O Solitude

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I can't believe I'm writing this.

I bought Andreas Scholl's O Solitude because Borders was going out of business, and it was cheap.  I also bought Hilary Hahn's Higdon and Casals' Bach cello suites.

Henry Purcell deserved his title Orpheus Brittanicus.  For me he is divine.  Music reached a state of perfection in the middle Baroque, and here in this English music there is no Italian showing off or German intellectualizing.

It's a wonderful recording.  The phrases sweep with such grace.  Just think of the countertenor as a new, somewhat strange instrument.  "Music for a while shall all our cares beguile."  Perhaps it is the ideal postlude to a practically perfect Fairy Queen.

What have all these centuries been for when already such perfection has been achieved?
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