About the Artist
Based in Italy, Emanuele Stracchi composes, conducts, and plays piano and harpsichord, bridging classical tradition with contemporary innovation. Institutions such as IUC, ICBSA, and Rai Radio 3 have featured his works. Additionally, he has performed across the USA, UK, Sweden, Croatia, Switzerland, and Spain. He also arranges and composes for film and theatre and publishes scores and educational music materials, including a monograph on Ligeti’s Musica ricercata. Notably, he won the NY Global Music Competition for his piece Long Island, performed at Carnegie Hall. Now he teaches at the Conservatory of La Spezia.
Meanwhile, I Musici Gemelli, twin violinists Francesco Pio and Giuseppe Pio Bertozzi, captivate audiences with their unity of tone and expression. They graduated with top honors in violin and chamber music. They perform extensively across Italy in Florence, Ischia, Brindisi, Lecce, and Naples, as well as at national and international festivals. Their musical dialogue thrives on twinhood. They studied violin together under the same teachers and play on twin violins made by Giuseppe Quagliano, reflecting their bond.
Recently, Stracchi and I Musici Gemelli released Jesus of Nazareth (2025). Composed by Stracchi and performed by the duo, the twelve-track, forty-eight-minute album traces Christ’s life from Nativity to Resurrection. The two violins blend counterpoint, modal textures, and Gregorian echoes into a sincere reflection on faith and humanity.
Jesus Of Nazareth
The album opens with Nativitas Christi, where gentle, luminous sounds evoke the quiet wonder of the Nativity. Immediately, Præsentatio Domini shifts to ceremonial clarity, highlighting Jesus’ presentation with poised elegance. The piece feels slightly upbeat and celebratory. In Iesus in templo docet, the violins engage with dynamic energy, playing ahead and behind one another, reflecting the young Jesus’ curiosity and wisdom. Meanwhile, Baptisma Domini flows serenely and radiantly, symbolizing spiritual purification. Its joyful sound emphasizes the significance of the occasion. Then, Iesus in deserto a satana tentatur heightens tension with stark contrapuntal interplay, mirroring temptation and inner struggle. It evokes a contemplative sense of a mind trying to escape.
Next, Primum signum. Iesus aquam fecit vinum begins with anticipatory motifs, building curiosity. The violins then surprise with sparkling, joyful passages, resolving in a reflective realization that captures the miracle’s significance. Meanwhile, Beatitudines ex Sermone Domini in Monte unfolds with gentle, uplifting motifs. Flowing lines convey wisdom, compassion, and moral clarity. Transfiguratio Domini ascends with shimmering harmonies and luminous counterpoint, reflecting awe at divine revelation. Ingressus Gloriosus Iesu in Hierusalem pulses with rhythmic drive and regal energy, marking Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem.
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At In Coena Domini, the violins balance solemnity and intimacy, signaling the sad end of a chapter. Consequently, Passio et Crucifixio Christi delivers intense tension and release, portraying suffering, sacrifice, and human vulnerability. Finally, Resurrectio Christi rises in gleaming, soaring lines, restoring hope and transcendence. Notably, a few tracks feature subtle vocal guides at the end, enhancing the narrative without distracting from the instruments.
Throughout the album, I Musici Gemelli perform with precision, emotive clarity, and seamless unity, bringing Stracchi’s compositions to life. Furthermore, the duo captures both intimacy and grandeur, making each track distinct yet cohesive. Therefore, Jesus of Nazareth succeeds as a technical masterpiece and a moving meditation on faith, offering a profoundly immersive, spiritual experience.
The Vision, the Violins, and the Story of the Album
How did the two of you approach interpreting Stracchi’s score? What kind of conversation or experimentation happened between you and the composer during the recording?
Playing Jesus of Nazareth was like entering a sacred narrative, experiencing it scene by scene. Each piece took us on a journey through the Gospel, where music became words and storytelling. From a technical point of view, the violin work required particular care: some sound effects were complex to recreate and every detail was studied with precision. The balance between the two instruments was essential to maintain expressive unity and bring out the emotional intensity of each passage. During the recording, Emanuele gave us complete interpretative freedom, but we still respected what was written in the score.
With only two violins, every nuance counts. How did you shape the dialogue between your instruments to convey contrast, emotion, and the narrative of Jesus’s life?
With only two violins, every detail counts. We built the dialogue between the instruments through careful listening and work on sound balance. Sometimes one of the two takes the lead role, other times the voices blend together, depending on what the music and narration require.
The album was recorded as a World Premiere in Budapest. Did the recording space or acoustics influence your interpretation in any way?
Yes, the space and acoustics had a significant impact. Recording in a recording studio is never easy: the environment is controlled, but also very different from a concert hall. In some tracks, we had to change the way we played certain passages to achieve the effects required in the score, but in the end we are very happy with the final result.
Writing for just two violins is such a bold and intimate choice. Beyond the format itself, what drew you to this approach, and what creative discoveries did you make while composing?
Writing for two violins meant reducing everything to its essence. It is an almost ascetic choice: only two parts, like two souls chasing each other, reflecting and supporting each other. In this “poverty of means” I found a form of purity that reflects the Gospel message itself: the essential becomes a vehicle of truth.
From a creative point of view, it was surprising to discover how much richness of tone and dynamics could emerge from this dialogue between two instruments. The writing must be idiomatic, suited to the violin, so I studied a lot of violin literature to understand how to give weight to every note and every silence. I reached the point where every interval took on an almost symbolic value.
Every note carries so much weight in a two-instrument piece. Can you walk us through how you developed the composition, from the first idea to the finished album?
