The Hound Of Ulster

Fresh off the spectacular success of his Four Seasons violin concertos, Antonio Vivaldi decided to adopt a new (and controversial) business approach for marketing his compositions.  Rather than writing and publishing works for public consumption, as was common with the well-known composers of his time, he would offer the exclusive rights for the owning and performing of a piece to the highest bidder.  Remember all those wealthy noblemen who enjoyed having their court orchestras playing his works?  Think they’d be interested in their very own masterpiece from the red-headed priest?  You bet!

This strategy, while it may have assured Vivaldi some measure of financial security, had an interesting (and yet unfortunate) side-effect.  Many of Vivaldi’s more mature works were no longer made available to the public, and some of them are only now being discovered in the family coffers of rich, secretive, music loving noblemen from that era.  For many Vivaldi lovers who have long battled the claim that “Vivaldi didn’t write 500 concertos, he wrote one concerto 500 times,” the seeming lack of creative growth has been a severe stumbling block.  But now, thanks largely to the fervent efforts of a group of Italian musicians and historians, a number of these more aggressive, progressive pieces are being brought into the public eye (or is that “ear?”) for the first time.

The Violin Concero in D Major, RV 222, is just such a work.  It features Vivaldi’s traditional orchestration and balance, but the melodic material is quite a bit more complex than his more well-known works.  (I make an exception for the Four Seasons, which are as complex and rewarding as anything written at that time, even if they are treading dangerously on the edge of overexposure.)  The first movement is a perfect example, opening with Vivaldi’s trademark “repetition,” but using some unexpected, brief key changes to keep things from being too formulaic.  And when the soloist comes in, it’s almost difficult to recognize the “stodgy” Vivaldi at all: double-bowing extravagance, changing keys and tempos at the drop of a hat, and generally wreaking havoc with the notion that he was unimaginative.  The entire second half – from the 2:00 point on – is particularly inventive when it comes to key changes, at times even flirting with dissonance.  This is not your grandfather’s Vivaldi!

The second movement, an Andante that rivals some of the finest slow movements of Handel and Corelli, has three particularly interesting features.  The first is the subtle and unusual lute continuo, which plays such a prominent role that it nearly becomes a second solo part.  The second is the “theme and variations” form; highly unusual in Vivaldi’s earlier compositions, but highly effective here.  The third (and perhaps most interesting) feature is the tight rhythmic, thematic and melodic connections between this middle movement and its two counterparts.  In his early works, Vivaldi’s movements can seem a bit disjointed, almost as though he wrote each part of the piece independent of its fellow movements.  But here, the connections are very strong, and one of the last variations, in particular, comes across as nearly a direct quote of the opening movement.

The third movement is the real gem in the entire work.  A sprightly Allegro that employs all of Vivaldi’s trademark melodic momentum and vigor, it dashes boldly ahead, featuring a memorable main theme and displaying some of the most unusual virtuosic material he ever wrote.  It’s a perfect finale to a wonderful concerto, and while I’m sure the technical and artistic abilities of the performers play a large part in its charm, the robust dance-like quality will have listeners toe-tapping in no time.  Just enjoy it.

The recording I particularly recommend is that featuring conductor Andrea Marcon, soloist Giuliano Carmignola, and the Venice Baroque Orchestra.  It is truly spectacular.  I’ve always been a major Pinnock fan when it comes to Vivaldio – his Four Seasons are the definitive interpretation in my mind – but the Marcon version deserves to be considered in the same category of excellence.  It spotlights the world premiere of several of the “Late Concertos,” and is filled with a vigor and enthusiasm rarely heard in the period instrument field.  Their willingness to deviate from “accepted” tempo practices is occasionally a bit extreme, but proves successful far more often than not.  And it seems consistent with their public efforts to revive the long-lost improvisational aspects of the Baroque era.  Sure, they give up a bit of the “control” for which the genre is famous, but the “extravagance” they reap as a result is a fine pay-off.