The 4-CD Box Set “Art of the Guitar” contains a major
part of Johannes Tonio Kreusch’s musical universe
as performed during his nearly twenty year long concert
career. The set is simultaneously an inventory of
modern guitar performance that ranges from modern
classic composers of the 19th and 20th centuries to guitar composition in today’s Cuba and improvised, jazzrelated
music. The critical interpretations of the Villa-
Lobos Etudes – based on the composer’s manuscript
– have become highly significant in the guitar discography:
In addition to the longer middle section of Villa-Lobos’
Tenth Etude (recorded here for the first time), the listener
constantly finds little details that may at first surprise,
but which reveal their musical sense when heard repeatedly…
An impressive CD by a first-rate musician!
Akustik Gitarre
CD 1
Inspiración
Inspiración is a very personal album. This CD
brings together music that has long been my
companion, which has inspired me and filled
me with enthusiasm for the guitar. The Spanish
word, Inspiración, has many meanings: breathing
in, firing or filling with enthusiasm, pouring
in, enthusiasm, inspiration, impulse…
The works to be heard here, by Barrios-
Mangoré, Tárrega, Albéniz, Rodrigo and Brouwer,
have already filled many lovers of the guitar
with enthusiasm, and inspired them to take a new
look at its possibilities. Each of these composers
has, directly or indirectly, played an important
part in the guitar’s development, demonstrating
new performance possibilities, finding new
ways of expression and pouring in a new spirit
to the guitar. All have been profoundly inspired
by the six vibrating strings of the Spanish guitar,
the people’s instrument of its native land.
The many-coloured and sound-filled world of
Spain and Latin America provides the basis for
the compositions to be heard here, furnishes the
inspiration and impulse for their creators.
Let this album be dedicated to one of the
great voices of this Spanish-speaking world: the
poet, singer and guitarist Atahualpa Yupanqui,
who inspired me for the guitar. Through his
music we are breathing in the spirit of the Latin-
American world, are taken on a journey across
the vastness of the pampas. As a way of breathing
in, most of my concerts begin with an improvisation.
This allows me not only to acquaint myself
with the acoustic possibilities of the concert hall
in every detail, but also to build up a very personal
relationship with the audience. This tone
breathing-in of the acoustic and the direct search
for sound can be a linking process for player and
listener – prelude and inspiration as a preparation
for the concert which follows. The improvisations
“Inspiración” – Preludio and Conclusio – make up
the framework within which the pictures imagined
by the composers gathered together here can
come to life.
Music from Paraguay
At the end of the nineteenth century, the guitar’s
glory days were long since past. Meteoric
technical development and the ever-increasing
industrialisation of the world had their effect
on musical life, too. The softly plucked tones
of the lute or guitar were soon driven out by
the ever more perfectly developed, powerful
and virtuoso tones of the piano. Ears were attuned
to a new world. The guitar was now heard
mainly in small circles, at musical evenings in
the home, or as a folk instrument. Although the
great composers of the time enthused over the
guitar’s expressive qualities, or imitated the guitar’s
sound in orchestral or piano works, hardly
any great composer wrote for the instrument.
Hector Berlioz may well have had a decisive influence
on this situation, when he wrote in his
Grand Traité d’Instrumentation (1843) that it was
impossible for a composer to write well for the
guitar unless he was himself able to play the instrument.
Berlioz’s words of warning remained
a deterrent until the middle of the twentieth
century; only then was the guitar reintroduced
to composers and the public, to play its part in
the development of contemporary music. In the
preceding period the guitarist had no choice
but to write for the instrument himself. Thus
there came into being, quite separately from the
general development of contemporary music, a
school of guitar music captivated in the romantic
style. These guitar pieces were known in association
with their composer/performers, but
were often forgotten after the artist’s death.
Agustín Barrios-Mangoré (1885–1944) was
one such composer. He died a year before Anton
Webern, but seems to come from a quite different
time. His neo-romantic music has nothing
in common, for example, with the aesthetics
of the Second Viennese School of Schönberg,
Berg and Webern, who in the same period took
Wagner’s
extended chromaticism via the twelvetone
technique to the very limits of tonality.
Agustín Pío Barrios Ferreyra, from Paraguay,
was one of the great guitar virtuosi of the
first half of the twentieth century. Profoundly
inspired by the culture of his native land, he
took the name of a famous Paraguayan Guaraní
chieftain, and henceforward styled himself
“Chief Nitsuga (Nitsuga being Agustín spelt
backwards) Mangoré, the Paganini of the guitar
from the jungle of Paraguay”.
