A Man of Genius - Scarlatti Sonatas
I had the good fortune to meet Francesco Corti after hearing him play at the 2023 Boston Early Music Festival. I still remember his riveting performance of Bach’s fifth French Suite. The focus of his latest album, however, its cover festooned with playing cards (which makes sense after reading the liner notes), is some of Scarlatti’s late sonatas, organized in pairs. The sixteen tracks pushes the limits of a CD’s range at 86 minutes, a generous gift. I auditioned this release via Qobuz at 192kHz via headphones.
The recording was made in December 2023 at the Royaumont Foundation. The instrument used, one by Philippe Humeau, I think is a good choice. I’ve enjoyed his instruments in other recordings, including those of music by Scarlatti. I often detect a fruity quality to his instruments which I know is an odd descriptor for an instrument, but the tone of the notes have roundness to them (again, what does this mean?) but the illusion of ripe figs and pears comes to mind as I listen to this album. However you might describe this instrument’s timbral qualities, it’s a beautiful instrument that helps, especially, in Scarlatti’s slower movements.
I was once asked, after purchasing the Scott Ross collection of Scarlatti sonatas if I’d listened to them all. “Of course,” I said. The Ross set, I think, was a triumph, given the time in which he completed the project, and especially so given his poor health. Do we need to listen to all 550 works? There does come a point where the novelty of new themes and textures can exhaust us; what’s left are formal structures that, while different, aren’t terribly different. In this way I see Scarlatti in somewhat the same light as Philip Glass: you can easily identify a Scarlatti sonata when you hear it, and while they are different, the lasting effect upon you is not terribly different.
I am not saying Scarlatti wrote “550” versions of the same sonata, an indictment that’s been made against Antonio Vivaldi regarding his violin concertos. (I too disagree with the indictment against Vivaldi, but it is stickier than suggesting Scarlatti only wrote variations of the same idea.) The more I listen to Philip Glass it becomes apparent that he, too, isn’t stuck in writing in one form or in only one way. In each their own way, these composers I think have set up for themselves to live in their own style while challenging themselves to use this style as a creative funnel to explore new solutions.
I have probably gotten more enjoyment from the series of Scarlatti sonatas by Pierre Hantaï than the Ross set, which packaged as single CDs released over a number of years, have served a similar function for us as I think this new recording by Corti will: the notes indicate that instead of providing a general “sampler” of sonatas from across the composer’s lifetime, he Corti instead wanted to zero-in on a particular period. This allows us as listeners to have some focus. As it turns out, as I let this recording play-out, I realized these sonatas must be in someone’s catalog of “favorites” as many of these sonatas are familiar to me. Either that, or I retained a better memory after playing all of those Scott Ross CDs.
For those unfamiliar with Domenico Scarlatti, his musical education was founded in his family’s place in Naples, which for me at least, produced some very interesting music that competes with what today seems a dominating Venetian style when we think of “Italian baroque” music. His father was a gifted composer in his own right. We actually don’t know a lot about Domenico. He ends up in Spain and we know he wrote an extraordinary number of sonatas for keyboard. There is therefore this background of Neapolitan style that I oft detect in his harmonic progressions that is peppered with a personality all its own. There is no doubt that Spanish music had an influence on his style, including the sonority of the guitar. What’s extraordinary is that he never set about, as far as we know, to publish his music. This album’s liner notes background into the music, in addition to Corti’s own exposure to it, made for good reading.
Many scholars see Scarlatti presenting his sonatas as couplets linked by key. It’s not something I am aware others doing in this way (of course we only need to look at Bach who does this, albeit differently in the WTC); the prototype of course could be the concept of a French suite or ordre, with dances organized around a key center, but as independent pieces organized as pairs, makes for a unique presentation. And as popular as free-forms (toccatas) and contrapuntal music was to his contemporary Bach, Scarlatti’s sonatas helped to establish what became the de-facto formal structure used in the classical era, the sonata form (or sonata-allegro). In this way, we can see his sonatas as forward leaning rather than looking backward. His father, of course, used counterpoint quite regularly in his writing.
The Sonata in A, K. 208 is one I often have problems with; it’s marked cantabile which is a style that requires the performer to make the melodic material to “sing.” I’d welcome the opportunity to try on a flute or violin, but of course making cantabile work on the harpsichord requires more skill, given the instrument’s mechanical qualities. I have heard many musicians fail me in convincing me this can work well. Part of the challenge is the instrument’s staying power, and matching how long those notes stay “alive” with one’s chosen tempo. Musicians can ornament the line, of course, to extend the sustaining effect. I listened to this track multiple times and came to the conclusion that I very much liked Corti’s solution in this challenging work. He first presents the melodic material as it is written but then weaves it into something that I think I can agree reaches the definition of cantabile.
K. 209 is brighter and jumpier in character. Scarlatti is not generous with his material in the way Bach would be in the invention of a good fugal theme; but as is often Scarlatti’s gift, his inventions are compartmentalized into shorter gestures that together come together to delight us in their novelty. The binary form helps us hear all these ideas again, and thankfully Corti is not set on presenting the music as a carbon copy repeat.
The Sonatas in C, K. 242-243 are not a familiar pair to me. Both are quick and here are played in nearly the same period of time. I found their exposition a delight as I marveled at Corti’s flexibility and agility on the keyboard. The first sonata seems ideally poised to showcase a performer’s technical gifts, with runs, and shifts in harmony that arrest one’s attention. The second sonata seems to open with a fugal-style opening, presenting a theme, but a fugue doesn’t emerge. Instead two voices do emerge chasing one another until a drone type figure emerges. The sonata is one that might be as good as any reminder that Scarlatti’s music was truly written for the harpsichord. His exploitation of the instrument’s plucking with his rhythmic figures doesn’t work for me on the piano.
The Sonatas in A, K. 219-220 start with a slower movement; marked Andante it isn’t melody-driven like the sonata K. 208. I find it difficult to not see dancers before me when hearing this sonata; the melodic material seems for me perfect fodder for one’s facial expressions, questions, responses, more questions; it’s drama unfolding before us. I appreciate Corti at least indulging my thoughts in this way, he does not simply present this music at a strict tempo without feeling. He gives into the music’s subtle character, applying equally subtle rubato to his phrasing. It seems exactly as I might want to hear it.
The Allegro that closes the album made me think of a play on a stage; we get a presentation of an idea, as if a character has come onto the stage before us, but this isn’t as simple as seeing a familiar face, the music takes us into unexpected directions, and we might imagine an emerging plot unfolding. As ever, Scarlatti surprises us with his harmonic directions, although they aren’t entirely foreign, they delight us in their novelty as he traverses through keys. The runs for the right hand are an altogether different animal, requiring able dexterity and delight of a different flavor. A nice harmonic sequence comes along and my imagination of an unfolding drama (or an allusion to the operatic world) again comes into focus. It’s quite a piece of music, honestly, and one that showcases Scarlatti’s genius, even if this was the only artifact he let us behind.
This album is a delight. As a critical listener, I could not find one fault with Corti’s playing or interpretation. He makes the difficult music sound easy. His interpretations, for me, are among the best. He sets a high bar, indeed, for an interpreter of Scarlatti’s music. Bravo!
