Envisioning such figures as J. S. Bach, Händel, and Telemann, we might think German composers dominated the Baroque era. Instead, the earlier center of gravity – around such northern-European cities as Paris, Brussels, and Amsterdam – gradually shifted toward the south, and Italy took on an outsized role in the evolving Baroque style. It was Italian composers that gave birth to opera, the instrumental sonata, and the concerto, leaving a lasting legacy we still see today. This entire weekend cel-ebrates that legacy, featuring two centuries of works by composers born in Italy, trained in Italy, or deeply influenced by their exposure to the brilliant, virtuosic, expressive, and vibrant colors of Italian music.

The transition from Franco-Flemish prominence to Italian command took place as figures like Adrian Willaert and Cipriano de Rore (both born in modern-day Belgium) settled in northern Italy in the mid 1500s. Willaert, working at St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice, responded to the sheer scale and design of the cathedral to create sound effects of a new order: loud-soft contrasts, antiphonal passages between split choirs, and echo effects. These features, in turn, influenced the works of Giovanni Gabrieli, who helped nurture the generation of Claudio Monteverdi, Heinrich Schütz, and many others.

Born in Brescia, Biagio Marini (1594-1663) was a violin virtuoso who traveled throughout Europe, from Brussels and Düsseldorf to Bavaria and back to northern Italy. After taking positions in Parma and Milan, he arrived in Venice in 1615 to join Monteverdi’s ensemble at St. Mark’s. Marini produced exceptional works in both vocal and instrumental gen-res, though most of it has been lost. What remains reveals a staggering command of violin writing; indeed, he may have invented and certainly helped popularize techniques like tremolo, double- and triple-stops, and alternative tunings. Marini’s Echo Sonata for three violins unfolds as a single continuous movement. The score states that only the first violin part should be played forte, while the other players should not even be visible by the audience (“non deve esser visto”). Such special effects were eminently possible and effective in spaces like St. Mark’s, where elevated balconies allowed musicians to be heard but not seen.

We passed quickly over the name of Monteverdi a moment ago. That is a great disservice to a true titan of the Italian Baroque. However, because he will enjoy a program dedicated to his works tomorrow, we must here proceed to figures who surrounded him. One of Monteverdi’s most influential predecessors, Luca Marenzio (ca. 1553-1599) composed over 500 works during a relatively short career in Rome. Marenzio’s pieces appeared in a widely circulated collection that carried his fame as far as England. His strongest impact derived from music written on commission for the Medici, Este, and Gonzaga families. Marenzio was a true pioneer in aligning musical developments to poetry, an effort that fully matured with Monteverdi. His work pushed music to new expressive extremes that often seemed excessively harsh or even inappropriate to contemporary audiences.

Marenzio’s first collection of madrigals appeared in Venice in 1580. Madrigals had existed in Europe for centuries, but the Italian variety created in the late 16th century remains the gold standard when we hear the term today. Performed a capella or with minimal instrumental accompaniment, these works utilize striking tonal progressions, strong dissonance, and “word painting” to bring life to the text. In “Madonna, sua mercé,” Marenzio uses rhythmic contrast to heighten the text’s unsteady emotions. “Zefiro torna,” on a text by the great Petrarch, opens with a buoyant celebration of spring’s return. A clear change then occurs in the third stanza, where the poet laments his lost love:

But to me, alas, there return the heavy
sighs that she draws from the deepest heart,
who took the keys of it away to heaven.

While Marenzio drew his texts from Petrarch and other secular poets, the next two pieces derive from Ariosto’s Orlando Furioso, an epic poem that tells the story of Ruggiero. Straddling West and East, Christianity and Islam, Ruggiero was the son of a Christian knight and a Saracen woman. He was raised by his mother in North Africa before returning home, a triumphant warrior. In 1613 Salamone Rossi (ca. 1570-1630) published the Sonata sopra un aria di Ruggiero, scored for two treble instruments with continuo. Rossi functions as a transitional figure between the Re-naissance and Baroque eras, mainly due to his career as a Jewish musi-cian in Mantua. (Mantua was one of very few cities that protected its Jewish residents.) A virtuoso violinist from an early age, Rossi’s compositions include mostly vocal music, with a few surviving instrumental trio sonatas like the one being performed today. As in later trio sonatas, we find a great deal of imitation and harmonic repetition. The sound remains close to its roots in improvisation, as the two violin lines freely riff above the harmonic “ground” below. Its connection to Ariosto’s tale is not immediately evident until one learns that this particular repeating bass pattern – very common in the 16th and 17th centuries – was called the “Ruggiero bass.” Scholars believe it emerged as an archetype for reciting particularly memorable passages from Ariosto’s epic.

