Red Priest Rising

Host: Welcome to the "Echoes of Genius series” -  the podcast where we explore the lives and legacies of the greatest classical composers.  This is episode 480 - Red Priest Rising.  The music that you have heard at the beginning of each episode, and will continue to hear throughout this podcast series is a brief the ghost of the composer who stands at the pinnacle of the Italian Baroque movement -maestro Antonio Vivaldi   section of spring from The Four Seasons written by the ghost or if you will spirit - of our guest today

(Sound of a short, elegant musical flourish)

Ghost sound

Ciao, Maestro Vivaldi! La tua musica ancora ci incanta musica.

For our English listeners, that is  Hello, Maestro Vivaldi! Your music still enchants us.  And before we go any further, Maestro Vivaldi, I have to say, I never realized your hair was quite that red.  With that shock of red hair, you’d look at home in a rock band

Transcript

Musical attribution at end of transcript

Host: Welcome to the "Echoes of Genius series” -  the podcast where we explore the lives and legacies of the greatest classical composers.  This is episode 480 - Red Priest Rising.  The music that you have heard at the beginning of each episode, and will continue to hear throughout this podcast series is a brief the ghost of the composer who stands at the pinnacle of the Italian Baroque movement -maestro Antonio Vivaldi   section of spring from The Four Seasons written by the ghost or if you will spirit - of our guest today

(Sound of a short, elegant musical flourish)

Ghost sound

Ciao, Maestro Vivaldi! La tua musica ancora ci incanta musica.

For our English listeners, that is  Hello, Maestro Vivaldi! Your music still enchants us.  And before we go any further, Maestro Vivaldi, I have to say, I never realized your hair was quite that red.  With that shock of red hair, you’d look at home in a rock band

Ah, sì, my hair has been my how you say - trademark since the beginning. The Venetians call me Il Prete Rosso—the Red Priest. Some think it a blessing, others a distraction.

Well, I suppose it makes you easier to spot in a Venetian crowd. Not many composers can claim that.

True enough. But if my music shines as brightly as my hair, then I am content

Maestro Vivaldi, when I said you’d look at home in a rock band, I realized—you probably have no idea what that is.

A “rock band”? You mean a group of musicians who throw stones?

(laughs) Not quite. Imagine this: a group of musicians with long hair, loud instruments, and crowds of thousands screaming so loud you can hardly hear yourself think. Instead of violins and harpsichords, they use electric guitars and drums that shake the floor.

(leaning in, intrigued) Electric guitars? Drums that shake the floor? You make it sound like a thunderstorm at the height of Summer.

Exactly! And the leaders of these bands become legends—people remember their names centuries later.

(smiling) Ah… so in your time, the violin concerto and what you call the “rock concert” are not so different after all. Only the wigs and the instruments have changed.

Pretty much. Though I have to say, you—with that hair—you would’ve been the frontman.

Vivaldi: (laughs) Then perhaps I was destined to be a rock star all along… only in my case, a baroque star.

Today, we interview the ghost of the composer who stands at the pinnacle of the Italian Baroque: Maestro Antonio Vivaldi. A man of many contradictions, he was a prolific composer and virtuoso violinist, as well as a Catholic priest.

Ah, Signor Bartley - I believe that my role as a catholic priest earned me the nickname, "The Red Priest," due to my - shall we say - distinctive red hair - and I am most grateful that you address me by the title Maestro.

Maestro Vivaldi, Can you tell us a little bit regarding your youth.

Ah, Signor Bartley, you asked me to relate a few factoids regarding my earliest years. I was born in Venice in 1678, and my early life was deeply intertwined with the city's esteemed vibrant musical culture. My father, a professional violinist at the prestigious St. Mark's Basilica, gave me my first musical education while I was still young. Despite suffering from a chronic illness, likely a form of asthma, I am proud to say that I became an exceptionally skilled violinist myself, celebrated for my innovative and flashy style - if I must say so myself.

Maestro Vivaldi, did you always plan on being a musician?

Ah, señor Bartley, when I was 25 years of age I was ordained as a priest. This was 1703.  But illness led me to cease performing Mass, and I devoted myself almost entirely to music. That same year, I took up a position as violin master at the Ospedale della Pietà In Venice.

Maestro Vivaldi, could you tell us a little bit about this institution?

Ah, Senior Bartley, I am most gratified that you asked.  One must note that this was an extremely unique institution for orphaned and abandoned girls. This was no ordinary orphanage; it was also a renowned musical conservatory.  And for over thirty years, I taught, conducted, and composed for the all-female orchestra and choir, transforming them into one of the most celebrated musical ensembles in Europe. It was for these talented young women that I wrote the vast majority of my nearly 500 concertos, as well as my sacred works.establishing a rich and enduring legacy.

