Among the protagonists of the recorder revival, Hans Ulrich Staeps deserves pride of place. This album allows a full appreciation of Staeps’ multifaceted talent as a composer, of his stylistic flexibility and of his capability to write beautiful music for players of all levels. The pieces performed here include practically all of his published works for recorder and piano. His output for the recorder was created between 1951 and 1988; among the observable influences are certainly those of the French Impressionists and of his teacher Hindemith, though hints of the jazz idiom are also discernible.

A recording of the world première of a major early work, delayed by some sixty years, and thus an important document.

When buried masterpieces are rediscovered, they hardly succeed to rewrite history. However, Bruno Maderna’s Requiem per soli, cori e orchestra, unearthed sixty years after its disappearance, may well withstand the test, and quite successfully. With all its bulk, and its by no means derivative craftsmanship, it could perhaps be a candidate for the role of the ‘Riace bronze’ of Italian twentieth century music. At the very least – even with the aid of other rediscoveries, like the Concerto per pianoforte e orchestra of 1941-42 – this score sheds light on a character for long almost unknown: the pre-dodecaphonic Maderna, a young but perfectly formed and mature artist, whose known compositions were, until the 2000s, limited to just some minor works. For many years we had detailed yet frustrating information about the Requiem: an autograph fragment of the score had survived, consisting of sixteen pages in fair copy that included an introductory note, from which it was possible to infer the overall structure of the work, the arrangement of the choral group and the approximate number of pages, around ten times those that had survived.

REVIEW:

Not a world première recording, but a recording of the world première of a major early work, delayed by some sixty years, and thus an important document.

The magnum opus of his pre-dodecaphonic period finds the young composer writing in a very tonal, though harmonically individual, idiom. Throughout the work there are many magically imaginative timbres and sonorities, reminding us that Maderna was an outstanding conductor with an impeccable ear for orchestration and tone color. It is clear that had he continued to be this kind of composer, rather than radically shifting direction, then he would still have been a remarkable one, though the history of the European avant-garde would have been very different without his incalculable contributions.

The Requiem begins with an atmosphere of dignity and profound mourning. The extended Dies irae sequence, set in its entirety, is as apocalyptic as one might wish, with the presence of the bass drum and the dramatic character of the music and its impassioned vocal solos suggesting that the composer was looking back to Verdi, and the operatic approach to the concert requiem. The final sections, beginning with the exquisitely delicate Agnus Dei, sink progressively into the shadows of profound regret, echoing the sentiments of Wilfred Owen: "All a poet can do today is warn." The tormented closing Libera me - not for the first or last time the most terrifying part of a requiem setting - abandons all hope in a precipitous descent into the abyss.

-- Records International

The ensemble writes of their new release: “Undoubtedly our interest and passion for the works composed throughout the 20th Century have informed the choice of repertoire proposed in this record – the result of a long period of study and artistic collaboration. This repertoire has been part of our concert programs for many years and represents four major milestones of the chamber music repertoire for the flute and guitar. Each work proposes a different compositional style – peculiar musical grammars and language with a varied and contrasting artistic vision delivered by each composer. The album opens and closes with water, acqua, (in Algherese dialect, aigua) which has for many centuries been a source of artistic inspiration, subject of myth and for some civilizations, even religious worship.”

REVIEW:

This new release by Stradivarius records features the impeccable artistry of international award-winning guitar and flute duo Cordas et Bentu. Flutist Francesca Apeddu and Maria Luciani have been refining their sound together since they first played as an ensemble in 2013. They released another album together, Portrait of Sardinia earlier in 2021 from Brilliant Classics. That recording was dedicated to new music for guitar, not flute and guitar duo. Out of the four discs in the set there are only two pieces that include flute. Aigua is their true first release dedicated to the addicting sound of flute and guitar duo.

Aigua is dedicated to the theme of water, connection to the natural environment, and the duo’s attachment to their beloved homeland, Sardinia. There are four multi-movement works included that take the listener on a relaxing journey. Takemitsu’s Toward the Sea opens the album in a passionate and picturesque performance. Since it is Takemitsu’s only duo for flute and guitar there is no shortage of available recordings. Apeddu encapsulates elements of the shakuhachi and modern flute playing perfectly. They also both have multiple sections where parts sound spontaneously improvised. This piece acts as an attention getter for the album. My urge to keep listening increased more and more as the work progressed.

