Due Baritoni — Serata Italiana
Caro mio ben, credimi almen, senza di te languisce il cor. My dearest love, believe me at least — without you this heart languishes. — Giordani, "Caro mio ben"
At a glance 🔭💭
Some coordinates adapted from GeoNames (CC BY 4.0) · Pleiades (CC BY 3.0)
The people on stage ⏳🌊
- BaritoneGeonyong Na
He is said to have graduated in voice from Seoul National University and to have studied at the Dresden University of Music and the University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna. He is said to have performed on many stages, Budapest among them. Today he takes Caldara·Bononcini, Bellini's moon, and Tosti's sorrow and prayer.
- BaritoneTaehan Kim
In 2023, at just 22, he won the voice category of the Queen Elisabeth Competition — the youngest finalist that year, and the first Asian male singer ever to take the prize. A graduate of Seoul National University and the Hanns Eisler School of Music Berlin, he has been a member of the Staatsoper Berlin's opera studio since the 2023/24 season. Today he takes Giordani·Gluck, Bellini's rose, Donizetti's tear, and Tosti's dream and enchantment.
I. Songs of old Italy — arie antiche · 17th–18th centuries
(Anthology) The four songs that open the recital are commonly called the 'arie antiche.' The name took hold when the publisher Alessandro Parisotti, at the end of the 19th century, gathered Italian opera arias and chamber songs of the 17th–18th centuries into an anthology. Every student of singing learns their first Italian vocal production from these pages, yet in the mouth of a master they become entirely different songs. (Venice) Antonio Caldara, born in 1670 in Venice, was a Baroque craftsman who rose to vice-Kapellmeister at the Viennese court. Giovanni Battista Bononcini, born the same year in Modena, left his name as Handel's rival in London — a contest that even inspired the satirical verse 'Tweedledum and Tweedledee.' (Reform) Christoph Willibald Gluck is the only one of this company from outside Italy, a native of Erasbach in Bavaria. A reformer who rebuilt an opera grown bloated with ornament on the principle that 'music must serve the poetry' — the piece sung today comes from the very heart of that reform, Paride ed Elena, premiered in Vienna. (Naples) And then Giordani's “Caro mio ben.” This song has become a byword for the entire genre of Italian art song. It was long attributed to Giuseppe Giordani of Naples, but recent scholarship leans toward Tommaso Giordani, who worked in London and Dublin.
The byword for Italian art song. A few lines of plea — 'my beloved, believe me at least; without you my heart languishes' — are all there is. So simple there is nowhere to hide: the singer's touchstone.
- The long legato of the opening phrase — where the singer breathes separates the great from the good
- The plea of 'credimi almen (believe me at least),' deepening with each return
- The messa di voce, swelling and shrinking the sound within a single note
From the opera Paride ed Elena, Paris's song of longing for a Helen he has not yet met. True to Gluck's reform operas, it strips away ornament and stakes everything on a single melodic line.
- Appoggiaturas laid like sighs over the pulse of the strings
- The suppressed heat when 'bramo (I yearn)' returns — the warmth that restraint creates
- A center of gravity that sinks lower when a baritone sings it
As sunlight settles calmly on a still sea — a song about the hidden anguish behind a smiling face. The typically Baroque image from nature throws the darkness within into sharper relief.
- Harmony darkening over the calm accompaniment (the sea) — surface against depth
- The tone sinking at 'segreto affanno (secret anguish)'
An aria from the opera Griselda. 'Even if it can never be, I will love you for the glory of adoring you' — the graceful resignation of an age that sang even despair with dignity.
- Improvised ornaments added by the singer in the da capo repeat — the pleasure of Baroque practice
- A melodic line elegant even on 'penar (to suffer)' — a nobility worthy of Handel's rival
II. Bel canto — songs of the long breath · first half of the 19th century
(Bel canto) Bel canto, meaning 'beautiful singing,' is both a vocal style and an era. Long-breathed melodies, seamless legato, high notes as natural as speech — and at its summit stands Vincenzo Bellini of Catania, Sicily. Of the melodies of this composer, who died in Paris at thirty-three, Verdi said they were 'long, long, long melodies such as no one had ever written.' (Chamber song) Today's three Bellini pieces are not operatic but chamber songs written for the salon. Jealousy entrusting a lover to a rose, a serenade sending a message by the moon, a passionate protest against the charge of coldness — each short song is packed with an act's worth of operatic feeling. (Bergamo) Gaetano Donizetti worked under the same sky as Bellini, but in exactly the opposite way. A native of Bergamo and a master of speed who poured out more than 70 operas — yet “Una lacrima,” sung today, lies far from his sunny world of buffa: a romanza sunk low, like a prayer.
