This is the most comprehensive collection ever released of Giuseppe Martucci’s music, in stylish modern recordings by native Italian musicians.

An Italian Brahms is an unlikely idea, but it encapsulates a superficial acquaintance with the music of Giuseppe Martucci (1856-1909). Any listener curious to take a deeper dive into the richly Romantic melodies and impassioned large-scale structures of Martucci will find no better place to start than this survey of his major works in every instrumental genre.

Martucci was an accomplished pianist, received with great enthusiasm on tours of France, Germany, and England, and the tremendous sweep of his Piano Concerto loses nothing by comparison with far more familiar examples. Brought to life here by Alberto Miodini, the piano music, too, is intensely wrought, but it never loses a preeminence of melody which was Martucci’s heritage.

In 1888 he conducted the Italian premiere of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde; his song-cycle La canzone dei Ricordi, written a year earlier, is the closest he came to translating the opera’s chromatic eroticism into his own music, and this box affords the opportunity to hear the piece in both its orchestral and piano versions; no less enlightening than (for example) the distinct versions of the Four Last Songs by Richard Strauss.

Disc 10 collects Martucci’s other songs for soprano, such as the remarkable Pagine sparse of 1888. Other highlights of the set include Martucci’s deep investment in chamber music, resulting in piano trios, violin and cello sonatas, and a magnificently brooding Piano Quintet, again in the Brahmsian mold.

In an era when Italian composers tended to gravitate toward opera, the works of Giuseppe Martucci (1856-1909) are thoroughly marked by German Romanticism. The passionate dynamic surges and skillfully-honed contrapuntal writing characterizing the Second Trio’s opening movement are brilliantly cut from Brahmsian cloth, although the second movement’s obsessive rhythms and exciting harmonic clashes reveal a more playfully searching side of Martucci’s personality. I’m especially taken with the finale’s motoric accompaniment upon which seemingly innocent melodies take quirky twists and turns.

The First Trio’s Allegro adapts Brahms’ patented “three-against-two” phrase groupings, yet also contains a development section characterized by recitative-like solos. The Scherzo’s carefree interplay between musicians and rapid-fire pizzicato writing is nothing less than masterful.

Since the Mezzena-Bonucci’s 1996 recordings of both trios on the Dynamic label are not easily sourced, Trio Vega’s superb performances have no real competition. Their full-bodied yet carefully balanced interpretations take the specificity of the composer’s dynamic and expressive markings on faith, while leaving plenty of room for personal nuance, such as in cellist Orfilia Saiz Vega’s rich-toned solo work in both trios’ slow movements. One also should mention violinist Marc Paquin’s discreetly varied vibrato and Domenico Codispoti’s adroit handling of Martucci’s often demanding piano parts.

Naxos’ ample and detailed sonics may seem a bit dry and close-up for some tastes, but that’s not even a complaint. Fine annotations from Katy Hamilton provide welcome contextual information about the works and Martucci’s sadly brief yet productive musical life. Needless to say, Trio Vega’s splendid advocacy of these obscure yet unquestionably first-rate works warrants an enthusiastic recommendation.

– Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

A plunge among the sunken composers of Italian chamber music and the salvaged ones. The program recorded in this album is a ticket for a journey of a century and a half, that is the distance between the composition of the Sonata “con accompagnamento” by Muzio Clementi (1792) and its transformation into the Trio ortodosso by Alfredo Casella (1936). An intermediate stop is represented by the Trio op. 59 by Giuseppe Martucci (1882). The route of this journey retraces a history that is not unimportant or unsurprising: it summarises the significance and vicissitudes of the chamber music produced by Italian composers from the middle of the eighteenth century onwards. In many texts of music history this topic is relegated in a note, or at most is dealt with in a paragraph, not even a chapter: an upgraded echo of the Fascist nationalism and dislike for Puccini that, for ideological reasons rather than for a historical or critical conviction, made themselves useful in raising the issue in the twentieth century. This recording, which presents a performance for piano, violin and cello, is a tiny artistic compensation, and an aesthetic and formal clarification. It leads us to consider and understand the role that Italian composers played also in the specific area of non-theatrical music.

This is a live recording of the concert given by Josu de Solaun in the auditorium of the Fundacion Juan March in Madrid on 30 March 2019. Part of the Foundation’s “Musica en la noche” (Music at night) series, the recital offered a different interpretation of one of the most popular solo piano genres: the nocturne. Rather than focusing on the canonical works of Chopin, this programme explores the less familiar margins of the repertoire, transporting the listener to a night without frontiers. Eight composers of five different nationalities (American, Italian, French, Romanian and Bulgarian) together create an alternative and light-filled vision of the nocturne. In the words of the pianist himself, “this album of crepuscular thoughts and melting music is an invitation to the dream world: a journey to the far reaches of the night”.

Indisputably major works in performances of great distinction.

Here is an ideal coupling for anyone who has been meaning to investigate Martucci, but has not yet got round to doing so; or for anyone who has, and wants a couple of his indisputably major works in performances of great distinction.

