The recently rediscovered solo fantasias for viola da gamba by Georg Philipp Telemann represent a significant contribution to the repertoire for this expressive and historically rich instrument. These pieces, long thought to be lost, have re-emerged as a testament to Telemann’s inventive compositional style and deep understanding of the viola da gamba’s capabilities. Their discovery has not only enriched the viola da gamba repertoire but also provided modern players with fresh material to explore and interpret.

The fantasias were discovered by musicologist Thomas Fritzsch, whose diligent research unearthed these works in an archive where they had been overlooked for centuries. Fritzsch’s discovery has been celebrated by the early music community, sparking a resurgence of interest in Telemann's works and the viola da gamba. This significant find has allowed musicians and audiences alike to experience a new dimension of Telemann’s genius.

For contemporary players, the Telemann solo fantasias present a unique opportunity. Unlike works that have been part of the performance canon for centuries, these pieces have entered the modern repertoire relatively recently, meaning that all musicians approach them without the weight of long-standing interpretive traditions. This scenario encourages a diverse range of interpretations, with each player bringing their own voice and stylistic preferences to the music. In contrast, works like J.S. Bach’s cello suites have been shaped by generations of interpretation, notably by Pablo Casals in the early 20th century, leading to a more unified approach over time.

The Telemann fantasias invite modern viol players to explore a wide variety of playing styles, thus offering audiences a rich tapestry of interpretations. This diversity is a significant aspect of the modern reception of these pieces, highlighting the adaptability and creative potential of the viola da gamba.

Personally, it is incredibly exciting to be part of the generation that gets to explore and bring these works to life for the first time in modern history. The fantasias are inventive and creative, showcasing Telemann’s ability to blend technical demands with expressive depth. They provide a new frontier for viola da gamba players, allowing us to experience the joy of discovery that previous generations were unable to enjoy.

In conclusion, the Telemann solo fantasias for viola da gamba are a monumental addition to the instrument’s repertoire. Their recent discovery offers both players and listeners an opportunity to engage with Telemann’s music in a fresh and personal way. It is a privilege to experience these works, and they undoubtedly enhance our understanding and appreciation of the viola da gamba’s rich musical heritage.

Before the pandemic, one of the places I would often visit was Oberlin, USA. This little American town, 30 minutes outside Cleveland, Ohio, was the home to one of the finest institutions for the study of historically informed performance: Oberlin Conservatory. There, performers, teachers, scholars and music lovers congregated every summer for the world’s longest-running early music summer course: Oberlin’s Baroque Performance Institute, affectionately known as BPI. One of the founders of the course just happens to be one of the finest viol players that I have had the opportunity to learn from Catharina Meints.

It had been a few years since I had been back to Oberlin, and I knew I was due for a ‘service’ with Cathy. As soon as borders were opened, I made the perilous voyage (covid was still rampant) to the other side of the world. Whenever I was at BPI, I would usually borrow a viol from Mary Anne Ballard, a viol player and faculty member at BPI. She owned several antique instruments, but as she knew I was a French music specialist, she lent me her Jean Ouvrard viol of 1743 (visit chaconne.a415music.com.au to listen to my recording of that instrument with theorbist Lucas Harris). Her generosity enabled me to gain an appreciation and taste for antique instruments, not to mention a heightened sense of technique and musicianship: qualities that fine instruments impart to their players.

It was not only through Mary Anne that I managed to play antique viols. Cathy also owned a significant collection (the Ouvrard used to belong to Cathy but she sold it to buy an Amati cello!) of antique viols known as the Caldwell Collection of Viols, named after her late husband James Caldwell, also a fine violist in his own right. This is where the Lambert viol lived from 1970 after it was bought from London dealer Tony Bingham, who bought it from Alain Vian in Paris. Alain owned a music shop at rue Grégoire de Tours during the days when you could walk into a store and buy an antique musical instrument. The Collection, which contained numerous important instruments by historical makers, such as Amati, Bertrand, Norman, Rose, and Tielke, was kept in Cathy’s museum of a house in Oberlin which was purpose-built for the collection. You really had to visit her house to understand how special this building was, a modern piece of art in the middle of small-town America. From a distance, it looked as if an alien spaceship had parked itself in the suburbs.

I managed to make it to BPI for its fiftieth reiteration. Everything was as it seemed, with lots of music-making and learning, as usual. It was after a lunchtime recital that Cathy, to my surprise, announced her decision to leave her home and move into a retirement community. It was common knowledge that Cathy and the Collection would always remain at that house, but it seemed circumstances had changed. Very soon after her announcement, I asked her rather candidly, ‘What will happen to your viols?’ To which she replied, ‘Would you like the Lambert?’ The rest is, as they say, history.