Stravagante pensiero
Concerto Italiano/Rinaldo Alessandrini
rec. 2024, Sala della Musica, Ferrara
Texts and translations included
Reviewed as a download
Naïve OP8677 [67]

The madrigal was one of the main genres of secular music in Italy from the early 16th century to the first quarter of the 17th century. Numerous collections were printed and a large number have been preserved in manuscript. During that time, they took different shapes. In the 16th century, the time of the stile antico, all the parts of a madrigal were treated on strictly equal footing. They could be performed by voices alone (a cappella) or with instrumental accompaniment. It was also common practice to perform them with one part – usually the upper voice – being sung and the other performed instrumentally. Around 1600, the seconda pratica was born, and composers started to write madrigals with basso continuo. They also incorporated the concertato principle, and Claudio Monteverdi was one of the pioneers in this field.

Cipriano de Rore and Giaches de Wert were among the composers who strongly contributed to the development of the madrigal. Their ideal was to express the meaning of a text and its affetti with musical means. In the course of the second half of the 16th century text and music became more and more connected, through musical figures – known as madrigalisms – and through the exploration of harmony, for instance with chromaticism and dissonances.

Carlo Gesualdo may well be considered the pinnacle of this development. He achieved a maximum of text expression within the boundaries of the stile antico. His two last books of madrigals are frequently performed. The texts are pretty morbid, dealing with unhappy love which is compared with dying. In order to express those thoughts, he makes use of extreme chromaticism and frequent dissonances which would not be misplaced in a 20th-century work. Gesualdo is often isolated from his context. However, he was not the only composer who set morbid texts and made use of harmonic means to illustrate them. In 2006, Sony released a disc of the Gesualdo Consort Amsterdam, directed by Harry van der Kamp, under the title of ‘Musica Vulcanica’. The title refers to Naples, near the volcano Vesuvius, where several composers wrote madrigals of the kind Gesualdo included in his last books.

The key figure in that recording is Scipione Lacorcia, who was of the generation after Gesualdo. He also figures on the disc which is the subject of this review. He and other composers of the first half of the 17th century show that Gesualdo was not the last composer who made use of the means mentioned above. The programme closes with a piece by Michelangelo Rossi, whose book of madrigals from which Per no mi dir ch’io muoia is taken, dates from around 1630. At that time the madrigal was already past its prime, and Rossi was one of the few who still practised it.

The preference for the kind of texts Gesualdo and some of his peers used, seems to be a Neapolitan speciality. Rinaldo Alessandrini, in his liner-notes, states: “Whereas in the North, one would have beaten the path of tender and affectionate expression, in Naples one would prefer and privilege emotion for its disruptive, overwhelming power.” The title ‘Musica Vulcanica’ for the Gesualdo Consort’s disc was therefore well-chosen. That also goes for the title of the present disc, taken from the first item: “Stravagante pensiero” (Extravagant thought). Stravagante (with several variants) is a word frequently used in Italian music, especially by composers from Naples, such as Giovanni de Macque (Consonanze stravaganti). The most famous piece with this title is Carlo Farina’s Capriccio stravagante. New Grove defines stravaganza as “a piece in no specific form involving melodic, harmonic, rhythmic or other features of an extraordinary kind.” It observes in De Macque’s piece “harmonic mannerisms, similar to those employed by Gesualdo” – and, one should add, by the composers included in this recording.

Obviously, composers would not be able to use chromaticism and often bold dissonances without suitable texts; most of these are by unknown poets. Among those who are known, we meet Giovanni Battista Guarini (the author of Il Pastor Fido) and Ottavio Rinuccini (known as the librettist of several operas by Jacopo Peri and Claudio Monteverdi). Most of them express the feelings of unhappy lovers, and words such as “dying” and “death” frequently appear: “Oh, take pity on my torment, that I may live in peace, and die no more” (Tommaso Pecci, Ahi, che il mio cor si fugge). “My heart is already seized, and thus must die” (Ascanio Mayone, Fuggi, fuggi oh mio core). “I do not fear to die, so long as life and not my devotion is undone, for wavering passion is far worse than death” (Giovanni del Turco, Altro non è’l mio amore).

