Tomaso Albinoni - his music and his life

by Georg Predota

“The Professional Dilettante”

Tomaso Albinoni

There is hardly a collection of recorded Baroque favorites that does not include the “Adagio in G minor” by Tomaso Albinoni (1671-1751). Although that world-famous composition is attributed to Albinoni, it was actually the creation of the mid-20th century Italian musicologist Remo Giazotto. While completing his biography on the composer, Giazotto claimed to have found a fragment of an Albinoni composition in an archive of a Germany library. That fragment supposedly contained snippets of a melody and a supporting continuo part. Relying on the stylistic features of the Italian Baroque, Giazotto “completed” the fragment, and the Italian publisher Ricordi published the “Albinoni Adagio” in 1958. So far so good, but there is one more twist to that story, as nobody has been able to locate or examine that mysterious Albinoni fragment. The attribution to Albinoni might be a clever work of fiction, but Tomaso Albinoni did exist, as he was born 350 years ago in the city of Venice.

Remo Giazotto

Albinoni’s father was a manufacturer of playing card who owned several shops and some property in Venice. Tomaso was slated to take over his father’s business, but in his spare time he took violin and singing lessons. He obviously was highly talented, but since he was independently wealthy, he never looked for employment in music. Instead, “he preferred to remain a man of independent means who delighted himself and others through music.” Initially, Albinoni dabbled in church music but failed to make a mark. However, he did step into public view at the beginning of 1694, as his first opera Zenobia, regina de Palmireni was staged at the Teatro Santi Giovanni e Paolo in Venice. Dedicated to his fellow Venetian, the Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni, the work was popular and performances continued for several weeks. Concordantly, Albinoni published his 12 Sonatas Op. 1, and it became obvious that “instrumental ensemble music (sonatas and concertos) and secular vocal music (operas and solo cantatas) were to be his two areas of activity in a musical career that lasted the better part of 47 years.”

Frontispiece of Albinoni’s ‘Zenobia’

Albinoni might briefly have served Ferdinando Carlo di Gonzaga, the Duke of Mantua, and his hugely popular suites Opus 3 are dedicated to Ferdinando de’Medici, Grand prince of Tuscany. His theatrical works soon began to be staged in other Italian cities. Rodrigo in Algeri was staged in Naples in 1702, and Griselda and Aminta in Florence in 1703. A set of comic intermezzos Vespette e Pimpinone of 1708 proofed especially popular. Albinoni reached the height of his popularity in 1722. He dedicated a set of 12 concertos to Maximilian II Emanuel, Elector of Bavaria. In turn, he was commissioned to compose music for the wedding of Karl Albrecht to Maria Amalia, the younger daughter of the late emperor Joseph I. Albinoni wrote at least fifty operas, of which twenty-eight were produced in Venice between 1723 and 1740. The composer claimed to have created a grand total of 81 operas, but the vast majority of these stage works have been lost because they were not published during his lifetime.

Italian composers Tomaso Albinoni (1671-1750), Domenico Gizzi (Egizio or Egiziello) (1680- c. 1745) and Giuseppe Colla (1731-1806) by Pietro Bettelini (1763–1829)

Although a good many attributions to Albinoni are doubtful, he apparently did compose nearly 50 solo cantatas. However, he is primarily known as a composer of instrumental music, with almost 100 sonatas for between one and six instruments, 59 concertos and 8 sinfonias to his name. His instrumental compositions were published in Italy, Amsterdam and London, and subsequently reissued and reprinted. They were favorably compared to those of Corelli and Vivaldi, and J.S. Bach wrote at least four keyboard fugues on Albinoni themes. We also know that Bach frequently used Albinoni bass lines as foundation for harmonic exercises for his students. Sadly, substantial parts of Albinoni’s works were lost with the destruction of the Dresden State Library in World War II. Albinoni’s music has been criticized “for an over dependence on certain formal stereotypes, and a dryness and lack of harmonic finesse.” It must be said, however, that Albinoni possessed a remarkable melodic gift, and that his mature works “display an almost perfectly realized equilibrium between form and content.” From about 1730, Albinoni gradually withdrew from public life and from composition. He spent the last decade of his life in the care of his three children, and he died on 17 January 1751 from diabetic complications in Venice.

