Il Ponte di Leonardo

NOTE: All of the music on this program comes from the Ensemble Constantinople directed by Kiya Tabassian. It is on Glossa label and is GCD 924503.

In 1502, Leonardo da Vinci drafted the plans for what would have been the largest bridge in the world, in Istanbul. However, the project never saw the light of day, as Sultan Bayezid II, who had commissioned the project, found the venture too ambitious. The plans were nevertheless preserved in the artist’s archives, which is why we still have access to them today.

Presented precisely 500 years after Da Vinci’s death, this concert gives musical expression to his unfinished architectural project and builds the bridge he envisioned between East and West. Musical works drawn from 16th- and 17th century manuscripts found in the national libraries of Istanbul and Florence will be revisited by the solo musicians of the Constantinople ensemble and the sublime Italian singer Marco Beasley. These works belong to the classical and popular repertoires of two important centres of musical culture of the time, which were Persia and the Ottoman Empire on the one hand, and Renaissance Italy on the other.

For this original program, Marco Beasley, a leading figure in Renaissance music, joins Constantinople’s soloists, under the direction of Kiya Tabassian, to immerse us in the imaginary and audacious world of Leonardo da Vinci’s drawings.

From Early Music America: In 1502, Leonardo da Vinci drafted a plan for a bridge to cross Constantinople’s treacherous Bosporus Straight, bisecting what’s now Istanbul. It would have been the largest bridge in the world, connecting two continents. Although the bridge was deemed too ambitious and never built, the original architectural drawings have been preserved.

In the liner notes to Il Ponte di Leonardo, a new album by Montréal-based ensemble Constantinople, artistic director, setar player, and vocalist Kiya Tabassian quotes from Leonardo’s Prophesies:

“About the hemispheres that are infinite and are divided by infinite lines, in such a way that everyone always has one of these lines between one foot and the other. People will talk to each other, touch each other, embrace each other, from one hemisphere to another, and they will understand each other’s languages.”

Leonardo’s words, like Constantinople’s artistry, draw inspiration from two seemingly competing forces: lines of division and the connections that they paradoxically generate. It is a musical calculus of sorts — infinite cross sections that form a cohesive whole.

As a premise, building cross-cultural connections, while often illuminating, can also be fraught. Early-music practitioners, in an attempt to expand the canon, often resort to a process of mere annexation, making little effort to grapple with cultural identity of the music they play, rendering it little more than flavoring. (Too often the same ensemble presents a single tune as a Sephardic ballad or a Turkish folksong, whichever is more amenable to the theme of their program du jour.)

Il Ponte di Leonardo, however, is not that. Constantinople’s members are experts in the musical bridges they attempt to build, spanning from the Persian setar to the Turkish zither and from the viola d’amore to an amalgamation of global drumming traditions. They are joined in this project by tenor Marco Beasley, a specialist in early Italian song. Accordingly, these musicians take naturally to a repertoire that reflects the diverse and porous cultural landscape of Leonardo’s time.

The resulting soundscapes are stylistically more “early music” than strict “historical performance.” While much of the source material itself is centuries old — from 15th-century frottole to musical realizations of Rumi poems informed by long-standing traditions — Constantinople’s musicians march to the beat of their own drum (and there are plenty of drums). They rely more on the synergy of their 

That very dynamic, the exhilarating sense that Constantinople grasps a near-infinite array of musical possibilities, is at the heart of its charm. Its richly layered instrumental textures and kaleidoscopic array of timbres are intoxicating, if occasionally a touch oversaturated. There is, moreover, a clear sense of familiarity between these musicians, creating a remarkable synchronicity and blend despite the disparate instruments and traditions they bring to the mix.

As for the singing, Tabassian’s renderings of Persian poetry form sublime, rhapsodic expressions of deep feeling. His delivery is flexible, spontaneous, and honest.

The quicker, more rambunctious folkish tunes fare better and, interestingly, things improve even more in live-performance videos of the full program. Beasley’s on-stage charisma is evident, so perhaps he is simply aided by a live audience. 

Nevertheless, this is an album of great imagination and ambition, offering a fantastical swirl of repertoire that, for the most part, is well delivered. Moreover, amidst a host of early-music albums that attempt to look beyond the traditional Western canon, Il Ponte di Leonardo stands out as a rare genuine expression of musical bridge building.