The 17th-century diarist Samuel Pepys was fascinated by politics, gossip, food, literature, sex — and music. He attended not only King Charles II and his courtiers (and mistresses), but also the composers and singers of the English Restoration, and in his coded journal he recorded their scandals and critiqued their performances.
A charming and witty afternoon chamber program at the Carmel Bach Festival called “London’s Burning!” used selections from Pepys as the frame for a varied concert of dances, songs, and anthems from his time, written by the composers he knew, and when possible played from the very sheet music that he avidly collected.
Elegantly assembled by Daniel Swenberg, who also played lute, theorbo, and guitar, the selections from Pepys’s famous diary were spoken by long-time Carmel Bach tenor soloist David Gordon, whose wry humor, theatrical aplomb, and impeccable timing could earn him a job as a stand-up comic.
Pepys responded viscerally to music, as he did to many aspects of life. Critical — even grumpy — at times, he was also capable of tremendous enthusiasm. “Music,” he wrote, “is all the pleasure I can live for in the world.” That pleasure was clearly manifest in the performances of “London is Burning.” Jaunty theater tunes by Henry Purcell and Matthew Locke captured the Restoration vogue for sexy and light-hearted drama. A gorgeous anthem by Giacomo Carissimi reminded us of the emotional impact of 17th-century church music, especially when imported from Rome.
For Pepys, gifted with a transparent curiosity about all things, music seemed continually new, even when it was old. In this program — for me at least — the music was new: of some 20 pieces, I had probably heard only one or two before.
Witty love songs like Henry Lawes’s “Dialogue on a Kiss” gave the program a musical-comedy flair. In contrast, John Blow’s setting of Robert Herrick’s bitter poem “The Curse” (“Go, perjur’d man ...”) made evident the period’s fascination with the poetry and music of contradictory emotions.
Pepys’s moving account of the great fire of London introduced a beautiful lament for violin by Nicolo Matteis. Pepys did not fiddle while London burned, but tried, unsuccessfully, to rouse the king and the lord mayor to do something to stop the fire’s spread.
The concert featured four excellent and rather diverse voices, who mixed in almost every possible combination through the afternoon. Soprano Jennifer Paulino and mezzo-soprano Elizabeth Johnson Knight blended beautifully in the liquid soprano duets beloved of the high Baroque. Tenor Owen Macintosh was theatrical and engaging, admirably clear diction in a ballad about the hell and heaven of “loving too well” by Pelham Humfrey (a composer barely tolerated by Pepys, we learned from the narrator). Bass-baritone Dashon Burton grounded the music with his deep and solemn sonority.
The instrumental forces were used economically, often lending color to the vocal pieces, and on occasion stepping to the front. Daniel Swenberg and harpsichordist Gwendolyn Toth supplied continuo. Violist Sarah Darling was splendid in a haunting “An Italian Ground” — extended variations over a repeated tune in the bass — by Giovanni Battista Draghi. Violinists Edwin Huizinga and Tatiana Daubek played with assurance and sparkle.
For Pepys, music was “a science peculiarly productive of pleasure ... Witness the universal gusto we see it followed with ... by all whose leisure and purse can bear it.” Such an enthusiasm deserves to be noted, as it was in this delightful concert.
