Weird programming. The Sonata a tre, one of Casella’s strongest works, is placed last; before it two early pieces enclose seven short movements, mostly arrangements and mostly slight and short-breathed. The impression, until the Sonata a tre arrives, is of a young composer with a distinct, rather French-flavoured melodic gift, who unfortunately lost it after following Stravinsky too far down the neo-classical path. The Sinfonia, a sort of French overture for the ungainly ensemble of clarinet, trumpet, cello and piano, is very dour indeed until its brief, nimble allegro. The two movements from the ballet La giara are pretty enough but not heard at their best in this arrangement for violin and piano. Nor are the two excerpts from the Serenata; although their salon-tinged lyricism is appealing, Casella’s ‘wrong-note’ accompaniment sounds perverse. The movement from Scarlattiana, deprived of orchestral colour, emerges as a mere collage of Scarlatti motifs rather pointlessly interfered with.
But the two early pieces and the Sonata a tre amount to about two-thirds of the disc’s duration, and it’s well worth investigating on their account. Within the first 12 seconds of the
Sicilienne Casella demonstrates that he has learned both from Ravel and from early Stravinsky, and then with the flute’s entry that he has a haunting melodic gift of his own. The even earlier Barcarola and Scherzo prove that the melodic talent was in-born: they are amply, graciously lyrical. But the Sonata a tre is something else again: big-gestured, darkly expressive, often urgent or troubled, the elegant lyricism now powerful, whether sombre or serene. It is a real discovery, strongly played (the other performances are decent enough) and adequately recorded, though throughout it there is a curious quiet booming sound, as though the cellist were kicking his tail-pin.'