notes gives any indication as to temperament(s) used, for in the circumstances this sort of information ought to be of more than academic interest.
To sum up, these two recitals are nicely contrasted. Butt’s is the more strait-laced of the two, and faces strong competition from Leonhardt in the same repertory, but his view is a valuable alternative. Hantai’s recital is more varied, both as a programme and interpretatively, but with only one duplication between them, serious collectors will want both.'