Throughout the nineteenth century, as well as in the early twentieth century, music in Italy was almost synonymous with opera. Of course, there were many other musical genres beside musical theatre, but most of them could be thought of as depending rather crucially on opera: the treatment of the voice in vocal chamber music was indebted to the style and themes of opera; marching bands played mostly opera favourites, and even many church organists used to perform operatic fantasies and potpourris during the worship services (and this malpractice would be stigmatized by the Pope himself in a motu proprio of 1903).
Opera not only touched deeply the musical sensitivity of the Italians; it also gave voice to their newly found national identity, representing the musical flag of a country which was unified only in 1861.
In such a context, the act of championing “pure” instrumental music could be seen as a heresy by audiences and critics alike, and only a few daring musicians took a stance against the hegemony of opera. Along with figures of the standing of Giuseppe Martucci and Giovanni Sgambati, Marco Enrico Bossi (1861-1925) was at the forefront in this effort to revive an Italian instrumental tradition.
If nearly all of the creative energies in the Italian musical field were focused on opera, the unavoidable consequence was, of course, that a genuinely “Italian” late-Romantic language for instrumental music had to be built from scratch; equally unavoidably, these musicians had the only option to look abroad for possible models from which to take inspiration. While Sgambati favoured Liszt’s style and personality, Bossi’s attention was particularly attracted by the music of Johannes Brahms.
As can be easily guessed, however, in a still “young” country whose musical standard-bearer was opera, those who practised and composed mostly instrumental music or oratorios, and who elected their mentors among the Germans, were an easy target for criticism, quite beyond the actual consideration of their musical merits and demerits.
This attitude marked also the life of Bossi himself. A great organ virtuoso and a gifted composer, he was very open to the international music scene of his time. At the age of eighteen, he travelled to London, where he performed on both the piano and the magnificent organs of the Crystal Palace and of St Paul’s; later, he went to Paris, where he met and had the opportunity to listen to some of the greatest organists of the era, among whom César Franck and Charles-Marie Widor.
Somewhat surprising, such a promising young organist decided not to graduate in Organ in his country: this seemingly odd choice represented a polemical stance, protesting against the insufficient quality of the organ of the Milan Conservatoire.
Notwithstanding this, Bossi was deeply involved in the musical life of his country, as a composer, as a performer and as a pedagogue (and even as a director of several important musical institutions, such as the Conservatories of Bologna and Venice). He created music societies and choral associations; he promoted the study and performance of Bach’s works in Italy; he played pieces by foreign and/or early composers, helping the dissemination of their music in the Peninsula.
He also contributed crucially to the creation of the study and examination programmes for the budding organists educated at the Italian Conservatories, fostering the restoration of ancient instruments and the building of new organs, and promoting the social recognition of the organist as a “chapel master”, on the model of what happened in many other European countries.
Indeed, it was precisely abroad that his music was appreciated most: one of the greatest British organists and composers, W. T. Best, was keen to perform his works, and Bossi’s one-act opera, Il viandante, which had obtained only a lukewarm success in Italy, was instead acclaimed in Mannheim, Dresden, Frankfurt and Lübeck. Similarly, his large-scale Scriptural cantata, Canticum canticorum op. 120, was both performed and published in Leipzig, the city where Bach had worked for years and where the likes of Mendelssohn, Schumann and Wagner had lived in the previous years. In turn, Bossi’s Il paradiso perduto op. 125 was welcomed in Augsburg, and later it was performed as far as in Russia, Sweden and the USA. Indeed, it was precisely when coming back, on a steamer, from a very successful American tour, that Bossi found his premature death; and even though his passing was mourned officially by the Italian civil authorities as well as by the most important Italian musicians, his music still needs to be disseminated, performed and recorded in his home country.