A song that addresses the rose, soon to rest on the beloved's breast, as 'lucky one.' Envy turns to jealousy, and jealousy turns back into song: a light, salon-style melancholy.
- Graceful jealousy over an accompaniment that sways like a waltz
- A shadow that falls lightly over the last stanza — Bellini ends even a jest in the minor
A dark romanza that repeats 'a single tear' like a prayer. The opposite face of Donizetti, the swift pen of opera buffa, left behind in his final years.
- Footsteps growing heavier with each return of 'una lacrima (a single tear)'
- The moment it opens into the major at the end — where tears become prayer
A serenade that entrusts a message of love to the moon silvering the brooks and flowers. The best loved of Bellini's chamber songs.
- 'Bellini's long melodies' — count how far a single phrase can stretch
- The quiet change when the same melody returns in the second verse with only the words altered
- A pianissimo high note that hangs like moonlight
A poem by Metastasio. 'Please, do not call me cruel' — the most impassioned plea among Bellini's chamber songs.
- A rapid, restless accompaniment — impatience pulsing beneath bel canto grace
- The accent that falls on 'crudel' (cruel) — between reproach and entreaty
III. Tosti — romanzas of the salon · 1846–1916
(Tosti) The heart of the program is Francesco Paolo Tosti. Born in Ortona on Italy's Adriatic coast and later settled in London, he served as singing master to the Italian royal family and to the British royal household, and in 1908 he was knighted by Edward VII. He is the only Italian composer to have risen to such a place without writing a single opera, on song alone. (Romanza) Tosti's territory lies between the opera house and the popular song: the salon. The romanza, made whole by one piano and one voice — elegant but never slight, popular but never cheap. Tonight the two singers divide the songs, two apiece. Taehan Kim takes dream and enchantment, Geonyong Na sorrow and prayer — an arrangement that sets Tosti's four faces side by side.
A poem by Stecchetti. In a dream the beloved knelt at his side — a dream dreamed even knowing it will vanish on waking. The essence of the Tosti romanza.
- An accompaniment that sways as if in a dream — a sound that blurs the line between waking and dreaming
- The sudden chill on the final 'sognai' (it was a dream)
'Do flowers bloom where you have passed? What magic have you worked?' — a song that half-playfully interrogates the spell of love.
- A salon waltz rhythm — Tosti's characteristic social grace
- The playfulness in pronouncing 'malia' (magic) — a song you lose by taking it too seriously
A song that walks calmly through the melancholy of dusk. Singing sorrow rather than crying it out — here is the restraint of Tosti's later years.
- The same melody sinking a little lower with each verse — a descent built from repetition
- The dignity of singing 'sorrow' without weeping
'Grant peace to my bewildered, wandering heart' — a prayer sung not in church but in the salon. The place of devotion a secular song can reach.
- A low supplication above organ-like supporting chords
- Devotion that seeps in though it is no sacred piece — the paradox of a salon prayer
IV. From Naples — the encore's place · 1875–1937
(Custom) By custom, the final place in an Italian song recital is given to Naples. Ernesto De Curtis is Naples' rightful heir — of the very family behind "Torna a Surriento," for which one brother wrote the poem and the other set it to music. (Film) "Non ti scordar di me" came into the world in 1935 as the theme song of the film of the same name, starring Beniamino Gigli, the greatest tenor of his day. From the studio to the cinema, and then to stages the world over — it is a song standing at the very point where art song and popular song blur. (Duet) Tonight the song is sung as a duet for two baritones. Two men who would have been rivals on a competition stage now share a single melody — the whole recital, in effect, has been walking toward this final chord.
'As the swallows return, do not forget me' — a Neapolitan song of parting that spread around the world through tenor Gigli's film. Tonight the recital closes with it as a duet for two baritones.
