The key to understanding Vivaldi is to realize that he was a sensuous composer, not an intellectual one. He did not create abstract sonic edifices as Bach did, but instead reveled in color, texture, animal spirits, and everyday feelings. Its strength lies in its simplicity, directness, and humanity.
Composer, violinist, and priest, Antonio Vivaldi was one of the most significant musical figures of his time and place: the Baroque period in Italy, specifically Venice. Influential during his lifetime, Vivaldi fell into obscurity after his death and his reputation was only recovered in the 20th century. The modern Vivaldi revival flowed out of the renewed interest in Bach, who was influenced by the Venetian master; Italian nationalism of the 1920s and 30s also played a role. Vivaldi’s present fame stems above all from the recording boom and Baroque music renaissance of recent decades. His cycle of violin concertos Le quattro stagioni (The Four Seasons) are among the most popular pieces of classical music.
Vivaldi’s place in music history is in large part due to his contributions to the concerto. Although he did not invent the concerto, he was among the first to realize the genre’s potential for expressive drama in pitting a soloist against an orchestra. The pattern Vivaldi set remained the norm through the Romantic era and beyond. But Vivaldi is not only Mr. Concerto; he also wrote many operas and vocal works, including a popular Gloria and a major biblical oratorio, Juditha triumphans. He enriched the repertory of many instruments besides the violin, including cello, flute, oboe, and bassoon.
On a personal note, Vivaldi was my first passion in classical music, shortly after beginning violin lessons at the age of eight. Looking back, I think it was the energetic rhythms and clear outlines of Vivaldi’s works that appealed to the child that I was then. Studying Baroque music in greater depth as an adult, I became a bit disenchanted with il Prete Rosso (“Red-haired Priest,” his nickname in life). What bothered me was the repetitive nature of much of the music, its simple harmonies, predictable cadences, and lack of counterpoint. Certain it is that Vivaldi was not the polyphonic genius that Bach was, but more to the point he was (whether consciously or not) pushing music toward a simpler style that would become the norm in the Classical era to come.
Vivaldi has certainly had his detractors, both in his day and in ours. His works were accused of “levity” or frivolity, and of placing violin virtuosity above musical expression. Charles Avison went so far as to rank Vivaldi with “the lowest class of composer,” whose compositions “are only fit amusement for children.” In an age that valued classical poise, Vivaldi was considered too wild and eccentric, his pieces too haphazard in their construction. Then there is the repetition factor: the modern composer Luigi Dallapiccola complained that Vivaldi did not write 500 concertos, but one concerto 500 times (the quote is often misattributed to Stravinsky).
There is a serious discussion to be had about the purpose and function of music in the 18th century versus the emphasis on original creation that came with Romanticism. In Vivaldi’s day music was created in the moment, often tailored to specific occasions. Vivaldi’s body of work is immense and variable in quality, which is not surprising for a composer wrote acres of music for immediate functional use. In his weaker moments, perhaps when pressed for time, Vivaldi could coast on autopilot, relying on ready formulas. A contemporary claimed that Vivaldi could write a concerto faster than a copyist could copy it. This is not hard to believe, and I’m convinced that some of his 500 concertos were simply finger exercises for the gifted girls of the Ospedale della Pietà, the celebrated orphans’ home where he taught, and which gave weekly Sunday concerts for many years. Let us be honest: not every note Vivaldi wrote is worth hearing again. We can and should pick through his oeuvre to find the best.
Because at his best Vivaldi was a genuinely great and important composer. Besides his contribution to the concerto, he is known as a pioneer of program music—instrumental music depicting extramusical images or ideas. The most famous example of this is of course The Four Seasons, which is based on a set of sonnets and includes depictions of birdsongs, rain showers and storms, peasant revelry, barking dogs, hunting parties, wind, skating on ice, and much else.
But Vivaldi does not stop at mere depiction of phenomena. Richard Strauss once said that a composer should be able to depict a toothbrush in music, but even if this were possible there would be no real aesthetic value in it. The best programmatic or descriptive music, like Vivaldi’s, gives us psychological and emotional resonance as well as imitation. One of Vivaldi’s greatest strengths as a composer is the creation of atmosphere, through harmony, texture, and instrumentation. You hardly need to be told that the slow movement of the “Spring” concerto represents someone (a goatherd, as it happens) sleeping by the swaying leaves and plants of a meadow. You hear it in the gently undulating motifs of the violins, the hushed dynamic and delicate ambience.