The second work on the album is another well-known duo. The Sonata for Flute and Guitar by Françaix is an exercise in maintaining flawless light technique and blending. This return to a tonal center gives the listener’s ear a chance to settle and offers a stark contrast to the previous piece. The liner notes characterize the sonata as being filled with shrewd humor and an effervescent vivacity. I honestly think this describes most of Françaix pieces. Using the guitar as an accompaniment instrument, instead of piano, offers an entirely different level of balance and light articulation. Apeddu and Luciani seamlessly blend with the flute melody melting into the strumming guitar.

Cordas et Bentu Duo didn’t know how much they had to work to please me during my first listening of Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s Sonatina. To be perfectly honest, I have never liked Tedesco’s Clarinet Sonata with piano. I remember learning it when I was younger and felt like it was torture. Apparently the not-so-secret ingredient to this new revelation is the guitar. Sonatina for Flute and Piano has me rethinking everything I ever thought I knew about Tedesco. I must explore more of Tedesco’s guitar works. The world needs more beautiful and introspective music like this, and the other works included on the album.

The last piece on the album returns the listener back to the theme of water in Brouwer’s Mítologia de las aguas (Mythologies of the Waters). The water is deep, dark, and mysterious. Both the flute and guitar are the water, the wave, and the atmosphere at the same time. Similarly to Takemitsu’s duo for flute and guitar, this is also Brouwer’s only duo for flute and guitar.

The liner notes state that the recordings were made at the Church of Santa Maria Maddalena in Casalborgone and that you can sometimes hear bats. Apparently there was a colony living in the organ pipes, which had become a nuisance. I became unexpectedly interested and devoted to trying to hear the bat sounds on the album. There are a couple of moments in this piece that I believe I heard the rustling of wings. The only negative thing I can say about this album is that it isn’t long enough! This is likely the first of many albums to come for Cordas et Bentu.

-- Fanfare (Natalie Szabo)

The phoneme is the smallest unit of sound able to form the words of a language. The term ‘phonemes’ therefore refers to the sounds an idiom uses to compose meanings, the smallest parts into which it can be broken up. There has always been a very close link between language and music. Heidegger defines language as “the house of being” and the mother tongue as the source of our preunderstanding of the world. Language therefore influences thought itself and, as a consequence, also the act of composing music, which is one of its expressions. In Martucci the structure and the harmony, in Cilea the rich melodic vein and operatic lyricism, in Fano the evolution of harmonic language and of musical declamation, are built on the common ground of the Italian language. Their works, despite the differences, cast their glance towards the same horizon. That of the Country that gave birth to the melodrama, historically known for its predilection for vocal music and for poetry in music. The integration of vocality and song in the Italian instrumental music of the late 19th century becomes, on this album, the object of interpretative research. The three sonatas are recorded on the prestigious Italian Fazioli F308 piano of the Accademia Nazionale di Santa Cecilia and with the F. Guadagnini 1919 cello, courtesy of Ilie Ionescu.

"The idea of this album came to us during the first Covid-19 lockdown in March 2020. Martina and I share a deep enthusiasm for new music and we are always eager to find the common roots of composers who have been a constant part of our development as musicians, going right back to our school years.

"What have Berio and Boulez in common with Bach? Firstly, polyphony. The Bach Sonatas, played here on piano and cello, are in fact 'Sonate a 3,' in which the use of different timbres and rhythms goes along with the Bach’s mastery of counterpoint and the sheer inventiveness of the musical motifs. We find that these elements of the composer’s creativity are also very present in the music of Berio and Boulez. In Berio’s Sequenza for cello, the exploration of the idea of polyphony on a monodic instrument, the variety of atmosphere and the pure technical virtuosity find their roots in Bach’s music. Boulez, with his Douze Notations for piano, pays a huge debt to the old German tradition of counterpoint, filtered through the twelve-tone system of Schönberg. Boulez clearly stated that he wanted to make fun of the Second Viennese School, and yet the character of each piece and the virtuosity of each tiny nuance recall Bach’s heritage, in particular his rhythmic precision and the effective way that the different ‘voices’ can be heard. These ideas have encouraged us to offer listeners some fascinating parallels between centuries which can seem so far from one another. We hope that re-building these bridges in our own time might help to maintain dialogues and echoes of the history of our common cultural patrimony." (Michele Gamba and Martina Rudic)