In his music, South American folklore mingles
with European romanticism. Thus in his
compositions we find Paraguayan folk songs as
well as waltzes, minuets and gavottes which hint
at French styles. Like many other musicians before
and after him, Barrios was much influenced
by the music of Johann Sebastian Bach. He reputedly
heard Bach’s music for the first time in
the cathedral of “San José” in Montevideo, which
prompted him to write La Catedral
in the year
1921. (The introductory Preludio was added 17
years later to the other two movements. The
manuscript of the Preludio bears the note “En
La Habana (Cuba) 28.1.38”. At this time Barrios
was temporarily living in a house opposite the
cathedral of San Cristobal in Havana.) Barrios
was the first guitarist – even before Segovia – to
programme a complete Bach Suite, and to record
Bach works for the gramophone. His earliest recordings
date from before the First World War.
Barrios also reformed contemporary guitar technique,
based on the teaching of Tárrega and Sor.
In contrast to the prevailing technique, Barrios
propounded a looser, sideways stroke of the right,
plucking hand, which, together with short fingernails,
allowed a softer and more coloured tone
production. Barrios also first hit on the principle
behind today’s use of nylon for the higher strings
of the classical guitar, covering his steel strings
with small pieces of rubber in an effort to produce
a softer tone, better suited to his own music.
Like many of his notable colleagues, Agustín
Barrios Mangoré nonetheless was standing in the
shadow of the great aura of that famous Spanish
guitarist, Andrés Segovia. When Barrios died in
San Salvador in 1948, his music was soon forgotten.
If the Spanish guitar maker Santos Hernandez
is to be believed, Barrios’s playing style, however,
lived on. Segovia travelled to South America
for the first time in 1920, where he also took lessons
with Barrios. When he came back to Spain,
Segovia had, according to Hernandez, acquired a
completely new sound on his instrument, softer
and more beautiful…
Music from Spain
Spanish folk music is among the richest and
most colourful in the world. Over many hundreds
of years Spain was repeatedly fertilized
and enriched by the most diverse cultures. Furthermore,
the Iberian peninsula is divided up
by high mountain ranges, so that individual regional
styles have scarcely had a chance to mix.
In addition, for a long period Spanish music
took no part in the development of European
art music, so that traditional music in Spain
remained particularly cherished and preserved.
What is usually seen from abroad as typically
Spanish is the music of Andalusia. Andalusian
folk music, for example, shows a particularly
potent mix of the most disparate cultures.
Here are oriental influences, and echoes
of the music of Asia Minor. In Andalusia (“al
andalus” – the land of the Vandals, named by
the Moors, who took over in AD 711, from the
Germanic tribe of the Vandals who had temporarily
settled there) the Arabic domination
lasted longer than in any other part of Spain.
By way of influences as diverse as Arabic musical
culture, Byzantine song, adopted by the
Spanish church, the music of the gypsies, who
came to Spain in increasing numbers from the
fifteenth century, and Jewish synagogue music,
cante jondo (“deep song”) came into being.
Older than cante flamenco, its oriental-sounding,
long-breathed, plaintive melodies recall the
prayer of an Arabic muezzin.
The guitarist and composer Francisco Tárrega
y Eixa (1852–1909) calls up these memories
with one of his most well-loved piece, Capricho
Árabe. Like Barrios, Tárrega was totally captivated
by the atmosphere of romanticism, and
found inspiration, above all, in the popular culture
of his Spanish homeland. As a somewhat
withdrawn character, he looked to composition
and the development of guitar technique for
the realisation of his artistic aims, rather than
seeking success on the concert platform. His
work as a teacher, which produced significant
guitarists like Miguel Llobet or Emilio Pujol,
decisively helped the guitar’s progress towards
re-acceptance as a serious classical instrument.
(One should remember that until 1935 the guitar
was not taught as a classical solo instrument
in any of Spain’s superior academies of music!)
Tárrega’s studies, transcriptions and concert
pieces were developments for the guitar just as
important as his efforts towards the refinement
of guitar technique. The Spanish guitar maker
Antonio de Torres Jurado (1817–1892) provided
him also with an instrument that revolutionized
the existing guitar sound from the ground
up, and led the way to the development of the
modern guitar. Among other improvements,
an increase in the body size and alteration of
the string lengths produced a louder and more
colourful guitar sound. Through these decisive
developments, Tárrega would have been “physically”
ready for the Modernist world of this
time; his music, however, remained tethered
in conservatively romantic pastures. The pretty
gavotte, María, may for some listeners seem
something of an anachronism in a world that
was on the point of abandoning the tonal centre
altogether.
