Piano Factory 34.

Grant Chu Covell

[February 2026.]

“Niccolò Castiglioni, Complete Piano Works, Vol. 1.” Niccolò CASTIGLIONI: Piano Sonatina in G Major (1952); Piccola Suite in G (1952); Quattro Canti (1954); Momento Musicale (1954); Come io passo l’estate (1983); Piano Sonatina (1984); Seconda Sonatina (1987); Das Reh im Wald (1988); In principio era la danza (1989); Preludio, Corale e Fuga (1994). Aldo Orvieto (pno). Grand Piano GP862 (1 CD) (www.grandpianorecords.com).

“Niccolò Castiglioni, Complete Piano Works, Vol. 2.” Niccolò CASTIGLIONI: Cinque Innodie (1953); Tre Studi (1954); Inizio di movimento (1958); Cangianti (1959); Tre Pezzi (1978); Dulce Refrigerium: Sechs Geistliche Lieder Für Klavier (1984); He (1990). Aldo Orvieto (pno). Grand Piano GP863 (1 CD) (www.grandpianorecords.com).

Jumbling both volumes, I’ve tried to detect themes or a chronological shape to Castiglioni’s piano output. An accomplished pianist, Castiglioni (1932–1996) attended to current trends as it suited him, creating a body of work that tended towards clarity, ofttimes with melody.

The earliest work among these two CDs appears to be the G-major Sonatina, where we can hear Castiglioni’s French-flavored response to Stravinskian neo-classicism. In the 1950s (during the composer’s twenties) we hear tonal (Piccola Suite, Cinque Innodie) and serial explorations (Tre Studi, Quattro Canti, Momento Musicale, Inizio di movimento) culminating in Cangianti.

However, Cangianti (“Changing”) for all its Darmstadt-approved gestures leverages the piano’s colors and registers, trills and clusters as if they were melodic cells. Castiglioni wrote: “…in this piece the piano is the lyrical instrument of the most tender poetry…” contrasting his music against Stravinsky, Bartók and Boulez, and preferring to align with Debussy and Schubert.

Orvieto’s second disc places Tre Pezzi after Cangianti, a nearly twenty-year jump which also reflects Castiglioni’s temporary pause with the solo instrument. After the works of the 1950s, Castiglioni’s music becomes translucent and lyric, with clearly delineated tunes whether supported by birdsong, counterpoint or atonality.

Come io passo l’estate, one of Castiglioni’s best known piano works, is an elegant example of this newfound style and fluency. Perhaps the material reflects the simple folksiness of melodies heard during a summer vacation. There are references to earlier works (Piccola Suite) and a tune Mahler penned on a similar holiday decades before. The 1984 Sonatina circles back to the 1952 Sonatina by way of motives initially offered in Come io passo l’estate.

The Satie- (or Kagel-)like titled Dulce Refrigerium (“Sweet Consolation”) and He reveal a mystical bent in Castiglioni’s outlook, clear melodies are supported with bitonal accompaniment, widely spread dissonant chords, or interrupted with extensive repetition. In Dulce Refrigerium’s six spiritual songs, Beethoven’s “Les Adieux” chords appear in various guises. He is prefaced with this epigraph: “The word ‘Hallel’ written with the letter ‘He’ means praise,” and builds towards a chord repeated 111 times. Here repetition isn’t minimalism, it’s transcendence and illumination.

Passing in a blink, one of Castiglioni’s last piano works, In principio era la danza, elegantly summarizes the comfort in contradictions. Three waltz fragments wrap two atonal spurs. Harmonization turns briefly screwy and there are hints back to a closing chord from Come io passo l’estate.

Castiglioni’s final piano work is Preludio, Corale e Fuga. Despite a title referencing grand precedents, the prelude is a consistent flurry of notes, the chorale is but 11 highly placed dissonant chords, and with its grace notes, the fugue is a birdsong gone awry.

Orvieto introduces several premiere recordings: G major Sonatina, Piccola Suite, Quattro Canti, Momento Musicale, Cinque Innodie, Tre Studi, and the Seconda Sonatina. Orvieto is no stranger to Castiglioni’s charms. Stradivarius STR 37097 offers the “Complete Works for Piano and Orchestra” including the unique (perverse?) Gorgheggio (1988) written in memory of Bruno Maderna where the piano plays alone for most of the piece until eight winds conclude with the same chord repeated 100 times. As in He, Castiglioni seeks elation and celebration. The other pieces are Fantasia Concertata (1991), Fiori di Ghiaccio (1982-83), Movimento Continuato (1959) and Quodlibet (1976) with the Orchestra di Padova e del Veneto led by Marco Angius.

“Piano Music, Volume 1.” Alfred SCHNITTKE: Prelude and Fugue (1963); Piano Sonata No. 2 (1990); Five Preludes and Fugue (1953-54); Little Piano Pieces (1971); Five Aphorisms (1990). Nicolas Stavy (pno). BIS 2797 (1 SACD) (www.bis.se).