Therefore, this recording of his two Violin Sonatas is a particularly welcome addition to the discography of this great Italian composer. His chamber music output is rather limited in quantity, but extremely refined in quality, and it includes, along with these Sonatas, two Piano Trios as well as beautiful songs on lyrics by the some of the greatest Italian poets of the era.
The First Sonata, op. 82 in E minor, was printed by Breitkopf & Härtel, one of the most important publishers of the time, and is dedicated to Teresina Tua, an extremely gifted Italian violinist. Its first movement, Allegro con energia, opens on an energetic exploration of the triad by the violin, accompanied by powerful chords of the piano: it is a rather heroic beginning, which corresponds to what we know about Tua’s mesmerizing musical personality.
Broad phrases, whose generous dynamic indications correspond to equally daring itineraries throughout the violin’s pitch range, build up a sequence of tense and calmer moments, which sustain the Sonata’s first pages with waves of musical intensity. The demanding technical challenges offered to both instrumentalists are always in the service of musical needs; indeed, many difficulties are purposefully hidden in their mechanical complexity, in order to reveal the musical thought behind them. Playful moments in spirited staccatos are followed by expressive themes sung by the violin in its highest register; quiet passages, almost cadenza-like, are framed by passionate and touching perorations; throughout the movement, Bossi’s masterful polyphonic writing constantly sustains the dialogue between the two instruments. A spectacular Coda, which follows a genuine Cadenza, closes the movement in a frenzy of arpeggios and chords.
The second movement, Andante sostenuto con vaghezza, is entirely different in character from what preceded it; yet, remarkably, Bossi achieves a notable unity at the compositional level by employing, once more, a melodic and harmonic material mostly derived from the triad. The violin’s entrance is fascinatingly enshrined in eerie sonorities produced by the concomitant use of the fourth string and of the sordina, while the piano doubles it, filling the melody with refined harmonies. After this intimate beginning, a Molto sostenuto sempre andante follows in which the violin becomes “espansivo”, expansive, over the piano’s rich arpeggios. A third section follows, of a yet different character and tempo (Vivace, gaio, quasi Canzone), on a bouncing and lively dance-rhythm, constituting the central part of the movement; after that, the preceding sections are recapitulated in reverse order.
The third movement, Allegro focoso, opens with a rather large section played by the solo piano, on an idiosyncratic rhythm and thematic material; though constantly varied and juxtaposed to other elements, it constitutes a recurring and almost obsessive feature of this movement. Small fragments (melodic, harmonic, rhythmic) of this theme are found, in fact, in almost all of the musical materials employed here; however, the composer’s fervid imagination manages to combine this noteworthy unity with a great variety of tempi, keys, dynamics and moods. The Sonata closes on an exhilarating Poco più presto, whose already frantic pace is further increased in the last lines of this brilliant movement.
The Second Sonata, in C major, op. 117, was published once more in Leipzig, but this time by Kistner, in 1899. The seemingly simple key of C major is immediately belied by Bossi, who begins the opening Moderato with ingenious harmonies and elegant chromaticism. Once more, the climax is gradually built, and seems to arise effortlessly and yet powerfully from a deceivingly childlike melody. Here too a variety of styles is found, ranging from the heroic to the graceful, and contrasting a purposeful determination with a delicate lightness. The second movement, Scherzoso, maintains what it promises: it is a fantastic dance on tiptoe, occasionally broken by calmer and more lyrical moments. The third movement, Adagio elegiaco, is a touching contemplation full of melancholy and sadness, in which both the passionate plea and the tender delicacy find their way. The fourth movement, Allegro con fuoco, is a pressing chase in which the two instruments are constantly engaged, except for short moments of respite and sweetness, or of lyrical passion; it closes on a magnificent heroic Coda.
These two Sonatas, therefore, are more than worthy to become milestones in the chamber music repertoire, due to their variety of character, masterful construction and enthralling musicality; it is hoped that their rediscovery will also contribute to a greater posthumous appreciation of their composer.
Album Notes by Chiara Bertoglio