The music here is fun, even if the content is a bit coarse for the typical listener. The album's content is not likely to rouse your more prurient interests, which might make some think the album "tame." And yet... the music is well worth listening to, if for no other reason than its rarity and low-class historical (musicological?) place. I doubt that you'll hear most of what is on this album, unless you attend a Renaissance Fair or some such gathering. And even then... . The Baltimore Consort, again, uses its musical finesse to delight the listener -- yes, even with as earthy a subject as appears here.
It's also nice to know that bawdy songs can have a little sophistication to them -- they're not all like "Barnacle Bill." And three cheers for the Baltimore Consort, too, which I've heard on a couple of other CDs and enjoyed. This recording gives the feeling of a bunch of high-spirited musicians gathered in the back room after hours, singing and playing to amuse themselves -- which is the best kind of concert!
This charming CD is filled with beautiful music from the Elizabethan Age. Then, like now, people got together in taverns and sang songs which couldn't be appropriately sung at other times and places. The only difference between then and now, is that back then -- this was done in multi-part harmony!
The songs on this album range from mild to quite ribald -- hence the parental warning, but compared to much of what passes for "music" in today's culture, even the most bawdy song on this album is relatively tame.
There is a nice mixture of songs and styles (not all are bawdy -- some deal with the pleasures of good wine and good tobacco, and a few are simply scatological) and frequent interludes of instrumental music. In a couple of instances, the soprano sings a ballad which (to my view) should have been sung by a tenor or baritone. But that's a matter of personal taste, and does not impact the overall value of this album
Again, not for all tastes -- but a definite "must have" for those who love music of this era.
