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Rating: MUSIC DOES NOT DIE.
The piano under the moon of Villa Mondragone in Monte Porzio, Rome.
'Music does not die' exclaimed the great Toscanini after listening to 12 young Roman instrumentalists. It happened 55 years ago, and the concert was that of 'I Musici' just starting their career. I thought of this phrase on Friday evening at Villa Mondragone, greeting old and new friends, conservatory study companions, both in the audience and the Orchestra, at the end of the concert. Yes, music does not die as long as there are new generations, like us, to inherit the cultural legacy passed down to us, to consider tradition so we can renew it, transcend it, or just read it with the sometimes naive, bold, occasionally reckless eyes that distinguish us.
The Orchestra was young, a union of the Orchestra of Rome and Lazio and the Roma Sinfonietta Orchestra, young the conductor Alessandro Buccarella, and the two pianists Luigi Tanganelli and Massimiliano Ferrati, for two Piano Concertos (No.1 op.15 in C major and No.3 op.58 in C minor) by a young Beethoven still looking towards Mozart's example with relaxed and playful phrasing, crystal clear sounds, ironic and even insolent melodicism, as in the central episode of the Rondo of op.15 or even the theme of the Rondo of the 3rd concerto: dancing and folk-like music, which seem to have been picked up on the street by a small organ, and then the pulsating and lively rhythm that does not want interruptions, the laughter and the inexhaustible verve that can quickly turn into a solitary and deep pensiveness, as in the second movement of both Concertos.
A Beethoven far from how we are used to seeing him, enclosed in his titanic scowl, yet already capable of exploring the depths of a new language, especially in the C minor Concerto, not by chance considered the turning point towards the acquisition of a new language for the role given to the solo piano: the only protagonist in the 4th Concerto, on the other hand, perfectly integrated into the orchestral fabric, almost an instrument of the orchestra itself, in Concerto No.5 'Emperor'.
The Concerto op. 15 I would have liked to hear it so, simple, brilliant, changeable and continuously shifting in phrasing and tone, sunny and clear as a C Major can be, quick and fluid, interesting, personal and new, revisited and reread as Beethoven rereads Mozart. However, Tanganelli, despite undeniable talents, couldn't find the relaxation and ease, the enjoyment of playing, so suddenly my mind began to search...
'Mi mi re do do, mi mi re do do...' to 'search' in the auditory memory for the right sound,
'mi mi re do do si la sol sol la fa sol' the right phrasing, the right character for the solo part, the personality of the performer who could play with the Orchestra conducted by the young Buccarella with his clear and precise gesture and the experience of a seasoned Conductor, who does not get discouraged by the soloist's shortcomings. And so it happened that I found that sound in the vivid memory of the various but masterful interpretations of Richter and Gilels, and it happened that, although unintentionally, the Conductor stole the show from the soloist due to the incisive gesture that allowed no indecisions or misunderstandings, due to the ability to become the unique guiding force of a whole transformed into ONE, that makes one even feel emotional when at a gesture or a glance the strings of the violins, violas, cellos, and double basses, in perfect synchrony, rise or lower on the strings.
And then, my mind stopped searching elsewhere: finally a full and qualitatively dense sound always different, that of Massimiliano Ferrati. An interpretation of Beethoven's 3rd by someone who has something to say, never anonymous, never colorless, who does not fear to exaggerate the sound planes highlighting Beethoven's absolutely 'masculine' musical writing. And so I felt catapulted among the sounds of a score known in its details, driven by the consequential progress of melodic lines, carried by the flow of well-characterized opposing themes that seamlessly transition into each other without interruptions or breaks. A personal and elegant pianist especially in the cadenza episodes where simply by perfectly calibrating the slowing down of a trill manages to create thrilling expectations, who knows how to captivate you and make you follow him in weaving, unfolding, and then unraveling the music like a fairytale story.
Convincing even if with musical ideas different from your own. Truly, music does not die, because among the various Barenboim, Pollini, Sokolov, Lupu, Volodos, Kissin, winners of prestigious competitions, between Abbado and Temirkanov, there are many musicians with the fabric, preparation, skills, and levels of Tanganelli, Ferrati, Buccarella, of the young Orchestra members.
And yet, Orchestras continue to close: there is no funding, but then, like magic, they appear for a thousand other commercially or demagogically more profitable activities; musicians continue to literally struggle, actually elbow their way, and forgive the colloquiality, to find spaces to play when they are not literally unemployed; and yet music continues to be considered, in its tenacious yet unproductive production, something dispensable, even something to cut.
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