I
really enjoyed this disk and, despite the short playing time,
any disk which brings Rota’s concert music before a larger
public is a good thing.
Whenever
Nino Rota’s name is mentioned it’s almost always in connection
with his music for film. Seldom is mention made of his concert
music – and there’s a lot of it: three symphonies, concertos
for harp, bassoon, trombone, two for cello, three for piano,
five ballets, ten operas and much chamber music.
Rota
was born into a musical family in Milan, studied at the Conservatory
there with Pizzetti, moved to the USA, received a scholarship
to the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia, where he studied
composition with Rosario Scalero - who also taught Samuel
Barber at about the same time - and on his return to Milan
he wrote a thesis on the renaissance composer, Gioeffo Zarlino.
He
started writing for the cinema in the 1930s, almost on his
return from America, and he continued his association with
film until his death, his most fruitful partnership being
with director Federico Fellini, who said. “The most
precious collaborator I have ever had, I say it straightaway
and don't even have to hesitate, was
Nino Rota - between us, immediately, a complete, total, harmony
... He had a geometric imagination, a musical approach worthy
of celestial spheres. He thus had no need to see images from
my movies. When I asked him about the melodies he had in
mind to comment one sequence or another, I clearly realized
he was not concerned with images at all. His world was inner,
inside himself, and reality had no way to enter it”.
Rota
made no distinction between his music for film and his concert
works – indeed, his 1966 ballet La Strada derives
from his 1954 score for the film of the same name – and three
movements of the Sinfonia sopra una Canzone d’Amore (Symphony
on a love song) were used in two of his most successful
films – The Glass Mountain (Henry Cass – 1948) and Il
Gattopardo [The Leopard] (Visconti – 1963). The
Sinfonia was written in 1947, but only in short piano score,
it wasn’t orchestrated until 1972. This is a delightful work,
tuneful, graceful, light and breezy, much in the manner of
Haydn, with a delicious slow movement and a riotous finale.
It is superbly laid out for a smallish orchestra including
a dash of percussion.
The
booklet calls the Concerto Soirée “…one
of the most demanding pieces of piano literature of [the
20th century]” but it’s impossible to
understand why, this must surely be a mistranslation. I wonder
if what is meant is not hard or severe, but rather undemanding,
as in easygoing. Like the Sinfonia it is light and
tuneful with a fine sense of fun and a delightful slow movement,
and also like the Sinfonia, parts of the Concerto were
used elsewhere – the melancholy theme from the Romanza was
used in the ballet La Strada, and the finale’s opening
idea appears in the descent to the Turkish baths in Fellini’s Otto
e mezzo [8½]
(1963).
The performances are suitably classical, light and airy, allowing the
music to flow freely, not pointing the jokes, just letting
them happen, then passing on, allowing us to enjoy a joke
slipped into the delightful conversation. The recording is
clear and ever so slightly dated but that need not worry
you. The booklet notes are rather quaint, due, I imagine,
to a less than perfect translation.
Chandos has done sterling service by Rota, recording six CDs of his music,
including a performance of the Sinfonia
sopra una Canzone d’Amore by
the Orchestra Sinfonica del Teatro Massimo, conducted by
Marzio Conti (coupled with the Ballet Suite, La Strada,
and Waltzes from Il Gattopardo – Chandos CHAN 10090).
It’s a good performance, better recorded than the Arts disk
(and more generous in playing time) but lacking the light
touch and sense of fun – it is all too serious.
I
really enjoyed this disk and, despite the short playing time,
any disk which brings Rota’s concert music before a larger
public is a good thing.
Bob Briggs
Benedetto
Lupo (piano) 