- The direct appeal of the canzone napoletana — the moment the line between art song and popular song melts away
- The harmonic density when two baritones move together in thirds
- The portamento at the climax, 'non ti scordar di me'
Glossary 📚🔎
Arie antiche
(Literally) In Italian, arie means 'arias' and antiche means 'old, ancient.' The word shares a root with the English antique, so the name means just what it says: 'old songs,' like the aged objects on the shelves of an antique shop. (In music) The term refers both to the collection of Italian opera arias and chamber songs from the 17th and 18th centuries that Alessandro Parisotti gathered and published in the late 19th century, and to the pieces it contains. It is the first score a voice student opens, much as a schoolchild works through the first chapter of a reader, and in recital it serves as an opening that draws the audience into the story.
Bel canto
(Literally) In Italian, bel means 'beautiful' and canto means 'song,' so the term is, quite literally, 'beautiful song.' (In music) An Italian vocal method that prizes above all a legato that joins tones smoothly on a long, sustained breath, and high notes that rise naturally, as if spoken, without strain; the term also covers the style of the first half of the 19th century, when Rossini·Bellini·Donizetti were active. Just as a skilled jump-roper clears the rope again and again without stopping for breath, a bel canto singer carries a long phrase from beginning to end on a single, unbroken breath.
Romanza
(Literally) Romanza comes from a Latin word meaning 'in the Roman manner,' and originally referred to stories or songs written not in Latin but in Romance languages such as Italian·French. Because these were songs sung in the language people used every day rather than in a formal, learned tongue, romanza still denotes a song of simple, intimate feeling. (In music) A lyrical art song for a single voice over the accompaniment of one piano, sung in small spaces such as salons and drawing rooms. It needs neither the stage nor the orchestra of an opera aria, yet it carries emotion more refined and profound than a popular song. Unlike a karaoke favorite belted out in front of classmates, it has a quiet, private feeling, like a song sung for one close friend alone. (Elsewhere) Romance, which shares its origin with romanza, is used far more often outside music to mean amorous feeling or a love story.
Da capo
(Literally) In Italian, da means 'from' and capo means 'head, beginning,' so together they mean 'from the beginning.' (In music) The term names a form such as A–B–A in which the opening section returns, and it is also an instruction telling the performer to 'go back to the beginning and play it again.' In the Baroque era it was both a convention and a chance to show off for the singer to lay brilliant improvised ornaments, absent from the written score, over this returning section. It is like telling a story twice: the first time you follow the plot as it is, and the second time you add your own gestures and expressions to make the same story come alive.
Messa di voce
(Literally) In Italian, messa comes from the verb mettere, 'to put, to place,' and voce means 'voice,' so together they mean 'placing the voice' — closer, that is, to governing the sound. (In music) A vocal technique in which a singer sustains a single note, beginning softly, gradually swelling it louder, then slowly tapering it back to softness. Because it demands precise control of breath and of the throat, it is considered a measure of a singer's skill in the old arias. It requires the kind of breath control you use when blowing up a balloon — steadily regulating your breath as it slowly inflates, then letting the air out not all at once but little by little.
Canzone napoletana
(Literally) In Italian, canzone means 'song' and napoletana means 'of Naples,' so together they mean 'song of Naples.' (In music) Popular art songs written not in standard Italian but in the dialect and spirit of the Naples region. Songs such as "'O sole mio," "Torna a Surriento" and "Non ti scordar di me" grew out of boat songs and serenades, and sing without artifice of love and longing and of yearning for home. Unlike a textbook poem written in the standard language, and much like a regional folk song sung warmly in dialect, the canzone napoletana is steeped in the speech and the heart of the people of Naples. (Elsewhere) The word canzone on its own is also used for Italian popular song in general, but then it is closer to simply 'song,' with no tie to any particular region.
Baritone
(Literally) The word comes from a compound of the Greek barys ('heavy') and tonos ('sound·tone'), and originally carried the sense of 'a heavy, low sound.' (In music) The range that lies between the tenor, the highest male voice, and the bass, the lowest — or a singer who sings in that range. Unlike the tenor that soars brilliantly or the bass that settles heavily, it is closest to the pitch at which people ordinarily speak, and so it is counted the most natural and approachable of the voice parts. If a choir were lined up by height, the tenors would stand in front, the basses at the back, and the baritones in the middle row between them.