UgolettiSaxophone and Piano Concerto

Violin Concerto

Trombone Concerto

Strings of the Lviv Philharmonic OrchestraGianni Alberti saxophone

Jozsef Örmeny piano Marko Komonko violin

Serhiy Katsaval trombone Ferdinando Nazzaro conductor

There is something mysterious about the roots of the three new Concertos composed by Paolo Ugoletti. For while they pulsate with vital energy and draw the listener into their inner world, their deeper origins remain somewhat elusive, even to the expert ear. What the composer has committed to paper revolves around derivation and division, the germination and breaking down of a pre-existing idea that leaves its mark on the stave in minimal terms. The compositional development, the growth of form and the endless layering are like a burgeoning plant, yet the initial nucleus remains obstinately hidden.

In some respects these are variations without a theme. Another characteristic of Ugoletti’s work is the way everything seems to move, progress, stride ahead. Nothing is static, and there are no fixed platforms or horizons that suggest a future event. Neither are there indications of stillness or intrinsic completion; each sound heads outwards, in our direction. What’s more, despite appearances, the extreme rigour of the musical text is hidden by abundance. What comes across as sensual has first been radically pruned, so that what reaches us are bold, resolute sounds (“Concerto festivo” is the subtitle of the piece for trombone) that express the simple, direct joy typical of the energy of childhood (Picasso, Stravinsky and John Adams also come to mind).

This is music that does not contemplate prudence. It consists in a theatre of sounds, narration and flashes of the imagination. The mixture of fable and history, fantasy and method has something in common with the witting folly of the Baroque universe, the magical union of creativity and harmony, of endeavour and invention. Serried groups of notes, rapid developments, the skilful handling of chiaroscuro and snatched phrases that follow one after the other all contribute to the build-up of effects that culminate in wittingly rhetorical climaxes.

Paolo Ugoletti b. 1956

Concerto for soprano saxophone, piano and string orchestra (2013)1. First movement 9’362. Second movement Lied 5’503. Third movement 9’09

Concerto for violin and string orchestra (2009)4. First movement 9’535. Second movement 8’276. Third movement 6’48

Concerto festivo for bass trombone and string orchestra (2014)7. First movement 10’128. Second movement 3’309. Third movement (James Brown’s got a brand new bag) 6’30

Strings of the Lviv Philharmonic OrchestraGianni Alberti saxophone Jozsef Örmeny pianoMarko Komonko violinSerhiy Katsaval trombone Ferdinando Nazzaro conductor

Liliya Hratylo concertmaster

The soloists in the Double Concerto for sax and piano confront, seduce and tame the orchestral ensemble, relying on strength, complicity, contrast, centrifugal thrust and/or backward impulse, the piano oscillating between a percussive style reminiscent of Bartok and visionary momentum à la Scriabin. The second movement is an anxious, slowly melodious Lied stretching towards wide intervals, while the rhythmical progress of the third movement grows gradually sharper and more precise, as though purified by the widespread references to minor thirds. The outcome is like a piece of geometrical embroidery, a meeting of science and poetry.

In the second movement of the Concerto for violin the meticulously crafted intervals of bar 35 (which in their turn derive from bars 11-) recline on a palpitating support in the strings, like stones slumbering within a rainbow. Echoes of Irish reels and gigs come to the fore, projected into the future by their modernity and hints of chromatic fusion. Likewise noteworthy is the simple, rhythmical rotation (for instance, the asymmetric tempi of the violas in bar 10 of the Concerto for trombone), which overturns the initial 12/8 time and gives rise to a sort of endless ignition, like a lever that breaks open space. It is a device that invests the imagined spatial context with substance, depth and movement, conveying this effect to the listener’s ear. Unexpectedness is also a widespread feature, suggesting a twist in events that implies a degree of frenzy; more spasmodic composure than laceration. The melodic intensity of the second movement embraces the threshold of subtle rhythmical ambiguity, and in the finale contributes to figures based on just a few intervals (major third, diminished fifth, true fourth) that are combined, upturned and connected both vertically and horizontally. Ignition, void, expansion and abrupt severance work together to create intricate interlocking combinations of tempi, accents and rhythmic sequences. The outcome is boldly mobile, with the strings used like stirring green and brown fronds sparkling in the mirrored light, or a horse that has escaped from the blacksmith, its hooves creating sparks as they strike the ground. Dedicated to James Brown, the piece unleashes flickering flames along with its divertissements, sudden

solo passages and increasingly catching cadenzas. To compose is clearly to play and to enjoy. Nothing could be more serious, or more liberating.© Enrico RaggiTranslation: Kate Singleton

