Giuseppe Pellizzar

Giuseppe Bruno graduated with honors in Piano, Composition and Conductorship with Professors Specchi, Zangelmi and Taverna. Maestro Bruno specialized in piano with Paolo Bordoni and in conductorship with Leopold Hager. He has attended a seminar in composition at the IRCAM in Paris. Performing for several years as a pianist in many different chamber ensembles as well as a brilliant soloist. He has played with many important orchestras in Italy, USA, Greece, Romania and Germany in a repertory that goes from Mozart to Dallapiccola. From 1987 to 1992 he participated in the “Due Mondi” festival in Spoleto Italy and in 1988 in the Charleston festival in the USA.

The year 1603 marked a turning point for Carlo Gesualdo: at the age of thirty-seven, the Prince of Venosa, having made a name for himself with his first four books of madrigals, turned to sacred compositions with two substantial collections of Sacræ Cantiones, published that year in Naples by Costantino Vitale. The first volume (presented here) consists of nineteen five-part motets, while the second one, which has not survived in its entirety, contains the same number of six- part motets and a motet for seven voices.

Two 16th-century masters of the Spanish vihuela, speaking afresh to the 21st century through the modern guitar of Giuseppe Chiaramonte.

Although Bach obviously felt at home composing for the recorder and used it in important works such as the Brandenburg Concertos and several cantatas, he never composed a concerto for solo recorder - in fact, he only wrote original solo concertos for harpsichord and violin.

An all-star cast, led by Luciano Pavarotti at the height of his fame in one of his most celebrated roles. Joined by Katia Ricciarelli (Amelia), Judith Blegen (Oscar), Bianca Berini (Ulrica) and Louis Quilico (Renato). Conducted by Giuseppe Patane. This was an eye-catching and thought-provkoing production. Moshinsky staged the action in pre-revolutionary 1774 Boston.

How this opera grows in the affections. And how it strengthens the larger, ever-deepening appreciation not merely of Donizetti's work but of operatic conventions as such. I mean that the frequently derided forms of opera (the set pieces, aria-and-cabaletta and so forth) can increasingly be a source of pleasure and of perceived power in the writing. Here, for instance, part of the exhilaration arises out of the composer's skill in suiting the conventions to his dramatic and musical purposes. Elizabeth's first aria, meditatively hopeful yet anxious, fits the lyric-cantabile form; then the arrival of Talbot and Cecil with their opposing influences provokes the intensified turbulence of irresolution that makes dramatic sense out of the cabaletta. It is so with the duets and ensembles: they look like conventional set-pieces, but established form and specific material have been so well fitted that, with the musical inspiration working strongly (as it is here), you have opera not in its naive stage awaiting development towards freedom from form but, on the contrary, opera at the confident height of a period in its history when it was entirely true to itself.

This famous production of Manon Lescaut from The Royal Opera, recorded in 1983, features two of the biggest stars in opera, Placido Domingo and Kiri Te Kanawa, in their vocal prime. Placido Domingo’s performance of Des Grieux is considered to be unsurpassed. Conductor Guiseppe Sinopoli made his British operatic debut with this production. Puccini’s first masterpiece was rapturously received on its first night. It has his hallmark sensuality and also a youthful freshness, its untamed outpouring of melody just as passionate as his more famous operas, La Boheme, Tosca and Madame Butterfly. The role of Des Grieux is one of the most taxing in the tenor repertoire and Domingo’s passionate portrayal is one of his greatest achievements.

Montserrat Caballé as Leonora is precisely what one would hope for. The voice is in near-pristine shape–the occasional attack on a loud high note early on can be vicious, but she sings with unusual commitment (not that the role has many nuances), glorious tone, and her entire arsenal of tricks: long-breathed phrases, diminuendos, high, floated pianissimo, grand chest voice. She even sings most of the words, rarely relying on “ah” sounds for high notes. The sound is huge and major-league and her comportment–acting is the wrong word–is regal. She sings the “Vergine degli angeli” with her back to the audience and the sound is as ethereal as you ever wanted it to be.