November 9, 2009 - PITTSBURGH POST-GAZETTE
Cohesive Apollo's Fire brims with passion and precision
by Andrew Druckenbrod

Long before sampling became a staple of pop and dance music, the original musical loop served as the basis for music 500 years ago. These were called ground basses -- short bass lines that repeated while the treble instruments or singers offered melodies and improvisation above. Think Pachelbel's Canon, however, as a fantastic concert Saturday night at Synod Hall showed, he was a latecomer to this party

Not only that but, presented by the Renaissance & Baroque Society of Pittsburgh, the Cleveland-based period ensemble Apollo's Fire also showed how varied these bass lines got in 16th- and 17th-century Spain and Italy, different patterns of the ciacona (chaconne) and passacaglia, folia, fandango and lamento.

But what was truly brilliant about this concert of nine musicians (including guitars, violins, harpsichord/cello/theorbo continuo, percussion and singing) was that director Jeannette Sorrell didn't "bass" it just on that. In fact, if they hadn't mentioned that these lively songs and dances all had ground basses in common, few of us would have noticed. There was just too much fun layered on top to pay attention to.

It started with the spot-on, theatrical singing of soprano Nell Snaidas. Opera and madrigals didn't have the stranglehold on dramatic and comedic song at this time, and Snaidas tapped into an expressive and sultry manner in such works as Benedetto Ferrari's "Amanti, io vi so dire (Lovers, I can tell you)," Luigi Rossi's "Lamento di Euridice" and Luis de Briceno's hilarious "The Ten Commandments," about a young woman who breaks all of them because of a man she loves. Her voice was resonant with a slightly dark timbre, yet nimble to navigate all manner of runs and ornaments.

The varied nature of this concert had many different musicians out in front at different times. Violinists Veronika Skuplik-Hein and Johanna Novom dueled in Marco Uccellini's "Duo Bergamasca" and Sorrell performed a solo harpsichord folia by Bernardo Storace.

But none topped the period Spanish dancing of Steve Player, who stomped his feet and did 360-degree jump twirls (at one point while still wearing his expensive Spanish guitar on a strap).

Even with all this visual splendor, the cohesion of the players stood out. They took an understated approach, but low-volume performance didn't mean low passion. This was best seen in the sophisticated percussion work of Rex Benincasa, a Pittsburgh native who really knew how to supply beat, color and texture without thrusting himself into the spotlight unless called for.