Pizzetti: Chamber Music With Violin – Ruggero Marchesi

Fifty-two years ago. on 13th February 1968. 88-year-old Ildebrando Pizzetti died. He was one of the greatest European composers of the 20th century and the most important from his home city of Parma in the last century (without mentioning the “genius loci” Giuseppe Verdi). I had the honour of meeting the Master when he was awarded the honorary citizenship of Busseto. At this time I was working on the staff of the “Verdi” gazette at the Institute of Verdi Studies where Pizzetti was honorary president. Brando, his family nickname, paid us a visit in our two small rooms at the college. Mario Medici, the founder-director, introduced me to this small precise man. He seemed extremely fragile but still powerful. I told him that I possessed some of his signed musical and literary works which the Parma and Santa Cecilia Music College Violinist Mario Corti, my father Ermanno’s teacher, had left me with fatherly kindness. Corti who came from the same area was slightly younger than Pizzetti. He was a colleague at the Parma and Santa Cecilia music colleges and also his qualified performer. Unfortunately Pizzetti was tired, he had difficulty focusing through his thick glasses and did not seem to give much importance to my information. The next day at Busseto during an executive meeting in the boardroom of the institute the elderly Ildebrando was gay and lively. He spoke about Verdi, Parma, Busseto and the newly founded Verdi institute. He was wearing a classic velvet jacket and kept his right arm by his side. This reminded me of some photos of his great friend Gabriele D’Annunzio. Pizzetti attracted also the younger members with his frank and simple attitude. His kind and gay expression and his friendly nature underlined his morality; his music was straightforward without deviations, devote and with bright intelligence. Afterwards I sent him his signed “Poema Emiliano” unfinished which he no-longer possessed. This work of 1913 was for violin and orchestra, with description titles: Nel bosco di Nebbiara (In the Nebbiara woods), Sole di mezzogiorno (mid-day sun) Nel giardino delle gardenie (in the gardenia garden), Inno alla terra (hymn to Earth)….Un saluto alla regione-madre (greeting to the homeland), “and the sweet solemn plains of my native Emilia that have spoken to me many times and to anybody who is able to understand from the tops of her trees moving in the wind to her buttercup meadows.” He returned the work with a photo and a thank-you for preserving it in a jealous loving way. (his writing was shaky, this was 1967). Among his papers I also found a signed article in the form of a letter, Dear Carmine Music College published in “Giallo e Blu” a Parma strenna of 1950. The title had been slightly modified. “Carmine” was changed to “of Carmine”. Few people know that our music college is in an ex-carmelite monastery. A kind recognition from the elderly ex-student.I am not writing today to speak of myself as an ex-student of Parma music college. My father used to say Carmine School and I have always used and will continue to use its original name. I am writing to thank the music college where I studied for five years and to remember those teachers who are present in my heart and mind and who gave me most of my knowledge. And I mention the teachers appreciating “their humble but passionate love” of music, shared by musicians and fans alike. There is a particular mention of the Director Giovanni Tebaldini who tried to introduce gregorian chants and the Florentine singing-acting renaissance polyphony into the official syllabus. A diatonic harmony with archaic resonance using antique “modality”. Towards the end of October 1900 Tebaldini took the college on a visit to Sant’Agata. Thanks to his introduction the young Brando wrote an article for the Milan musical gazette: The master moved magnificently, with wonderful simple movements. I cannot say what I felt at that moment; I wanted to cry, to shout out a hymn of admiration with all my strength. I will never forget those few moments, even if I live to be one hundred. Gustavo Marchesi