Larger than life, straddling the keyboard with dramatic leaps and big dissonant gestures, Schnittke’s Second Sonata is this disc’s main course. On paper, the dissonance looks excruciating, and expansive chords require extreme stretches. But the work is playable and powerful, although there are dramatic points where Schnittke may have wanted blazing trombones, smashing drums or muted strings. Maybe it’s just my sense of the vibrant contrasts Schnittke attempts to wrap his arms around.

We should not consider Schnittke conventional, although he did confidently imitate traditional styles within early pieces. Written at the age of twenty, the Five Preludes and Fugue consider Scriabin, Rachmaninoff, and the Russian virtuosic milieu. Let us not forget that Schnittke was a quick study, fluent with imitation and able to flirt with tonality as warranted. We see this in the eight Little Piano Pieces, small chips originally premiered by Schnittke’s son Andrei, where accompaniment that might go slightly awry under a melodic snippet.

The hardly slight Five Aphorisms are close to the Second Sonata, with frustrated contrasts, menacing clusters and irritated allusions. Music can express anything; music fails to express enough. I sense all the gestures and phrases make references. All music refers to other music; the great music tries to free itself. Subsequent volumes in the series are eagerly anticipated.

“Piano Concertos from The Netherlands.” Henriëtte BOSMANS: Concertino for Piano and Orchestra (1928)¹. Kees VAN BAAREN: Concertino for Piano and Orchestra (1934)²; Concerto per Pianoforte e Orchestra (1964)⁷. Leo SMIT: Concerto per Pianoforte et Orchestre d’harmonie (1937)³. Ton DE LEEUW: Danses sacrées (1989-90)⁴. Carl SMULDERS: Concert in A minor voor Piano and Orchestra (1892)⁵. Willem PIJPER: Concerto per Pianoforte e Orchestra, K. 75 (1927)⁶. Henk BADINGS: Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra (1964)⁸. Tristan KEURIS: Piano Concerto (1980)⁹. Jan VAN VLIJMEN: Concerto per Pianoforte ed Orchestra (1991)¹⁰. Ronald Brautigam^1,3,6, David Kuyken^2,4,7, Ivo Janssen⁵, Ellen Corver⁸, Sepp Grotenhuis^8,10, René Eckhardt⁹ (pno). Netherlands Radio Chamber Orchestra, Ed Spanjaard^1,2,3,4, Kees Bakels^5,8, Jac van Steen⁶, Alexander Vedernikov⁷, Luca Vis^9,10 (cond.). Brilliant Classics 97000 (3 CDs) (www.brilliantclassics.com).

There’s something for everyone in this big tenner of piano concertos from the Netherlands. The work I returned to was Van Baaren’s 1964 Piano Concerto, written in a brisk serial style. Bracing and angular, Van Baaren’s Concerto is a bold instance of a once fashionable language allowing the pianist frequent opportunities to splatter wide chords and huge leaps against a dissonant multi-hued orchestra.

Perhaps I glossed over the “Parisian Stravinsky” sound in the concertos by Bosmans, Smit (accompanied by winds), Pijper (with habanera rhythms), and Van Baaren’s earlier 1934 Concertino, and skipped though Smulders’ Grieg-like Concerto (same key!). Badings’ double concerto has one foot in Bartók (the two pianos) while the other (the orchestra) remains Romantic.

Later works that held interest included De Leeuw’s exotic Danses sacrées and Van Viljmen’s unpredictable Concerto. I tried to recollect whether Keuris’ Concerto was encountered before but I didn’t give it a mention back when. Compared to some of the others here Keuris knows what to do with an orchestra.

“Piano Works.” Pierre BOULEZ: Thème et variations pour la main gauche (1945); Trois Psalmodies (1945); Fragment d’une ébauche (1987); Incises (1994; rev. 2001). Ralph van Raat (pno). Naxos 8.574398 (1 CD) (www.naxos.com).

When did Boulez become Boulez? We’re now collecting scraps and errata that Boulez probably did not want heard. Two works by the enfant-not-yet-terrible (he was only twenty), Thème et variations pour la main gauche and Trois Psalmodies, are presented for the first time. The left-hand variations are serial, making use of four-note cells. Gestures are ostentatiously repeated in a consistently aggressive composition. The Trois Psalmodies’ romantic mysticism hugely reflects Messiaen, but Boulez is tedious in this unexpected vein. I suspect the mature composer would have enthusiastically employed a red pen to most of the material. At 0:37, Fragment d’une ébauche is a manic little scrap, the Boulez we expect. Incises is similarly virtuosic. Considering the juvenilia, was Boulez keen to avoid explicit expression? Do the frenetic passages obscure melodic gesture? Van Raat acquits himself finely but seems more enthusiastic in the later pieces.