“The powerful, brooding, Dante-inspired A riveder le stelle, for violin and piano, takes full
advantage of the latter instrument’s expressive powers and effects.”
— Apple Music —
A riveder le stelle · R. 8
Musical impression from Canto XXXIV of Dante’s Inferno
for violin and piano
2018 · 8m
Dedicated to Francesco Telli.
Published by Universal Edition.
This work appears in the album
Behold the Stars (2021) by Signum Classics.
Listen to this work on Apple Music, Spotify or your preferred streaming service.

“Conjures a suitably unsettling atmosphere”
— BBC Music Magazine —
“A special mention should be made of A riveder le stelle, where the violin double stops stand out, the staccato of the piano at the moment of the violin pizzicato, or the difficult final diminuendo in the violin, of great expressivity.”
— Melómano Digital —
PROGRAMME NOTES
“[A riveder le stelle] was inspired by a passage in Dante’s ‘Inferno’ depicting the emergence from an underworld vision of Lucifer’s banners advancing through the mists, into a starlit night. This rapt, bleak programmatic scena is the only piece here that betrays its contemporary origins, through some instrumental textures (natural harmonics, extended double-stopping, ricochet bowing), but not its D minor tonality, nor the radiantly lovely closing adagio symbolising the infernal shadows giving way to the light of the stars. By Records International.
To make up for not having produced initially the short work for which Kerenza had asked, Ruiz elected to write A riveder le stelle. This, unusually for a violin and piano work, is accompanied by poetic quotations: the piece was inspired by Canto XXXIV of Dante’s Inferno. ‘Literature is another great passion of mine,’ Rodrigo says, ‘and I often try to unite it with music.’ Indeed, he is currently studying for a doctorate on the subject of mythology and hints that he has potential operas in the pipeline for which he is writing his own libretti.
The main theme of this piece is conceived as a setting of the words ‘Vexila regis prodeunt inferno’, announcing the inexorable approach of Lucifer’s standards through the mists. ‘I tried to recreate the idea of that misty expanse, suggested in Dante’s poem,’ Rodrigo says. ‘Then I break up the themes: he’s hearing it first at a distance and I imagined what it would be like to hear it in a great cavern from far away, where you can’t see very well, you hear bits of it, there’s an echo…’ The result is a rapt, bleak, inward piece that exploits a range of expressive violinistic effects, including natural harmonics and col legno bowing. By Jessica Duchen.
I had been exploring possible concepts for a new work for violin and piano, but nothing had yet convinced me. It would have to be, by Kerenza Peacock’s petition, a short piece that would satisfy the need to expand the violin repertoire, which is plentiful in sonatas and concerti but wanting in shorter individual pieces. One day, I unexpectedly found the concept I was looking for. As I reread the ending to Dante Alighieri’s Inferno, it seemed to me an infernal choir sang the terrifying words that open hell’s last canto, announcing the inexorable approach of Lucifer’s standards. I listened more closely, willing myself to hear the chant in full. My efforts paid off: a short time after, the foundation of the work glowed fresh with ink before me.
The work is full of musical allusions to the text. One of the most interesting ones is the moment when Dante, having used the King of Hell as a stair, looks back at Lucifer and sees him upside down. Virgil, his guide and master, explains to the perplexed Dante the reason: they had just passed the center of the globe. This gave me the idea that eventually became the Misterioso passage (b. 67). I inverted the Vexilla regis theme on its head and place it in counterpoint with the theme that first appears in its full form at b. 39 with the preso ‘l pont effect of the violin —we’ll call this the ponticello theme. These two themes already appear in counterpoint at the Infernale (b. 43) where the violin plays the ponticello theme in multiple stops while the Vexilla regis roars in piano left-hand octaves. Here, however, they are both played on the string instrument and cross over each other, ending heads over tails. The jeté at b. 77 represents a little pebble Dante accidentally kicks in the dark when Virgil and himself resume their walk through the bowels of the earth, walking up the passageway that will eventually lead them to behold the stars again.
This short, eight-minute work is full of such details (some more obvious, some less), but beyond the madrigalisms and imagery the overall sense I wish the listener to remain with is the refreshing liberation that Dante experiences when he breathes that fresh air after having spent God knows how long in those ungodly pits of fire, ice and self-inflicted suffering. By Rodrigo Ruiz.