Last October the second hand and antiquarian music dealer Travis & Emery circulated their occasional antiquarian music catalogue Sarum no. 58. One item caught my eye because in the last year or so I had updated the online records for two collections of Venetian popular songs – i.e. songs in the Venetian dialect.
||Canzonette Veneziane, e Canoni. [Voice and bass accompaniment]. Oblong folio (22 x 29cm). 22 folios. Sewn in pink carta rustica with gilt paper edgings and decorations, manuscript paper title-label. Copyist’s manuscript in brown ink on 10-stave paper, with texts (verses) to the works on the opening four folios (unstaved). Contains: La mia Ninetta; Oh bella Nice; Putte vardeme inciera; Ogni donna; Amor Pettegola; Quel bianco sen de latte; Cento Basetti su quei occhietti. [Italy: c.1775].
Both collections I had worked on are in manuscript. One is in the University Library (MS.Add.9324.14) and contains 49 songs, and the other is in the Fitzwilliam Museum (MU.MS.130) and contains a collection of 50 ‘Canzonette Composte dal Sigr.e Angelo Collonna’. The second of these is extremely unusual in that very, very few songs in the Venetian dialect are ascribed to any composer even to one as unknown as Angelo Colonna (a spelling found on some minuets by the same composer in the same manuscript, and the usual spelling of this surname). However a search of the RISM database of the first line of the first song in the Travis & Emery manuscript, “La mia Ninetta” (as a phrase in inverted commas) revealed a surprising result:
(Sorry, no hot links to search results, so copy and paste (including the inverted commas) “La mia Ninetta” into the search box and press return – and have a look at the 16 vocal pieces by Mattia Vento).
Surprise, surprise, six of the titles listed in the Travis & Emery catalogue appear in almost the same order (missing Oh bella Nice, and placing Putte vardeme inciera third instead of at the end) as this manuscript in the British Library ascribed (in RISM) to Mattia Vento:
16 songs for voice and harpsichord
La mia Ninetta / Ogni donna / Amor pettegolo / Quel bianco sen / Cento basetti / Putte vardeme / Se ghe amor / Le donne gha un tesoro / Tutti va in colera / A variar l’e un gusto matto / Venezianella / Cornetti, cornettini / E spagnuoli e Siciliani / Quando sono tenerelli / Me tira a cantuzzarte / Quando vi sara gente
This was intriguing enough to warrant acquiring the manuscript. Continue reading
The Golden Book of C.U.M.C.
When the Cambridge Libraries Digitisation Competition 2018 was advertised I immediately thought about the C.U.M.C Golden Book, a notebook containing signatures and short musical quotations of famous musicians, composers and musicologists. Many of them came to Cambridge for significant musical events or had other Cambridge links.
The Golden Book fitted the competition criteria quite well; it is a unique, distinctive and quirky item and links to the research collections relating to music and performance. The Pendlebury Library team was delighted when we came in at joint third place and we are making the most of the opportunity to be involved in all aspects of a digitisation project. Continue reading
The inspiration of a Myriorama.
Included in a batch of recent antiquarian additions to the Music Department here at the UL is a fascinating volume entitled The Melographicon (MR574.c.80.15). Published in 1826, The Melographicon claims to be “An entirely new and highly amusing musical work, by which an interminable number of melodies may be produced, and those amateurs who have, a taste for poetry, enabled to set their verses to music, for the voice and piano-forte, without the necessity of a scientific knowledge of the art”.
Inspired by the Myriorama, a sort of do-it-yourself for would-be artists (there is a wonderful modern version on the Laurence Sterne Trust pages); the Melographicon, despite its claims of simplicity, will need a dedicated songster prepared to carefully read the instructions if they’re going to make the most of this volume. Follow the rules however, and you too might sound like Mozart, Haydn, Rossini, or Weber; at the very least you’ll be able to delight your friends. Continue reading
Beethoven by Joseph Willibrord Mähler, 1815.
“… here is, not ‘just’ a great composer, but one of the most towering minds in the history of culture and civilization – humanity has not, in demonstrable fact, thrown up anything greater …” So writes Hans Keller in his ‘Slow Introduction’ to an unfinished and unpublished manuscript dating from about 1971 held here in his archive on Beethoven’s String Quartet in B flat, op.130. He expresses similar admiration in an article for The Listener of 9 April 1970 on the Beethoven String Quartets, where he writes: “…a mind whose size promises to remain unexceeded in the history of what makes us human…” Continue reading
A conversation with a reader the other day about street pianos led to me stumbling across this.
Mapping the ‘Play me, I’m yours‘ street piano project, the site records the locations of street pianos past and present. It is also somewhere for people to upload their recordings of the pianos being played – this is the page for the piano in the Grand Arcade in Cambridge.
Coaching and mentoring, whether it was string quartets, individual instrumentalists, analysis students or young composers, was central to Hans Keller’s life. His over-riding aim always was to make himself redundant by helping his students to find and trust their own judgement, their own instinctive musicality – always to ‘think music’ and never, ever, to ‘think about music’. The archive is overflowing with letters to his pupils of whom the Chilingirian Quartet, Alexander Goehr, Hugh Wood, Jonathan Harvey and Alan Walker are but a few. However, this post accompanies our current Music Department exhibition on women composers and in the archive there is also a substantial file of correspondence between the composer Elisabetta Brusa and Keller. Continue reading