CRI has also issued a disc devoted exclusively to Maggio's efforts, entitled Seven Mad Gods and comprising three compelling instrumental works which date from 1993 to 1994.

In 'Lamenting and Raging,' the first of the toccata's two sections, the plaintively throbbing, increasingly darkening strains ("lamenting"), which open the work, are soon punctuated by abrupt, feisty comments ("raging"). At the climax of the movement, the latter, high and incessant, seem to be nettling the former to 'snap out of it.'

'Dancing and Singing' chugs along with a far from light-hearted dance, clearly the movement of one who has been through the wringer. Elektra's manic steps at the end of Richard Strauss's opera come to mind. The 'singing' is sober, still a subdued lament. After some hesitation, the dance, more propulsive and startling than before, resumes.

'desire movement,' with its pairs of soaring flutes and rumbling cellos, sparring, then collaborating, is heard [in Two Quartets]. In 'love, stillness,' the other panel of the diptych, the four instruments spin in their own peaceful, complementary and contrast, but still independent orbits—the flutes arcing and blazing, the cellos swelling and surging—before calmly coming together. I hear something of a Benjamin Britten influence—particularly the Britten of the Peter Grimes 'Sea Interludes,' with their depictions of sea birds and sorrow—in this music.

'Calm' serves as a spare and subtle prelude to Barcarole—subtitled 'seven mad gods who rule the sea'—with only distant, percussive thunder hinting at the tempest to come. In 'Sea,' strings and piano air haunting bits of Felix Mendelssohn's 'Barcarole,' from Songs Without Words, against understated chimes and cymbals. In 'Storm-Barcarole,' yearning cellos and booming, crashing percussion limn what seems at once emotional turmoil and literal external 'stormy weather,' before resolution comes with a gentle piano rendition of the Mendelssohn melody.

Maggio's music speaks directly in a comprehensible language of dark-hued colors which often touch the heart.

". . . an eclectic romantic aesthetic. . . his music is nondogmatic, deeply felt and heard, conservative in the sense that it accepts the classical tradition of acoustic instrumental writing but progressive in that it does not try to literally reproduce older musics. The music presents much to savor. Maggio's pieces tend to feature broad, arching lines which create melodic gestures that seem a metaphor for yearning. There is a highly refined color sense as well, ranging from the more exotic percussion effects (e.g., bowed gong in Barcarole) to the subtle timbral mirroring of two flutes/two cellos work Two Quartets. Tonality is clearly felt throughout, but more as the centering of fields of pitches and harmonies, rather than a standard for specific progressions. Some of the things I like in various pieces: the propulsive motoric writing in both movements of Winter Toccata, the aforementioned timbral interplay of Two Quartets, and the manner in which the final movement of Barcarole gradually reveals its source, No. 6 from Mendelssohn's Songs Without Words, Op. 19, in a full-blown quotation at the piece's end (this last work, by the way, was originally conceived for dance, and I think must be very effective in that context as well). Finally, in all the works, Maggio shows a real gift for creating gradually evolving structures that, despite a large-scale architecture, really do get somewhere in the end and do not collapse into minimalist stasis. . . he is obviously talented and has something to say. . . I do enjoy this music and look forward to hearing more from this composer. The performances are uniformly excellent and obviously committed.

Followers of new chamber music must wade through lots of mediocrity to uncover a gem. Happily, this new CD of recent works by Robert Maggio contains not one but several gems, and their luster brightens with frequent hearings. You'll also marvel at the musicianship of the performers, some of whom play in the Philadelphia Orchestra and/or teach at Philadelphia music schools."

In CD liner notes, Maggio, now a composition and theory professor at West Chester University, says his music uses 'components of existing languages, rather than inventing, new ones'. And indeed, everything from classical music to jazz seems to filter through the composer's inventive voice. Maggio also uses standard Western instruments in fresh and exciting ways. When, for instance, was the last time you heard a quartet for two flutes and two cellos? (Two such quartets appear on this recording.)