For a more concrete connection between music and Ruggiero, consider the opera La liberazione di Ruggiero by Francesca Caccini (1587-1640). Francesca had the good fortune to live in Florence when the vocal arts were deeply cherished. Her father, Giulio Caccini, was a remarkable singer patronized by the Medici. He led a revival of neglected riches from ancient Greek art, poetry, and music eventually leading to a genre of solo song known as monody, an important step toward early opera. In turn, Francesca enjoyed the very best education that her father could provide. Adept in languages, literature, and music, she penned her own texts and crafted melodies to support them in staged productions. While her contemporary Monteverdi may have stolen the limelight in the history books, Francesca certainly held her own among contemporary musicians and patrons.

La liberazione di Ruggiero may be the first opera written by a woman. It was commissioned in 1625 for the visit of Polish nobility during Carnival season. The plot centers on Ruggiero, who has been pulled away from his beloved and is being held captive by the sorceress Alcina on her enchanted isle; echoes of Odysseus and Circe are only too evident. The aria “O quanto è dolce amar” typifies the recitative style that dominated early opera. As we will see below, the familiar da capo (ABA) aria would not emerge for many years. Instead, opera circa 1625 unfolds as a progression through monodic songs, fixating on key passages of text, and intervening instrumental diversions.

Aside from the fact that he may have been born in Venice to a German soldier, almost nothing else is known about lute virtuoso Giovanni Girolamo Kapsberger (ca. 1580-1651). The only documented portion of his life places him as both a student and professional musician in Rome around 1624, during the time of Girolamo Frescobaldi. Critical opinion held that Kapsberger was better as a performer than a composer; something was lost when he set his ideas down on paper. Kapsberger’s Toccata Arpeggiata was published in 1604 in Venice. Listeners will find strong hints of Bach’s pattern preludes in the hypnotic texture. As in Bach’s case, it is unlikely that Kapsberger conceived his Toccata Arpeggiata as a standalone composition. If it was ever linked with a specific other movement, that detail is lost to history.

Girolamo Frescobaldi (1583-1643) is known today almost exclusively for his keyboard works, though he was initially schooled by several masters of the Italian madrigal. Born into a prestigious family in Ferrara, Frescobaldi studied under the organist and madrigalist Luzzasco Luzzaschi and was strongly influenced by Carlo Gesualdo, who was in Ferrara at the time. His most important work was done in Rome and as court organist to the Medici in Florence. In no uncertain terms, Frescobaldi was a keyboard virtuoso: he received international attention from musicians and well-to-do patrons for his ability. A well-known contemporary once stated that “all of [Frescobaldi’s] knowledge is at the ends of his fingertips” – a quip that could be taken in either a positive or a negative sense!

Frescobaldi’s two books of Toccatas and Partitas, published between 1615 and 1637, celebrate a flamboyant improvisatory style alternating between virtuosic scale runs (called passaggi) and introspective parts (affetti). His Cento partite sopra passacagli (100 Games on the Passacaglia) offers dozens of variations on a single recurring bass formula. This work is as vibrant and chromatic as the madrigals that were circulating around Italy, but it is possible Frescobaldi never intended for it to be performed in a single sitting. As a compilation of variations on a simple theme, he perhaps meant to create a repository of music ready to insert as needed into any occasion.

With Alessandro Scarlatti (1660-1725), we move forward several generations in time. By now, early experiments in monody, opera, and adaptations of vocal music to the keyboard have all had time to mature. We reach a pinnacle in Baroque music with Scarlatti. Yet, because his son Domenico is so well-known as a composer of keyboard sonatas, Alessandro stands somewhat in the shadows – even though he essentially invented the da capo aria and three-part opera overture!

Born in Palermo, Scarlatti emerged in Naples in 1684 as its foremost opera composer. For the next three decades, he produced success after success and helped train composers on the rise. Alas, tastes eventually changed, and Alessandro’s star began to wane. By the time he composed Griselda in 1721, Scarlatti was living in Rome. The libretto derives from an episode in Boccaccio’s Decameron. Griselda, a humble shepherdess, has married the King of Naples, Gualtiero, but is unable to bear him a male heir. Cast aside for a younger woman, Griselda pledges her undying loyalty to the king – a magnanimous gesture that restores Gualtiero’s love for her. Hearing three arias from diverse moments in the drama, it is immediately clear just how far opera has advanced since Caccini’s time. Arias now receive ample instrumental support, including virtuosic string textures. The tonal variety is massive, and chromatic changes bolster the protagonists’ emotional development. With Scarlatti, Baroque opera has stepped fully into its own – so much so that one can almost hear the brilliant operas of Mozart and Rossini waiting in the wings . . . .

Jason Stell, © 2026