In 1939, as Spain was still embroiled in the closing days of the Spanish Civil War, and as the rest of Europe prepared for its own spree of mass murders, the blind Joaquin Rodrigo, exiled in Paris, composed the Concierto de Aranjuez, a work so richly Spanish in character that it has made Rodrigo's name synonymous with Spanish classical music, and classical guitar. Concierto de Aranjuez for Guitar and Orchestra is probably the best known single composition ever made for classical guitar. The famous adagio theme from the Concierto, has been excerpted and rearranged countless times, to the point where most people (including yours truly!) believed that it must have been based on some older, traditional Spanish song that Rodrigo copied.
Nope. Rodrigo was collecting royalties on this up to the day he died in 1997, which is fairly recently by our standards, here at DailyKos's Thursday Classical Music. Born in 1898, he lived 99 years, and his life spanned the breadth of the twentieth century.
Today's appetizer: an earlier, less exploited work, the Fantasia para un Gentilhombre. Ekachai Jeerakul on guitar.
At the time of this composition, avante garde styles like serialism were in their ascendency. Rodrigo's style, however, is not just old fashioned but almost ancient. Fantasia para un Gentilhombre, above, for instance, is not just evocative of Spanish music, but of renaissance lute music, with its casual lapses in and out of Dorian mode. (Dorian mode and other modes I explained HERE).
Lest anybody wrongly jump to the conclusion from our introduction that Rodrigo was opposed to Franco and the Loyalists, no, Rodrigo, an otherwise devout Catholic married to a Jewish Turk, was not politically savvy or active, and made comments that were at times supportive of Franco. In 1940, he and his wife, having traveled to Germany, were deported back to Franco's Spain. To renew his passport, he swore a loyalty oath to Franco and the loyalists.
About the Concierto de Aranjuez
I always thought Concierto de Aranjuez meant Concerto of the Orange. (Aranjuez being spanish for orange.) I couldn't figure out why anybody would compose a concerto for an orange, as delicious as they are. Actually, Aranjuez is the name of a beautiful city in Spain, one that Rodrigo loved. There is a monument there, built to Rodrigo. In his later years, Rodrigo was ennobled by King Juan Carlos I for his contributions to Spanish culture and made the Marquis of the Gardens of Aranjuez.
There have been many famous arrangements of this work, perhaps the most famous one being Miles Davis' Sketches of Spain. If Sketches of Spain didn't include the whole Adagio movement (made into incredibly good jazz), I would have used it for today's appetizer. But why spoil dinner? We'll hear the real thing, shortly.
The Concierto is in traditional form, which means... I get to whip out my handy-dandy blue graphic explaining Sonata-Allegro form again! (Explained many times, but best HERE and HERE).
Dumbo's Handy Dandy Blue Sonata-Allegro Form explainin' graphic.
If that's too much to process above, just think of Sonata-Allegro form this way: Boy meets girl (exposition); boy loses girl (development); boy gets girl back (recapitulation), all of it as a musical form.
The entire work is derived from the simple initial motif that the first movement begins with. I made an illustration, another Dumbed-down-by-Dumbo musical transcription.
(It surprises me how fast I've become at whipping these things out using Musette, I, somebody who can't really read music very well at all.)
The top line is the opening motif heard during the introduction. When the first theme finally makes its entrance (the second line, above), hopefully you can notice the similarity to the opening motif. And again, to the adagio motif. And it will return in the final movement in a much plainer and obvious form. It has a kind of up-down arch shape to it, that you can see even if you can't read music. That up-down arch shape has a similarity, too, in the adagio to some of the high wailing of classical flamenco song. That single high note in the second line, above, not very interesting just to look at, I admit, becomes the subject to a lot of lingering and rapid ornamentation and variation. That's where the adagio gets a lot of its ethnic flavor.
Rodrigo's Concierto is NOT flamenco.
Let's stay clear on that. It is classical music. But it is infused with the spirit of flamenco. Or perhaps it just all seems like traditional flamenco song to me because I've got this concerto stuck in my head! It's hard for me to hear flamenco music and NOT hear the Concierto de Aranjuez.
I'm not a musicologist, although I play one on DailyKos, so, preemptively: caveat emptor, dudes. One of the characteristics that I hear in much traditional flamenco singing is that launching towards a high note, and then passionately lingering on and ornamenting that note.
Let me try to bolster myself by selectively quoting Wikipedia on flamenco about a few points of flamenco melodic style. I'll skip the microtonality and go to point 5.
5. Insistence on a note and its contiguous chromatic notes (also frequent in the guitar), producing a sense of urgency.
6. Baroque ornamentation, with an expressive, rather than merely aesthetic function.
7. Apparent lack of regular rhythm, especially in the siguiriyas: the melodic rhythm of the sung line is different from the metric rhythm of the accompaniment.
