Venezuela!
Music from the Americas I
Contents listed after review
Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra/Domingo Hindoyan
rec. 2023, Liverpool Philharmonic Hall, Liverpool, UK
Onyx 4251 [66]
I decided to review this album to discover what Venezuelan music was like, but having embarked on that journey, I realised that my question was a little naïve. How do we define the style of classical music from any area? If we heard something in ragtime we might assume that it was American, or a particular instrument can be associated with a country – e.g. the alto saxophone makes me immediately think “French”. There are, of course, many exceptions to this rule, e.g. Harrison Birtwistle (1934-2022) used an alto saxophone for his concerto Panic written in 1995. Since the days of Bach, Mozart, Beethoven and Brahms, composers have looked to differentiate their style whether by using folk themes, unusual scales, authentic melodic phrases or simply by celebrating the landscape or traditions of the respective regions. Perhaps in doing so, they have defined their national/regional “style”. So then, how have Venezuelan composers dealt with this challenge? How could we describe the style of music from their country?
The sleeve notes are written by Carlos Calderón Urreiztieta, an architect by training, who also studied music and the violin. He is now focussing his research in the areas of music, art and science within the framework of the history of culture. He says, “Among the many metaphors that can be applied to the listening of music, the ‘journey’ is always a fruitful one. A journey implies coming into contact with the new, despite the fact that our memory only recognises the old.” The CD presents a selection of music by 20th-century Venezuelan composers, and as well as providing a musical journey, it traces a route that goes from the city to the jungle. That issues into the sea, hops across islands, goes deep into deltas and up rivers, relaxes into the vastness of the plains and concludes with the discovery of ancestral mysteries. Each piece is linked to its composer’s locality within Venezuela.
The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra have, of course, an impressive list of recordings to their name. The conductor, Domingo Hindoyan, is an Armenian-Venezuelan conductor and violinist. He is the RLPO’s chief conductor, as well as being the leader of many acclaimed ensembles and orchestras around the world. Those include the Metropolitan Opera NY, Wiener Staatsoper, Deutsche Staatsoper Berlin, Paris Opéra National, Lyric Opera of Chicago, Liceu Barcelona, Mariinsky Theatre. Also the Philharmonia Orchestra, London Philharmonic Orchestra, Dresdner Philharmonie, Mozarteumorchester Salzburg, Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France, St. Petersburg Philharmonic, New Japan Philharmonic Orchestra and the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra.
Continuing the travel metaphor, let us begin in Venezuela’s capital, Caracas, where Juan Bautista Plaza (1898-1965) was born. He studied in Rome from 1920 to 1923 and obtained the title of Professor of sagrada (sacred) composition. In 1928, he was inspired by the poem ‘Sleep, ah me, I’ve forgotten how to’ by Juan Ramón Jiménez to write Vigilia (Poema Sinfónico), ie. Vigil, Symphonic Poem. It’s peaceful, gentle and Romantic with regular rapturous outbursts of rich, delightful music; memories come and go, and images flit across the mind. It does not put me in mind of sleeplessness at all but of the English pastoral style, with the sharing of the melodies between strings and woodwind. It is a beautiful piece and a lovely surprise.
Next we head for a hot region, on the banks of the River Pacairigua, at the foot of the mountains with the sea on the other side. The descendants of former slaves still maintain the colonial traditions, which Evencio Castellanos (1915-1984) set to music in 1954. He was an outstanding pianist, composer and director of choirs and orchestra, as well as being a Romantic nationalist who wrote colourful, attractive orchestral music, liberally laced with folk melodies and rhythms. His first piece on this CD is called Santa Cruz de Pacairigua (Suite Sinfónica).
Having heard the previous piece by Plaza, I didn’t know what to expect here; however, what a fascinating piece this is, full of shifting styles and colours of music. In words taken from the CD notes, “people dancing to the rhythm of the drum in front of the Church of the Holy Cross and carrying the statue of St Peter … bells are heard and snatches of waltzes and, with the onset of night, the frenzy of the fiesta returns.” The beginning has a distinct “Spanish” style, a kettle drum then announces a slower section; the “Spanish” feeling is maintained into the next section which is lively with a variety of textures; tambourine and percussion feature strongly, giving a festive flavour to the piece. Then suddenly the festival is over and we hear a gentle reflective melody shared between the violin and the woodwind sections of the orchestra, church bells can be heard and a light melody suitable for refined dancing is played. Short fragments of music in the guise of a fanfare and a mournful motif suggest anticipation before we return to a lively section which through the use of drums, percussion and a gong feels “Chinese” in style. The end is fast and energetic, as if we have finally returned to the fiesta.