Dove affondano le radici della musica di Paolo Ugoletti? Riemerge l’interrogativo, all’ascolto dei suoi nuovi tre Concerti, architetture sonore che prendono vita da un centro vitale, pulsante, attraente, tuttavia riluttante a svelarsi, sia all’ascoltatore più attento che al musicologo esperto. Ciò che si fissa sulla carta sembra essere derivazione e scissione, germoglio e scomposizione di un’idea preesistente, di cui la scrittura su pentagramma diventa riduzione ai minimi termini. Lo svolgimento compositivo, l’accrescimento formale, l’inesorabile stratificazione, ne rappresentano un naturale fiorire: però il nucleo iniziale rimane ostinatamente nascosto. Variazioni senza tema. Altra cifra del compositore bresciano: tutto si muove, tutto avanza, tutto è in cammino. Non troveremo mai staticità, tappeti, suoni‒orizzonte che preludono a qualche evento. Nulla è fermo, chiuso in sé; ogni suono è “in uscita”, si sporge verso di noi. Ulteriore inganno: il rigore più estremo è travestito da floridezza. Ciò che risuona come sensuale è stato in precedenza sottoposto a limature estreme; a noi giungono suoni intrepidi e di baldanza (“Concerto festivo” è sottotitolato quello per trombone), ma si tratta della gioia del semplificatore, la tipica energia del genio bambino (si pensi a Picasso, a Stravinsky, a John Adams).

Musica fuori dalla prudenza. Teatro di suoni. Narrazione e lampi immaginativi. Miscela di favola e storia, di fantasia e metodo. Qualcosa che ha a che fare con la Barocca “follia consapevole, quella magica (antica) unione di Estro & Armonia, di Cimento & Invenzione. Blocchi serrati, drammaturgie veloci, sapiente gioco di luci e di chiaroscuri, nervoso incalzare di frasi minime che, nel loro crescere, conducono a una spettacolarità che si schianta su climax retorici costruiti ad arte.

I solisti del “Doppio Concerto per sax e pianoforte” affrontano le masse orchestrali, le seducono, le domano: con forza, complicità, contrasto, spinte centrifughe e/o risucchianti (il pianoforte oscilla fra percussività alla Bartok e visionari slanci skrjabininani). Il secondo movimento è un Lied dall’inquieta melopea aggettante a spazioso intervallare; nel terzo tempo l’elettrico motorismo è reso più aguzzo, esatto e purificato dai capillari segnali di terza minore che pervadono la pagina. Uno smisurato e geometrico ricamo. Scienza mescolata a poesia. Nel secondo tempo del “Concerto per violino” gli intervalli ineccepibili e scolpiti di b. 35 (a loro volta derivati dalle bb. 11 e ss), sono adagiati su un amorevole palpitare degli archi: pietre addormentate dentro a un arcobaleno. Affiorano reels e gighe irlandesi futuribili, modernissime, con tinte fusion. Oppure prendiamo la semplice rotazione ritmica (i tempi asimmetrici delle viole di b. 10 del “Concerto per trombone”, per esempio), che stravolge il 12/8 iniziale e innesca una sorta di inesausta accensione: è come una leva che spacca e apre lo spazio; aggiunge spessore, profondità, movimento, sia verso il fondo dello spazio (immaginario) che verso il nostro orecchio. L’imprevisto coinvolge tutte le dimensioni, è una torsione che racconta uno stato febbrile della vita; non lacerazione, ma spasmodica compostezza. Nel secondo tempo l’intensità melodica vive (ancora) sulla soglia di sottili ambiguità ritmiche. Analogo comportamento nel finale: l’organismo prende vita da pochi intervalli (terza maggiore, quinta diminuita, quarta giusta), combinati, rovesciati, allacciati sia in senso verticale che orizzontale. Accensioni, vuoti d’aria, espansioni, tagli netti; labirintici incastri di tempi, di accenti, di sequenze ritmiche; una spavalda mobilità, cellule che proliferano e mutano, che debordano e brulicano; mutazioni di timbri (archi usati come uno stormire di fronde, verdi e marroni che brillano in un caleidoscopio). Un cavallo scappato dal maniscalco, che fa le scintille sotto gli zoccoli matti. Un groove infuocato (non a caso la pagina è dedicata a James Brown) che non si risparmia divertimenti, bruschi solismi, cadenze progressivamente contagiose. Comporre come giocare. Nulla di più serio e di più liberante. © Enrico Raggi