. . . Barcarole has been called both a 'haunting meditation on life' and a 'haunting meditation on death.' I heard it as masterful programmatic music: the steady, monotonously swaying gondola (represented by the 6/8 or 12/8 meters of the barcarole, a gondolier song) must eventually contend with the shattering elements of a storm-swept sea (represented in Maggio's music by all kinds of percussion instruments.

[Two Quartets is] memorable for, among other things, the soaring flute and cello pyrotechnics and for the lovely way instruments blend to achieve a wide range of effects.

Lengthy lingering lines that suggest sadness inform the first movement [of Winter Toccata], which is named 'Lamenting and Raging.' The toccata's second movement, named "Dancing and Singing,' opens with relentless, highly charged Stravinskyesque rhythms that quickly come to resemble an extended jazz improvisation. The rhythms strike a perfect balance between repetition and variation, with the variations appearing when you least expect them! The rowdiness of the second movement's opening gives way, in humorous and sputtering fashion, to a middle section in which sustained lines are bowed over faint plucked notes. Cleverly, Maggio makes these plucked notes the foundation of a concluding section that gives the opening thematic material a more whimsical twist.

Winter Toccata (I can't believe you want to die), for solo cello, typifies the chamber music of Robert Maggio. It is lyrical, passionate, melodic, and rhythmically charged. The piece is a response to the composer's work as an AIDS volunteer and the polemics of AIDS activist Larry Kramer. The two movements move back and forth between passages of long, arching lines and driving, almost frenzied rhythmic drive. At 23 minutes, it is very long for a solo piece, but not too long at all. Winter Toccata is a personal, deeply felt response to the AIDS tragedy. John Koen's performance is nothing short of heroic."

"Two Quartets (desire, movement, love, stillness), for two flutes and two cellos, is also a very personal piece, this time a study of and meditation on duality. The piece explores the dualities of mind and of heart, while also probing the special dualities inherent in its unique instrumentation. The last piece on the disc, Barcarole (seven mad gods who rule the sea), was written for a dance by Stephen Pelton. Its three movements move among a wide range of emotional and musical territories, including references to and, finally, a full version of a Mendelssohn Barcarolle (Op. 19:6). It is a very fine piece, colorful and expressive. It easily stands alone as a musical experience, without the choreography. A very important release from a young composer who bears watching."

Maggio's music has real virtues: a light, active sense of texture, a good nose for drama, and a sophisticated but readily approachable tonal language that places him in the good old Philly tradition of Rorem, Rochberg, and Persichetti. The clear standout of the disc is Two Quartets, two pieces for two flutes (Bart Feller and Kathleen Nester) with two cellos (Fred Sherry and Jonathan Spitz), loosely based on texts by T.S. Eliot. Maggio has made an incontestable contribution to the repertory here, impressive in its technical and formal command, almost frightening in its cool intensity of speech. (The piece is published by Theodore Presser Co.) The opening work, a passionate but somewhat predictable Winter Toccata for solo cello (performed by John Koen), doesn't reach the same level, but Maggio makes a nice rebound with his Barcarole for violin (Scott St. John), cello (Koen), piano (Hugh Sung), and percussion (Don Liuzzi), which is a ballet score inspired by Stephen Crane's The Open Boat. As in his orchestral works, Maggio spins out an effective instrumental atmosphere; the appropriation of a Mendelssohn Song Without Words at the work's close sounds completely natural. As in all of the pieces, the performers are strong here, the recording clear.

The Robert Maggio disc, Seven Mad Gods (CRI 720) comes with a glowing review by Ned Rorem, who in this instance is 'right on.' These are works of a major talent, at once very accessible, direct and well edited. All of the sophisticated special effects employed arise out of the music and are indeed special. The highest praise I can give this brilliant debut dic is to say that the solo cello writing of the opening Winter Toccata is worthy of comparison with the finest string works of such masters as Biber and Boccherini.

This is a tribute to the emergance of a major talent. Maggio has it all—a directness and immediacy, a clarity of style that jumps from the music directly to the listener. The closing Barcarole, an ingenious tribute to the conception of sea music, concludes with an eloquent performance of Mendessohn's Songs Without Words, Op. 16, no. 6 performed by Hugh Sung.

Buy, borrow, or beg this CD—but hear this CD!