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Fanfare

When discussion of the early Italian keyboard sonata arises, one usually focuses on the obviously prolific compositions of Domenico Scarlatti, not to mention his Spanish-Catalan compatriot Padre Antonio Soler. These works, almost all in a single movement, seem to epitomize the genre as they represent not only a compositional skill, but a depth and variety of forms, rhythms, and originality as well. One tends to weigh them against the pedagogical works of Johann Sebastian Bach of a contemporary (but yet stylistically earlier) age, or the innovations of C. P. E. Bach, who expanded the styles and structures of music for the keyboard into new realms. This, however, is an apples and oranges comparison, for both the former did their work in Spain while the latter were confined to northern or central Germany, despite the wide circulation of their music. To call their works “Italian” is appropriate to some extent, and yet the concept of the keyboard sonata was not unknown in Italy itself. Recent attention to a rather substantial repertory of keyboard sonatas from this region has resulted in a more comprehensive view. We have now the works of Domenico Cimarosa, and now this is the fourth volume of a substantial repertory by his colleague Baldassare Galuppi.

Galuppi’s major focus, like that of Cimarosa, was opera, but as a musical director at St. Mark’s and the Ospedale della Pieta in Venice he also composed a huge amount of sacred music. His excursions into instrumental music have been sporadic at best. A few symphonies and some odd concertos do exist, but his main genre was the keyboard sonata, of which he wrote about 90. This disc is, as noted, the fourth volume of the complete sonatas, but as a bonus it also includes one of his concertos, this one in G Major. This is a lively piece that seems quite operatic, at least in the first movement. The opening ritornello is short and quite lyrical, while the solo part has a few virtuoso passages inserted, as one might expect. It is not a difficult work, but the moderate challenges are secondary to the cheerful musicality. The second movement is soft and reflective, almost a variation of the stately violins, while the finale is also lively and bright. This is not a work to compare with the larger pieces of the genre composed by, say, Mozart, but while it is not especially innovative, it does possess a particular charm that makes it worthwhile. It too is short, but the work is compact and has everything that a casual soloist would require.

As for the piano sonatas themselves, there is a broader set of goals stylistically. They run the gamut from single movement a la Scarlatti to more modern three-movement format, with two being the most frequent. There seem to have been several attempts to record the complete sonatas, and I note that I myself reviewed the disc on Naxos by Matteo Napoli in 2012, but the Seivewright series appears to have been in a bit of a hiatus since the third volume was released in 2004. The late Michael Carter noted regarding the second volume that these works were of “exquisite beauty,” and therefore it is surprising that the several parallel threads of recordings have been so slow in appearing. Here, finally, is Seivewright’s fourth volume in 2019, and while one wonders why the delay; perhaps it was his appointment at the University of Trinidad and Tobago or his concertizing from Phnom Penh to Afghanistan, that led him to far-flung peripheries, or that this took time to jell. No matter, since here is the sequel with eight sonatas (and the concerto as a bonus).

Space prohibits a thorough discussion of each work, but there are a few samples which can give an insight into the works. First, in the single-movement G-Major Sonata (“Lento, con felicita”) the feeling is of an exercise that is hopping or mincing, with a slight nod to the Baroque in the sequencing. It would be appropriate for an amateur player. In the D-Minor Sonata, the opening Lento is quite operatic, with a lyrical line that is punctuated by trills and the sequencing of the line above a steady ostinato bass line. The second movement is also operatic, with a rushing melody that twists and turns like a windmill. The second F-Major Sonata (in three movements) begins with a tranquil aria that in the central section turns to the minor in a melancholic manner. Each section is finished with a sort of humoresque dotted pattern. The second movement seems to invoke Don Quixote tilting at windmills in the perpetual motion lines that turn about each other. The finale is even more frenetic, with dexterous finger-work sequenced about. The most “Mozartean” of the selections is the second G- Major, which has the rhythmic forward motion of continual Alberti bass figurations, while the upper voice (with lots of parallel thirds) weaves a nicely lyrical melody.

Seivewright performs these works with consummate skill, even if on a modem piano. He has, as noted in earlier reviews, a knack for good phrasing that brings life to the often busywork of the sonatas, and in the slower movements he is careful to allow both technique and lyricism to emerge.

It is a shame that we have had to wait so long for this volume, which is every bit as fine as the previous three (two of which have been reviewed in Fanfare). On the other hand, given the rather substantial number of works, it is the much-needed stepping stone to further explorations of Galuppi as a keyboard composer. Recommended.