Giulio de Nardo
You studied organ and harpsichord, earning Master’s degrees in both, have won multiple prestigious awards in international competitions, and perform as a soloist on both instruments. You are Italian – so, forgive the cliché – were you simply born musical? Or, to put it another way: do you come from a family of musicians?
I don’t come from a family of musicians, but my family certainly passed on a deep passion for and appreciation of art, and music in particular. My father has always been a great lover of classical music, especially the organ and its repertoire. My uncle, meanwhile, is a regular at the opera and, though not a musician himself, a keen connoisseur of many operatic works. That’s where my own passion for the world of opera and theatre also began. So, even if I wasn’t actively involved in music from the start, it was always part of my life.
You’re also the founder and director of Sestier Armonico, an ensemble dedicated to historically informed performance on period instruments. When did your affinity for early music begin?
We had many classical music records and discs at home, especially early and Baroque music, and from a young age I was lucky enough to grow up surrounded by those sounds. At first, I listened almost without noticing, as if they were a natural part of the everyday landscape; but over time, I began to recognize them, to listen with growing attention and curiosity.
I still remember vividly – as if it were yesterday – when the Brandenburg Concertos would play at home, in the recording by Musica Antiqua Köln with Reinhard Goebel. Everything about that album fascinated me, even the cover, which as a child struck me as a chaotic jumble of instruments piled on top of one another. It wasn’t until later that I realized it was a beautiful painting by Bartolomeo Bettera.
Alongside that album were many others that shaped my earliest musical memories: Domenico Scarlatti’s Sonatas played by Trevor Pinnock, a vinyl recording of The Well-Tempered Clavier played by Gustav Leonhardt, and of course all the recordings by I Sonatori de la Gioiosa Marca with Giuliano Carmignola. I also remember the excitement of the first time my uncles took me to the theatre to see an opera: Rossini’s La Cenerentola at the Municipal Theatre in Treviso. Everything about music captivated me; I would listen to recordings over and over, spellbound, though at the time I had no idea it would later become such a central part of my life.
It wasn’t until I was about thirteen that I decided to pursue music more seriously. I can still clearly recall the moment that led me to that choice. My father took me to hear the inaugural concert of a newly built organ by Francesco Zanin, played by Andrea Marcon. By a stroke of luck, Andrea allowed me to attend the concert seated next to him in the organ loft. I sat absolutely still throughout the performance: partly because I didn’t want to distract him, but mainly because I was completely transfixed by what was happening. The sounds, the gestures, the intensity of the interpretation – it was all incredibly moving.
But it was the final piece on the programme that left an indelible mark: Bach’s Passacaglia in C minor (BWV 582). In that moment, I realized – perhaps for the first time – that music could be much more than a passion. I knew then that this was the path I wanted to follow. In many ways, it was that Passacaglia that set me on my journey into music.
You’ve also recently founded your own record label, inAures. What inspired you to take this step, and what projects do you have in mind?
inAures was born primarily out of a desire to oversee every aspect of a recording project without compromise – not just the sound quality, but also everything from the content of the booklet to the graphic design, the materials, and the chosen format.
I believe that for a musician, musicological knowledge is fundamental, especially when it comes to making a recording. That’s why, for me, the booklet that accompanies an album is a vital part of the project. I wanted it to be carefully curated, both in terms of content and design. Il Suono Ritrovato first grew out of research into the organs available to Antonio Vivaldi during his time at the Ospedale della Pietà, and I felt it was important to share that research, even briefly, with listeners – so they could better understand the context and the decisions behind this recording.
Together with Inés Moreno, harpsichordist and co-founder of inAures, we decided that every project we release will be the result of extensive research, and unwavering attention to every stage of production. We are committed to blending musicological insight, interpretation, and exceptional sound quality. From sonic purity to visual aesthetics, every detail is carefully considered to transform each listening experience into a journey of discovery – offering added value to those who seek an authentic musical encounter.
inAures isn’t a label focused on quantity; rather, I feel confident in saying that, as with Il Suono Ritrovato, every release will be the product of great dedication, careful attention to detail, and above all, a deep passion for music.
Your new album Il Suono Ritrovato has been released on your label, inAures. It features works by Antonio Vivaldi with obbligato organ—something that really catches the ear, given that Vivaldi is best known as a virtuoso composer for strings, with string instruments at the heart of much of his music. What was his relationship with other instruments, and what drew him to the organ?
We know that Vivaldi, particularly during his time at the Ospedale della Pietà, had access to an extraordinary variety of instruments. He composed not only for voices and widely used instruments like strings, oboe, bassoon, flutes, or lute, but also for much rarer instruments such as the chalumeau ‒ which also features in the Sonata we recorded ‒, the viola d’amore, or the intriguing violino in tromba marina.
This rich palette of timbres is clear, for example, in his oratorio Juditha triumphans, where Vivaldi employs almost every instrument available to him at the Pietà.
All of this reflects Vivaldi’s deep interest in exploring sound colour and experimenting with different instrumental combinations – especially within the musically stimulating environment of the Ospedale. That’s why I’m convinced that the 18th-century Venetian organ must also have been a source of curiosity and inspiration for him.
Although keyboard instruments weren’t among his favoured instruments, Vivaldi was surely captivated by the distinctive stops of the Venetian organ tradition and their vivid tonal combinations. I believe the organ inspired him to add even more colours to his already broad musical palette.
Let’s return to the title of your album: Il Suono Ritrovato – The Rediscovered Sound. Your goal was to record Vivaldi’s concertos on original 18th-century Venetian organs, thereby reviving and recreating the authentic sound. Was it difficult to find original instruments from Vivaldi’s time? Which organs did you choose?
