(Alessandro Bonelli has appeared in these pages before. In introducing the following, he writes "Mine i's simple Prose, without pretense. I'm not a literary man, but an oboist!" I think the reader will agree he is really both. Ed.)

Un oboe gelido risillaba
Gioie di Foglie perenni

From Oboe Sommerso (Submerged Oboe)
by Salvatore Quasimodo
Nobel Prize for Literature

1. JOHN DE LANCIE

It happened in May, 1964. I was still an oboe student of the 6th course at the Benedetto Marcello Conservatoire in Venice, and had learned that at 5 p.m. that day a concert would be given by the Philadelphia Strings in the Apollonian Hall of the La Fenice theatre. But what interested me most was the fact that John De Lancie, leading oboist of the Philadelphia Orchestra, would be playing in the D minor concerto for violin, oboe and strings by J.S. Bach. I knew his name, I had listened to him on the radio and had heard a few recordings (I recall admiring his wonderful sound over the radio in a quintet by A. Reicha and I had recently acquired his recording of the oboe concerto K314 by W. A. Mozart), but I was anxious to hear him "live", see him and perhaps even meet him. I went to the concert with another student, who would later become one of my best colleagues and one of my dearest friends, Giovanni Sperandio, who was attending at the time the seventh course, the last, and would qualify in a month or so. The hall, small but very beautiful, was almost deserted. It was very hot; next to us sat two jolly elderly American ladies who congratulated my friend Giovanni for his rendering of the Mozart concerto in the concert room of the Conservatoire the evening before. How nice they were, those two oboe lovers! There was also our teacher, Renato Zanfini, the oboe soloist of the Virtuosi di Roma. We exchanged greetings and asked him to sit with us.

I remember to this day with great emotion the impression which the sound of J.D.L. created upon me. Never before had I heard such a soft, warm, rich, mellow, fascinating sound. The quality of that sound was such that all else, elegance and neatness in phrasing, musicality, technical precision, assurance, all else, even though still present in my memory, was surpassed and, as a matter of fact, I do not recall them as clearly as that sound. This was my first encounter with the sound of the American school. To achieve a sound like that, not to copy it but to create something similar to that, equally beautiful and complete, from that moment on became my most important target; it gained priority over most of my ambitions.

After the concert we went all together backstage to meet J.D.L., who was most kind and affable: he was so tall, so typically American with his short hair - I remember he called to my mind the image of a rugby player! He told us he was very tired because of all the travelling that his European tour involved; he was also suffering from the heat and had some trouble with his intestines. One would never have guessed it by the way he had played!

He showed us also some of his reeds which we found most interesting on account of the American-type scrape which we did not yet know. I remember they were very short and narrow. I also remember that I thought then that it must have been easy to produce sound through them and that, at least judging from the way they had been used by J.D.L., they were very precise in tuning.

During the days that followed I began my attempts at copying them, however without achieving notable results. It was at any rate a beginning: a window had opened.

2. HAROLD GOMBERG

Venice, September, 1968. The La Fenice theatre is packed to capacity. Each stall, each box has been booked months before for the two concerts by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Leonard Bernstein. The audience crowding the theatre, which is doubtless one of the most beautiful ever built, is that of the great occasions, in part Venetian, in part international. The thousands of bulbs that light up the theatre illuminate not only the innumerable baroque gilding but also all the rainbow colours of the grand soiree gowns of the ladies present which shine brightly against the soft blue and pink colouring of the theatre.

Then the lights dim and enters the orchestra. After the tuning up Bernstein makes his entry and the concert begins. And now come the first notes of the overture to The Italian Girl in Algiers by Rossini. My eyes turn curious and interested towards the oboes, towards the leonine figure of Gomberg. I await his "solo". When the moment comes I am left breathless by the beauty of it! And it happens not only to me! It looks as if even Bernstein has stopped beating time, fascinated, or rather bewitched by that sound and by that unique way of phrasing, and it seems also that the entire audience has stopped breathing the way I have, spellbound, enthralled, floating in mid-air until the conclusion of the solo. Incredible! Never before had it happened to me! Never before had I lived through such an experience! I never thought that the magic of a certain type of sound, of a particular way of feeling and rendering the phrasing, of making music could, in a piece which, however important, is nevertheless brief, produce a similar effect! And, I stress, not only upon me! If I remember well, the music critic of the Venice daily paper It Gazzettino who, contrary to others, would not mention the soloists within the orchestras in his articles, made an exception for this "solo" quoting in admiration Gomberg in his article of the following day.

Later the same evening I chanced to see Mr. Gomberg dining with Mr. Bernstein in a famous Venetian restaurant close to the theatre, but did not dare go near their table.

