**ROELANT, ALAIN** Trumpet Voluntaries and Sonatas
Alain Roelant, trumpet; Jan Van Landeghem, organ
Eufoda 1163 (47:00 · CD) · Rec. 1992, St. Joseph’s Church, Sint-Niklaas
There’s something irresistible about trumpet and organ together—that brassy gleam against ranks of pipes, the way sound fills a resonant church and seems to lift the roof. This 1992 recording from St. Joseph’s Church in Sint-Niklaas delivers exactly that visceral pleasure, and does so with considerable polish. Alain Roelant commands his instrument with ease, Jan Van Landeghem knows his way around a console, and the engineering captures both the organ’s intricate passagework and the church’s generous acoustic envelope. If you want sheer sonic exhilaration, you could do far worse.
But then the musicologist in me starts twitching.
The program notes—by Landeghem himself—practice a certain creative economy with the truth. Take the Boyce “Vivace from Suite of Trumpet Voluntaries.” It’s actually the quick movement from the composer’s first Organ Voluntary, written to show off the organ’s trumpet stop, not to accommodate an actual trumpet, however splendidly played. Would Boyce have objected? Perhaps not. But he might have raised an eyebrow at the registration of that middle section, where his marking “Swell or Eccho” clearly calls for something lighter, more withdrawn.
The Clarke “Suite in D” proves equally slippery. Landeghem suggests “the original version was probably written for trumpet and a wind instrument ensemble“—which is, to put it charitably, optimistic. These are keyboard pieces, published as such, and this is the first I’ve heard anyone claim otherwise. Mind you, much of Clarke sounds pretty anemic on harpsichord alone, and one can’t help thinking the poor man—who shot himself over a love affair gone wrong—might have reconsidered his desperate act if he’d heard how gloriously his music could blaze forth in this guise. But let’s not pretend we’re dealing with original scoring.
I’ve nothing against arrangements per se. The trumpet-organ combination, for all its obvious effectiveness, has inspired composers to write precious little original repertoire. But I do expect sources and arrangers to be fully declared.
With Girolamo Fantini and Bonaventura Viviani, at least, we’re on firmer historical ground—mostly. Fantini’s sonatas represent the first time in music history that trumpet was accompanied by figured bass, requiring the organist to improvise harmonies and counterpoint. Landeghem throws himself into this task with evident relish, particularly in the fifth sonata, where his embellishments border on the exuberant. Roelant, playing what appears to be a modern instrument, soars into the Baroque trumpet’s stratospheric range without breaking a sweat.
The organ itself—brand new in 1991, modeled on eighteenth-century principles—offers both opportunities and temptations. Landeghem succumbs to the latter more often than I’d like, particularly his fondness for that 16-foot stop. Sections of the Bruhns, the Froberger, and even the Bach Prelude and Fugue in D Minor, BWV 539, suffer from overbearingly heavy registration. For seventeenth-century music, even a chamber organ from a century later presents anachronistic possibilities, and Landeghem explores them with abandon.
Yet he’s an imaginative player—also a composer, which perhaps explains his improvisatory confidence—whose rhythmic vitality usually carries the day. The Buxtehude Prelude in G Minor finds his natural exuberance perfectly matched to the composer’s own wild-eyed invention. When he lightens his touch, as in passages of the Bach, the results justify his interpretive liberties.
The disc runs 47 minutes, which might seem short by today’s jam-everything-to-75-minutes standards. But it’s about right for this combination. Extended exposure to trumpet and organ can induce a sort of sonic fatigue, however brilliant the playing. Better to leave the listener wanting more.
One can only admire—or perhaps scratch one’s head at—the team’s complete indifference to marketing. The disc contains the most famous trumpet piece ever written, yet neither cover nor notes acknowledge this fact. If you don’t already know which work I mean, I shan’t spoil the surprise.
Not a musicological experience, then, but an enjoyable one—provided you don’t look too closely at what’s being claimed about the music’s origins. The playing is secure, musical, and occasionally thrilling. The sound is glorious. Just don’t expect scholarly rigor to match the sonic splendor.
Recommended, with reservations.