Gianni Alberti was born in Gavardo (Brescia, Italy) in 1961 and graduated in Clarinet and Saxophone at the Conservatory of Music in Brescia before attending R. Stolzman’s masterclasses at the Accademia Musicale Umbra. He has worked with the RAI Orchestra of Milan, the Teatro Comunale in Genoa, Carme Orchestra in Milan, the Orchestra of Teatro “La Fenice” in Venice and “I Pomeriggi musicali” Orchestra in Milan. He plays in the Daedalus Ensemble, in various jazz bands, and with the European Saxophone Quartet. As member of the ESQ he has been a guest performer at various festivals including I Concerti della Fenice, Nuove Sincronie Festival,

Festival delle Dolomiti, Heinerfest (Darmstadt), Frankfurt Musikmesse 2001, and in 2004 at the 10th World Saxophone Congress. He is a faculty member and saxophone teacher at the “L. Marenzio” Conservatory in Brescia.

Josef Örmeny was born in 1960 in Uzhgorod, Ukraine, and graduated from Lysenko Lviv State Conservatory (now the Mykola Lysenko Lviv National Music Academy), studying under M. Krushelnytska. He then completed postgraduate courses under E. Malinin in the Tchaikovsky Moscow Conservatory. He currently holds the Chair of Special Piano in the Mykola Lysenko Lviv National Music Academy. The many awards he has won include the Lysenko

International Music Competition, L. Revutsky and the S. Lyudkevych State Prize. Moreover, his recording of the works of Karol Szymanowski won the Frédéric Chopin Society Prize (Poland). He performs as a soloist, in ensembles and as a concertmaster. His repertoire as a soloist ranges from Baroque to contemporary music, which is a particular interest of his. In fact he also plays Stockhausen’s Klavierstücke, Messiaen’s Vingt regards sur l’enfant Jésus and works by V. Sylvestrov, Y. Stankovych, A. Schnittke and V. Bibik.

Marko Komonko was born in Lviv in 1975, into the family of musicians. Introduced to the violin at the age of six by his father, he then studied with eminent teachers such as Svetlana Bezrodnaya, Zoya Makhtina and Maya Hlezarova at the Central Music School attached to the Tchaikovsky Moscow Conservatory. Within the international charity program “New Names” he actively performed in European countries, as well as in Russia, Ukraine, Japan and elsewhere. After graduation he continued his studies in the UK at the London Royal College of Music, studying under Felix Andrievsky (1994 – 1999) and later in Germany (Cologne) under an outstanding contemporary violinist, Victor Tretyakov. Since 2004 Marko Komonko has lived in South Korea. He has worked as a concertmaster with various orchestras, including the Seoul Symphony Orchestra.

Serhiy Katsaval was born in the Ukraine in 1979 and as a child started to play various wind instruments. Having decided to focus on the trombone, he studied under L. Melenets at the Academy National Music Lviv (Ukraine) and began his professional career in 1999. He is currently trombonist with the Philharmonic Orchestra of Lviv, teaches at the College of Music in Lviv, and participates in numerous tours in European countries, South America and the United Arab Emirates.

Ferdinando Nazzaro was born in Rome in 1963. He studied at the Santa Cecilia Conservatory of music in Rome, graduating in Piano with Giuseppe La Licata, in Composition with Teresa Procaccini and in Orchestral Conducting with Bruno Aprea. He has conducted various Italian and foreign orchestras, including the Orchestra sinfonica di Bari, Orchestra regionale del Lazio, Philharmonia mediterranea, Budapest Philharmanic Orchestra, Czech National Symphony Orchestra, Lviv Philharmonic Orchestra. His repertoire ranges from 18th to 20th century music, and includes many premiere performances of his own original works. He teaches Composition at the Conservatory of Rome.

Special thanks to:Ferdinando Nazzaro, Gianni Alberti, Jozsef Örmeny, Marko Komonko,

Serhiy Katsaval and Liliya Hratylo

Recording 30 October & 2 November 2015, Lviv Philharmonic Concert Hall, Lviv, UkraineSound engineer: Markian DribniukPost-pro: Enrico CalebichCover image: JMW Turner, Monte Rosa, c.1845 Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collectionp & © Brilliant Classics