Begin listening to this new offering of previously unrecorded Vivaldi concertos at track 7 and you’ll think the labeling must be wrong. Can this truly be the Vivaldi of Op. 8, of the Gloria, or the D major guitar concerto? Could this thrumming, boldly driving, abruptly twisting, recklessly soaring and plummeting virtuoso concerto be from the same guy who never could resist letting an original idea go un-hackneyed? Of course, Vivaldi wrote some excellent music–the Op. 3 concertos, for instance–but even the best of it takes on a certain familiarity of structure and sameness of developmental technique after a certain period of listening. But if you really do believe Vivaldi “wrote the same concerto 500 times”, be prepared to toss out that presumption when you hear baroque violinist extraordinaire Giuliano Carmignola and his electrifying ensemble (directed with unrelenting passion and crystal clarity by Andrea Marcon) in these ravishing performances–which are simply an extension of the group’s rave-able work on its recent Four Seasons disc (see reviews).
Yes, there are occasional hints of the earlier crowd-pleaser composer, especially in the lovely, lyrical slow movements of the concertos in F major RV 295 (which some enterprising arranger easily could turn into a winning movie theme) and C major RV 191. But it’s the unexpectedly adventurous side of Vivaldi that really gets our attention–the fanciful solo flights and unusual harmonic turns that appear in nearly every one of these pieces, and the often oddly-configured movements that happily fail to conform to the old molds. Carmignola absolutely lives and breathes this music–and although he obviously loves the show-off stuff, it’s thrilling particularly because he imbues it with such natural, easy grace and astoundingly articulate, expressive bowing.
Don’t even try to figure out how much of what you hear is Vivaldi and how much is pure Carmignola and Marcon–it’s one and the same in this case, for the violinist and conductor seek to take their cues from the score, combined with an effort to capture the true spirit of the Italian Baroque, which was anything but the sterile, ultra-formal world we often experience from other interpreters. In the disc’s liner notes, Marcon speaks of the “extravagance” inherent in Baroque art, and insists that to truly understand it performers need to be in touch with their own “emotion”, the “affetto”, and pursue the music’s vitality, its “spring”, and its multifarious colors.
To this end, the continuo varies among combinations of two harpsichords, organ, and archlute. Tempos speed and slow between and within phrases for expressive effect, and the dynamics!–you’ll never hear Vivaldi played with such fire and energy, much of which can be attributed to fearless bowing and wide but carefully controlled gradations of volume. And in everything that they do, these players–all of them–are of one mind, and it’s focused on adventure, excitement, and, that word that many classical fans don’t want to hear: entertainment. The producers of this recording know exactly what the producers of the earlier Four Seasons disc knew about sound, and whatever their setup is, they shouldn’t change it. Nor should Carmignola & Co. change their approach–it’s the sort of thing that makes you anxiously anticipate their next project, and the classical music world could use a few more performers like that.
