Giovanni PAISIELLO (1741-1816)
Piano Concertos
Much of Giovanni Paisiello's music earns him the right to be
known as a great composer, although this fails fully to capture his
achievements, a fact which has not perhaps been acknowledged with sufficient
conviction by musical scholarship. He stands head and shoulders above the other
Italian composers of his generation. A pupil of the Neapolitan School, he had a
supreme, even heaven-sent gift for melody, although from a certain point
onwards the influence of Vienna is clearly visible: the compositional procedures,
for example the highly individual development or development/variation
techniques, of his later operatic works in particular, are closely related to
those of the Viennese School, and, more specifically, those of Joseph Haydn.
Haydn, of course, was second only to Mozart in late-eighteenth-century Italian
opera composition. At this point, and in the light of Paisiello's exquisite
settings of texts such as Metastasio's Passione, it seems apposite to ask
whether the remainder of his music should not in fact earn him the title of
genius.
Paisiello's skill in the composition of opera was remarkable
even in his earliest works, and notably not only when it came to farce and
sentimental works such as Nina, but also in his tragedies, especially as he
grew older. Indeed as the years passed his work became more daring and
innovative in all respects, be it form, harmony, drama or orchestration. One of
his greatest operas is Proserpine, commissioned by Napoleon, then First Consul
of France, for whose coronation "Sacre" Paisiello would also later provide the
music. Some have said that "'o Tarantino", as he became known, after his home
town of Taranto, barely mastered Italian and that for him setting French to
music was an enterprise that could only end in failure. Nevertheless not only
is Proserpine a powerful and highly sophisticated work, it also had something
to teach native French composers in its adaptation of the forms peculiar to
tragedie lyrique and in its French prosody, as confirmed by Jean François Le Sueur,
who taught Berlioz.
The eight concertos Paisiello wrote at various points
throughout his life for keyboard and small orchestra clearly show that he must
have been an excellent pianist and harpsichordist. They were conceived
according to his very personal take on sonata form, and it would not be
inappropriate to say that both the style and idiom are more advanced here than
is the form itself, in terms of the kinship with Haydn which I believe to be
one of the keys to understanding Paisiello's work. Unlike Mozart, Paisiello did
not write concertos with the intention of performing them himself, but on
commission for noble and, one hopes, generous clients. They were tailor-made
compositions, but not, I repeat, for Paisiello himself. These were not works
that he would have felt compelled to compose for their own sake alone, and any
judgements made on historical-aesthetic grounds must bear this in mind.
It would be foolish to ask today whether these pieces should
be played on the harpsichord, the hybrid fortepiano, or the modern pianoforte.
The first two options must be rejected on the basis of Hans Ferdinand Redlich's
condemnatory term musealer Klangmaterialismus, in other words, the attempt to
replicate the sound of an obsolete instrument. Performed by a skilled
harpsichordist the concertos sound elegantly old-fashioned to our ears; played
by a less skilled musician they come across as unbearably dry and dogmatic. In
the hands of a pianist who understands their musical essence and has the
technique to turn it into sound, they become the ideal historically aware
response. Entrusted to a bad pianist they become redolent of the 1930s, again
sounding dreadful to a modern audience. On a fortepiano they simply sound as
though someone has put the newsprint pages on the strings of an upright piano,
not to mention the problems of intonation.
In order to understand the motivation behind this recording,
in which we have the pleasure of discovering a stylistically elegant and expert
orchestra and conductor, we have to turn to Francesco Nicolosi, who has
acquired a reputation as one of our greatest living pianists. His expertise
extends across the repertoire, including the most virtuosic pieces ever written
for the instrument, and listening to him playing the operatic paraphrases of
Sigismond Thalberg, an adopted son of Naples like both Paisiello and Nicolosi,
is enough to remind us that no one today can match his luminosity of sound, his
ability to draw out the song-like legato qualities of a keyboard instrument.
The two concertos recorded here could not be more different
in terms of style and ethos. In the first, which is in a somewhat stiff and
starchy Classical style, Nicolosi adopts the poised arm technique, imbuing the
piano with the penetrating crystalline sonority which might be said to be the
essence of the harpsichord.
The Concerto in G minor is an extraordinary piece,
comparable to Haydn's Sturm und Drang works, principally those dating from the
early 1770s. Paisiello consciously brings to it, therefore, a formal
development belonging to a very different and composite architecture. Melodrama
plays its part in this masterpiece, since, transformed, it adds to the pathos
developed by the soloist using every technique at his disposal with an
orchestra which sometimes accompanies and at other times works in diametric
opposition to the pianist. As the song-like element prevails here Nicolosi
adopts a more sophisticated and complex technique, creating sustained legato by
means of "arm weight", a technique codified in the mid-nineteenth century by
Thalberg in his treatise L'Art du chant applique au piano expressing his
philosophy of the sublime sprezzatura (rehearsed spontaneity) of performance
practice.
Everything changes in the second movement:
eighteenth-century pathos disappears and the solemnity of a steplike and
ornamented E flat major can only be compared to the young Beethoven. The secret
of Paisiello's heavenly inspiration and skill in developing it must be a
mystery to all but Gennaro, the patron saint of Naples.
Paisiello, prophet of Beethoven -- who would believe it? And
the sound produced by Francesco Nicolosi in this central movement is no less
miraculous than the music itself, barely distinguishable from the best
contralto voice, enabling the notes to be transformed from the page to reality.
It is also worth noting that this recording from the Caserta Palace court
theatre, where Paisiello's music was often performed during his lifetime, is
absolutely without artificial embellishment, having been made without use of
domes or other effects. The writer must at this point assume full
responsibility for his words. The great Arturo Benedetti Michelangeli performed
eighteenth-century works, Scarlatti, Galuppi, the concertos of Mozart, which,
with the exception of the Mozart, were considered by most to be harpsichord
music. His inspiration came principally from the same source as Nicolosi's, but
perhaps lacked some of the latter's lucidity and coherence. Nicolosi is now
perfecting the process begun by Michelangeli.
Paolo Isotta
Translation: Susannah Howe