Leo was born in San Vito degli Schiavoni (current San Vito dei Normanni, province of Brindisi), then part of the Kingdom of Naples.
He became a student at the Conservatorio della Pietà dei Turchini at Naples in 1703, and was a pupil first of Francesco Provenzale and later of Nicola Fago. It has been supposed that he was a pupil of Pitoni and Alessandro Scarlatti, but he could not possibly have studied with either of these composers, although he was undoubtedly influenced by their compositions. His earliest known work was a sacred drama, L'infedelta abbattuta, performed by his fellow-students in 1712.
It won't do to claim the cello concertos of Leonardo Leo (1694-1744) as unknown masterpieces. But if you enjoy hearing a composer struggle with musical materials in an era of transition (might be relevant to today's scene, eh?), you'll find these interesting. Leo was posthumously praised by both Charles Burney and E.T.A. Hoffmann, but today he is known vaguely, if at all, as one of the forerunners of Classical-era opera.
Leonardo Leo (1694-1744) was a Neapolitan composer whom academics have sometimes pushed as the missing link between Pergolesi and the full flowering of the early Classical style. Niccolò Jommelli and Gluck Piccinni were among his students, and his own operas feature smooth, lightly accompanied arias that do seem to look forward to the spirit of Gluck and even Mozart. Several recordings of the early 2000s have unearthed his almost-forgotten instrumental music, with liner notes chiding listeners (in the words of the present disc) "so entirely enamored with Vivaldi…that they have ignored music derived from other circles or styles."
WORLD PREMIERE in modern times of an unknown comic opera which was recently rediscovered along with other three other Leo operas at the Abbey of Montecassino. L Alidoro (Golden Wings) is a lost-and-found story which explores the themes of love and jealousy from different perspectives in particular age and social status interweaving comedy with more serious reflections. Director Arturo Cirillo explains how in this opera, nothing is happening except a subtle and gorgeous relational game among the seven protagonists.
Neapolitan music of the 18th century, so important in the formation of the musical lingua franca of the Classical period, is a massively neglected area wherein lie many riches. Despite his greater interest in opera, Leo was maestro di cappella at the Naples royal chapel and composed a good deal of church music, especially towards the end of his life (he died in 1744), in which sound counterpoint and the clarity of modern melodic developments are successfully combined. These are not sterile exercises in ‘old-style’ polyphony, but works of honest, thoroughly Italianate expression.
Leonardo Leo (1694-1744) was a Neapolitan composer whom academics have sometimes pushed as the missing link between Pergolesi and the full flowering of the early Classical style. Niccolò Jommelli and Gluck Piccinni were among his students, and his own operas feature smooth, lightly accompanied arias that do seem to look forward to the spirit of Gluck and even Mozart. Several recordings of the early 2000s have unearthed his almost-forgotten instrumental music, with liner notes chiding listeners (in the words of the present disc) "so entirely enamored with Vivaldi…that they have ignored music derived from other circles or styles."
The Montecassino Monastery recently hosted the score of this comic opera by Leonardo Leo, one of the leading Neapolitan composers of the 18th century, who introduced new stylistic elements to the genre. Cirillo shows in a very exciting way in his direction how nothing actually happens in this opera - apart from a very subtle play of the relationships between the seven protagonists. As with Marivaux, this is about the social differences when the middle class turns to the servants and vice versa, and as in a Feydeauschen comedy, they wander on stage (and leave again) to spy, to portray themselves, or to court someone until everyone is eaten away by doubt.
Pergolesi’s two settings of the Salve Regina are rather different one from another. That in C minor is darker, more passionate, the string writing (not least at the very beginning) richly expressive; indeed the first of its six movements, is a largo of exquisite beauty, a perfect illustration of a particular kind of baroque beauty, intensely expressive and seeming to hold back a freedom of lyricism which is effectively liberated only in the brief andante which follows. Some of the greatest baroque effects are created by interplay between restraint and excess. This is one of them.
Everything is done with affection and great character as well as technical finesse. Such music demands innate timing, and these musicians, under Antonio Florio's direction, have it.
Greek mezzo-soprano, Mary-Ellen Nesi, who sings all five works, produces a stream of gloriously firm tone reminiscent of Bernada Fink, another superb mezzo on the scene these days. Her diction and moulding of phrases here is excellent. The two Leonardo Leo settings of the Salve Regina (in C Minor and F Major) which begin the disc are followed by a cello Concerto (also by Leonardo Leo) and a world premiere recording of an Alessandro Scarlatti setting of salve Regina (in C Minor) and then the two better known Pergolesi settings (in C and A Minor) conclude the disc. The cello soloist is lovely too and all works receive excellent support from Alan Curtis and Il Complesso Barocco.