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If one assumes rhetoric (i.e., persuasion) as the foundation of the Baroque musical edifice, irrespective of country—and in particular of the secular music this recording documents—one might then place atop it the columns and arches of dance and song-based instrumental fantasy, onto which could be applied extravagant swirls and ornamentation. Indeed, dance makes up this album’s primary focus, though granted it is dance in its most disembodied form since there is not the remotest hint of dancers here. It remains to be seen whether rhythm alone can make up for their absence, but we remain convinced (and believe the listener will agree) that the persuasive art of the instrumentalists will overcome the distance imposed by the audio-only format. The other focus of the album is instrumental fantasy, either as a tributary of dance or freed from it completely. It has already been seen how the French style spread to the Germanic countries, and it, along with the flamboyant Italian concertato style would flourish there. One of the most beloved composers of his day, Georg Philipp Telemann (1681–1767), was a master of this fortunate mixing of styles, especially in his numerous “overtures” (the name the Germans gave to the suite). The suite for recorder, excerpts of which are presented here, is one of some 135 that survive of the over 1000 suites he apparently composed. Less well-known, Johann Bernhard Bach (1676–1749) was Johann Sebastian’s cousin. An active harpsichordist and organist in Eisenach, it was written about him in his day that he “composed many beautiful overtures, arranged in the manner of Telemann.” The orchestral suite presented here is a fine example, drawing, as did Telemann, from both rival “tastes”: French and Italian. “In the end,” writes Nikolaus Harnoncourt, “the cultural conflict (between the French and Italian styles) was enriching: from it was born what is known as les goûts réunis (or the fusion of styles) which became characteristic of German 18th century music. The great composers wrote French suites, Italian sonatas and concertos, but always integrating in them some element borrowed from the enemy, and local tradition acted in this fusion as the catalyst.” So we might take pleasure in imagining—in all this music, most of which is imbued with or inspired by dance—a complete symbiosis of harmony and rhythm. In this way it may be transformed in the mind—as Father Menestrier suggested—into meaning-steeped movement, revealed by the rhetoric of the musicians performing it.