Giuseppe VERDI (1813-1901)
Otello "Ouverture" [9:31]
Claudio MONTEVERDI (1567-1643)
Sì dolce è 'l tormento [8:42]
Alessandro PARISOTTI (1853-1913)
Se tu m'ami [6:47]
Giacomo PUCCINI (1858-1924)
Turandot "Nessun dorma" [6:29]
Pietro MASCAGNI (1863-1945)
Cavalleria rusticana "Intermezzo" [5:24]
Tommaso GIORDANI
(c
1730-33-1806)
Caro mio ben [7:25]
Giovanni PAISIELLO (1740-1816)
La molinara "Nel cor più non mi sento" [6:00]
Michel GODARD
Fruccia d’ali [4:18]
If this disc is, as the notes aver, a case of ‘honouring the past in order
to have a dialogue with the present’ then taking classical repertoire and
transmuting it into a jazz context is a by no means unexplored route. Those
words are those of the soprano flugelhorn player Dario Savino Doronzo who
teams with pianist Pietro Gallo and on three of the eight tracks with
Michel Godard, who plays an instrument that cannot ever have been heard on
a jazz recording – though there have been a fair few instrumental oddities
since 1917 – which is that antique beast, the serpent.
It’s an album of Italian arias from Monteverdi to Mascagni with a strong
element of arie antiche. Doronzo plays with tonal warmth and
precision and Pietro Gallo supplies fine and diverse support whilst soloing
with authority. They play the overture to Verdi’s Otello, one of
the few non-vocal inspirations, with attention to detail and bring to the
Monteverdi aria that follows a pensive, romantic quality. Michel Godard
manages to bring a trombone-like quality to the serpent that both solos
here and plays unison with the flugelhorn. I think I can hear an edit along
the way as I can at 1:49 in the next track Parisotti’s Se tu m’ami
which was for so long attributed to Pergolesi. It’s played relatively
straight and then with a greater rhythmic flexibility. Doronzo, as a
stylist, occasionally evokes Miles Davis – in his Gil Evans days – rather
more than a flugelhorn player proper, such as Clark Terry.
For his solo number, Gallo alludes to Puccini’s evergreen Nessun dorma in his introduction and plays around the theme before
embracing lyricism laced with bop inspiration. Dornozo, meanwhile, plays
the melody of Mascagni’s Intermezzo quite straight and without
sentimentality. He is a mobile technician and here his quick-witted styling
really does have something reminiscent of Clark Terry, even down to the
tonal richness of his horn. Caro mio ben is another well-known
example of arie antiche, and here the flugelhorn and serpent are
sufficiently different timbrally. The Paisiello La molinara is
youthful, skipping, lyrical and elegant. There’s a bonus track too, the
serpent player Michel Godard’s Fruccia d’ali, an ingenious workout
for the serpent and flugelhorn without piano.
The arrangements were variously by Doronzo and Gallo with collaborators M
Paternoster and G Giannatempo.
There are a few studio noises and some edits, as noted; high end studio
noise as well. These are small irritants but there’s a good booklet note
from the flugel player and an attractive look to the programme. Whether
opera is really reimagined here, I think best to leave to the listener, but
it certainly provides strong themes for improvisation. It also supplies
that amazing instrumental wild card. Whitney Balliett famously referred to
jazz as The Sound of Surprise; here, it’s The Sound of the Serpent.
Jonathan Woolf