Whenever anyone mentions Italy, I imagine most envision sundrenched landscapes strewn with vineyards. But Venice was always a city apart. When I visited Venice it was in the middle of winter. Venice in winter is like something out of “Don’t Look Now.” One would do well to keep an eye out for anyone in a red plastic raincoat.

You won’t find much winter in the music of Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari (born in Venice on this date in 1876), although there is plenty that I would consider to be autumnal. Wolf-Ferrari’s gift for lyricism made him a natural for opera. While his operas of the first decade of the 20th century were mostly uproarious works after the farces of Goldoni, a vein of melancholy began to make itself evident in the works composed after World War I. The outbreak of war was particularly traumatic for Wolf-Ferrari, whose mother was Italian and whose father was German. He did about all he could do under the circumstances and struck out for Switzerland. Eventually he found his way home again. He died in Venice in 1948.

Good music for a rainy afternoon: the Idillio-Concertino for Oboe and Small Orchestra (1932):

Happy birthday, Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari!

PHOTO: Donald Sutherland sees red