While I was doing some research for the liner notes of this Da Vinci Classics production, I found a thread in a classical guitar forum, discussing works for piano and guitar. One of the users had written: “Guitar and piano? Sounds sadistic”. In fact, though the piano and the guitar are possibly the two classical instruments with the highest number of amateur players worldwide (and therefore works for both instruments together might count on a very large market of possible performers, anxious to escape the soloistic solitude which dominates the lives of pianists and guitarists), the repertoire is rather limited. In a seminal article on Il Fronimo, the Italian journal about guitar and lute, Eugenio Becherucci helpfully detailed and catalogued the repertoire for guitar and piano duo, listing it under three main rubrics: first, the arrangements, potpourris and adaptations from the operatic repertoire, which were composed mainly in the nineteenth century and which did not take into account the specificities of the instruments of destination, since their main purpose was simply to allow the “re-production” of popular tunes. Second, the pedagogical works, whereby the provisional lack of accomplishment of the budding guitar players was compensated by the piano’s filling of the harmonies and musical context. Thirdly, the duo repertoire proper, which is normally complex, difficult and “professional”, both as concerns the performing technique and the compositional style.
In fact, the composer wishing to experiment with this combination of instruments has to face the very complex challenge of finding an adequate sound balance between an imposing instrument, with an extended dynamics which may successfully compete with that of a full symphonic orchestra (as happens in the Piano Concertos), and one which has a very nuanced dynamic palette, with numerous and refined effects, but whose sound may be drowned by the sheer sound-power of the other instrument. This problem was not particularly felt in the case of the nineteenth-century arrangements: first, because they were not normally intended for public performance, but just for the performers’ enjoyment; secondly, because nineteenth-century “home pianos” had a considerably lighter sound than today’s grands; and thirdly because the arrangements were not tailored on the specific qualities of the instruments, but rather generically suited for a pleasurable and not-too-difficult performance.
All of the composers represented here, instead, took the challenge very seriously, and attempted to create works in which the “odd couple” of piano and guitar could coexist peacefully. And the idea of couple was sometimes quite literal: in fact, already in the nineteenth century several of the masterpieces for the piano and guitar duo were created for married couples such as that of Anna Mrasek and Alois Wolf, who concertized together, and that of Johann Kaspar Mertz and Joséphine Plantin.
Love played a part also in the story of Manuel Ponce’s Sonata, recorded here. In the early twentieth century, two fabulous musicians such as Andrés Segovia and Wanda Landowska were championing their hitherto neglected instruments, i.e. the guitar and the harpsichord, by bringing them on the international concert stages also thanks to purposefully designed instruments which could stand the sound requirements and the physical “stress” of a touring concert career. Manuel Ponce, one of the greatest Mexican composers, met Andrés Segovia in 1923, when the latter gave a concert in Mexico City; Segovia prompted Ponce to compose guitar works, and the first fruit of this encouragement was De México, which would later become a movement of Sonata Mexicana. Two years later, Ponce, who had already a successful career in his homeland and was already 43 years old, took the major and courageous step to go to Europe in order to perfect his compositional style under the guidance of Paul Dukas. While in Paris, Ponce wrote his Sonata for Guitar and Harpsichord, about which Segovia himself was very enthusiastic. About fifteen years later, in 1940, Ponce presented this work to a couple of his former students who were also his friends, as a wedding present, with these touching works of dedication: “To my dear friend Chucho Silva and his esteemed future companion Amanda Cuervo, very affectionately, hoping to hear you both play this sonata soon. Manuel M. Ponce, Mexico, Dec. 14, 1940”. However, the keyboard part was played on the piano rather than on the harpsichord; thus, the delicate and fascinating sound balance pairing the guitar with the harpsichord (which are a much better match for each other than the piano for the guitar) was radically modified. Ponce didn’t seem to be too concerned; rather, he “appeared pleased with the results and even suggested placing a large strip of paper over the strings of the piano in order to imitate a little the effect of the harpsichord”. The dedicatee, Silva, was fascinated by this work, which was, in his words, “strong because it’s subtle. It goes deep into the performer and the audience”.
