The intelligence, sensitivity, and innate musicality distinguishing violinist James Ehnes' terrific unaccompanied Bach carries over to his first volume of the composer's sonatas with harpsichord. What immediately strikes you is the ideal balance between Ehnes and harpsichordist Luc Beauséjour–not just sonically speaking, but in how they effortlessly proportion their phrases and perfectly synchronize trills, turns, and other ornaments. Beauséjour's discreet and effective registrations complement the subtle variations in Ehnes' tone, especially in slower, sustained writing (the quicker-than-usual A major sonata's Andante is a good example).

Never short of ideas when it comes to offering concert programs imbued with authenticity and refinement, Luc Beauséjour is an exceptional harpsichordist and organist. “The naturalness of his harpsichord playing, the remarkable attention he gives to proportions and to a singing quality have made him a one-of-a-kind artist.” (Le Devoir)

The Notenbuchlein (or “Little Music Book”) for Anna Magdalena Bach is one of the most affectionate and tangible means by which we can glimpse an aspect of the Bach family ‘off duty’, so-to-speak. Bach began this anthology devoted mainly to the keyboard for his second wife in 1722, having three years earlier done the same for his eldest son, Wilhelm Friedemann. Musically speaking, the most important contents are five suites which, with some additional material and a sixth suite, were to become the French Suites (BWV812-7). But it is the remaining pieces which convey such warm intimacy to us, looking, as it were, through the window.

It's not clear why Telemann called these works "concertos" when they are really sonatas for transverse flute and harpsichord, with no tutti instrumental group involved. Annotator Jean-Claude Thériault works up an argument that it was due to the "concerted" nature of the music, with the flute and harpsichord playing generally equal roles instead of assigning ritornello-like music to the keyboard. It's hard to say whether he's right, but it's precisely the departure from the Baroque trio sonata and concerto models that makes this music so interesting. It is strikingly modern for the late 1710s, when the first edition of the music was published.

Several years ago, I was asked to take part in an event entitled “Delirium Vivaldi,” the closing con- cert of the eighth annual Classical Spree festival, put on by the Orchestre symphonique de Montréal. Conducted by Kent Nagano, the concert featured well-known works by the “Red Priest,” with the idea being to perform arrangements on unusual instruments such as octobass, cimbalom, bagpipes, and marimba.

C.P.E. Bach stated that Fischer was one of the few composers who had influenced his father's music. Praise indeed, although quotes like that can send one's expectations rocketing over and beyond the music's actual substance. It would appear Luc Beauséjour believes in the status Fischer's music without reservation, however. He is always compelling and sensitive to the music's every mood and is capable of applying the requisite rigour when warranted. The Musicalischer Parnassus was published in Augsburg in 1738 and consists of nine Dance Suites. Fischer brought the French style to German keyboard music with great panache.

Johann Caspar Ferdinand Fischer may not have been a great composer, but he was an important one, not least because his Ariadne musica–20 preludes and fugues in most of the available keys–clearly inspired Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier. Fischer's Musical Parnassus consists of nine suites of harpsichord music more or less in the French style (as he understood it), each named for one of the muses, though without any descriptive intent in this regard. This first disc contains the first six suites, and in case you've ever wondered how certain French record labels (Calliope and Erato, to be specific) got their names, now you know.