“Vivaldi didn’t write 500 concertos. He wrote the same concerto 500 times.” It’s unlikely that Igor Stravinsky ever actually said this – it was probably coined by Luigi Dallapiccola – but it’s an amusing line anyway, intended to poke fun at Vivaldi’s distinctive style. We do know Stravinsky didn’t have much time for the Red Priest’s music. In Robert Craft’s Conversations with Igor Stravinsky (1959), he complained, “Vivaldi is greatly overrated – a dull fellow who could compose the same form so many times over.”
I’ve been thinking about Igor’s dismissive remark a lot over the past few months. Since the Covid-19 lockdown began, I’ve listened to Vivaldi’s concertos during my hour of “state-sanctioned exercise” early each morning. (On my first walk, I had listened to Sibelius’ Second Symphony, but I found that way too emotional – I needed something to lift my spirits and Vivaldi always does that.) Beginning with the violin concertos, I intended to dip into Naïve’s Vivaldi Edition, which I’ve collected on CD religiously with each release. I quickly expanded my horizons to include violinists on other labels and quipped in a blog post here, when furlough kicked in, that I may even have time to listen to most of Vivaldi’s 500 concertos before “real life” resumed. Ho hum.
Well, here we are. Exactly 100 walks later (that’s about 650km/400 miles), I’ve clocked up 484 different concertos, 718 including repeat recordings. That’s a lot of Vivaldi! Incidentally, I don’t think 500 would be possible – a good handful of them are lost and some haven’t been recorded.
So what of Stravinsky’s view? For my money, he’s wide of the mark, but then I do wonder how many of Vivaldi’s works he had heard when he made that comment. However, we do know what the performance style was like back then and if I’d been subjected to plodding performances by the likes of I Musici with their sewing-machine accompaniments tinkling away, then I would definitely have had some sympathy with him. There’s no doubt that period instruments have revolutionised our perception of Vivaldi’s music – for the better – and I’ve enjoyed some terrific performances over the past 100 mornings, the few “duds” mostly coming from aged recordings I’ve dipped into to plug gaps in the catalogue.
The Italians were late to join the period instrument crusade but when they did they seemed less concerned with donning hairshirts and more with letting their hair down, an exuberant approach which brought Vivaldi’s music to life. I clearly recall the first time I heard Il Giardino Armonico on disc. I was looking for a recording of the lute and mandolin concertos and – in WHSmith’s of all places, not exactly renowned for its classical selection – found two discs with identical repertoire. I asked the assistant to play a bit of each disc, the opening of the Lute Concerto, RV93: the Parley of Instruments – polite, well-behaved, take them home to meet your mother; Il Giardino Armonico – gregarious, a bit rowdy, violins tucking in as if it was a Wild West hoedown. I was sold.
A huge number of Italian periodistas followed, many of which I’ve listened to on this early morning odyssey: Europa Galante, Venice Baroque Orchestra, Modo Antiquo, Sonatori de la Gioiosa Marca, Concerto Italiano, Accademia Bizantina, Zefiro, Il Pomo d’oro and L’Aura Soave Cremona. Giuliano Carmignola remains my favourite performer in this repertoire, a prince among Baroque violinists. Special mention goes to Federico Guglielmo’s band L’Arte dell’Arco, who have recorded many discs, mostly on the budget Brilliant Classics label. But there’s nothing budget about the performances, crisp, lean and zinging with life. I’ve bought several of their discs as a result.
Other discoveries include the terrific Amandine Beyer and Gli Incogniti, and Alexis Kossenko’s French ensemble Les Ambassadeurs, whose disc of Dresden Concertos, with plenty of opportunities for wind instruments, is infectious fun. Re-evaluation was also in order. I’d previously seen La Serenissima – a British ensemble, despite its Venetian title – in concert at Wigmore Hall and had been disappointed. They – or I – must have been having an off day, because I’ve thoroughly enjoyed their lively discs, a few of which were recorded in the St Cross Chapel near where I lived in Winchester.
The invention contained within Vivaldi’s scores is outstanding. With over 200 concertos for solo violin alone, I wondered if I’d suffer “concerto fatigue” but they are filled with the most exuberant music. I’ve long loved the bassoon concertos too – big shout out to Sergio Azzolini, who’s recorded nearly all of them.
But it’s the concertos for multiple soloists which also astonish, anything from two violins to oboes, horns, cellos and bassoon in various configurations; there are even walk-on parts for clarinets and chalumeaux. On the debit side, I was less impressed by the cello concertos, or at least underwhelmed by the limited opportunities for virtuosity. And let’s just say, a little sopranino recorder goes a long way.
Perhaps the Red Priest missed a trick by not giving many of his concertos a title. If asked to name any Vivaldi concertos, The Four Seasons would trip off your tongue, followed by La tempesta di mare or La notte (a phantasmagorical piece) or Il gardellino (The Goldfinch). But the Violin Concerto in E minor, RV 273? Not so catchy is it? But it’s one of my favourites. I’ve put together a playlist for readers to explore, with the simple rule of “no nicknames allowed”!
Thank you, Antonio, it’s been quite the journey. I’m still on furlough, by the way. Time to dip into Vivaldi’s operas? He allegedly wrote 90 of them…