And Senior Bartley, I would like to think that this most fascinating blend of spiritual duty and a life dedicated to music, all set against the backdrop of one of Europe's most theatrical cities, made me a true icon of my time, and my influence spread far beyond Venice.  And if I may be so bold, permit me to expand further regarding the Pieta

Please, do Maestro Vivaldi -

Ah, Senor Bartley, When you think of Antonio Vivaldi, you might picture the whirlwind violin fireworks of The Four Seasons. But some of my greatest music was born in a far more unexpected place: an orphanage.

The Ospedale della Pietà, As you have mentioned in Venice was no ordinary orphanage. It was a home for girls—many of them abandoned at birth—who were given an extraordinary education in music. Behind the cloister walls, they became one of the finest ensembles in Europe. Travelers from across the continent came to Venice not just for gondolas and canals, but to hear the “angels of the Pietà” sing and play.

Maestro Vivaldi, when exactly did you first join the Pieta?

Ah, Senor Bartley, I joined the Pietà in 1703 as a young violin teacher, soon rising to the post of maestro de’ concerti. My job was to train the girls, conduct them, and most importantly—write new music for them. I  composed hundreds of concertos, sonatas, and sacred works for the Pietà, tailored to the abilities of my students. The girls, though hidden from public view behind screens in the chapel, became legendary for their performances.

One visiting nobleman even described their sound as “voices of angels”—a fitting description, since their music seemed to lift Venice itself into the heavens. And one must remember that without the Pietà, I may never have had the steady supply of gifted performers that inspired me to push the violin—and the concerto form itself—to dazzling new heights.

So the next time you hear the glittering rush of The Four Seasons, remember: much of that brilliance was first cultivated not in the salons of the aristocracy, but in the practice rooms of an orphanage on the Venetian waterfront.

Yes, and I want to emphasize to the audience that we will definitely delve into your most famous works and your lasting lasting impact on music in just a moment.  Now you might ask yourself - why should I be concerned about Señor Vivaldi?  

Señor Bartley, that is a excellent question, and explores why I am far more than just "The Four Seasons." While that piece is definitely globally famous, I would like to think that my importance to music history runs much deeper. I would think that one should be concerned with my works because you might describe me as a radical innovator who fundamentally changed the way music was written and performed.

Señor Vivaldi, let me point out that many people believe you are the undisputed master of the Baroque concerto. You didn't invent the form, but you standardized it and brought it to a level of artistry and popularity that set the stage for all future composers. You essentially perfected the three-movement structure—fast, slow, fast—that became the template for the next century of instrumental music. And your concertos weren't just academic exercises; they were full of energy, drama, and a new kind of rhythmic drive that was truly infectious.

Second, you were a virtuoso violinist who pushed the instrument to its limits. Your compositions demanded a level of technical skill that was unheard of at the time. 

However, some of my professional contemporaries might have said that I was just showing off.

No señor Vivaldi, you were not just showing off- you were exploring new textures, techniques, and expressive possibilities for the violin. This forward-thinking approach directly influenced composers who came after you, including the great Johann Sebastian Bach, who studied and transcribed many of your concertos, learning from your brilliant ideas about structure and harmony.

And please let me interject that you were a pioneer of what we now call "program music." You was one of the first composers to use instrumental music to tell a specific story or paint a vivid picture. We see this most clearly in The Four Seasons, where the music imitates everything from the buzzing of bees and the flow of a stream to a dog barking and a sudden storm. This was a revolutionary concept in the Baroque era and foreshadowed the Romantic period's fascination with using music to evoke emotions, images, and narratives.
 
 Mr. Bartley, I was just a simple composer.

No, Maestro Vivaldi, you were far from a simple composer - you might be accessible, but you are also a very accessible composer today, you were definitely  was a trailblazer. Your work laid the groundwork for the future of instrumental music and gave the concerto a clear, powerful form that continues to resonate with us centuries later. You were not just a composer of beautiful tunes; you were a crucial link in the chain of musical history.

Now, Maestro Vivaldi - the all-important question - were you successful - can be answered by both "yes" and "no," depending on when you ask. During your lifetime, you were undoubtedly a successful and widely celebrated figure, but your fame and fortune were not a smooth, uninterrupted ride. Your story is a classic example of a composer who was incredibly famous in your day, only to be largely forgotten after your death, and then rediscovered centuries later.

Maestro Vivaldi, may I interject an observation here?

Si, Senor Bartley

It is important to remember that your work at the Pietà was customized for your performers: The repertoire balanced technical brilliance and audience appeal, making the Pietà a celebrated musical destination.  In other words, 

you didn't just write generic music.

Precisely, Señor Bartley - I composed with specific girls’ abilities in mind.

In fact, many of my works, such as my violin concertos, were essentially training pieces disguised as performance masterpieces, allowing students to grow while dazzling audiences.

Maestro Vivaldi, I almost hesitate to ask but could you comment on the longevity of your success.

Ah, Senor Bartley, I must admit that my success didn’t last.  In my later years, my music fell out of favor. The public's tastes began to change, moving away from the elaborate style of the Baroque and towards a simpler, more Classical sound.  My frequent travels and  my sometimes difficult relationships with patrons and institutions, contributed to a decline in my reputation.