An example: I could have chosen many examples that sound much like Rodrigo's Adagio theme, but I like this one of a traditional flamenco song.
La Noche (Solea). Sung by Estrella Morente.
What is Flamenco? The name itself is subject to debate, one interpretation being that it's regional slang for Gypsies or other ethnic groups. Flamenco also means flamingo, the red (or pink) breasted bird. It also has latin roots in the word for flame.
It interested me, in searching for clip art, to see the red dress so associated with flamenco. When I studied Spanish in high school, our teacher warned us, if you're going very far south into Mexico, don't wear sexy red clothes around churches or you'll get yelled at. Especially not red. Red is the color of sex, of brazenness, (and in the wrong context, of prostitution). Flamenco music is overtly sexual.
You can't point to just one ethnic influence in it. About half of the flamenco links on Youtube take you to Arabic and Sephardic Jewish performances of flamenco. And Flamenco carries the many centuries-long ethnic influence of both of those groups, Spain being a country that was heavily Jewish and Arabic at one time.
About Paco de Lucia
I nearly went with the John Williams performance today (John Williams, the famous classical guitarist, not the Star Wars guy). If you want to buy the Concierto on Amazon, you can't do much better than the John Williams recording. But I fell in love with this performance by Paco de Lucia. An elderly Rodrigo himself appears at the end of the performance to bow and shake hands with Paco. Paco is an interesting soloist choice because, unlike the great John Williams, he is NOT a classically trained guitarist. He can't even read music. He is, though, one of the powerhouses of traditional flamenco. Rodrigo loved it.
Until asked to perform and interpret Concierto de Aranjuez in 1991, the Spanish flamenco guitarist Paco de Lucía was not proficient at reading musical notation. De Lucía claimed in Paco de Lucía-Light and Shade: A Portrait that he gave greater emphasis to rhythmical accuracy in his interpretation of the Concierto at the expense of the perfect tone preferred by classical guitarists. Joaquín Rodrigo later declared that no one had ever played his composition in such a brilliant manner.
For anyone used to the John Williams performance, which is brilliant, this is going to sound shocking. It is to me, particularly in the two outer movements, which sound, when played in the
correct, classical style, somewhat mechanical. Paco gives
"greater emphasis to rhythmical accuracy", meaning, he gives it more ethnic snap.
The entire concerto is three movements, only 23 minutes long in this performance. The Youtube clip, however, is a full concert performance of more works that lasts than an hour. We are only going to listen to the first part, the concierto. The rest of the clip, of Paco performing his own flamenco music, is very much worth listening to as well.
So let's go!
El Concierto de Aranjuez (1939), a concerto for guitar and orchestra, by Joaquin Rodrigo, performed by Orquesta De Cadaques, Llorenc Caballero conductor, Paco de Lucia guitar soloist.
First Movement: Allegro Con Spirito (fast, with spirit). (0:40)
Ignore the beginning of the clip. It's just credits junk, and the music quoted is from the finale. The actual first movement begins at 0:40
Introduction (0:40)
The guitar begins the concerto, gently and simply, with the opening motif (the first line from my graphic). Then the guitar releases control to the orchestra which takes up the repeating motif. It builds up a bright and shiny tension that leads us into...
Exposition first theme (1:41)
The first theme. This is the second line of my music illustration. We can hear the main intro motif in the accompaniment.
At 2:03, the guitar returns. At 2:09, it introduces a leaping rhythmic figure in the woodwinds and guitar that will figure prominently in the rest of the movement.
At 2:21, we get a snazzy little bridge passage which transport us from the home key to a new one, our signal we're ready for
Exposition second theme (2:32)
The guitar soloist introduces a new theme, which, if we're paying attention, is derived and transformed from the introductory motif. "Leaping rhythmic figure" shows up prominently in the accompaniment, here.
As the second theme ends, the introductory motif returns, but it has been it lowered to a minor key, setting up a hushed tension. What next?
Development (3:17)
A solo cello enters with a new, more plaintive minor key theme derived from the first theme. The guitar replies with the major key version, but quickly drops back to the minor key. That leads us into a series of beautiful key changes.
At 4:10, the "leaping rhythmic figure" starts to assert itself in the orchestra. Subtle at first, it becomes more aggressive, setting us up for a climax. As it ends on a question note, we are prepared for...
Recapitulation first theme again (4:29)
Ah! Back in the home key again, and here comes the first theme. Terra firma after our journey. The snazzy bridge passage is changed, to keep us in the home key, leading us into...
Recapitulation second theme again (4:55)
The second theme is led first by the woodwinds, this time around, but the guitar takes it back (5:20).
Coda (5:45)
The orchestra picks up its voice and restates the first theme again in a more confident voice, signaling that we're approaching the end, drawing it out. The guitar restates the introductory motif one last time, very gently, before the music ends softly.