Both the Piano Concerto and La canzone dei ricordi (“The song of memories”) date from Martucci’s full maturity; they show, however, quite distinct sides of his talent. The concerto is huge, boldly romantic and intensely Brahmsian, but also much more assured and original than most concertos to which such a description might be applied. The first movement, for example, is laid out with great confidence in an ingenious expansion of sonata form, effectively allowing two contrasted development sections, yet with enough variety of incident and splendidly virtuoso pianism to earn every second of its 23 minutes. The slow movement has abundant romantic melody (at times almost recalling – or rather predicting – Rachmaninov) and achieves noble eloquence before its tranquil conclusion. The finale is an entertainingly and resourcefully ingenious sonata rondo with especially brilliant piano writing. Bruno is in fiery and eloquent command of it; if you have encountered neither him nor the concerto you will urgently be asking ‘why not?’ long before the performance is over.

La canzone dei ricordi is no less opulent but more intimate and much more Italian: a song-cycle of poignant regret for lost love, in a language that owes as much to Martucci’s Italian forebears and contemporaries in its vocal writing as it does to Wagner in its harmony. And yet it is also individual, not least in its subtle use of recurring motives and of string textures of great richness. It is a most appealing and effective piece, and Freni seizes all its opportunities for ample lyricism and impassioned gesture with gratitude. It is written for a mezzo with high notes rather than a soprano with low ones, but it suits her very well. Both she and the orchestra gain from a warmly sympathetic acoustic; Muti’s handling of both scores is splendidly sonorous and, in the concerto, big-boned. It is hard to imagine the case for Martucci being more convincingly stated.

-- Michael Oliver, Gramophone [11/1996]

Riccardo Muti takes time out here to present some of the lesser known, rarely heard orchestral scores of his fellow countrymen, and a superbly played, enjoyable concert it is too. Proceedings commence with a fine and spirited performance of Alfredo Casella's divertimento Paganiniana—not a great piece by any means but a work possessing plenty of charm and humour nevertheless; the outer movements are a bit of a romp (very opera buffa) and must have been as much fun to write as they clearly are for the La Scala Philharmonic to play. The tone and temperature rise a few degrees in Martucci's gorgeously lyrical Nocturne, Op. 70 No. 1—a sort of Mahler-meets-Puccini-meets-Respighi love song—and this is nicely contrasted with the affable if somewhat lightweight musings of his Novelletta and Giga. The high point of the disc, though, must surely be Muti's account of Busoni's Turandot Suite, Op. 41, the work that, after several tinkerings, finally ended up forming the basis of his 1917 opera. Muti opts for the first version of the suite dating from 1905—that is, the omission of the movements Verzweiflung und Ergebund and Altoums Warnung which Busoni added as appendices to the suite in 1911 and 1917 respectively. A pity, since what we have here is a fine and sensitively conducted performance that would have been greatly enhanced by their inclusion. The recording, made in the Teatro Abanella, Milan, is exceptionally clear and well focused, if at times a little dry.'

-- Gramophone, Michael Stewart (4/1994)

“Formidable playing … Wright displays great sensitivity in this lovely performance… beautifully done. There is writing of some virtuosity which Wright throws off with panache and abandon. This is a disc to sit back and enjoy while marveling at the many moments of virtuosity.” – Bruce Reader (The Classical Reviewer)

MARTUCCI Piano Concerto No. 1. 1 La canzone dei ricordi 2 • Francesco La Vecchia, cond; Gesualdo Coggi (pn); 1 Silvia Pasini (mez); 2 Rome SO • NAXOS 8.570931 (67:53 Text, no Translation )


Giuseppe Martucci (1856–1909) was a forerunner to the so-called “generazione dell’ottanta” of composers (see Malipiero review elsewhere) that sought to initiate a new golden age of instrumental music in Italy to vie against the overwhelming dominance of opera. Most of those who would follow in his footsteps—and the list is long, including the likes of Casella, Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Menotti, Pizzetti, Respighi, Rota, Wolf-Ferrari, and Zandonai—hedged their bets by playing both sides of the fence; but Martucci was unique for his time and place in that he wrote no operas whatsoever. Ironically though, in his role as a conductor, introducing Wagner’s operas to Italy may have done more to poison the well of Italian opera than any of his works as a composer did to stanch the opera rage. If you can’t lead the cattle away from the watering hole, do the next best thing: contaminate the water and kill them.


During his lifetime, Martucci was best known as a conductor, pianist, and teacher, Respighi being one of his more prominent students. His compositional output is not overly large, totaling fewer than 100 published opus numbers. Among them, however, are two symphonies, two piano concertos, two piano trios, a piano quintet, one sonata each for violin, cello, and organ, and a considerable volume of pieces for solo piano.


The current release—Volume 3 in Naxos’s complete survey of Martucci’s orchestral music—contains works that are not new to the recorded catalog. The Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor and La canzone dei ricordi were both coupled together, as here, in another Martucci survey a decade or so ago on the ASV label. The artists there were pianist Francesco Caramiello in the Concerto, soprano Rachel Yakar in the vocal work, and Francesco D’Avalos leading the Philharmonia Orchestra. That entire collection is now available in a super-budget four-disc set on Brilliant Classics. At about the same time that ASV was busy with their Martucci project, along came Sony with their release of the composer’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in B? Minor played by pianist Carlo Bruni, paired once again with La canzone dei ricordi , sung by Mirella Freni. The conductor and orchestra on that recording were Riccardo Muti and La Scala Philharmonic.