The Seasons have been so overexposed that we can lose sight of their very real novelty and genius. Program music before Vivaldi was episodic and usually stopped at pure imitation. (A case in point: C. Farina’s delightful Capriccio stravagante of 1626, which includes a cat fight.) Vivaldi gave greater depth and integration to the genre. Who before Vivaldi could have depicted the sweetness and mystery of slumber as he does in the slow movement of “Autumn”? Or the hunting scene in the last movement of the same concerto, in which an animal tries to flee the hunters’ shots? Or the ice and bitter wind of “Winter,” followed by the consoling warmth of the fireside? Or the torpid heat of “Summer,” broken by the overwhelming and destructive hailstorm at the end?
I believe Vivaldi’s true greatness lies as a composer of descriptive music. His creative powers really came alive when he had an extramusical idea to work with. This talent is seen eminently in the Seasons, but it is also present in several other concertos with descriptive titles. These include “La notte” (Night) for flute and a group of violin concertos depicting emotional states: “L’inquietudine” (Restlessness), “Il sospetto” (Suspicion), “Il piacere” (Pleasure), “Il riposo” (Repose, which has an additional designation as Christmas concerto), and “L’amoroso” (The Lover). To these we could add “Il Favorito” (The Favorite), “Amato Bene” (Beloved), and more.
Nearly all these are included on an excellent pair of discs called Vivaldi: Le passioni dell’uomo (The Passions of Man), performed by violinist Enrico Casazza and the ensemble La Magnifica Comunità. It is one of my favorite Vivaldi recordings, proving that his “passionate” concertos contain some of his best, most inspired music. Aesthetics in the Baroque era often discussed the ways in which music could depict human emotions, an outgrowth of the humanism of the Renaissance. Vivaldi shows that he is a master of this. These concertos overflow with Baroque exuberance and theatricality. One critic has pointed to the “dark and turbulent atmosphere” of “Il sospetto,” depicting in its main theme “the way suspicion suddenly takes hold.” It is a concerto that remains in the minor mode throughout, with no ray of light from a major key. What a contrast with “L’Amoroso” in bright E major, evoking the delights of romantic love with lilting rhythms and sighing grace notes. Each of these concertos is subtly different, showing up the lack of judgment in Luigi Dallapiccola’s quip.
Another side of Vivaldi’s output are the concertos honoring various feast days on the church calendar. There are violin concertos for the feast of the Assumption, for St. Lawrence, and for St. Anthony of Padua (as well as the aforementioned Christmas concerto, “Il riposo”). Here too, special occasions seem to have led Vivaldi to create music of a rare inspiration—let’s not forget that this composer was also a priest. Maybe I’m being fanciful, but I think I hear a hint of the bittersweet quality of Mary’s life in the main theme of the second “Assumption” concerto. You can hear all these works on a fine disc titled Concerti per le solennità (Concertos for the Solemnities) featuring the ensemble Sonatori de la Gioiosa Marca and the wonderful soloist Giuliano Carmignola, who has made a career as a Vivaldi specialist. It’s worth seeking out.
The key to understanding Vivaldi is to realize that he was a sensuous composer, not an intellectual one. He did not create abstract sonic edifices as Bach did, but instead reveled in color, texture, animal spirits, and everyday feelings. His music celebrates the glory and splendor of the Venetian Republic, but it turns out to be universal because it connects with common sensations that transcend time and place. Its strength lies in its simplicity, directness, and humanity. That is why his music has endeared itself to modern audiences and why it seems to be here to stay.
Now I am happy to say I have circled back to my 10-year-old self: I am a Vivaldi fan once again, at least within certain limits. Viva Vivaldi!
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The featured image is “Presumed portrait of Antonio Vivaldi, identified by Federico Maria Sardelli,” by Giuseppe Nogari (1699–1766), and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
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