Franz Liszt must have really been blown away by the cities of Venice and Naples on his travels with Marie d'Agoult, because he ended up composing four pieces named after them: Venezia e Napoli. But apparently, the original four pieces weren't good enough for old Franz, so he went back and revised them until only the last two were left: the Andante placido (aka Gondoliera) and the Tarantelles Napolitaines (aka just plain ol' Tarantella). Then he stuck a sad song called Canzone in between them and voila! The triptych known as Venezia e Napoli was born. It was published as a supplement to Deuxième Année in 1861, so if you want to check it out, you better hit up this recording!

Liszt must have been feeling pretty darn romantic when he composed Gondoliera, because it's based on a love song by Giovanni Battista Peruchini called "La biondina in gondoletta." But unlike the original version, Liszt's revision starts off with a fancy introduction in the key of F-sharp minor. The music sounds all calm and serene, like a peaceful Venetian canal (or at least what I imagine one would sound like). And then, once it hits that F-sharp major chord, it's like BAM! The melody comes in and it's all lovey-dovey and stuff. And let me tell you, it's so sweet and soft, it'll make your teeth hurt. But don't worry, there's some fancy flourishes in there to keep things interesting.

The Canzone that comes after Gondoliera (or "Gondolier's Song") is actually part of a larger piece, and it leads directly into the Tarantella without missing a beat. It's based on a song called "Nessun maggior dolore" from Rossini's opera Otello, which is weird because the opera is set in Venice but it premiered in Naples. Anyway, Liszt messed around with the melody and rhythm a bit, and he also changed the key from G minor to E-flat minor, which makes it sound all dark and moody. It starts off with some creepy tremolo, and then the melody comes in and it's all woe is me. But don't worry, it's not all doom and gloom, because there's some fancy piano stuff in there to keep things interesting. And at the end, the music gets all happy and major-key-y, so it's not a total downer.

The Tarantella is like a firework show on piano. It's based on some themes by a French composer named Guillaume-Louis Cottrau, who lived and worked in Naples. It starts off with a Presto tempo, and the introduction leads you from the E-flat key of the Canzone to the G minor key of the first theme. And let me tell you, this thing is full of energy! The music shifts between different meters, so it's like a never-ending party. Then the second theme comes in, and it's like BAM! Fortissimo! And then the music goes to the relative major key, but it doesn't stay there long because it sidesteps into D-flat major with a funny little passage in contrary motion. And then it's back to G minor, and the first theme returns, and it's like a three-part design or something. And then the music closes in B-flat major, and there's a pause, and then there's a new theme in E-flat major, and it's all lyrical and stuff. And then there's some fancy flourishes and variations, and then it goes to E major, and then to G major, and then there's a coda and it's like WHAM! Prestissimo! And the music is rushing towards the end, and it's all virtuosic and impressive.

I. Gondoliera
II. Canzone
III. Tarantella

Recorded live from Dublin City Gallery - The Hugh Lane on July 27th, 2014 as part of the concert series of the Dublin International Piano Festival & Summer Academy.

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Piano: Bluthner Model 1
Piano Technician: Martin Walsh
Recording Engineer: Darby Carroll
Piano provided by Bluthner UK

Franz Liszt Venezia e Napoli, s. 159

A small, blue edition of Hart Crane's masterpiece, The Bridge, has been living in my library for decades. The thought of doing something musically with it popped into mind now and then, but I never quite mustered the courage to do anything with it.  However, during the days of coronavirus driven isolation, when the importance of human connectedness, so aptly symbolized by the image of the bridge, had been hammered into our consciousness, the time had come. 

For those so inclined, read the poem. The Bridge, over the course of its 15 chapters, is an attempt to capture the essence of America in the 1920s, as Crane experienced it. I think he succeeded in capturing the complexities of America - from its violent beginnings as the culture of native Americans was crushed by expanding European cultures to the crass commercialism that erupted at the turn of the century (and still exists, in spades, today), tempered by the buoyant optimism and hope for mankind in spirits like Walt Whitman, Emily Dickinson and the American transcendentalists. But above all, the poem relies upon the Brooklyn Bridge as a symbol of connectedness, spanning the myriad of events across time and geography that culminate in what we are, wherever we are, today.

Crane’s poem attempted perhaps too much.  The span of the Brooklyn Bridge became a symbol of everything connected to everything else – the past to the present, urban America to rural America, a vast dream of America from its pre-European existence to the bustling America of big, industrial cities and great railroads spanning the continent.

In this music, the solo viola, in its middle range, spans between the musical soundscapes that represent the images evoked by the poem.  It reaches between the low and high instruments, between the dark, swirling eddies of water beneath the bridge to the searing sunlight, piercing the harp-like cables of the bridge, while seagulls soar overhead.  It also is the voice of the poem’s protagonist, seeking redemption in a violent and crassly commercial world.

Scattered, like leaves, in the music, are apparitions from the past – a fragment of a melody from a court composer to Ferdinand and Isabella, a made-up Irish gig, bits of jazz and flashes of tunes from the 1920s that Hart Crane would have heard during his days in New York.
 


Van Winkle

Johann Sebastian Bach: Violin Concerto in A minor, BWV 1041

Thomas Gould, violin
Senesino Players

Johann Sebastian Bach: Violin Concerto in A minor: 3. Allegro assai

Mendelssohn Violin Concerto E Minor OP.64 (Full Length) - Hilary Hahn & FRSO

Hahn - Mozart - Violin Concerto No.3

J. S. Bach - Violin concerto in E Major BWV 1042

Violin Concertos: Mozart 5 & Vieuxtemps 4

Mozart - Violin Concerto 5 in A K.219 - Hilary Hahn

Brahms & Stravinsky Violin Concertos

Brahms - Violin Concerto in D Major Op. 77 II. Adagio - Hilary Hahn

Complete Recordings on Deutsche Grammophon 1976-1979 CD131

Beethoven - Symphony No. 3 in E-flat Major Op. 55 'Eroica' - Herbert Von Karajan

Beethoven - Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 61 - Hilary Hahn

Solo Violin: Ainhoa Galvany
Violins: Laura Torcal & Raquel Paleo
Viola: Isa Juarez
Cello: Queralt Garcia
Harpsichord: Ilil Danin

Recorded at the Fentener van Vlissingenzaal
Recording: NanoGrammophon

June2013
Utrecht

Mozart - Violin Concerto 5 in A K.219 - Hilary Hahn

Ibrahim Alsalih

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