Directed by Lina Tur Bonet
Performances:
October 23–26, 2025 at Jeanne Lamon Hall, Trinity-St. Paul’s United Church
Program
Henricus Albicastro
c.1660–1730
Concerto in C Minor, op. 7, no. 4
Grave – Allegro – Adagio – Allegro
Antonio Vivaldi
1678–1741
Concerto for 2 oboes in D Minor, RV 535
Largo – Allegro – Largo – Allegro molto
Daniel Ramírez Escudero & Marco Cera, soloists
A. Vivaldi
Concerto for violin in D Major, RV 208 “Grosso Mogul”
Allegro – Grave Recitativo – Allegro
Lina Tur Bonet, soloist
INTERMISSION
Domenico Scarlatti
1685–1757
Sinfonia no. 5 in A Minor
Jan Dismas Zelenka
1679–1745
Sinfonia in A Minor, ZWV 189
Allegro – Andante – Capriccio: Tempo di Gavotta –Aria di Capriccio – Minuetto I & II
Francesco Geminiani
1687–1762
Concerto no. 12 in D Minor after Corelli “La follia”
Program Notes
By Michael Unterman
The theme of Vivaldi’s World could easily spin off from one concert into a ten(-or-more)-part mini-series. Four or five episodes would delve into the vibrant musical community Antonio Vivaldi helped foster at the Ospedale della Pietà; a few more to cover his well-travelled operas and international fame; the music of his teachers and influences could fill another episode or two; and we would need at least one more to cover the numerous contemporaneous homages and transcriptions, from Germany (notably those of J.S. Bach) to England and even to France, where Italian music had long been considered taboo. This concert, then, would be our pilot, where we’ll tease out a few of these threads and hopefully spur you to clamour for more!
We set the scene from a broader context: the Italian music craze that swept across Europe around the turn of the 18th century. The Grand Tour may have been a foundation of this trend, where young nobles and well-to-dos would travel for months to years across Europe to be steeped in Italian culture, a highlight of which was invariably witnessing performances by the likes of Vivaldi or Corelli. Italian music was also being published and widely disseminated, when it wasn’t the musicians themselves being exported, enticed to take positions and explore opportunities across Europe (as all the Italian composers on this program did to some degree).
The Italian style was also wholeheartedly adopted by foreign composers such as Handel, and in the case of the Dutch composer Johan Hendrik van Weissenburg it even inspired the Italianate pseudonym: Henricus Albicastro. Due in part to this double identity, the details of his life are sketchy. He may have led an ensemble at the University of Leiden and may have worked in the music publishing business with Francis Barbry, who specialized in the music of Italian composers. Within a relatively short time span, from 1701–1706, Alicastro’s nine opuses of twelve works each were published, a period of intense activity that was abruptly curtailed around the same time that Johan Hendrik was named a captain in the Dutch Cavalry against the backdrop of the War of Spanish Succession.
The Italian style of baroque instrumental music is perhaps best described as drawing its inspiration from the parallel Italian innovation of opera: dramatic contrasts, music evoking setting and action, and lyrical movements reminiscent of arias. Albicastro’s Concerto à 4 in C Minor models this perfectly: a slow and moody opening, a jagged and unpredictable second movement, a third that could be a transcribed aria, and a fourth characterized by sharp dynamic contrasts.
From this Dutch homage, we move to the real deal: a concerto written for our protagonist’s musical home, the Ospedale de la Pietà. The Ospedale was a wide-ranging charity: a true hospital providing medical care, as well as a boarding school and orphanage, primarily for girls. The Ospedale’s orchestra was made up of both young and adult women who had come through the orphanage and school, many becoming star performers and composers in their own rights, and all adding up to a powerhouse ensemble that drew large audiences, helping to fund the Ospedale’s work.
At the helm of the orchestra was Vivaldi, his Concerto for 2 oboes in D Minor clearly reflecting a tight-knit ensemble. In the mysterious and subtly tense Largo, the upper voices all move as a unit, with no obvious soloist emerging—that tension then breaking into an urgent Allegro where the two oboe soloists come to the fore, tackling the crisis at hand as a duo in lock step. The following Largo is a long-braided intertwining, with each soloist expanding on the gestures of the other. The final Allegro molto is then a brilliant juxtaposition of all three modes: moving swiftly from unison to parallel to braided motion as the soloists and ensemble attack the gauntlet head on.
