It was only in 1971 that Zelenka's name first appeared in the record catalogues (in this country, I hasten to add for the sake of those omniscient readers who sit waiting to trip us up); and though a number of his works have since become available, he still remains a puzzling figure, seemingly both erudite and ingenuous at the same time. What with the paucity of scores he published in his lifetime, the destruction of many o f his manuscripts of religious works held in the Catholic cathedral during the bombing of Dresden, and the flooding of another cellar containing secular manuscripts of his, the ill-luck which dogged him in later life appears to have continued well after his death. The present boxed set contains a chamber sonata and three orchestral works, all but one of which have been recorded previously, and four religious works that are new here: but though any effort to make his often very remarkable compositions better known is to be welcomed, severe reservations about this issue are unavoidable.
Confidence in the undertaking is rudely shaken by a bland admission that, ''for reasons of time'', the last two movements of the Requiem in D have been docked: the feeble justification for this mutilation is that it follows a nineteenth-century copy (!) in doing so. After which, the replacement of Zelenka's chalumeau by flute, oboe and muted violin causes scarcely a flutter of shock. It is a curious work, its festive major-key trumpetings and cheerful-sounding ''Dies irae'' almost suggesting an absence of grief at the death of his master, Augustus the Strong. Unlike the C minor Requiem (Claves D8501, 9/85), this one does at least have trumpet fanfares in the ''Tuba mirum'', even if they are singularly unimaginative: the most interesting movement is the ''Recordare'', where the contralto is joined by oboe and violin obbligatos. Except for the tenor, the solo singing is indifferent, and the second Kyrie is aggressively performed by the chorus, with jerky quavers that do nothing for the musical line. The opening of the Kyrie of the Litaniae ( ''Litany of all the saints''), a far better work, bears a startling resemblance to that of the roughly contemporary B minor Mass (also, be it noted, intended for Dresden) of Bach (who is known to have admired Zelenka's Magnificat in D); and the ''Pater de coelis'' movement is very Bachian—worthy, indeed, to be compared with that master's work. On the other hand, Zelenka's Italian training becomes evident in the Vivaldi-like ''Ab ira tua, Domine'' (where again the tenor, Miroslav Kopp, shows himself the only satisfactory soloist). The chorus singing is marked by vigour rather than finesse: the men again punch out their quavers unpleasantly, though the sopranos' splendid assurance provides some compensation; all detail in the list of saints is lost in a general every-man-for-himself shouting-match. The work deserves better than this.
So does the motet based on Psalm 150—Zelenka's only one in the Czech language—which has a most invigorating opening and whose range of colours, to represent the instruments mentioned in the song of praise, is extremely rich and varied. The Czech Philharmonic's playing has plenty of vitality, but unfortunately the solo voice line lies too high for Karel Prusa, whose tone also is too consistently harsh and stentorian. I have so far failed to recognize the grounds for the assertion in the sleeve-note that the Salve regina is a vocal transcription of Frescobaldi's Ricercar dopo il Credo from his Fiori musicali. The recording of the chorus in this work—unlike that for the rest of this box—is rather congested.
So far, then, a disappointing issue, recommendable only as alerting us to the quality of these works. Nor will those who know the Vivaldian Concerto in G—though ''a 8'', only two violins, cello, oboe and bassoon are concertante—from either of the previous recordings (Archiv Production 2710 026, 11/78 and Philips 6701 011, 1/81) think all that of its performance here: the first movement is stodgily rendered, and the Largo cantabile, which is quite lovely in the hands of the German Bach Soloists on Philips, is allowed to plod painfully, each step in the bass separated from the next. But there, thankfully, adverse criticism ceases. The one other work not hitherto known here, the sinfonia to Zelenka's oratorio I penitenti ( ''The penitents at the sepulchre of the Redeemer''), is constructed on the lines of a French overture, with a long and intensely dramatic central fugato incorporating a chromatic element, which is flanked by slow sections in which most unusual 3-against-4 rhythmic conflicts occur. A fine piece, played with total commitment. The F major Sonata for two oboes and bassoon is an almost familiar friend. Though not on period instruments here (as on Accent ACC8226, 6/83), this is a brilliantly vivacious performance which cannot but delight: the three-part counterpoint of the Adagio is quietly expressive, the finale with its witty syncopations and cross-rhythms is exhilarating, and the three soloists (perhaps especially the bassoon) exhibit striking virtuosity.
Spectacular virtuosity by the horn soloist—who several times ascends to the dizzy height of a B in alt. (concert!)—and the freshness and vitality of the Prague Chamber Orchestra make this version of the Capriccion an absolute winner (though I wish they hadn't abjured cadential trills). This oddly constituted suite illustrates Zelenka's fondness for canonic writing (as well as his normal contrapuntal energy) and has a highly individual flavour. Among its pleasures are the second Aria (a trio for oboe, horn and violin), a springy Canaries (with more gaiety than in the Camerata Berne's recording on Archiv Produktion 2710 026, 11/78), the deeply expressive penultimate Andante (which, pace the often inaccurate sleeve-note, is certainly not a ''miniature three-voice fugue'') and a final folky Paysan. Very enjoyable.'