Christophe Coin's third solo Vivaldi disc completes his recording of the nine cello sonatas (the six which used to masquerade under the misleading and erroneous title Op. 14 are contained on L'Oiseau-Lyre (CD) 421 060-2OH, 4/89) while adding three more cello concertos to the six already issued (L'Oiseau-Lyre (CD) 421 732-2OH, 8/89). That leaves 18 cello concertos to go, but I would urge L'Oiseau-Lyre to consider the matter carefully since Vivaldi seldom disappoints us when he writes for this instrument. Coin has chosen well, by and large, but it is nevertheless a question of first among equals and even a cursory glance over the scores of the remaining concertos as yet unrecorded, makes one long for a cellist of this technical calibre and fine sensibility to offer us the rest.
The three sonatas on this new disc were not published during Vivaldi's lifetime. Two of them (RV39 and 44) are preserved in the library of the Naples Conservatory while the remaining one (RV42) with a notably expressive Sarabanda comes from the Schonborn library at Wiesentheid. Coin's feeling for dance rhythms, his clear articulation and musical phrasing, and his sharp ear for detail make for outstanding performances. Perhaps he does not possess that feeling for caricature present in Anner Bylsma's Deutsche Harmonia Mundi recording of these sonatas ((CD) RD77909, 6/90) but that is a dimension which can hinder a listener's enjoyment on frequent acquaintance. Here, the music is further enlivened by characteristically stylish continuo playing by Christopher Hogwood, who rings the changes between organ and harpsichord, and the two other members of the continuo group, Ageet Zweistra (cello) and Eugene Ferre (baroque guitar).
The three concertos have all been recorded by other cellists in the past but seldom if ever as delightfully as interpreted by Coin and the strings of the Academy of Ancient Music. As in the sonatas the continuo is given additional colour by an archlute in the two minor-key works and by a chitarrone in the remaining G major Concerto. There are plenty of contrasts in the spirit of these concertos, the D minor characterized by virile, pulsating motifs in the tuttis of the outer movements, the C minor a gentler, more melancholy work and the G major in Vivaldi's happiest vein. Virtuosity reigns supreme in the solo writing of the Allegros though, as so often with Vivaldi, attentive listening to enchanting little turns of phrase brings considerable rewards in a more lyrical vein; where the slower middle movements are concerned I reiterate what I implied in my review of the earlier disc that the depth of expression of which Vivaldi is capable is too often disregarded or underestimated. This music was intended to move the passions, to appeal to the senses and it does—unfailingly. A splendid issue in every respect. Warmly recommended.'