The Concerto “Grosso Mogul” points to a side of Vivaldi’s career that is often overlooked: that of his international renown. The title itself is an interesting mystery. Only one anonymous manuscript source calls it by this name and it was discovered in Germany, not Italy. This points to the possibility that it was performed as an entr’acte in productions of Vivaldi’s opera Argippo, which was mounted in both Vienna and Prague in 1730. The opera is set in the Mughal Empire (centred in present-day India) and was originally entitled Il gran Mogul, or The Great Mughal. The misspelling “Mogol” and the misuse of the word “grosso” (meaning big or large, instead of “gran” meaning great) point to something of a bootleg copy, hastily made by a non-Italian speaker. (An earlier handwritten copy of the concerto also found its way into the hands of J.S. Bach, who transcribed the concerto for solo organ—BWV 594 for those keeping score.)
The concerto feels almost Brahmsian in its scale and virtuosity, especially if one draws on the sources containing extended and pyrotechnic cadenzas (Eddie van Halen might have taken note). The outer movements are, respectively, heroic and even more heroic, again pointing to the inspiration of opera, while the middle movement bears a striking resemblance to recitative (the more spoken and action-driven sections of early opera): a spare bass line underpinning the solo violin, here with dense and rhapsodic ornamentations.
We could devote many paragraphs to the wonder that is Domenico Scarlatti, but that might be slightly inapt as his Sinfonia no. 5 consists only of about 90 seconds of music! While an eminent composer of the larger forms like opera and oratorio, Scarlatti was also a master of the miniature—the longest of his 555 keyboard sonatas lasts around 7 minutes— more concerned with evoking a mood or a moment than with developing a drama. The two seconds-long movements of his Sinfonia no. 5 are energetic opposites: the masks of comedy and tragedy perhaps, or portraits of Harlequin and Pierrot.
We then move straight into a tour-de-force of Italian-inspired music, Zelenka’s Sinfonia in A Minor. Zelenka would have been steeped in Vivaldi’s music: the celebrated violinist Johann Georg Pisendel, his close colleague and friend at the Dresden court, was also a close friend and frequent correspondent of Vivaldi, and the two travelled to Venice in 1716 where an introduction and visit would have been a near certainty, although it is not documented.
Yet another example of the opera-infused Italian style, the range and depth of Zelenka’s dramatis personae—the characters who step out from the chorus in this Sinfonia—is remarkable. A solo violin and oboe emerge in the first movement, flanked by their lieutenants and surrounded by the populace; are the violins and oboes playing Montagues and Capulets? The protagonists find a quiet moment in the Andante, with a solo bassoon (the oboe’s attendant) as their lookout. The chorus returns for a strut in the Gavotta, perhaps attempting to settle the matter with a dance-off. Then the Aria reveals a plot-twist: does the bassoon have a lover?—a cello, the violin’s cousin, no less! The severe conclusion of the Aria suggests a star-crossed situationship, but the ensemble regains its composure enough to convey the moral of the story in the concluding Minuets.
Our entertainments close with a piece that surely haunted Vivaldi as it does many of its listeners: a tune that takes its name from the madness it was thought to induce. Corelli’s version for violin and continuo likely popularized La Follia across Europe, and both Francesco Geminiani and Vivaldi paid homage to this version in their own ways—Vivaldi by composing his own highly virtuosic variations, and Geminiani by expanding Corelli’s original out into this version for concerto grosso forces.
For tickets, visit: tafelmusik.org/vivaldisworld.
Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra
Violin 1
Lina Tur Bonet, Geneviève Gilardeau, Johanna Novom, Cristina Zacharias
Violin 2
Patricia Ahern, Cristina Prats Costa, Christopher Verrette
Viola
Brandon Chui, Patrick G. Jordan
Violoncello
Keiran Campbell, Michael Unterman
Double Bass
Jussif Barakat Martínez
Oboe
Daniel Ramírez Escudero, Marco Cera
Bassoon
Dominic Teresi
Theorbo/Guitar
Arash Noori
Harpsichord
Charlotte Nediger
Lina Tur Bonet
Guest director & violin soloist
Internationally recognized for her virtuosity, energy, and her mix of creativity and stylistic rigour, violinist Lina Tur Bonet has developed a versatile and unique career. She has toured the world as a soloist and has appeared as guest director with orchestras in Norway, France, Austria, Germany, and in her native Spain. She serves as concertmaster of Jordi Savall’s Le Concert des Nations, and founded MUSIca ALcheMIca, an ensemble that has performed across Europe, the Americas, and Japan in collaboration with artists from a wide range of disciplines.
Tur Bonet’s solo recordings and albums with MUSIca AlchemMIca have received international acclaim. Her recent Ravel recording À Moune was voted Best CD of the Year in Japan (2022). Lina has premiered lost works by Vivaldi, Boccherini, and Mendelssohn, as well as works newly composed for her. She performs works for violin and orchestra ranging from the baroque period to Bartok and Piazzolla.
Tur Bonet teaches at the Reina Sofía School of Music in Madrid and is Professor of Baroque Violin and Viola at the MHS Franz Liszt University in Weimar.