Domenico Scarlatti

Sacred music written for the Vatican in Rome during his years as maestro of the Cappella Giulia, showing the point where the fluency of an opera composer's son meets the strict discipline of church style.

• The opening, in which ten voice parts layer one upon another, seems to give sonic form to the weight of the Latin text depicting the grieving Mother standing beside the cross.
• Particularly striking is the way his fluent melodic lines, so befitting the son of a Neapolitan opera composer, interlock with a texture (counterpoint) in which each independent voice weaves its own melody.
• The passage where the lower voices exchange brief sighs makes the grief seem to pass from one person to another.
• It is often compared with Pergolesi's later work of the same title, and listeners are divided over which is the more restrained.

The piece placed first in the Kirkpatrick catalogue, and a symbolic opening page in a keyboard journey that began with the teaching of Maria Barbara.

• The urgent broken chords (arpeggios, in which a chord is spread out and sounded one note at a time) of the opening sound like an overture to the more than five hundred sonatas that would follow.
• Even within the short binary form, clearly divided into two halves, tension and release alternate distinctly.
• The passage where the right and left hands trade rapid figures almost as equals foreshadows the hand-crossing (a technique in which the two hands change places on the keyboard) that would become prominent in later pieces.
• Because of its symbolic place at the head of the catalogue, performers often choose it to open a recital.

A landmark piece translating the dance and percussion sounds of Spanish streets onto the keyboard, showing most vividly the new sound world he had discovered.

• The sharp, repeated chord strikes sound as though imitating castanets (a percussion instrument struck by hand in Spanish dance).
• The hand-crossing passage in the middle section is still regarded among keyboard players today as notoriously difficult.
• The thick chord progressions in the bass seem to translate a vigorous guitar strumming technique onto the keyboard.
• The headlong rush of the closing passage is a point where performers take widely differing tempos, making it an area of sharp interpretive divergence.

A piece transferring the guitar's tremolo technique to the keyboard, showing just how directly the stimulus he absorbed from Iberian streets was etched into his fingertips.

• The repeated-note technique (tremolo), in which the right hand rapidly restrikes the same note, is widely interpreted as a direct transplant of guitar tremolo playing onto the keyboard.
• Keeping these repeated notes even at a fast tempo is one of the most demanding challenges in the keyboard repertoire, regarded as a touchstone for measuring a performer's technique.
• The lyrical melody that briefly appears in the middle stands out all the more for its contrast with the fierce passages surrounding it.
• Comparing recordings by twentieth-century masters such as Horowitz reveals clear differences in tempo and dynamic handling.

One of his rare slow, contemplative sonatas, it is often cited as an example of the shadow that deepened in his music around the time he lost his wife.

• The opening melody, sunk low at a slow tempo, sustains a singing, sorrowful mood longer than almost any other of his sonatas.
• Long, vocal phrases reminiscent of an opera aria stand out, showing that the language of Neapolitan opera inherited from his father still lingers on the keyboard.
• The passage where the dark minor harmony briefly brightens before sinking back down gives the impression that the sorrow continues without ever fully resolving.
• Many listeners today connect this piece to his state of mind after losing his wife, though this is more a later interpretation than something with firm evidence behind it.

A piece that portrays the dignity and grace surrounding the court of the newly crowned queen, Maria Barbara, it is the most widely beloved of his sonatas.

• It is widely known by the nickname Cortège (procession), and from the opening a rhythm evoking a slow, dignified gait continues throughout.
• The chord progressions, seeming to imitate trumpet fanfares, sound as though depicting a formal court occasion — a coronation, say, or a ceremonial procession.
• The most widely performed and recorded of his sonatas, it sounds strikingly different in character when heard on harpsichord versus modern piano.
• The harmony that briefly darkens in the middle section is often cited as a passage that hints at the shadow behind the splendid procession.

A piece that reveals the deepest inner world of his late years, it came to symbolize his rediscovery when Horowitz's performances cast new light on it in the twentieth century.

• A short, sighing motif that repeats throughout dominates the piece, making it, among his minor-key sonatas, the one considered to reveal the deepest inner world.
• A piece Horowitz particularly cherished, his performances are often cited as the classic example of a work newly impressed upon twentieth-century audiences.
• Dissonances that graze past in a fleeting half-step clash (acciaccatura) are woven throughout, showing just how bold his late harmonic language had become.
• How freely a performer draws out the slow tempo varies widely, so that the same piece can leave entirely different impressions.