Gold leaf in Peralada

Peralada is written in both ways: the official toponymy says it is written with "a", but the festival writes itself with "e", and then it is normal for people who do not use the neutral to make you doubt. I like it with "a", because that is how Coromines' Onomasticon marks it, and because it leaves no doubt about the pronunciation. When you go to a concert, however, the audience says it as they please and also sometimes seems unaware of other sounds that can bother the neighbor: specifically, there is a perfectly identifiable lady who has spent half the concert hitting her chest with the corporate fan they gave her before entering the Església del Carme.

During a good part of the interpretation by the young, multinational, Venetian-inspired female orchestra Les Musiciennes du Concert des Nacions (with the prominent role of violinist Lina Tur), together with the renowned soprano Núria Rial (one of the paradigmatic voices of baroque and classical repertoire in recent years) and under the direction of Jordi Savall (creator of the orchestra, and who has just received the latest award, the Ernst von Siemens, considered the Nobel of music), the baroque pieces we heard will unfortunately be accompanied by this beat, this pulse, this incessant beat of the lady, surely composed for a tambourine but adapted to a fan and chest.

We immerse ourselves under Italian masters of the 17th and 18th centuries, with a combination of recreational and religious music always imbued with baroque, that is, this decadent French wig beat adapted to the vitalist spasms of Italy, these honey chords of the harpsichord, this medievalizing touch of the peat and this capacity for flourish of the strings (instrumental and vocal) that often tumble over the same phrase trying to make more deadly jumps until the forms are exhausted and squeezed. Albinoni (Concerto for violin in A major), as we know, is this Venetian and spring morning, very fast in this piece, more than allegro, molto, troppo, of a hyperactive and tropissimo optimism, most suitable for Lina Tur's brilliance. This fireworks display of gold and silver leads us to Ferrandini (Cavatina: Il pianto di Maria, previously attributed to Handel) who already approaches a spiritual serenity collected by Núria Rial's baroque, but clean and rinsed of useless ornaments, voice (she says they already tell her that she has a baroque way of singing: "Well, it's my way," she replies).

The soprano disappears again and Savall reappears, conducting all the pieces, and this time he brings us Vivaldi in flesh and blood (Concerto for violin in D major, Grosso Mogul). Vivaldi surpasses them all in presence, in personal brand, this very clear condition of a prodigy before Mozart but without having to be a child prodigy all his life. There is this compositional virtuosity, this now you will listen to me, which is recognized from the first note and which so often leads me to guess veritable electric guitar solos avant la lettre.

Again the youthful and carefree sympathy of Lina Tur's violin, I would say the one who enjoys the concert the most, well supported at all times by her friendly orchestra. Even in the Salve Regina, now sung again, between sacred and courtly music. Geminiani, on the other hand, I did not know (Concerto Grosso, Sopra La Follia), which will be a parenthesis of luminosity before a last Vivaldi darkened, embittered by the theme, within the Catholic reclusion of Psalm 112 (113) Laudate Pueri Dominum, which in any case is one of those demonstrations of how the same verse can be said in a thousand ways, forwards and backwards, as if to show that sacred words are not meant to be said once and for all but to be sublimated, twisted and covered with gold leaf before the encores, the bouquets of flowers and the long applause with the fan already well stored in the bag. I turn to see what the lady is like. Yes, she looks exactly as I imagined. 

In short, that Oriol Aguilà and Jordi Savall know how to produce very well together, and that directing a festival requires an emotional intelligence that Savall and his music (the muses and the girls) also exploit with infinite love for the space, for the chapel, for the castle and even for the classic floating car with a goose that is always displayed in front of the casino. Today we have been able to see the art of a master of historically informed interpretation, but also that of a master of culturally sophisticated programming. We are very, very lucky.