Cesare
Ciardi, “the Paganini of the flute”
has previously only been a name to me, which, being a flautist
myself, worries me a little. There are some other things which
worry me about this issue, but we’ll come to those later.
Ciardi
was a genuine flute specialist, composing principally for his
own instrument and making a name for himself from his very first
public concert appearance in 1827 at which he was presented
to the royal family and the audience by none other than Nicolò
Paganini. He soon became a recognised
virtuoso on the flute, touring widely and ending up in St. Petersburg,
where Ciardi became a professor at
the Conservatory and where Tchaikovsky numbered among his pupils.
The Gran Concerto is his only concerto for flute, and was originally for flute
and piano. The composer apparently did orchestrate the accompaniment
at one stage, but this version has been lost, and the current
arrangement, along with those for L'Eco dell' Arno and
Il carnevale
di Venezia,
has been sensitively carried out by soloist Roberto Fabbriciani.
The Gran Concerto is a virtuoso showcase as one
might expect, but the music leads one in to a world in which
all of those runs and leaps are based on attractive melodies
and interesting harmonic progressions. The opening is soulful
and quiet, but quickly builds to a true concerto-feel. The orchestra
has nice string tone, and while the flute is fairly forward
in the balance the soloist never quite manages to drown out
the accompaniment. Despite Ciardi’s
Russian residence, his music never loses its Italianate sense
of charm and lyricism. The slow movement has a nice sense of
restful flow and some attractive harmonic ‘hooks’, the finale
a punchy drama and some witty melodic gestures to have the audience
leave with a smile.
L’eco dell’Arno is a fantasia which demonstrates
not only Ciardi’s talent for creating
catchy and inventive melodic lines but also his great love of
folk music. The piece is based on traditional Tuscan themes,
which expand nicely after a slightly bombastic opening – no
doubt a reflection of Ciardi’s own
operatic inclinations. Il
carnevale di Venezia,
like the more famous version by Giulio
Briccialdi, is based on the canzonetta
‘Cara mamma mia’. Some Ciardi’s
variations are even more remarkable than the ones we have come
to know and love but have a similar effect, sometimes making
the listener convinced that there are two flutes playing rather
than one.
The remaining works
on this disc are all accompanied by piano, played nicely by
Massimiliano Damerini
who has worked with Fabbriciani before,
appearing with him on an album of Morricone
pieces. Like L’eco dell’Arno, Le Rossignol du nord is another fantasia,
a set of brilliant, song-like variations on a popular Russian
theme. Un sospiro del cuore is like an aria for flute, starting with a dramatic
‘recitativo’, and then adopting an
expressive lyrical style which is a gift for flautists. La Smorfiosetta is a playful capriccio,
Di Chi? a gentle polka-mazurka with more
virtuoso flute writing, and finally the Piccola fantasia su 2 Stornelli napoletani, which has some nice ‘ariosa’
tunes and even some touches of German ‘lied’ style in the first
half.
Lots of interesting
music on this new disc then, and a valuable source of new repertoire
for flautists everywhere. I will, however, be interested to
hear what my colleagues think of Roberto Fabbriciani’s
playing – in general, and on this disc in particular. Fabbriciani
has done sterling work in promoting and stimulating contemporary
music, but on the strength of this album I think I’d rather
play my pieces myself. It is easy to become starry eyed about
what we currently accept as flute ‘sound’ today, but I will
be the first to say that I find it hard to listen to the crisp
and brilliant, some might say glassy sound of – say – James
Galway, at least for long periods. I find it refreshing to hear
players like Michel Debost, who make their way in the world with a more rounded,
less ‘power’ orientated sound, and lately Sharon Bezaly,
whose technique is superb, but very much servant to the music.
I spent some time trying to work out what is going on in this
recording: is Fabbriciani playing an old wooden flute in a gesture toward
authenticity? I play an old wooden pre-war Hofinger
myself and know some of the pitfalls, but there is no mention
of anything like this in the booklet. I won’t say Fabbriciani
is a bad flautist – just hear him whip around the virtuoso stuff
on this disc and many folk will take it all in like jammy buns.
I cannot however say in all honesty that I enjoy his breathy,
sometimes grainy, sometimes rather matt tone. Just taking the
Gran Concerto, the slow movement lacks the
easy lyricism which the music requires – it all seems rather
a strain. At the extremes of the range this is most noticeable,
and to me it too often sounds more like a flautist ‘just about
hanging in there’ rather than a flautist ‘firing on all cylinders’.
Despite all the technical flightiness I do detect unevenness
here and there, the attack on some of the upper notes is rather
ugly at times, and intonation strains at the upper half of the
note too often to make the whole thing a pleasant experience,
even for a tolerant fellow like myself.
There we have it.
I am sorry to be so negative, but I would strongly advise a
quick audition before you buy. Even at budget price, our soloist
is not necessarily guaranteed to pass the entrance exam into
your collection.
Dominy Clements
Roberto Fabbriciani (flute) 