My final years were particularly tragic. I  left Venice for Vienna, seeking new opportunities and hoping for the patronage of the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles VI. However, the Emperor died shortly after my arrival, leaving me with no support. I passed away in poverty in Vienna less than a year later, and was buried in a pauper's grave.

Yes and I must point out that for nearly 2 centuries after your death, your music was largely forgotten, your massive output of concertos and operas gathering dust in archives. It wasn't until the early 20th century, with the rediscovery of your manuscripts, that your genius was fully recognized. Thanks to scholars and performers who brought your work back to life, we now appreciate you as a pivotal figure in music history. So, Maestro Vivaldi was extremely successful in your prime, but you tragically died a forgotten man, only to achieve posthumous immortality. Your story reminds us that fame can be fleeting, but true genius and creativity - no matter how long\ it's hidden, will eventually find its way back into the light.

The writing and performance of The Four Seasons - a brief section which we heard at the beginning of this podcast episode is filled with fascinating stories, some of which are woven directly into the music itself. These aren’t just four random concertos; they’re a brilliant act of musical storytelling, almost like an opera without words.

The most compelling story behind The Four Seasons is the connection between the music and a set of four accompanying sonnets. Vivaldi published the poems with the music, and it’s widely believed that he wrote them himself. He even went so far as to inscribe specific lines from the sonnets directly onto the musical score, guiding the performer and the listener through the narrative. That was an unusual and revolutionary step for 1725, when these concertos first appeared.

For example:

Spring begins with the violin imitating bird calls, a direction written right into the music. In the slow movement, the solo violin becomes “the sleeping goatherd,” while the violas bark like dogs in the distance. Vivaldi’s score doesn’t just suggest these images—he labels them.

Summer is perhaps the most dramatic. The opening paints the lazy heat of the season, but soon nature turns violent. A sudden thunderstorm builds, and the final movement unleashes lightning, thunder, and driving hailstones with breathtaking intensity.

Autumn takes us to a rustic harvest celebration. The first movement is literally marked “dance and song of the peasants,” full of stomping, whirling rhythms. By the second movement, the peasants have drunk themselves into a heavy slumber, and the music reflects this with a tranquil, peaceful sound.

Winter is maybe the most visceral of all. The icy opening bristles with jagged staccato notes, as if we’re shivering in the cold and stamping our feet to keep warm. Then comes one of Vivaldi’s most haunting contrasts: the slow movement, with its lyrical violin line, offers the quiet joy of sitting safely indoors by the fire, while the winter rain patters outside.

The wonder here isn’t just that Vivaldi could paint such vivid pictures in sound. It’s that he was doing so long before the term “program music” was fashionable. In 1725, instrumental music was usually admired for elegance or technical brilliance. Vivaldi, instead, showed that music could tell a story as vividly as poetry or opera—without a single word sung.

And then there’s the second life of The Four Seasons. Like Vivaldi himself, the music slipped into obscurity after his death. For nearly two centuries, it was virtually forgotten, tucked away in dusty libraries. It wasn’t until the 20th century—first with a handful of pioneering recordings in the 1940s, and then with a surge of interest in the 1950s—that it began to reclaim its place. The real explosion came in 1989, when violinist Nigel Kennedy’s edgy, unconventional recording sold over two million copies worldwide, bringing Vivaldi into the global mainstream and making The Four Seasons a pop-cultural phenomenon.

Today, whether in concert halls, movies, commercials, or even on your phone’s ringtone, The Four Seasons is everywhere. It’s one of the rare classical works that people instantly recognize after only a few notes. And yet behind that instant familiarity lies a deeper story: a bold experiment in musical storytelling, a forgotten treasure rediscovered, and a timeless reminder that the rhythms of nature and human life can be set to music.

And don't forget to join celebrate creativity for episode 481 - the Baroque star and a look at one of the greatest musicians of all time - Johann Sebastian Bach.

Thank you for listening to celebrate creativity

I'd like to end this episode with an excerpt from Vivaldi's Gloria and D Major - a stunning sacred choral work with demanding soprano and alto lines -  Now most of the time when I use an excerpt I'll try to confide it to 10 or 15 seconds at the most, but with this excerpt I'm going to play 2 1/2 minutes to give you a better idea of Vivaldi's brilliance.  I personally believe that this is music that causes chills to go up and down your spine.

Musical attribution

Spring from The Four Seasons by Antonio Vivaldi, Performed by John Harrison,. Source: Wikimedia Commons - CC BY-SA <//commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vivaldi_ _Four_Seasons_1_Spring_mvt_1_Allegro_-_John_Harrison_violin.oga>,License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording)

Gloria in D major, RV 589 by Antonio Vivaldi, Performed by

Vienna Academy Chorus and State Opera Orchestra, Source: Musopen - https://musopen.org/music/3750-gloria-in-d-major-rv-589/ License: Public Domain (composition) / Creative Commons (recording) 00:00 - 1:59