“The concert drew an audience that literally packed the church and that enthusiastically rewarded the eight chamber players of the orchestra with hearty and heart-warming applause. It was unlikely that there was another concert dedicated solely the music of Francois Couperin in all of America, let alone one that drew a full house. The fact that this concert did so and did so not in center city but in Chestnut Hill is a testament to Tempesta di Mare’s success in building a faithful and trusting audience and Chestnut Hillers’ willingness to branch out beyond the traditional standard repertoire. Tempesta di Mare’s concert opened with harpsichordist Adam Pearl playing Les Baricades Mystérieuses. Pearl played with such unaffected artistry that one couldn’t help but marvel at Couperin’s ability to strike so beautiful a nostalgic chord from so many centuries ago and [made me] wish that Tempesta di Mare programs more frequently provided the chance to hear more solo playing from this member of the ensemble. Couperin composed two major works based on the “affection” of being the nation of France: one a sonata divided into seven characteristic movements and the other a Suite divided into seven movements based on popular dances of the era. The former, for a smaller ensemble, revealed an expressive intimacy that has characterized all the French arts for centuries while the latter, for fuller forces, dramatically projected Couperin’s gift for the grand gesture. The playing here, as it was throughout the concert, was elegantly phrased, superbly balanced, broadly emotional yet structurally secure. While it may be true that the Germans—Bach and Handel—and the Italians—Corelli and Vivaldi—were the everlasting titans of the baroque, it’s equally true that the French—Couperin and Rameau—had their own distinctive voices and that all are worth hearing.” Chestnut Hill Local, December 2010.
“Some people spend Sunday reading the New York Times. Louis XIV summoned François Couperin and his court chamber players. One of the program’s highlights was the opportunity to hear solos by three musicians who normally occupy supporting roles: harpsichordist Adam Pearl, gamba player Sarah Cunningham and theorbo player Richard Stone. Pearl got the evening off to a good start with [Les Baricades Mystérieuses,] a rolling, sensuous piece. Stone soloed with a rondo that Louis’s court lutenist, Robert de Visee, arranged from a Couperin harpsichord piece, Les Sylvains (“the forest sprites”), and played it with an easy, natural style that fit the title and probably concealed a host of technical challenges. There was nothing flashy or showy about Sarah Cunningham’s solo turn [Pièces de Violes in E Minor], but you could see why the program notes emphasized its virtuoso nature if you watched her left hand maneuver across the strings of her gamba. Couperin avoided pointless display and placed technique at the service of art. Most of the pieces on the program teamed the continuo instruments with the voices of the wooden Baroque flute, the mellow Baroque oboe, and two Baroque violins. Gwyn Roberts’s flute sounded especially good. Oboist Debra Nagy added proper helpings of brightness and tenderness to the mix, and at times the flute-oboe sonorities provided the main attraction of a passage. Violinists Emlyn Ngai and Karina Fox made their usual contributions to the program’s overall grace. In one particularly attractive moment toward the end of the concert, the two winds and the two violins played a sweet passage that sounded like a duet for the two sections. The Sun King could be a real grade-A tyrant, but he was also a man of human foibles and virtues that inspire a kind of bemused affection. There’s much to be said for a guy who likes to lounge around on a sofa and listen to the music of Couperin.” Broad Street Review, December 2010.
