Quivi sospiri by Luzzasco Luzzaschi
Despite the subject line, this is not a post about wildfires. Nor is it a political post, though the text of today's madrigal might call up images from current so-called public discourse and our despairing reaction to it:
Here sighs and lamentations and loud cries
were echoing across the starless air,
so that, as soon as I set out, I wept.
Strange utterances, horrible pronouncements,
accents of anger, words of suffering,
and voices shrill and faint, and beating hands,
all went to make a tumult that will whirl
forever through that turbid, timeless air,
like sand that eddies when a whirlwind swirls.
These words are from Dante's Inferno. In 1576 they were set to music by Luzzasco Luzzaschi in his Second Book of Madrigals. Dante's protagonist, who in the middle of his life has famously lost his way (who has not felt like this at some point?), has descended into hell and is exposed to sights and sounds straight out of a painting by Hieronymous Bosch.
I came across 'Quivi sospiri' while tugging the Luzzaschi-Ferrara thread opened up by last week's Monday Madrigal, 'Aura Soave'. I stumbled across this powerful video of a performance by an Italian group called 'Profeti della Quinta', and was captivated. (Perhaps there's a Zeitgeist in all this: By chance I just discovered yesterday that the group, hitherto entirely unknown to me, will be performing madrigals by Luzzaschi and others in Berkeley in January.)
There's an excellent alternate interpretation of 'Quivi sospiri' on an album called 'Melancholia', available at this link. That entire recording looks fascinating and is winging its way to 4820 Pressley Road as I write. I anticipate that it will have a cheering effect upon me.
Just by listening, you can no doubt tell that Luzzaschi has pulled out all the stops to create a setting to go with Dante's powerful and disturbing verses. If you spend some time listening with the attached score, you'll be able to delve into the matter further. I have underlaid the translation for ease of associating poetic meaning with musical interpretation. You'll notice a curious texture--not the normal imitative madrigalian approach, but a largely homophonic enterprise encompassing strange harmonies and sudden shifts. Polyphony does creep in here and there, but it's this somber texture which rules. The performers bring out the expression beautifully, and though some might not like their hand motions, to me they somehow add to the distressed, twisted character of the text and music.
If you want to delve still further--a lot further, actually--check out the attached article by Tony Newcomb, the now-deceased expert upon and passionate proponent of Luzzaschi's music. Also attached is a text-translation sheet and Cinzia's pronunciation recording.
Despite the subject line, this is not a post about wildfires. Nor is it a political post, though the text of today's madrigal might call up images from current so-called public discourse and our despairing reaction to it:
Here sighs and lamentations and loud cries
were echoing across the starless air,
so that, as soon as I set out, I wept.
Strange utterances, horrible pronouncements,
accents of anger, words of suffering,
and voices shrill and faint, and beating hands,
all went to make a tumult that will whirl
forever through that turbid, timeless air,
like sand that eddies when a whirlwind swirls.
These words are from Dante's Inferno. In 1576 they were set to music by Luzzasco Luzzaschi in his Second Book of Madrigals. Dante's protagonist, who in the middle of his life has famously lost his way (who has not felt like this at some point?), has descended into hell and is exposed to sights and sounds straight out of a painting by Hieronymous Bosch.
I came across 'Quivi sospiri' while tugging the Luzzaschi-Ferrara thread opened up by last week's Monday Madrigal, 'Aura Soave'. I stumbled across this powerful video of a performance by an Italian group called 'Profeti della Quinta', and was captivated. (Perhaps there's a Zeitgeist in all this: By chance I just discovered yesterday that the group, hitherto entirely unknown to me, will be performing madrigals by Luzzaschi and others in Berkeley in January.)
There's an excellent alternate interpretation of 'Quivi sospiri' on an album called 'Melancholia', available at this link. That entire recording looks fascinating and is winging its way to 4820 Pressley Road as I write. I anticipate that it will have a cheering effect upon me.
Just by listening, you can no doubt tell that Luzzaschi has pulled out all the stops to create a setting to go with Dante's powerful and disturbing verses. If you spend some time listening with the attached score, you'll be able to delve into the matter further. I have underlaid the translation for ease of associating poetic meaning with musical interpretation. You'll notice a curious texture--not the normal imitative madrigalian approach, but a largely homophonic enterprise encompassing strange harmonies and sudden shifts. Polyphony does creep in here and there, but it's this somber texture which rules. The performers bring out the expression beautifully, and though some might not like their hand motions, to me they somehow add to the distressed, twisted character of the text and music.
If you want to delve still further--a lot further, actually--check out the attached article by Tony Newcomb, the now-deceased expert upon and passionate proponent of Luzzaschi's music. Also attached is a text-translation sheet and Cinzia's pronunciation recording.