Guitarist Pietro Locatto dedicated his latest recording, Songs of Exile [Stradivarius], to the music of Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco. The theme of exile, fundamental to understanding Castelnuovo-Tedesco as a human being and an artist, allows Locatto to combine two iconic, but very different, works for guitar: the Concerto in D Major for guitar and orchestra, written for Andrés Segovia in 1939 as the composer was about to leave Italy to emigrate to the United States, and the Divan of Moses Ibn Ezra, an intimate setting of poems by the medieval Spanish-Jewish poet, composed for voice and guitar in 1967. The Concerto was recorded with the Orchestra Sinfonica d’Este, conducted by Nadir Garofalo, and the Divan was a collaboration with the soprano Ronja Weyhenmeyer. Pietro kindly agreed to answer our questions and tell us about his journey with this music.
Interview with Pietro Locatto by Diana Castelnuovo-Tedesco – January 2025
How did “Songs from Exile” come about?
First and foremost, it was my passion for Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s guitar music that drove the project. Ever since I was a boy I had seen in his works a passion, a vitality, and an emotional range that made me dream not only of the guitar, but of something even richer, almost of a complete orchestra. There’s no doubt in my mind that this is the main reason why I began this project, and it will surely be the motivation for future projects dedicated to Castelnuovo-Tedesco that are now taking form. As it turned out, a series of unrelated circumstances gave me the opportunity to collaborate with both l’Orchestra Sinfonica d’Este as well as with my friend, the soprano Ronja Weyhenmeyer. Upon reflection, I felt that this might be the right occasion to bring together two works that are usually not associated with one another, but that, in my opinion, actually do have a strong connection because they both stem from the same human emotion and confront the same issue, albeit in different ways. Exile, the estrangement from his native land, is a central theme in the Florentine composer’s life, but at the same time, it’s a universal one, which perhaps for this reason makes it even more fascinating: the true protagonists of these pieces are the feelings of a man who was forced into exile. The music is the means by which he communicates his emotions. Indeed, the title of my CD seeks to synthesize all of this.
Before you began this project, had you ever thought much about the topic of exile? Has this recording changed your perspective?
It’s certainly a sensitive subject, one that is always relevant and has affected many generations, in many places, and throughout history. I’ve never experienced it myself, and I believe that it’s one of those realities in life about which one cannot have a real and clear perspective without having personally lived it. There’s no doubt that the theme of having to leave one’s home has always moved me, from the time I was a boy and read [Giuseppe] Ungaretti’s poem about his Egyptian friend Mohammed Scaeb. It had such a strong impact on me that now, almost twenty years later, I chose to cite this poem in the CD booklet. Yes, it’s a theme that I have often thought about: specifically, exile is separation from one’s home, from loved ones, from favorite places. Perhaps I started asking myself these questions because, with my frequent traveling, I have often found myself alone and far away from home, or perhaps I saw friends leave home and move to a different country for work or for lifestyle reasons, or most probably when I have witnessed the continual flow of people that is so much a part of the world we inhabit today. Certainly, all of this has led me to reflect often about this theme, but the exile that Castelnuovo-Tedesco speaks of is something else altogether. I don’t know if I will ever be able to truly relate to it. To work on this repertory has made me appreciate even more his [the composer’s] sensitivity and to reflect on the cathartic and redeeming power of music, of art, of art that grows out of friendship, and of beauty in general.
The two pieces that you chose to record, The Concerto in D Major and the Divan of Moses Ibn Ezra, are quite distinct from one another. As you point out in the CD booklet, Mario wrote them in two different countries, in separate periods of his life, and for completely different types of ensembles. Could you compare and contrast how Mario deals with the subject of exile in these two compositions?