The good news is that I have the Freni/Muti CD, so I’m able to compare the Sony recording with the new Naxos. The bad news is that of the D’Avalos survey on ASV, I have only the two symphonies, but not the disc with the Piano Concerto; thus, I’m unable to compare Caramiello to Coggi. So let me begin with La canzone dei ricordi (“The Songs of Memories”), which seems to be one of Martucci’s more enduring works. As originally completed in 1887, the piece was conceived for mezzo-soprano and piano. It wasn’t until 11 years later (1898) that Martucci orchestrated it. The piece is a setting of seven poems by Rocco Pagliera. Unless one is fluent in Italian, Naxos’s printing of the texts in Italian only is highly frustrating. The Sony with Freni provides translations in English, French, and German.


The poems, as can be deduced from the work’s title, are about dreams recollected, mostly of longed-for, but alas, only imagined loves. More interesting are Martucci’s formal design and musical content. Each song ends in a different key from which it started. The song that follows it begins in the key in which the previous song ended. Thus, by the end, we have returned to the key and the poem with which the cycle began. Stylistically, Martucci’s indebtedness to Wagner is unmistakable, but it’s a Wagner tinted—some might say tainted—by some of Puccini’s more pastel orchestral touches that one hears in La bohème . Martucci undoubtedly knew the opera, which premiered in 1896, two years before his orchestration of La canzone dei ricordi.


Freni was 60 when she recorded the Martucci with Muti in 1995. Age had added a degree of weight to a soprano voice that in its youth was lighter and more lyric in character. I’m not suggesting she would have made a good Brunhilde, but her projection in these songs comes across as sounding more Wagnerian than does Silvia Pasini’s delivery on the new Naxos. Nor by any means is it just a matter of voice. Freni dispatches the cycle in just over 28 minutes, compared to Pasini’s drawn-out 33:50. The result is that Freni’s reading has tremendous dramatic thrust, frequently sounding like an agitated Brunhilde railing in high dudgeon against Wotan, while Pasini sounds more like Mimi in her “Mi chiamano Mimì” aria from La bohème.


If my description has led you to believe that I prefer Freni to Pasini in this song cycle, you’d be wrong. Martucci may have been a Wagner champion, but he was not Wagner; and Pagliera’s poems, to which Martucci set his music, are not about mythic warriors, heroes, and the downfall of the gods. They’re about dreams remembered in that half-conscious state of waking. Pasini, I believe, comes closer to capturing the more impressionistic character of the poetry and the music; and Francesco La Vecchia has under him in the Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma a better ensemble than Muti did at the time in his La Scala Philharmonic.


Since I have no other recordings of the Piano Concerto against which to compare Gesualdo Coggi’s performance, I can be brief. If you love big, Romantic piano concertos, Martucci’s D-Minor Concerto is right up there with some of the best of them. Echoes of Schumann, Grieg, and Brahms’s First Concerto (his Second hadn’t been completed yet when Martucci wrote his score in 1878) reverberate throughout the score, and maybe even a hint every now and then of Tchaikovsky (assuming Martucci had heard it in its original 1875 version prior to starting work on his own Concerto). Gorgeous music, gorgeous playing, gorgeous recording; this one is not to be missed.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Described by Gian Francesco Malipiero as "the beginning of the rebirth of non-operatic Italian music", Martucci' Second Symphony is his masterpiece. Drawing on his abiding love of Brahms and Schumann, and initially championed by Toscanini.

Slowly but surely Giuseppe Martucci's orchestral music is making headway on CD. In 2007 Brilliant Classics reissued ASV's complete cycle, while my colleague Victor Carr Jr enthused over Symphonies 1 and 2 played by Kees Bakels and the Malaysian Philharmonic on BIS, and described the music succinctly and vividly. Naxos now enters the field with the first volume in a projected survey of the orchestral works.

On the plus side, Francesco La Vecchia elicits more incisive string playing and more penetrating woodwind articulation in the neo-Wagnerian First symphony than Bakels, aided by Naxos' rich, dazzlingly detailed engineering. On the minus side, the Rome musicians do not quite match their Malaysian colleagues' impeccable intonation and seamless ensemble blend. However, the shorter works delight without qualification.

The Andante Op. 69 No. 2 clocks in nearly three minutes faster than the weightier Francesco D'Avalos/Philharmonia Orchestra recording, and benefits from cellist Andrea Noferini's warm tone and fluid phrasing. By contrast, La Vecchia takes two minutes more than D'Avalos over the Op. 70 No. 1 Notturno, yet generates plenty of sustaining power and chamber-like textural diversity. A fine start to a promising cycle, warmly recommended. [4/13/2009]

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Includes song(s) by Giuseppe Martucci. Soloists: Chiarastella Onorati, Luisa Prayer.