Altri canti d'amor

History has rightly acclaimed Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643) as one of the most significant composers of all time. So much of what transpired in subsequent centuries, especially in vocal music, would have been fundamentally different without Monteverdi’s contributions. He was the seminal figure in the transition from massive polyphonic edifices of the Renaissance to the Baroque’s directed tonality. His innovations in harmony and dissonance treatment marked Monteverdi as the prophet of a “new practice” that sought to actualize an ancient belief in music’s literal power to sway human action and emotion. It also drew him into a prominent debate over the future of music. In essence, his greatness may be attributed to a careful respect for superlative poetry. It was Monteverdi who championed text expression and its emotive power above purely musical considerations of counterpoint and form.
Monteverdi published eight books of secular madrigals between 1587 and 1638. Book VIII, the Madrigali guerrieri et amorosi (1638), appeared some twenty years after Book VII and contains the mature fruits of lessons learned throughout the 1620s and 1630s. Scholars believe that many of the madrigals were intended to be performed with extensive gestures, movements, and possibly lighting and props—essentially operas in miniature. Book VIII is organized into two parts that present contrasting “warlike” and “amorous” texts. Monteverdi opens with a terse instrumental Sinfonia, presaging the soon-to-be-standard opera overture. “Altri canti d’Amor,” the first of the Madrigali guerrieri, then follows in the same key. Reflecting divisions in the text, Monteverdi divides his setting into two parts. The first part features tenor and two sopranos with modest string accompaniment. Descending lines abound, often centering on chromatic upper neighbors that yield a dolorous mood (essentially saying, “Let others sing about love and its heartaches”). Monteverdi brilliantly fuses the voices onto a unison D “when two souls are united by a single thought.” The second and longer part pivots to a completely different mood, flexing its muscles in honor of Mars and the Holy Roman Emperor. Here is the famous style that attempts to mimic the sounds of conflict, as well as breathless melismas (extended vocalisms on a single syllable) that capture excessive furor and athletic bravura.

(c) Jason Stell