Second Movement: Adagio (slow) (6:19)
Main theme (first half) (6:19)
As the movement begins, the guitar soloist only strums gentle chords as the english horn (so called, even though it's a woodwind) cries out the haunting main theme of the adagio, the melody that has made this work so famous. This first version is the simple version.
At 7:07, the guitar takes up the theme for the first time, ornamenting it, while the strings gently cradle it with chords.
Main theme (second half) (7:45)
At 7:45, the english horn returns, giving us the second half of the main theme.
At 8:23, the guitar gives us its version of the same material, but more ornamented again. And here we hear a HUGE, HUGE difference in the way that Paco de Lucia perform this concerto from John Williams or Segovia or Bream, as he takes enormous liberties with the rhythm. This is a very, very personal and powerful movement in all their hands, but Paco makes it his own.
Notice, for instance, how at 8:52, he deliberately takes it out of key (you can call it microtonality), giving it a choking, sobbing quality. "Bending the string." That's not how it's usually done in concert performances, and is consistent with the more ethnic style.
He ends this section so gently he's almost inaudible.
At 9:05, as the guitarist takes a breath, the deeper strings come in, giving us a passage way to a new key, beginning a series of transformations of the main theme.
Development (sort of) section (9:20)
The english horn returns, but briefly, handing control back to the guitarist, now playing variations, most of them in the higher regions of the guitar's range.
At 10:10, the orchestra takes up part of the main theme briefly -- and there's a new element, a certain tragic growl to it. One that will grow as we go along. It trades back and forth with the guitar.
At 10:52, the guitar begins another variation on the theme, but whereas the others were in the higher regions, this one is in the deeper, more manly region of its range. Paco plays this part with great liberty, both hammering the strings for extra percussive effect, and "bending" it for that "microtonality."
Some very dissonant, ugly chords start to appear for the first time. I have no idea what the hell those chords are, but they are so intentionally painful in this context it is awesome. This movement already started in deep sadness and is here reaching new, deep, aching levels of pain.
At 12:01, the woodwinds pose a musical question. "Is there no hope?" perhaps. The guitar answers with a gruff, low-register snake-rattle. Again, the question. Another gruff reply.
At 12:39, the other woodwinds come to life, adding their comments to this dialogue. The atmosphere becomes tense with quiet electricity. Something is about to happen.
Cadenza (13:05)
As the last bassoon (that big woodwind thing you see in the clip) fades to nothingness, the guitar enters solo, without accompaniment, for its long cadenza. A cadenza is the soloist showcase opportunity that every concerto has at least one of, one that is expected to be tough, virtuoso material and also to help set up the climax. That's true to form, here. This is some of the greatest guitar music ever composed.
The guitar starts, gently enough, but with an anxious edge to it as it searches, explores the material that the main theme offers.
At 14:30, it begins to accelerate, picking up steam. Becomes fast, frantic, setting us up for the big climax.
Recapitulation (sort of) 15:00
At 15:00, as the guitar drops out, the full orchestra makes its climactic return, crying out the main theme, wailing it. An ominous walking pedal point in the basses keeps accompaniment. At 15:32, we hear the second half of the theme. It ends with sad resignation.
At 16:10, as we reach the end of the movement, the woodwinds briefly put a brighter face on it. The guitar makes its own final comments, moving us to a major key, the atmosphere sober but transcendent. Not in pain. It's interesting to watch how hard Paco plucks those last notes.
Third Movement: Allegro gentile (fast, gentle) (17:30)
I suspect this is a rondo movement. ABACADA, that kind of thing.
The movement begins with its main theme, derived, again, from the first movement introductory motif. The mood has lifted drastically. We are out of depression, into more mental territory. The movement itself is almost a Bach fugue in the way it treats this new theme, which has a little, weird, rhythmic trippiness in it.
I'm not going to analyze the whole movement. Running late, as usual, here. It deserves it, but, low key and gentle as it is, a relief after the second movement, it's not as simple as it seems at first.
It ends, at 22:10, with the gentlest of pluckings on the guitar, a very quiet ending for a concerto that is mostly quiet, gentle, and optimistic at both ends, but plumbs agonizing depths in its center.
AND DO NOT MISS, in the clip, at 23:04, as the elderly composer, Joaquin Rodrigo is walked out on stage and held up by Paco as he is congratulated. We don't often get to see the composers on stage with the performers in this series, do we?
The rest of the Youtube clip after that is just Paco, it's not classical, and it's not a subject of this diary, although it's excellent and fascinating.
NEXT WEEK: Still up in the air. I said last week that it would be Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique next week. We'll see about that, but I might be tempted into doing one more concerto. I do feel tempted at the moment. It depends on whether I'm up to the challenge.