Carmelo Giudice: Brahms, Schumann: Balladen und Fantasien
Da Vinci Classics

Listeners familiar with the personal relationships between Johannes Brahms and the Schumanns, Clara and Robert, will recognize how much sense it makes to combine them on an album, though in the case of this solo recital by Italian pianist Carmelo Giudice it's the men only. All three composers' histories run throughout Balladen und Fantasien when each of its three works emerged at critical stages in their lives. Written over the course of four intense days in April 1938, Schumann's eight-part suite Kreisleriana appeared first, Brahms' Balladen and Fantasien in 1854 and 1892, respectively. Interestingly, Giudice's release positions Kreisleriana after Balladen and Fantasien.

A graduate of Vincenzo Bellini Conservatory of Music and Giuseppe Verdi Conservatory of Music and Professor of Piano at the Bellini Conservatory for more than forty years, the Siracusa-born Giudice brings a scholarly approach to his interpretations. Naturally he imposes himself on a work, but he also invests his treatments with respect for the score and a desire to honour the integrity of it and its creator. Faithful adherence to the composer's creative vision is for him key.

Fourteen years on from their 1840 wedding, Clara and Robert were enjoying lives filled with children and music. But with mental illness afflicting Robert, the decision was made for him to be hospitalized in Endenich, a move that complicated their lives and paved the way for a deep friendship between a then twenty-one-year-old Brahms and Clara to develop. Having been received warmly by the Schumanns, he was happy to support her and would remain a companion for the rest of their days. During Robert's Endenich stay, Brahms composed his Balladen, which, while dedicated to another, are thought to have been created with her in mind. The first initiates the four-part set with a brooding tone, funereal theme, and calm before the proverbial storm. Aggressive chords announce the transition to a more emphatic episode until the theme returns, now jauntily. Lyrical gestures imbue the second with a gracefully flowing motion, its sprinkles bolstering the enchanting effect. It too intensifies aggressively with staccato patterns before decompressing for a serene sequence. Robert called the third part “demonic,” and certainly devilry does seem to be afoot in its grandiose declamations. Its tone makes the fourth seem all the more eloquent when it steps in with lilting romantic patterns that lend the rumination a wistful air and plaintive ache. Its emotional effect is so strong, it's hard not to hear it as the heart of the work.

Fast-forward thirty-eight years to 1892 and with Brahms and Clara both nearing the end of their lives the creation of his Fantasien. The tempestuous character and virtuosity of Brahms' earlier music is now often marked by melancholy and finesse. Clara gushed over the material, deeming it “wonderfully original” and writing in her diary, “Thanks to these pieces, I once again felt my soul being traversed by the life of music.” The seven-part work begins, however, with a high-energy statement (“Capriccio. Presto energico”), after which appear two more “Capriccio” and four “Intermezzo” movements. The first of the latter's marked by a delicate hush and forlorn theme, the second of the former a probing passion. The central “Intermezzo” is particularly affecting, its tone mature and dignified, but the haunting two that follow are no less memorable. Mirroring its opening, Fantasien concludes with a florid “Capriccio,” all dynamic gestures and concentrated energy.

Those conversant with Schumann's world know about the oft-referenced diametric sides known as “Florestan” and “Eusebius,” the former representing the passionate and reckless persona, the latter the introspective, calm, and poetic one. Among other things, Kreisleriana, its title stemming from a figure created by the writer E. T. A. Hoffmann, is a veiled love letter to Clara (whom he married in 1840, two years after the work's creation), as well as an outlet for the turbulent emotions roiling within him during the work's creation. Oscillating between “Florestan” and “Eusebius” expressions, the music suggests the workings of a feverish mind and thus acts as a conduit for the turmoil erupting within. A dramatic overture, the sparkling opening movement sets a grand stage for the episodic, long-form second, which intoxicates instantly with its ascending-descending motive (and variations thereof) and tender ache. Giudice impresses with his virtuosic delivery of the first movement but also the sensitivity he shows in articulating the emotional shadings of the second. The piece progresses through passages of graceful lyricism and solemn mien, those signifying “Eusebius” (“Sehr langsam”) and “Florestan” (“Sehr rasch – Noch schneller – Etwas langsamer”) easy to identify—even if some movements gravitate in both directions.

April 2026