Pasquale Corrado (b 1979)
D’Estasi, for large ensemble (2013)
Ozone, for seven instruments (2018)
Amor che ne la mente mi ragiona, for ensemble and electronics (2020)
Insequenza, for six instruments (2015)
Pulse, for six instruments (2011)
Ensemble Intercontemporain / Matthias Pintscher (D’Estasi)
Syntax Ensemble / Pasquale Corrado (other works)
rec. 2015, Concertgebouw, Amsterdam (D’Estasi) and 2015-2022, RecPulsing Studio, Milan, Italy
Text for Amor che ne la mente mi ragiona is not included
Kairos KAI0022004 [56]
A protégé of Alessandro Solbiati at the Milan Conservatory, Pasquale Corrado has also studied with Italian scions such as Ivan Fedele and Stefano Gervasoni, as well as benefitting from an extended period of study at IRCAM. He’s also active as a conductor and arranger; unusually for a contemporary figure descended from this kind of lineage, in this latter role he has built a parallel career in the spheres of pop music and television. It’s possible to hear traces of the music of his teachers intermittently in the five works on this disc. However, Corrado seems to have developed an identifiable, occasionally radical language of his own, one that seems to exploit the tension between linear and vertical musical construction. The upshot of this is a busy, timbrally diffuse and accessible style. Corrado’s music simultaneously flows and floats, propelled by an intuitive appreciation of the emotional possibilities of dynamics. The works on this disc which resolve in quietude especially leave a lasting impact.
Inspired by Raphael’s magnificent altarpiece The Ecstasy of Saint Cecilia, Corrado has stated that D’Estasi for 23 instruments specifically reflects the disparity between the material and spiritual worlds depicted in the painting which features Cecilia, the patron saint of music in the midst of four other Saints: Peter, John the Evangelist, Augustine and Mary Magdelene. She alone is able to listen in, enraptured, to the celestial song of the angels above them. A restrained crash in the ensemble unleashes an unpredictable torrent of tiny motifs, colours and gestures which are directly driven by the interval of a semitone. The bells that toll around four minutes in constitute a premonition of the sepulchral textures which will conclude the work. The bells themselves trigger a brief period of stasis which in turn yields to the swirling winds, muted brass and volatile percussion which compete for attention at the heart of D’Estasi. Another quiet section is disturbed by rather menacing hints of distant thunder, moments which typify the gestural instability which pervades the majority of the piece. If this description suggests a somewhat bleak experience, Corrado’s pacing and colouristic skill ensures that D’Estasi is both exuberant and absorbing. The closing pages epitomise the ethereality of St Cecilia; tiny bells, tuned gongs and other exotic percussion coalescing in soft allure, intimating the inaudible; in the composer’s words inhabiting “a halo, a scent, something immaterial”. Mathias Pintscher leads his Ensemble Intercontemporain in a vital, confidently pointed and ideally balanced account.
The other four works all feature the composer’s own Syntax Ensemble and incorporate Corrado’s favoured core instrumental sextet: flute, clarinet, percussion, piano, violin and cello. Despite the possibly inhibiting colouristic limitations of repeatedly deploying the same instruments, each offering projects a remarkably distinctive, even unique character. He does add a viola to the group for Ozone, which proves to be as airy as its title suggests. Breathy flute and wispy clarinet duel over a slapping, clicking texture, while gossamer strings and grumbling low piano notes reinforce an omnipresent undertow of volatility. Corrado seems to be seeking to effect a sonic metaphor for a gas which has somewhat undeservedly been tied to an entirely menacing connotation. However any impression of threat in the music is swiftly tempered by his skilful placement of attractive and unusual woodwind textures. This softening of Ozone’s impact is as reassuring as it’s unexpected.
Amor che ne la mente mi ragiona (Within my mind love now sweetly discourses) is a six minute treatment of the first four stanzas of the canzone at the head of the third book of Dante’s Convivio. Valentina Coladonato’s dramatic soprano is added to the core group, along with some doubling of instruments and electronics. The latter adds a ghostly halo to Coldonato’s fervent vocal contribution, which falls halfway between singing and declamation. The extended ensemble’s gamut of colour and timbre (with an unusually prominent contribution from the crotales) complement the amplification in reinforcing a sense of disorientation in the listener. Although, once again, Corrado’s alchemistic talent for extracting light from seemingly dark raw materials renders the experience both exciting and agreeable.
There is a degree of confusion in the booklet regarding the instrumental requirements for Insequenza; Gianluigi Maltetti suggests in his introduction that a viola is added to the core sextet, but the indication in the contents list suggests otherwise. Schott, who publish the work, confirm that there is no viola. Much as I love Kairos these inaccuracies continue to creep into their documentation and whilst Maltetti’s text is in no way pretentious, the English translation is occasionally ponderous and awkward. As for the piece itself, it was commissioned for Milan’s Expo 2015 festival, although the premiere took place in Turin. It’s a spiky and fragmented affair, densely arranged and emerging from agglomerations of tiny instrumental details. Staccato repetitions in the piano, minute flurries of flute and an array of DIY percussion sounds combine to create a rather pointillistic collage. An assertive cello becomes increasingly influential within the mix before the piece evaporates into what Maltetti likens to a “giant aviary”. The effect is likeable in many ways, but to my ears Insequenza seems to lack the propulsiveness and direction of the companion works on this monograph.
Pulse, the earliest composition here, is far more convincing in this regard and concludes the disc. Percussion is pared down to just vibraphone and bass-drum, but the vivid recording ensures that the sound is nonetheless both warm and full. The initial pulsations in the piano underpin a sequence of repeated, recognisable but short-lived melody. These threads seem to recur as the piece proceeds, reinforcing its sense of flow and navigability for the listener. A slower central section with deft flute interventions is convincingly placed before the beats which carried the work at its outset recur in a more jagged and unpredictable form. Virtuosic flurries in flute and clarinet are mirrored by the vibraphone before percussive flute pops, string tracings and limpid figurations in piano and vibes draw the piece to a measured, alluring conclusion.
On the evidence of this fine issue, Corrado is the latest figure to step off a production line of talented Italian composers which has been increasingly productive since the turn of the 21st century. He is magnificently served by the Syntax Ensemble, who are unsurprisingly entirely inside his style. The recording is ideal; Corrado’s music absolutely benefits from a spacious sound picture which will capture at once the attention of any curious contemporary buff. Heartily recommended to those who fancy an hour of challenging yet accessible sounds which somehow radiate a Mediterranean warmth.
Richard Hanlon
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