As I mentioned, Il Suono Ritrovato grew out of research I carried out for my master’s thesis at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis, where I focused on the types of organs that would have been available to Antonio Vivaldi during his time at the Ospedale della Pietà. My goal was to identify the most suitable instruments for performing Vivaldi’s works that feature obbligato organ.
Although a remarkable number of 18th-century Venetian organs have survived in excellent condition, sadly the original organs of the old church of the Ospedale della Pietà in Venice have been lost. The current church was built starting in 1745 and still houses an organ by Pietro Nachini. As for the instruments Vivaldi would have had access to during his tenure at the Pietà, documentation is limited. However, a detailed analysis of archival material from the Venetian State Archives, related to the Ospedali and other charitable institutions, suggests that the original church – situated next to the Ospedale and measuring roughly 20 meters deep by 10 meters wide – contained two organs: an older one known as the del coro, built by an unknown but almost certainly Venetian maker, and a second organ built in 1735 by Giacinto Pescetti. In addition, there was a smaller organ, or organetto, located within the Ospedale itself – though not in the church – which was put up for sale in 1735.
It’s clear that Giacinto Pescetti was considered the principal organ builder for the governors of the Ospedale della Pietà during Vivaldi’s time, or at least from 1708 onward.
Unfortunately, as mentioned, the original organs of the old church have not survived. However, we are fortunate that an almost completely original organ by Giacinto Pescetti still exists today in the church of San Giacomo di Polcenigo (Pordenone, Italy), and we used this instrument for part of the recording. For the other part – the concertos, which required a larger instrumental ensemble – we used a fully original, though anonymous, 18th-century Venetian organ, also beautifully preserved.
What distinguishes Venetian organ building in the 18th century? And what do we know about the organ builders of the time?
The organs of 18th-century Venice are remarkable for their vivid palette of tonal colors, representing a unique chapter in the history of keyboard instruments.
The Venetian organ-building tradition of the 18th century was the result of a refined local craftsmanship. Builders used wood from the Dolomite valleys to make wind chests, keyboards, and wooden pipes; forged iron for the mechanical action; cast tin and lead for metal pipes; and even tanned hides for the bellows.
For those less familiar with these instruments, it’s worth noting that the 18th-century Venetian organ offers a rich variety of stops, allowing for captivating tonal combinations. Alongside the well-known Principale family stops (especially the Ripieno, arranged in separate ranks per Venetian custom), one finds the Flauto in ottava (VIII), the Flauto in dodicesima (XII), and more expressive colours like the Voce Umana and the Cornetta.
These organs also feature highly responsive mechanics, enabling the organist to achieve a wide range of articulations.
Performing Vivaldi’s music on two original 18th-century Venetian organs has brought these works back to life. Just as the vivid hues of an old painting reemerge after careful restoration, these performances unveil vibrant and colourful soundscapes – reminiscent of the luminous paintings of Venetian masters like Piazzetta, Tiepolo, Canaletto, Guardi, Ricci, Carlevarijs, Diziani, and Marieschi.
As an experienced professional musician, did you still face any challenges when playing historical organs?
Honestly, not really! If you listen to a historical organ – or a harpsichord – and treat it with respect, it can teach you so much. What makes the organ so special is that every repertoire demands a specific kind of instrument. Being able to play a piece on the exact type of organ it was written for is a rare and wonderful privilege.
The instruments we used for Il Suono Ritrovato gave us deeper insights into the music. They revealed subtle details that might have been lost if we’d used a normal chest organ, which is all too common these days.
It’s a bit like wearing the right shoes for a marathon – you’re not making things harder for yourself; you’re setting yourself up for success. In fact, using the “right” instrument for a specific repertoire often makes musical decisions easier. The difference is immediate. It’s an opportunity from which there is much to learn!
Of course, working on Il Suono Ritrovato meant making a lot of interpretive decisions, especially since, as is often the case in early music, we don’t have definitive answers. But by really listening to the voice of these historical instruments, many solutions revealed themselves quite naturally. One key issue for any organist is the choice of registers. Vivaldi provided no indications in the scores we worked with, so I spent a long time considering the options these organs offered. That’s why I included a list of all the registrations I used in the album booklet. Of course, mine are just one of many possible combinations – these instruments invite endless exploration.
In the end, the unique stops and finely tuned mechanics of these two organs allowed the instrument to really hold its own in dialogue with the other soloists. In many passages, the organ actually takes on a musical language that comes remarkably close to that of the strings.
Giulio de Nardo
As a performer of early music, Johann Sebastian Bach also plays a key role in your work. That’s why your debut album, “Bach in Venice”, shouldn’t go unmentioned in this interview. Anyone familiar with Bach’s life knows he never set foot in Venice. How did you come up with the title, and what can listeners expect?
Johann Sebastian Bach is a towering figure for any musician, not just for performers of early music. He stands as a foundational pillar in the history of Western music. As the pinnacle of Baroque music, the supreme master of counterpoint, a guiding light for countless composers who followed him, and a deeply spiritual and philosophical figure – for everyone, and especially for keyboard players – Bach remains an inexhaustible source of inspiration and learning.
‘Bach in Venice” – deliberately in quotation marks, since Bach never actually visited Venice – is a project that brings together six concertos for harpsichord and string orchestra. These works were created by combining the original Venetian concertos of Antonio Vivaldi and Alessandro Marcello – originally written for solo violin and strings, or for solo oboe and strings in Marcello’s case – with Johann Sebastian Bach’s solo harpsichord transcriptions of those pieces.
This new version offers an opportunity to expand the repertoire of concertos for keyboard and strings. It also invites today’s listeners, already familiar with the original versions, to discover new colors and nuances that have come to light thanks to the interplay between the works of two musical geniuses, Vivaldi and Bach.
