Album Review: 8 Sonatas by Corelli – A Baroque Feast That’s Hard to Forget
Let’s cut to the chase. If you’re into classical music but haven’t dived deep into Baroque yet, 8 Sonatas by Arcangelo Corelli might just be your golden ticket. Released in 1985 (yeah, I know, it's older than some of us), this album is like stepping into a time machine that smells faintly of powdered wigs and candle wax. It’s got everything: violins crying their little souls out, harpsichords doing their best “I’m fancy” impression, and cellos groaning like they’ve seen too much life.
The lineup? Pure gold. Monica Huggett on violin plays like she’s daring gravity itself to stop her bow strokes. Jaap ter Linden on cello adds that rich, brooding undertone—like coffee for your ears. And let’s not forget Ton Koopman, who switches between harpsichord and organ like he was born with keys for fingers. Oh, and Hopkinson Smith on theorbo? Dude makes an instrument most people don’t even know exists sound cooler than electric guitar solos at a rock concert.
Now, onto the tracks. You can’t talk about this album without mentioning Ciacona (Largo - Allegro). This piece sneaks up on you like a cat in socks—it starts slow, all mysterious and moody, then BAM! It flips into high gear faster than you can say “Baroque.” The interplay between the strings here feels almost conversational, like they’re gossiping about something scandalous in hushed tones before breaking into full-blown argument mode. Honestly, it’s impossible not to hum along, even if you have no idea what key you’re supposed to be in.
Another standout is Sonata In E Minor, Op. 3, No. 7. From the opening Grave, it sets a somber tone that hits you right in the feels. But instead of wallowing forever, it builds momentum, layer by layer, until you’re practically holding your breath waiting for the next twist. By the time the Allegro kicks in, you’ll feel like you’ve been strapped to a runaway horse-drawn carriage. Thrilling? Absolutely. Exhausting? Maybe a little. Worth it? Oh, totally.
What’s wild about this whole thing is how fresh it still sounds despite being nearly four decades old. Sure, it’s from Germany and released under Philips—a label known more these days for lightbulbs than symphonies—but there’s nothing dated about this recording. Engineer Adriaan Verstijnen deserves props for capturing every nuanced scrape of bow against string and every delicate pluck of theorbo strings. Listening to this feels less like hearing music and more like eavesdropping on history itself.
So, would I recommend 8 Sonatas by Corelli? Duh. It’s like eating a really good cheeseboard—complex flavors, unexpected textures, and once you start, you won’t want to stop. Just don’t blame me when you find yourself Googling “how to play the theorbo” at 2 AM.
Final thought: Who knew Baroque could make you wanna dance AND contemplate life simultaneously? Weird combo, but hey, isn’t that what great art does?