Yet another married couple prompted the composition of Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s Fantasia op. 45, dedicated to Segovia himself and to his wife, Paquita Madriguera, an accomplished pianist who had studied with Enrique Granados. In this case, the work was conceived from the outset for the guitar and piano duo, whose possibilities the composer had already somewhat explored by rehearsing with Segovia himself a transcription of his Concerto no. 1 for guitar (the composer played the orchestral arrangement on the piano). Subtlety characterizes this work too, in which the piano adopts a light and transparent texture, reminiscent of the Impressionist language; moreover, the composer’s mastery of technique is displayed in his knowledgeable use of imitation, of thematic inversions and of a very refined harmony. The “Spanish” flavour of some individual moments, justified in particular by the performers’ nationality, is evident especially in some sections of the first movement, and in the occasional allusions to the style of Manuel de Falla.
In Leo Brouwer’s Tres Danzas concertantes we face once more a transcription; however, in this case the original is for guitar and string orchestra, and therefore, as concerns the mere aspect of sound quantity, the power balance between the guitar and its interlocutor is similar. Brouwer is a living composer, whose story and career are deeply bound to those of his homeland, Cuba, and to its cultural and institutional situation. This work, written when the composer was not yet twenty years old, belongs in the first stage of the composer’s activity, when he was mainly focused on establishing a dialogue between the musical traditions of his nation and the idioms of Western music: this operation had also a socio-political dimension, as it aimed at conquering pride of place for Cuba and for its musical heritage in the Eurocentric world of classical music. For this purpose, the prevailing style is a modern tonal framework, whereby the respect of tradition goes hand in hand with the exploration of more daring possibilities. These would result in a more progressive artistic stance in Brouwer’s second period, after the composer’s appropriation of the avant-garde idioms he had learnt to know at the Warsaw Autumn Festival in the early Sixties; whilst, in more recent times, a tendency to polystylism can be observed in his output. In the Danzas concertantes the composer alternates bright and cheerful moments to others in a more reflective style (as in the Andantino) and with an utterly virtuoso and occasionally frenzied style (as in the Toccata). In this work, Brouwer’s interest in extra-musical suggestions is already observable, in particular as concerns his use of geometry and painting as sources of inspiration.
At approximately the same time when Brouwer was composing his Danzas, the Swiss composer Hans Haug was meeting the Austrian guitarist Luise Walker at the international Geneva competition (1956); fascinated by her sensitive and virtuoso playing style, Haug wrote for her his Fantasia for guitar and piano, finished by the following year. Haug had been seriously interested in the guitar since 1950, when his Concertino for guitar and orchestra had been awarded a Prize by the Accademia Chigiana in Siena: to be sure, the figure of Segovia is to be found here too, since he should have premiered the laureates’ works (in Haug’s case, unfortunately, the engagement was not fulfilled). The piece’s style is reminiscent of other concerto-style works by Haug from around the same time, and the two instruments are on equal terms as concerns the presentation of the musical material; the composer employs a rich vocabulary of techniques and strategies including a knowledgeable use of motivic elaboration and virtuoso guitar writing.
A similar exploration of the timbral potential of the guitar is found in Carlo Galante’s Piccole serenate alla luna piena, described by their composer thus: “A few years ago I started composing a cycle of works dedicated to plucked-string instruments, i.e. the guitar and harp. I used these two instruments together in the first piece of the series, and later, in the following ones, in combination with others: piano, flute, clarinet and a second harp. All the pieces in this cycle freely evoke the classical Serenade form, felt in its original nocturnal setting; thus, they focus on the phases of the moon, the light of our nights. The Piccole serenate alla luna piena for piano and guitar are divided into five short movements, and each is a variant of a series of five matrices (five in this case, otherwise six). Some musical materials which are common to the entire cycle are constantly varied, both following the different nature of the instrument I use and keeping into account (and experimenting with) asymmetrical sound balances (such as piano and guitar). The five Serenades, each with a different character from the others, bear the indications: misterioso; espressivo; allegretto; vivace e ritmico”.
The potential of the “odd couple” of piano and guitar is therefore abundantly shown by the composers who daringly accepted the challenge: through their ability and that of the interpreters, a seemingly impossible challenge is evidently won, and we, as listeners, experience the new sound experiences flowering from their artistic enthusiasm.
Notes by Chiara Bertoglio