For his second piece on the CD, Castellanos was once again inspired by a poem, this time by Andrés Eloy Blanco. The area now in focus is the delta of the ‘mighty Orinoco’, as Jules Verne would call it. The Orinoco delta was significantly associated with the slavery of its indigenous people. The CD notes tell us that the poem was written “to tell the country’s history by way of seven ‘stars’: the lament of the Indian; conquest and the arrival of Christianity; the emerging republic; defeat; more war; nights of delirium; and, following a ‘war of the worlds’, the longed-for freedom.”
Castellanos’ intention in writing El Río de las Siete Estrellas (Poema Sinfónico) in 1946 was to place symphonic writing at the service of the nation’s history and to use his music to depict this story. It begins with a low peaceful, mournful melody, a short period of turmoil, then more joyful music suggesting success. Quickly, though, we return to melancholy, turbulent music and snare drums indicating war. Triumphal music follows and then peace again. The piece ends with a triumphant, busy and stirring finale. It is a real mix of orchestral colours and moods.
Sailing across the Caribbean, we sight the island of Margarita, ‘a teardrop … turned into a pearl’, in the words of the popular song that inspired Carreño to create his ‘symphonic exposition’, in the very same year as Castellanos. Inocente José Carreño (1919-2016) was a Venezuelan composer and academic. The opening musical motif of his piece Margariteña (Glosa Sinfónica) is heard in the distance, played by the brass. A series of different tunes follow, which have been handed down across the generations, creating a wonderful mix of tonal colours and types of music. We hear the rising and falling of both pace and dynamics, dances, reflective motifs, and suggestions of a celebration finishing with a rousing finale. The whole orchestral colour range is used to great effect to create an optimistic piece with the occasional suggestion of nostalgia.
To the east of the Andes in Venezuela is a huge area of tropical plains, on which millions of cattle are farmed. Our next composer Antonio Estévez (1916-1988) was a plainsman, oboist, conductor and composer. Of his Mediodía en el Llano, the booklet says that its composer “was the ideal composer to create a musical depiction of the horizon at midday and the imposing sense of immovability and heat” The piece begins with a bleak feeling as if depicting this massive landscape; the oboe weeps, dissonances swirl, the piccolo screeches, atonality teases the ear … the horns, however, soften the scene and it ends with a more expansive theme that slowly fades away. At the start, at least, it certainly portrays an imposing sense of immovability and the heat that must pervade this area.
Finally, we hear Yuri Hung’s (b. 1968) Kanaima from 2004, reviewed here as part of another CD. Kanaima, is an area of rocks and strange geological formations. It’s a really engaging piece which almost has my foot tapping, featuring really clever use of percussion that delivers a beat throughout, creating a sense of urgency. A brass chorale is laid upon the beat to create melody and add to the drive such that the energy is kept going almost to the end, then it ends quietly. I really like it.
So to return to my original idea of discovering what Venezuelan music was “like”; did I achieve this? Of course not; the basic components of classical music are the same the world over. Some composers, I guess, create a style that we associate with them or where they live, but this CD demonstrates how universal music really is. I thoroughly enjoyed reviewing it and would be keen to hear more from the composers included on the disc.
Ken Talbot
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Contents:
Juan Bautista Plaza (1898-1965)
Vigilia (Poema Sinfónico) (1928)
Evencio Castellanos (1915-1984)
El Río de las Siete Estrellas (Poema Sinfónico) (1946)
Santa Cruz de Pacairigua (Suite Sinfónica) (1954)
Inocente José Carreño (1919-2016)
Margariteña (Glosa Sinfónica) (1954)
Antonio Estévez (1916-1988)
Mediodía en el Llano (1942)
Yuri Hung’s (b. 1968)
Kanaima (2004)
