Guillaume de Machaut (1300-1377)
A Lover’s Death
The Orlando Consort
rec. 2023, Parish Church of St. John the Baptist, Loughton, UK
Hyperion CDA68430 [68]

Here is the eleventh and last installment of the Orlando Consort’s titanic project to record all polyphonic songs and motets by Guillaume de Machaut, probably the greatest composer of the fourteenth century (although some may prefer Francesco Landini). Machaut’s works have, it seems, entirely come down to us.

If are wondering about the title, look no further than the first track, a motet which encapsulates much of what this disc is all about. The text begins with Hareu! hareu! le feu, le feu / D’ardant desir […]. The burning desire of this tri-textual motet is found in the motetus part where we read ‘nothing can protect me except my lady who wishes me to die in despair’. The lover goes on to say that he ‘cannot live long’ if he cannot serve his lady. The plainchant in the tenor is all about obedience and love which, of course, demands obedience to the lady. This work has been dated at some time in the 1350s. Further proof, as it were, appears in the ballade Biauté qui toutes autres pere: ‘Love, my own eyes and her lovely shape / Have brought me close to a lover’s death’.

There are three further motets on the disc, and these are often complex pieces. Amours, qui a le pooir has the triplum text in which the poet is threatening a ‘most painful death’. This runs concurrently with the motetus Faus Samblant in which we are told that the poet has been duped into having been given hope by his lady. The tenor simply has the plainchant fragment Vidi Dominum – ‘I have seen the Lord’. Why are they put together? Anne Stone and Jacques Boogart in their closely argued notes say: “perhaps the tenor words are meant as a promise- that in defeat there may yet be future victory”. Make of that what you will. The original audience may not have been so baffled, but it is still a mystery how these works were originally performed. My problem with the rendition of these Rondeaux is that the tenor, the lowest voice, should be held with a firm clarity; I find Donald Grieg’s baritone vibrato rather unsuitable and unhelpful.

The dating of very old music is difficult but various characteristics do emerge as Machaut’s career develops. From the way that the melodic ideas are used, it is thought that Je ne cuit pas – a Ballade in two parts – is a quite early work, as is the very short Dous vraie gracieus (possibly from the 1330s). On the other hand, the Rondeaux Quant je ne voy is a very late piece. Although numbered as nineteen, the motet which ends the disc, beginning Martyrum gemma latria seems to date from 1335. It was written for Rheims Cathedral with which Machaut is associated. Thinking of his later style in Quant je ne voy, it is very satisfying to hear how he reconciles the ending of the A section (in the supertonic as we would now think of it) with the ending of the B section which returns to its initial mode.

In the manuscripts and published versions, only one of the parts, normally the upper one, is texted. That leaves the other voices to either vocalise – as do the Orlando Consort – or to attempt to fit the text into their parts, or, as some groups do, regard these untexted lines wholly or in part as instrumental.

Not all of Machaut’s texts are written from the male viewpoint. The three-voiced Ballade De petit po has a woman speak of unrequited love: ‘Love knows well I have deeply loved him / and love him still’. One of the composer’s most popular works, it exists in versions for four and for two parts.

Douce dame jolie is an especially well-known dance-like virelai with just a single line. It is sung rather earnestly, I must admit, by Donald Gregg. Another outstanding song is the three-part Ballade Amours me fait desirer with its opening augmented fourth in the top line and its somewhat twisted part writing. It is true to say that the Rondeaux form – and indeed often the Ballade – can be more melismatic. That is probably why Douce dame jolie is so often recorded. Similarly, the virelai Diex, Biauté, Douceur, Nature is sung by countertenor Matthew Venner also with a memorable melody; the other Virelai Liement me deport has a catchy repeated syncopated phrase.

It is worth adding that it is a good idea to read through the texts as they stand in French, before looking at the translations. That will help enjoy Machaut’s ingenious rhyming schemes, for example in the ballade Ma chiere dame.

There are several beautiful performances on this disc. I especially enjoyed the two-part Rondeaux Ce qui soustient (which interestingly begins with the interval of the tri-tone already mentioned above) and the Ballade Je n cuit pas.

The booklet essay is very thorough and sometimes quite technical. One will encounter words like ‘talea’ and ‘fixed forms’, which I have deliberately not really touched on. Or one can just listen to the extraordinary music, follow the texts and marvel at the originality and imagination of the composer and the unfailing grip and energy which the Orlando Consort have demonstrated in communicating this music. I suspect, however, that there is still more passion to be found in this music than even these fine singers have been able to reveal.

Gary Higginson

Previous review: Philip Harrison (January 2025)

Buying this recording via a link below generates revenue for MWI, which helps the site remain free

Contents
Hareu, hareu! le feu / Helas! ou sera pris confors / Obediens usque ad mortem
Mors sui se je ne vous voy
Je ne cuit pas
Quant je ne voy
Diex, Biauté, Douceur, Nature
Biauté, qui toutes autres pere
Quant Vraie Amour / O Series summe rata / Super omnes speciosa
De petit po
Dous viaire gracieus
Douce dame jolie
Amours me fait desirer
Ce qui soustient moy
Amours, qui a le pooir / Faus Samblant / Vidi Dominum
N’en fait n’en dit
Ma chiere dame
Liement me deport
Martyrum gemma latria / Diligenter inquiramus / A Christo honoratus