In Preludio & Bozze per un incontro

The recording debut of Genoese pianist-composer Bruno Mereu invites a brief digression on musical form, and in particular on the forms dedicated to – and by – the pianoforte. If we set aside the extensive pedagogical literature – in which admittedly true masterworks are to be found – we can sketch a broad distinction between small and large forms, ranging from an occasional album leaf to substantial works with imposing design. This cd positions itself as it were equidistant between those two extremes: it places pages of almost aphoristic conciseness alongside the two hundred measures of the Ballata – twelve minutes of authentic pianistic feat – which form the cornerstone of the second work recorded here. Mereu's piano playing draws from a variety of idioms from the Romantic and late-Romantic period, without lapsing into banal reinterpretation of ready-made or merely adapted models. His stylistic coordinates – mature, one may safely predict, for further fruitful development – already show a firm grasp on, and assimilation of, the manifold currents of thought that animate the Romantic piano repertoire. Further evidence of that absorption, however sporadic, is provided by the more than incidental Brahmsian inflection of Prelude no. 1, which opens even broader poetic perspectives by employing a language that is certainly not the primary reference point for Mereu's poetics. Such a quality presupposes a thorough knowledge of the various poetic and communicative registers of the piano literature, which one may summon depending on the emotional and structural climate one wishes to create. In Preludio and Bozze per un incontro, the two piano collections presented here, are in design comparable (respectively seven and ten pieces), but clearly aimed at different expressive goals. Their baseline, as noted, is that of openly Romantic piano playing, balancing in a carefully considered equilibrium between introspective (and expressive) impulse and a pronounced virtuoso inclination. The stylistic echoes refer, determinedly but without artifice, to Liszt and Rachmaninov, while there is – as will become apparent case by case – room for telling excursions into other compositional models. In a sense, the two anthologies prove to surpass and complement each other. The first, consisting of short pieces, reveals the composer's poetry almost immediately, although the deliberately modest dimensions of the individual numbers seem to require deeper exploration – an exploration that the listener in the second set, a long and comprehensive musical journey with broader scope and more engaging emotional profile, is duly offered. In prelude utterances, with fully constructive awareness, the stylistic features and formulas of piano music from the nineteenth and early twentieth century are employed. Within a striking expressive variation we find, for example, the intimate, confessional tone of no. 1, seemingly devised to temper the virtuoso exuberance which, as noted, casts a glance toward Liszt and Rachmaninov; these two masters inspire the tempestuous character of nos. 2 and 3, while the accompanied melody of no. 4 – the geometric midpoint of this polyptych, both in writing style and in equidistant emotional stance toward the extremes – exhibits pronounced Chopin-like provenance. The dramatic stormy temperament of no. 5 wavers in a precarious balance between Schumann's impassioned gestures and Scriabin's anxieties; from the latter also stems the hallucinating, alienating atmosphere of no. 6, a veritable wild ride that in its writing recalls Chopin's Sonata op. 35. In the inner folds of this restless section lies, shortly before the end, a foretaste of the melodic line that ushers in the sudden climate change in Prelude no. 7. Lost amid misty distances and tolling bells, this final number envelops us with the intentional elusiveness of the Adagio con slancio (an intriguing, indeed compelling, directive) which, in its discursive labor, leaves every narrative hypothesis unresolved, as if driving the listener toward the second, more substantial chapter of this brief but intense existential saga. The answer to the questions these seven pieces raise is entrusted to the more demanding collection – both in pitch and in musical development – titled Bozze per un incontro. Strictly speaking, the word Bozze ('sketches') suggests that the hoped-for encounter remained at the level of intention – unless, of course, events prove otherwise. However one views the matter, this second polyptych, aided by the inscriptions that replace mere numbering, brings more concrete matters into play: we encounter people, familiar musical forms, more extensive structures. And we ask ourselves, understandably, which of the three female protagonists – Francesca, Elise or Clara – ultimately tips the balance. Let us therefore take a closer look at the ten tesserae of the second mosaic that Mereu offers us. The composer himself explains: 'The title of the set refers to my desire to encounter the various styles, forms and suggestions from the past through notes (sketches) reworked according to my personal taste. The three female figures represent three different kinds of homage. Francesca draws her inspiration from a literary source, namely the poem of the same name by Ezra Pound. It is precisely with Francesca that the narrative parabola of the Bozze begins: a complex piece, divided into several contrasting sections, within which references to Sergei Rachmaninov's melodic style circulate. 'I would like the emphasis to be on how the different themes come together, now controlled, now almost compelling in their sharpness', to quote Mereu's own words. He continues: 'As the poem itself says: "Was angry when they spoke your name / In ordinary places". Francesca serves, I might say, as an overture to the collection – an imaginative piece with which I wished to convey unconditional love for the past while simultaneously expressing the feverish search for a new, non-vulgar idea, in a restless, almost wild state of mind.' The twelve measures of the short and serene Intermezzo form a bridge to the second encounter, with the capricious and impassioned Elise. At first hearing, this 'portrait' may seem fragmentary, but it proves highly coherent in conveying the enigmatic, introspective nature of the ethereal young woman. One is deeply moved by the repeated quotation – undoubtedly unconscious, if only because of her age – of the celebrated theme from the 1970 film Love Story. In the following four mosaics – Invenzione, Sarabanda, Scherzo, A tre – of which the emotional charge is sometimes lighter (as the deliberately technical titles seem to indicate), the Ravelian lightness of the Sarabanda emerges and the sober calm of A tre, whose ascetic simplicity of writing style again recalls Ravel (the Fuga from Le tombeau de Couperin, to be precise). The middle section of the Scherzo deserves special mention. It seems to have sprung from the enchanted hand of a relived Mendelssohn, so graceful is the magic that emanates from this page. The apparent distance from reality suggested by these four numbers stands in conscious contrast to the structural and narrative complexity of the Ballata, the longest and most extensive section of the entire set. Whoever speaks of ballades inevitably names Chopin's four – though those of Brahms should not be underestimated – and Mereu's piece is no exception. Alongside the rhapsodic, impassioned tone of the text, the frequent return stands out – in the more introspective moments – of a Chopin-like turn (a chance melodic-rhythmic confluence with the Scherzo op. 31) that becomes a sort of soothing leitmotif within a section whose accents are often tossed about by the storm. It is nothing other than a transfiguration of the principal thematic idea of the work; within the narrative fabric of the ballad it seems to take us by the hand and lead us through the various stages of the story. The affectionate quotation from Schumann's style that colors Nécessaire (what intensity in merely six measures!) ultimately brings us to Clara – again a nod to Schumann: coincidence? – who with quiet discretion draws the curtain and leaves the question suggested or announced by the title of the collection unanswered: will these sketches ultimately lose their provisional nature and become a true encounter? What message do we draw from this debut album? Mereu's stylistic fingerprint – summing up, reducing yet striking, as eclecticism, versatility and diversification – speaks unambiguously about the enduring viability (in practical terms: 'market share') of a melodic, harmonic and structural language capable of re-presenting compositional models from a more or less recent past. That viability persists because creativity, in the most diverse sectors of artistic production, knows no labels, boundaries or predetermined paths; and public favor (or, if you will, success) depends equally on the intrinsic value of the product and on the extent to which it meets consumer expectations. Giulio Odero © 2025