Gesualdo: Madrigals, Book VI (Complete) (Columbia)
purchased at Jerry's Records
Gesualdo is one of those figures who helps make music history more interesting. Gesualdo (Don Carlo Gesualdo di Venosa) was a 16th century Italian prince. His first wife was notable for her beauty, so much so that other men (including her uncle, if I recall correctly) really wanted her. Gesualdo himself was supposed to have been a rather plain man despite his royal station.
Turns out, his beautiful wife was carrying on with another man, and he found out. His solution? To pretend to go out on an overnight hunt, leaving her alone with her paramour. When he sneaked back into his bedroom, he found her in bed with another man, and he proceeded to run them both through with a sword.
Being royalty has its advantages, though. Despite this event, it did not disqualify him from marrying again. It was not a particularly happy union, and Gesualdo became both passionately religious, and threw himself into composing.
(That is the short version of the story the best I can recall; I'm always willing to accept corrections.)
Gesualdo's music is noted for being strangely unpredictable given the madrigal format (generally five voices), shifting harmonies in unexpected ways. This is not unique for the period; Orlando di Lassus had a particularly chromatic period of his composing. Listen to his "Prophetiae Sibyllarum" on the Lassus CD on ECM for the best example of this strange era in his music.
The question for some over the years had been, did Gesualdo know what he was doing? Or did he lack fundamental skills? Step in Igor Stravinsky. When introduced to Gesualdo's music, he essentially said, "Shut up jerks, this guy knew what the hell he was doing." (That of course is very liberally paraphrased.) I don't live and die by Stravinsky, but if Igor says something's going on there, then something's going on there.
Listening to this album, it's sometimes difficult to understand what the fuss might have been about. Not in terms of quality, but of its supposed strangeness. A cappella music of this period all sounds a little strange to me, this no more than many other composers going back more or less a hundred years from this time. Robert Craft, the conductor, believes Book VI is a sunnier set of works than Book V, which might contribute to its diminished weirdness.
Then of course there's Gesualdo's story, which I find interesting and adds to the experience of listening to this. I suppose I'm interested in how our perception of an artist might shift over time. Which sins are forgiven, which are not? Does time dull our outrage of the person's acts, or in some cases sharpens it? Gesualdo, talk about a pre-"Me Too" moment in time. But it was centuries ago, the great-great-great-great-grandchildren of anyone involved have themselves long since passed away.
What will people think about Bill Cosy in a hundred years' time? Three hundred? Will he be remembered at all? Cosby didn't murder anyone (as far as we know), but he didn't also lash out in a moment of passion. He was a calculating serial rapist. I think it's impossible to consider his work in the future without knowing that, regardless of how long it's been since the actual crimes occurring.
Miles Davis and Charles Mingus could both be abusive people, but their behavior has continued to recede into the past. In no way do they compare to Cosby, just that they could be bad men at times. Like Gesualdo, the life stories of Miles and Mingus are part of the larger picture, but the music rises above all else.
