Dragonetti (1763-1846) - Double-Bass Concerto in A
As a solo
instrument, the double-bass fares better than only its woodwind cousin,
the contra-bassoon. Yet, in the all-too-rare right hands, it possesses
a rich and majestic voice that can surpass even the cello. A couple of
hundred years ago, the right hands were those of “Signor
Dragonetti, sole professor of the double-bass and connoisseur of pictures”,
which was how he was addressed by even the likes of Rossini, Liszt, and
Paganini. Dragonetti was largely self-taught - of necessity, because with
the demand for double-bass virtuosi being what it was (and still is), suitable
teachers would have been hard to come by. The plus side was his scarcity
value; soon after arriving in London (aged 31), he was commanding fees
of as much as £250 for a single concert.
In common
with other “oddball” solo instruments, the double-bass’ problem is repertoire,
which certainly in Dragonetti’s day leant heavily on arrangements, so it
was lucky indeed for him that he could write as well as play. Dragonetti
may not have been a great composer but, apparently, he was well
able to translate his performing abilities into music having an abundance
of easy charm, tunefulness and vigour. Moreover (unlike some I could mention),
far from relegating the orchestra to menial accompanist for his virtuosic
acrobatics he treats it with a fair bit of imagination, no mean feat considering
the very particular problems of balance.
The A
Major Concerto is in the “usual
“ three movements (fast - slow - fast), apparently as follows. Although
the first movement is relatively unremarkable, that soon changes with the
arrival of the second movement which uses an eloquent melody to exploit
the double-bass’ succulent baritone register, contrasted with its black
velvet contrabasso and even the odd bit of “falsetto”.
The irrepressibly jolly finale includes some felicitous writing for wind,
launched as it is by a solo bassoon - a generous little gesture to a brother-in-arms,
the other so-called “clown
of the orchestra”. Slight as Dragonetti’s music may seem, in refusing to
make a circus act out of his instrument he compels us to respect, and makes
us wonder why “greater” composers haven’t followed his lead. Shame on them,
I say!
That leaves
us with a couple of “apparentlys” to sweep up. Firstly, Dragonetti may
have been “well able (etc.)”, but not (dare I say “apparently” again?)
this time, for it seems that this concerto was “ghosted” by another. With
the cash he was raking in, Dragonetti would have had no trouble buying
pieces lock, stock and barrel. If so, I salute the “ghost”! Secondly, don’t
be surprised if the music is not quite as described above – there are at
least two editions. The other that I’ve heard gives that bassoon line to
a horn. Maybe that is a bit less imaginative, but who cares? We’re supposed
to be gawping at the soloist, aren’t we?
.
© Paul Serotsky
29, Carr Street,
Kamo,
Whangarei 0101,
Northland,
New Zealand
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