This is an interesting question to which I will try to respond. Surely the contexts and the forms of the works definitely determine how the subject is approached. The first [Concerto for Guitar and Orchestra, completed in 1939] was written during a tragic but dynamic moment in the life of the composer: the moment has arrived, it’s time to leave, time to leave everything behind and just go. So there is both melancholic nostalgia and sadness, but also there is also the energy and the desire to start again. The third movement of the Concerto is determined, noble and chivalrous as one would be when starting a new adventure and leaving behind the melancholy of the adagio (that represents the separation from Italy). In contrast,The Divan of Moses Ibn Ezra is more a reflection of a person turning inward, one who is not looking ahead to the future. Here there is no longer dynamism, but rather a long and fatigued reflection on the meaning of this voyage. The voyage is no longer just from one place to another, but it is the voyage of life itself. It’s a work that takes on sad themes about exile in a much more direct manner; it’s the story of a man with many more existential questions, with less desire for action. The vicissitudes of life are fleeting, at the end death will come, but will at least a memory remain? And the conclusion is bitter: their memory will be lost from the world, even as I am forgotten…. In my opinion he [Castelnuovo-Tedesco] was wrong about this, because here we are still talking about it! There is also the aspect of friendship that is at the heart of the creation of the Concerto, whereas this is not the case in the piece for voice and guitar. And in the end, one can sense the difference. The closeness, the trust, and the energy that Segovia gave to Mario in that dramatic moment gave life to one of the most beautiful concertos for guitar ever written and to one of the works of which Mario himself was most proud. This makes the concerto even more precious and human, and I think that the personality of the work owes much to this.
Your project reminds us that, even if Mario continued to compose prolifically during his years in America, he never completely recovered from the experience of exile. Why is it important to keep this aspect in mind to fully understand Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s music?
Definitely. These are events that cause deep emotional wounds. They establish a “before” and an “after” and thus the trace of the trauma always remain: it could not be otherwise. However, let’s say that the music can reach beyond the person and his personal struggles unless the author himself doesn’t want to talk about this. The theme surfaces here and there, when the author wants it to, as in The Divan of Moses Ibn Ezra, and it’s crucial to remember the composer’s own story and his state of mind to even try to relate better to him, to discern some small signs here and there among the notes and make one’s musical idea more human and intense. Then this beauty must go beyond knowledge [of the composer’s biography], and a person can enjoy listening to all of this without knowing anything, but [knowing the story] the emotion will be more intense, I am sure.
In your opinion, do these pieces manage to go beyond the composer’s personal struggles to express universal themes? Do you think that they have something significant to communicate to today’s world?
Yes, certainly, specifically because these these themes are never addressed autobiographically, but through the filter of music or a poem, as in the example of The Divan of Moses Ibn Ezra, which already succeeded in touching on these subjects in a universal manner, so much so that they inspired a composer who was working nearly a thousand years later. Everything takes on an absolute value which transcends the events of an individual’s life. Surely today they [these pieces] have value especially because they lead to reflection. Secondly, they bear witness to lives that, with their stories, have left us precious lessons. In particular, as a musician, I remain fascinated by how music (or art in general) has also been a way to deal with the most difficult periods in one’s life. Music is not only “a profession” or “a job”. Its cathartic power becomes a means for salvation, as I was saying before, and it finds concrete expression in these works by Castelnuovo-Tedesco. What is art? What is beauty? I have always pondered these questions. I believe that it’s the ability to express what one feels or more generally to describe a true, honest point of view better than with the standard verbal expressions. For this reason, it is touching. How can one express nostalgia for the Tuscan countryside? Well, Castelnuovo-Tedesco manages to do so with the notes of the second movement of the Concerto, with that D Major that sounds so bittersweet and mixes peace and nostalgia from the very first notes. I believe, therefore, that the most important meaning that these works carry is their beauty, a beauty that was created by the composer’s human journey.
What effect did studying and recording these two intense and emotional works have on you personally?
They are two masterpieces! The desire to play them is always great. They leave you with the feeling of always wanting to improve and to understand them better only after having lived with them a bit. In this regard, the recording is a kind of enemy in this journey. It’s like a photograph of a moment in time, but the relationship with the work is certainly longer and more complex. Studying these pieces has been very rewarding, and I will continue to do so. Recording them has been a beautiful way to dig deeper and to assess to which point I have arrived, but also where to pick up again for the next performance (in addition to being, of course, a wonderful moment shared with my collaborators).
Pietro, thank you for sharing your thoughts with us, and thank you also for the beautiful music, the message of which continues to resonate today.