Preface and Acknowledgments

Summary

To write the first book in English about a composer is often hazardous. When that composer is widely acknowledged to have been one of the most important Italian composers of the twentieth century, the hazards become more acute. Nonetheless, this book attempts to give a balanced assessment of the work of Luigi Dallapiccola (1904–75) through an examination of all his creative oeuvre. It takes into account all previous studies of the composer’s work, but in addition it is based upon examination of the sketches, plans, and other materials housed in the Dallapiccola Archive of the Gabinetto Vieusseux in Florence.

It is astonishing that this should be the first book in English. While the music of other figures of comparable stature in twentieth-century music has received a good deal of critical examination in the English-speaking world, that of Dallapiccola, as will be seen at once from a glance at the bibliography in this book, has not received the kind of attention that it deserves. This by no means belittles those thorough and often inspired studies of aspects of his work that have appeared in English-language journals at various times during recent decades. The work of Rudy Shackelford, Rosemary Brown, John Waterhouse, Michael Eckert, and Hans Nathan has remedied to some extent the lack of a more comprehensive study of the composer in English. The groundwork for studying Dallapiccola’s music was set out just a few years after the composer’s death by Dietrich Kämper of the University of Cologne, and all subsequent scholars working in this field must feel profound gratitude to him, not only for the thoroughness of his work, but also for the inspiration and musicality of his approach to the composer’s work.

Dallapiccola’s name appears in every music dictionary and guide to twentieth-century music, however small and inadequate; it is almost invariably linked with phrases such as “Italianate lyricism,” “the first Italian serial composer,” or, in more general terms, “Mediterranean sensuousness.” With a composer whose music is not performed as frequently as it deserves, commentators on twentieth-century music, even some of the more informed and perceptive, can sometimes be forgiven for resorting to such labels. Once the labels have been attached, it is almost impossible to present the composer without the accompanying label, which, despite the kernel of truth it contains, sometimes makes it difficult to approach the composer’s work in a fresh and engaging way.