3. ENGELBERT BRENNER

In the years between 1965 and 1975 I used to go over to the United States and Canada at least once a year, always with Italian Chamber Orchestras such as the S. Pietro a Majella of Naples, conducted by Renato Ruotolo, the "Michelangelo" of Florence, the Solisti Veneti and Virtuosi' di Roma, conducted by Renato Fasano. Obviously, all tours began and finished in New York where I was beginning to feel at home.

I felt at home particularly in certain hotels of 7th Avenue, such as the Wellington, the Sheraton, and the old Woodward, where Engelbert Brenner had been keeping a room for many years. It was nice coming back to New York and almost immediately coming across his cheerful face, smiling and pleasant, of an almost childish sincerity. I recall that on one occasion he showed me his room. I still remember his furniture, "Old Europe" style, and the scent of his cigar which impregnated all. His eternal cigar. Some times we lunched together in the cafeterias of the district such as the Horn and Hardart and the Carnegie Delicatessen. I also remember that once, close to Easter, he took me to a rehearsal by the New York Philharmonic. Leopold Stokowski was conducting The Great Russian Easter by Rimski-Korsakov. E.B. was so kind to introduce me both to Stokowski and to Harold Gomberg telling them that the previous evening I had played the C minor concerto by Benedetto Marcello in the Town Hall.

At this point I must say that, just as I was feeling at home in the hotels of 7th Avenue, I was equally at home at Ponte Music Co. where I never failed to make purchases, and in the concert halls. For instance, I recall performing in the Philharmonic Hall with the Virtuosi di Roma in 1967 and in Carnegie Hall with the Solisti Veneti in 1975.

The last time I saw E.B. was in Venice during a European tour of the New York Philharmonic. I still remember his solo in the Symphonie Fantastique by Berlioz, his splendid sound of cor anglais, full and round. Beautifully dark but polished. I remember that his wife was with him, a nice and kind lady, full of enthusiasm for everything. We lunched together in a restaurant close to Rialto Bridge. I recall how sorry I was some years later when, in sending me Christmas wishes, he informed me of the sudden demise of his wonderful wife.

The last time I went to New York, in 1975, I went to the Woodward hotel and inquired of the hall-porter about Mr. Brenner. When he answered: "He does not live here any more," even though I knew that he had retired, even though I had his home address and knew that he was well, I felt a pang in my heart.

4. RENATO ZANFINI

Someone had nicknamed him "The Senator of the Oboe", perhaps because, just like the senators of the Italian Republic, he used to spend most of his time on the express trains which link up Milan with Venice and Rome, and on Alitalia planes. I expect he knew almost by heart parts of the railway timetables. Always smartly dressed, had he been killed and robbed, I imagine the police in charge of enquiries would have found it extremely difficult to identify the corpse. The hat would have been bought in London, as well as the necktie, the shoes in Florence, and other garments and accessories would turn out to be German, French, American, etc. joking apart, in more than twenty years' activity with the Virtuosi' di Roma Renato Zanfini was able to play his oboe all over the world, even in Finland and Vietnam, Chile and Egypt. I believe that few oboists have travelled as much as he has. He was always so busy that he used to make his reeds even on the train, and when his were not enough, he would not hesitate to borrow, quickly retouch and play those of his friends, of his colleagues and even those of his pupils. He was capable of adapting any type of reed to his needs very quickly and was lucky to be able to perform with ease, without too many problems, with any type of reed.

When his pupils (I too have studied with him for two years) knew that he was about to leave for a concert tour, they used to hide their good reeds in order not to run the risk of having them benevolently confiscated.

To this day, his passions are still good cooking, good wine and bel canto. In fact, I remember it still, after a concert at the Academy of Music in Philadelphia towards the end of a big reception, he stepped on to a table and started singing with the piano accompaniment of the harpsichordist of the Virtuosi di Roma, the late lamented Riccardo Castagnone, Neapolitan songs and arias from Italian operas, with his beautiful, unfailing and stentorian tenor voice. And I cannot forget his care in selecting the restaurants, and then the menus and the wines when we were in France or Belgium, Spain or Germany. I also remember that one evening, after a concert given in the Chicago Orchestra Hall (1967) we left immediately by coach for Milwaukee under a snow storm. When we arrived he knew exactly where we could eat an excellent filet a la tartare. Many of us followed him, and I can assure you we did not regret it!

With his great experience as leading oboist in many Italian orchestras, such as those of the Rome Opera House and of the La Scala of Milan and the solid background of many years' teaching in various conservatoires in Italy, he too declares, like Holliger although in a different way, that he is more interested in music than in the instrument as such, and even less so in the reed, regarding both the instrument and reed as a means rather than an end.