(C) 2021 by Interlude

The Pianist’s Solitude

By Francis Wilson, Interlude

Credit: https://static1.squarespace.com/

“The loneliness doesn’t worry me……I spend most of my life alone, even backstage…….I’m there completely alone. I like the time alone….”

British pianist Stephen Hough, speaking on BBC Radio 4’s Desert Island Discs programme

The pianist’s life is, by necessity, lonely. One of the main reasons pianists spend so much time alone is that we must practise more than other musicians because we have many more notes and symbols to decode, learn and upkeep. This prolonged solitary process may eventually result in a public performance, at which we exchange the loneliness of the practise room for the solitude of the concert platform.

Most of us do not choose the piano because we are loners – such decisions are usually based on our emotions, motor skills or the aural appeal of the instrument. For me, as a child – and an only child – the piano was a companion and a portal to a world of exploration, fantasy and storytelling. It remains a place to retreat to and time spent with the instrument and its literature can be therapeutic, rebalancing and uplifting. For many of us, being alone is the time when the sense of being at one with the instrument is strongest.

In addition, there is time alone spent listening to recordings – one’s own (for self-evaluation) and by others (for inspiration and ideas on interpretative possibilities, or purely for relaxation) – and time simply recovering from practising and refocusing in readiness for the next session. Many pianists tend to be loners – the career almost demands it and self-reliance is something one learns early on, as a musician – but that does not necessarily make pianists lonely or unsociable.

To me it’s always about connection – connecting with parts of myself, with the thoughts and feelings of the composer, and ultimately sharing with an audience. It’s travelling through time and space to experience other eras and cultures…..I can’t think of anything that makes me feel less lonely!

Stephen Marquiss, pianist & composer

The life of the concert soloist is a strange calling, yet many concert pianists accept the loneliness as part of the package, together with the other accessories of the trade. The concert pianist experiences a particular kind of solitude (as noted by Stephen Hough in the quote at the beginning of this article). The solitude of travelling alone – the monotony of airport lounges, the Sisyphean accumulation of air miles, nights spent alone in faceless hotels. Dining alone, sleeping alone, breakfast alone, rising early to practise alone. And there is the concert itself: waiting backstage, alone, in the green room, and then the moment when you cross the stage, entirely alone….. The pianist Martha Argerich has described the “immense” space around the piano that has always made her feel alone on stage. But it is this aloneness, this separation, which the solo pianist exploits for the purpose of captivating and seducing the audience, drawing them into his or her own private world for the duration of the performance.

I suppose being an introvert in a ‘public performance’ profession has been my greatest challenge. It isn’t straightforward, of course – I seem to have a deep need to communicate music to an audience and get their reaction, and I love to be appreciated, but there are many other aspects of being ‘on show’ that don’t come naturally. I’m very interested in people, but I’m quite a private person and need lots of time to myself.

Susan Tomes, pianist and writer

The traditional positioning of the piano on stage, so that the pianist sits side on to the audience, heightens this sense of separation and aloneness. In a concert, the pianist must navigate a path between private, subjective feelings and public expression in a curious display of both isolation and exhibitionism. The power of performer, and performance, is this separateness from the mass of audience. Some performers may exploit this to create a sense of “us and them”, while others are adept at creating an intensity or intimacy of sound and gesture during which the audience may feel as if they have a private window onto the pianist’s unique world, in that moment.

Up there on the stage, one can feel more alone than anyone would ever care to be, yet it can make one better than one thinks possible because one’s ego is constantly being tested when one plays. To meet a Beethoven sonata head on, for example, it stops being about you – how fast you can play, how technically accomplished you are. Instead it is about getting beyond oneself, becoming ego-less, humble in the face of this great music, developing a sense of oneness with the composer…..

After the performance, when the greeting of the audience and CD signing is over, the pianist may happily retreat to his or her solitary practise room or studio. Many of us long for this special solitude and actively relish the time spent practising alone.

The internet and social media have, for many of us, been a huge support in relieving feelings of loneliness and separation. Facebook, Twitter and other social media platforms enable us to connect with pianists and other musicians around the world, allowing us to preserve our solitude, while also engaging meaningfully with others when required.

(C) 2017-2021 by Interlude.