In Journey, our second album, we have turned our attention to the Eastern European sounds of Bart�k and Jan�cek and beyond with a new piece written especially for us by Israeli composer Lior Navok. The programme is somewhat less exuberant than our fiery and extroverted first album, Sortilegios, from 2019. This time, we invite the listener on a contemplative journey, reconnecting with deep emotions, ancestral memories and far-away landscapes. While it looks inward from an emotional point of view, Journey also broadens the expressive limits of our ensemble, showcasing a repertoire that may already be familiar to music lovers but is presented here for the first time in guitar duo arrangements. (Nelly & Luiz)

Eug�ne Ysa�e (Li�ge, 16 July 1858 - Brussels, 12 May 1931) is known to have conceived the idea of writing a cycle of six sonatas for solo violin during a concert in July 1923, while listening to his great contemporary musician Joseph Szigeti play Johann Sebastian Bach. He locked himself in his room, instructed not to be disturbed except to receive his meals, and over the next twenty-four hours sketched out the six pieces that would become his op. 27. Although the anecdote is historically well-founded, it is doubtful that a cycle destined to become a monument to violin art only in the twentieth century - what Bach's sonatas and partitas were for the eighteenth century and Paganini's Caprices for the nineteenth - can be reduced to an extemporaneous creative act, rather than the result of a meditated compositional project. A glance at the sonatas as a whole is enough to grasp the signs of a precise plan, which stemmed from the desire of a virtuoso, who was about to hang his bow, to write his artistic and technical testament by highlighting the profound connections between the legacy of tradition and the most innovative achievements in the music of his time

Luca Petrosino writes: “I still remember that day, when I went to that music store (now it is unfortunately closed), and saw a mandolin. I was looking for some 'ethnic tunes' for my first album as a songwriter and that tiny instrument caught my attention. I ended up buying it and immediately started to study it on my own. Eventually, I got hooked on its musicality and decided to study it at school. After that decision, my world changed surprisingly. My bond with mandolin became stronger and stronger, and the repertory that I had been discovering became more and more interesting and started to provide more and more gigs all over the country.”

Gianmarco Volpe writes: “With this album, I am coming back to my origins: classical music and classical guitar. Retracing baroque music’s geometries, Romantic lyricism, and melodic and rhythmic twists of Brazilian music, has made me explore many new tonal avenues with the guitar. This instrument is always able to reinvent itself and, thanks to its popular feature, find its place within ever-evolving musical styles.”

Born in Iran and now a resident/citizen of France, the background of composer Alireza Farhang reveals his nomadic character, his attraction to the Other. The extreme refinement that characterizes his music is a direct reflection of his peregrinations; his works invariably embody the Eastern and Western poles of his intellectual universe. In this regard, Farhang’s music must be understood as a combination of multiple heritages, with all the tension and paradoxes that this creates. His work traces a very personal path between the variability of oral traditions and the rigor of the written score, between the mysticism of Persian art and the rationality of Western music. A devotee of Hegelian philosophy, the synthesis that he creates between these two worlds is particularly salient in the music presented here.

The violinist, cellist, flutist, and oboist Robert Valentine (Leicester, 1671 - Rome, 1747) was a prolific author of sonatas - especially for recorder - and an instrumentalist engaged in the musical life of Rome, the city where he moved, in a period between 1693 and 1700, from his native England. Valentine belonged to a group – not very large but quite important for their excellent performative qualities – of virtuosos of wind instruments (oboe and also flute) who in the first half of the eighteenth century moved to Italy, also to make up for some shortage of instrumentalists in this sector, even if recent researches show, especially in Naples, a great vivacity of local schools even for what concerns wind musicians. At the beginning of the eighteenth century, between Rome, Naples, and Florence, we discover the presence of at least four foreign instrumentalists: the oboists / flutists Ignatio Rion (active in Venice, Rome and finally in Naples), Ignazio Sieber (Venice), Ludwig Erdmann (Florence) and finally Robert Valentine. The work of this English-born musician greatly fostered the development of flute music in Italy. His work as a composer and performer places him among the most prolific authors of original music for recorder of the period.