5. PIERRE PIERLOT

Who doesn't know him? I remember hearing of him and listening to him playing over the radio or in recordings when I had just begun Studying oboe. Also for this reason the day I had the pleasure of meeting him for the first time I was extremely curious and uneasy. I was also a little excited and afraid of his judgment, and anxious to please him as we were to record with the Solisti Veneti conducted by Claudio Scimone the six concertos for two oboes and strings from the Cetra by Alessandro Marcello.

It was a beautiful morning in May, 1971 and a few minutes later we were to begin rehearsing and recording. We were at Vaccarino, close to Padua, in one of the charming Venetian villas of the 17th and 18th century which are so numerous in that area.

Thank Heaven, we took an instant liking to each other and had no problem in playing together.

What I still recall with astonishment is that whilst I had had my scores for some time and had therefore had the time to study them, he was reading them on the spot, and as we were proceeding with the rehearsals and recordings he used to read, record and come with me to a small bar nearby to drink countless Camparis.

At any rate, I shouldn't have wondered as some of the Solisti Veneti had informed me that when they had recorded all the oboe concertos by Vivaldi, he had behaved in exactly the same way. Apart from the two or three concertos which he knew, all the others were totally unknown to him also because they had never been printed. Well, he used to read them for the first time a few minutes before we began recording, and few minutes were enough to read them, choose the phrasing, improvise ornaments and play them!

After that recording we had the occasion to record other pieces (Paris 1973) and to play together many times, but to me every time was the first time. Every time he used to surprise me with his cordiality, his calm, his extraordinary capacity to read music, to improvise and to overcome every difficulty almost immediately, as if it were a kind of a game!

6. HEINZ HOLLIGER

Padua, December, 1976. It is very cold. It rains. Both the second oboist of the Padua Chamber Orchestra, Pietro Borgonuovo, today leading oboist with the RAI (Italian Radio and Television) Orchestra of Turin, and I are most anxious to hear Holliger who will be playing with us on a concert tour in the Venetia (Padua, Rovigo, Verona, etc.) Mozart's oboe concerto K314 and the Donizetti and Reicha for cor anglais. Borgonuovo knows Holliger having been one of his pupils in Freiburg. On the other hand I know him only from having heard more or less all his innumerable recordings. Since the photographs I have seen of him are pretty old and picture him rather as a shy and ascetic Waldensian minister, when I actually see him I almost do not recognize him: he has rather a wild air about him and his hair is so long that it makes him look like a hippy.

He plays both at rehearsals and at the concerts with the same precision, the same accuracy, the same perfection and also the same passion! In the first part of every concert he plays Reicha and Donizetti with his cor anglais and in the second Mozart's oboe concerto K314. I am dumbfounded as I should have preferred to play the oboe first and the cor anglais after! Evidently to him it is just the same; he has no difficulty in going from one instrument to another and every evening he plays as an encore one of the 6 Metamorphoses by Benjamin Britten, a different one for every concert. I believe that he is right when he gets annoyed with those oboists who, at the end of one of his concerts, ask to see his reeds. Because his secret certainly does not lie in the reed, which is quite normal, common, classic, typical of the French School. And consequently also his sound is not at the basis of his greatness, because it is the sound equally normal, common, classical, of the French School.

What most oboists have not yet understood, who persist in trying to imitate him from his recordings, to copy his type of sound or reed, or even his movements, is that a search in this direction is pointless. What makes him great, indeed very great, is not only his impeccable and beautiful way of playing the oboe, the oboe d'amore and the cor anglais, but rather his way of making music, his way of rendering an Allegro full of vitality and an Adagio full of melancholy and languor; his way of phrasing and doing fioriture, his way of thinking out and executing the cadenzas, either big or small, his way of placing instrument, sound, technique, virtuosity, everything at the service of music.

Pordenone, November, 1983.

I've come here from Trieste with my fellow oboists of the Trieste orchestra Luciano Glavina and Fabio Sambo. We have left the Trieste conservatoire (where I had given a lesson) ahead of time. We've taken my car and driven in thick fog towards Pordenone. Even though we've chosen the motorway, the fog is so thick that we manage to arrive just in time for the beginning of the concert. Holliger plays as always magnificently a Vivaldi concerto for violin, oboe and strings, the concerto for oboe d'amore by J.S. Bach and the D minor concerto by A. Marcello. At the end he surprises us by playing as an encore ALEF by N. Castiglioni. I am struck by his ability to play the music as it's written, that is without tricks or short cuts. What astonishes me most is his capacity to turn into music, real music, even these avant garde compositions, his ability, his gift to enchant, fascinate, captivate the audience. In fact, even this audience, which is certainly not accustomed to contemporary music, give him great and enthusiastic applause. I insist, his secret does not lie in his reed!

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