The starting point was a spiritual intuition: to recount the life of Jesus not as a simple narrative cycle, but as an inner journey, punctuated by sound images. I began by imagining these twelve stages as “musical icons,” each with its own color and atmosphere.
From there, the structure emerged: every three pieces, a canon, like a Trinitarian breath that runs through the entire work. I worked extensively on the relationship between form and symbol: the music had to narrate, but also meditate. After writing it, the collaboration with I Musici Gemelli was fundamental: their interpretative sensitivity gave life to what was initially just a spiritual idea on paper. Then I fused all this with some typical traits of my compositional personality: the use of counterpoint, the purity of the melodic line, the importance of clear and precise writing, the approach to modal scales. In addition to BACH, my “beacon” par excellence, some great composers have always been lights in the desert for me: Palestrina, Mozart, Dallapiccola, Ligeti, Pärt, Williams, Morricone… it is as if I had fused every seed from these multifaceted personalities, drawing from them a sort of “new musical offering.”
The album tells the story of Jesus’s life through twelve tracks. How did you structure that narrative musically, and were there particular moments or episodes that proved especially challenging to express?
The narrative follows both a theological and human path: birth, revelation, passion, resurrection. Musically, I chose to construct it as an enormous sound parable lasting about 45 minutes: the beginning is sweet and luminous, then the tension gradually increases until the Crucifixion, where the writing becomes almost stripped bare; finally, the Resurrection brings back the light. There is a recurring “theme,” namely the Theme of “Christ,” which can be heard in “Baptisma Domini” and is then significantly changed, transformed, and expanded throughout the series of pieces.
The most difficult moment was undoubtedly representing the Passion and the Crucifixion: translating pain, loneliness, but also dignity and a sense of fulfillment into sound was a deeply human task. I tried to bring out redemption, and in this I was greatly helped by working with fragments from Gregorian chant, reviving the ancient practice of composing on a fixed melody or starting from ancient melodic ideas, passing them through a process of elaboration, transformation, permutation, and development.
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Could you take us inside one specific track, perhaps a scene like a miracle or the Crucifixion, and explain how the music and performance together bring that moment to life?
That’s a difficult question… At first glance, I think, for example, of “Primum signum. Iesus aquam fecit vinum”: it’s the miracle at Cana. I conceived it as a “concordis vocis” canon, that is, in unison, to symbolize the perfect harmony between the human and the divine! The two voices chase each other like two streams of water that suddenly merge and transform into something new: the wine of joy, of revelation. Almost like an ancient dance, but one that expresses a sacred concept.
There are many levels in my music: the first is literal, what the audience hears. Then there are various deeper and more symbolic levels, in which the musical flow tells a story through divine numerology, references to contrapuntal literature… and madrigalisms. In fact, in Passio et Crucifixio Christi, the melodic lines literally and symbolically draw the cross in the score. The violins intertwine and then separate, as if one voice were rising and the other fading away. For me, it is a moment of silence and suspension, where even dissonance becomes prayer… I also found a way to ‘quote myself’. In the final piece dedicated to the Resurrection, in addition to having the two violins play like festive bells, I inserted a melodic motif that I had previously composed in my ‘Resurrexi’ for two voices and orchestra, based on the liturgical text sung for the Solemn Mass on Easter Morning.
Since I Musici Gemelli bring such emotional intensity to the music, as the composer, how did their interpretation influence or even change your original vision of the piece?
Working with I Musici Gemelli was like discovering my music from another point of view. I must say that they brought such purity and expressive tension that they amplified the spiritual meaning of the work. We worked almost in symbiosis: as soon as a piece was finished, I would submit the score to them to check that the conditions for perfect performability and singability were in place, avoiding difficult, self-referential and, above all, self-serving contemporary stylistic elements.
Francesco and Giuseppe are very talented! Their ability to breathe together, to merge into a single sound, is perfect for a cycle built on inner canons and symmetries: some moments—I am thinking of the “Ingressus Gloriosus” or the “Transfiguratio”—have acquired a luminous force that, honestly, I had not anticipated. It is one of the greatest joys of composing: seeing your music transformed in the hands of those who interpret it. When I listened to the final master, I was moved; in the final piece, I cried.
What kind of experience or emotional journey do you hope listeners take away from Jesus of Nazareth, and is there one question about the album that you feel is important but has not yet been asked?
I hope that listeners will experience this work as an inner journey rather than just a concert. It consists of images, sensations, and reflections set to music. It is an invitation to silent listening, to “meditation” in the Greco-Roman tradition, to the rediscovery of a spiritual space within oneself. My background in philosophy also helped me greatly in writing this work.
Jesus of Nazareth was a profound source of inspiration not only as a composer but also as a believer. I immediately felt the call of this subject, the need to approach it with sincerity and respect, as an act of faith and art together. In this sense, the work is also a reflection of my personal journey as a practicing Catholic: a journey of search and prayer translated into sound.
At the same time, I believe that it is not necessary to be a believer to be moved by this music. Some forms of spirituality, as St. Bonaventure taught, belong to everyone: «they are paths of the soul, experiences that speak to the human heart even before they speak to faith». I would like listeners to perceive this universal dimension—that the message of love, compassion, and light that runs through the life of Christ may resonate as a metaphor for the journey of every human being. Perhaps the question that is missing is: “What remains after the final silence?”—because it is precisely there, in the silence, that the music continues to speak…
You can check out more about them on their websites I Musici Gemelli, Emanuele Stracchi, and the album at Hunnia Records.
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Figuring out my path while actively plotting ten others. Serious about my dreams with somewhat chaotic ambition. Will do anything for cats.