Whether these texts say something about the state of mind of their authors or the composers, or reflect the mentality of the people in and around Naples or – more generally – the southern half of Italy is debatable. That is very likely not the case, as it was rather fashionable to write such texts and use them for musical experiments; one may compare them with the fashion of melancholy in England at about the same time. They may also have appealed to those who sang them, very likely aristocratic amateurs, alongside professionals.

The performance of such madrigals is not an easy task. The singers need to read the texts carefully, and analyse how they are structured. Some include strong contrasts, such as Pargoletta è colei by Agostino Agresta, which begins in optimistic mood -“An infant cherub is she who kindles my desires; and an infant cherub is Love who penetrates my heart” – but soon turns sour: “Yet in my soul I feel a great fire, a great wound, a great torment.” This contrast is eloquently illustrated in the music. The often extreme dissonances require perfect intonation as well as the use of the appropriate temperament. The outbursts of emotions can be effectively communicated only with a proper use of dynamics. Words like “deh” and “ah(i)” (oh) which are frequently used, need to be sung forte, or with a messa di voce. Within a madrigal the text often requires strong dynamic contrasts. All these aspects can best be realized by native Italian speakers, as the members of the Concerto Italiano are. They meet the requirements of these madrigals with impressive ease. Here and there a slight vibrato creeps in, but it hardly matters. These are incisive performances which could hardly be surpassed.

This is not an entertaining disc in the sense that only one piece, Francesco Lambardi’s All’ombra degl allori, offers any relaxation; the rest is all heavy stuff, but it is fascinating to hear how composers from around 1600 treated a text and how they experimented with harmony. Lovers of madrigals certainly should not miss this superb recording.

Johan van Veen
www.musica-dei-donum.org
twitter.com/johanvanveen

Contents
Scipione Lacorcia (fl 1590-1620)
Stravagante pensiero
Carlo Gesualdo da Venosa (1566-1613)
Asciugate i begl’occhi
Luzzasco Luzzaschi (c1545-1607)
Ecco om dolce, o gradita
Alfonso Fontanelli (1557-1622)
Ah, chi mi rompe il sonno
Tommaso Pecci (1576-1604/06)
Ahi, che il mio cor si fugge
Vincenzo Macedonio (fl 1603-1606)
Crudelissima donna
Ascanio Mayone (c1565-1627)
Fuggi, fuggi oh mio core!
Bernardo Bolognini (fl 1570-1605)
Tu ti lagni al mio pianto
Francesco Genuino (c1580/85-bef 1633)
Ohimè – grida Sileno
Giovanni Del Turco (1577-1647)
Altro non è’l mio amore
Scipione Dentice (1560-1633)
Parlo, miser, o taccio?
Francesco Lambardi (1587-1642)
All’ombra degli allori
Crescenzo Salzilli (fl c1611)
Ahi dolor, che m’occidi
Giovanni Maria Trabaci (c1575-1647)
Donna, vorrei pur dirvi
Giovanni De Macque (1548/50-1614)
Quella vermiglia rosa
Scipione Lacorcia
Misero me, son morto – Ahi, tu m’hai ferito
Agostino Agresta (c1575/85-1617)
Pargoletta è colei
Antonio Demetrio (16th/17th C)
Se l’ardor che mi strugge
Pomponio Nenna (1556-1613)
Incenerito è’l petto
Ettore Della Marra (c1570-1634)
Misero, che farò?
Giuseppe Palazzotto e Tagliavia (c1583/87-bef 1653)
Se parti, io moro
Michelangelo Rossi (c1601/02-1656)
Per non mi dir ch’io muoia

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