In the same year that Tárrega died, there occurred
the death of his friend, the pianist and
composer Isaac Manuel Francisco Albéniz
(1860–1909). Together with Enrique Granados,
Manuel de Falla and Roberto Gerhard,
Albéniz belonged to the new school of Spanish
composers which formed around Felipe Pedrell
(1841–1922). Before Pedrell there had for almost
two hundred years been no notable Spanish
art music, except for the Zarzuelas, almost unknown
outside Spain. Spanish composers stood
too much in the shadow of Italian opera or
the German romantic movement. In contrast,
Spanishness was a quality much beloved outside
its homeland – one has only to think of Bizet’s
Carmen, Liszt’s Spanish Rhapsody or the Spanish
Capriccio, which caused Russian composer Rimskij-
Korsakov to be hailed as the “best Spanish
musician of the nineteenth century”. Pedrell
was concerned to free Spain from these preconceptions,
and like Bartók in Eastern Europe,
developed the traditions of his native country,
collecting old folk tunes which he made accessible
to all in his Spanish Folk-Song Book. He also
encouraged his pupils to consider their roots,
and to write new Spanish music. The works of
Isaac Albéniz, who as a Liszt pupil very quickly
became recognized as a piano virtuoso (launching
out independently at the age of nine, and
travelling the world alone as a concert pianist),
form a basic element of the guitar’s repertoire –
despite the fact that Albéniz wrote not a single
note for the guitar. His music so skilfully catches
the sound of the guitar, the landscapes of
Spain, that the guitar transcriptions sound for
the most part like original works. It was Tárrega
who first discovered Albéniz’s piano pieces for
the guitar. The piece heard here, Asturias (describing
a historic region of north-west Spain,
to the north of the Cantabrian mountain range)
comes from his Suite Espagnole for piano. This
piece, curiously, owes much of its popularity to
the guitar.
Twentieth-century Spanish classical music
had its beginnings in Paris. Here composers like
Albéniz or Manuel de Falla (1876–1946) found
readier listeners than at home. With the support
of composer colleagues like Debussy, to whom,
according to de Falla, Spanish music owes a great
debt, they found here, far from home, their true
voice. Significantly, on the death of Debussy, de
Falla wrote his only guitar piece as homage to
his friend and mentor. Since the death of Tárrega,
this Homenaje – Le Tombeau de Debussy,
is the first notable work for guitar by a Spanish
composer. An equally gripping homage came
from the pen of the Spanish composer Joaquín
Rodrigo (1901–1999) as a tribute to Manuel de
Falla. Perhaps de Falla’s piece had given Rodrigo
the courage, as a nonguitarist, to defy Berlioz’s
strictures, and write for Spain’s national instrument.
Joaquín Rodrigo, born on the feast day
of St. Cecilia, the patron saint of music, lost
his sight at the age of three, following an attack
of diphtheria. Following the example of his famous
countrymen, the young Rodrigo went to
Paris to study with Paul Dukas, who had also
taught Albéniz. Here he made the acquaintance
of composers like Ravel, Stravinsky, Poulenc,
d’Indy, Honegger and de Falla, and met
the Turkish pianist Victoria Kamhi, who later
became his wife. Rodrigo felt himself linked to
the Pedrell-Albéniz-de Falla school, and wrote
new Spanish music in the same line. His many
works for guitar – above all his famous Concierto
de Aranjuez – helped the guitar to new prominence.
One of the most intimate guitar works
from his pen is the Invocación y Danza, a homage
to his mentor Manuel de Falla. The invocation,
and the ritual dance which follows, with
fleeting references to de Falla’s central works
Noches en los Jardines de España and El Amor
Brujo, is successful. Just as in de Falla’s Homenaje,
the listener recalls Debussy’s spirit from
the void through a quotation from his Soirée
dans Granade from the piano cycle Estampes, in
Rodrigo’s Homenaje de Falla indeed has the last
word. With this work, Rodrigo pays tribute to
the composer who finally and decisively opened
the door for Spanish music into a new world.
Music from Cuba
“The guitar is a little orchestra – seen through the
wrong end of a telescope”. Thus Andrés Segovia
once described his instrument. The Cuban
guitarist and composer, Leo Brouwer (b. 1939)
develops the whole range of tonal colours of
this miniature orchestra in his works. “Since the
tone-colour is the typical characteristic of guitar
technique, it should also be a central element in
composition…” he says of his approach. Like
many Latin-American composers of his generation,
he is looking for his own identity and his
own language, which should as well lead the way
to a national and at the same time universal music.
Widely different though his creative phases
may be – his works ranging from extremely
avant-garde to neo-romantic minimalism – he
is never untrue to his Cuban and Latin-American
origins. Danza Característica (1958) comes
from Brouwer’s first period, which lasted until
about 1964. Works produced during this period
are strongly marked by Afro-Cuban and Latin-
American folk music. One may trace a link with
composers like Amadeo Roldán or Federico
García Caturla, who fostered a national style of
Cuban music in the 20s, and made a particular
point of incorporating in their music elements
of the previously despised black culture.
Danza Característica is the first of Brouwer’s
works to make its way into the international
guitar repertoire. It combines traditional
elements, like the “tresillo” and the “cinquillo”
rhythms with a sound-world which is reminiscent
of Bartók. The basis of Danza Característica
is the Cuban song Quítate de la acera, which
means something like “Get off the sidewalk!”
This Afro-Cuban ditty, very popular in Cuba,
is in traditional conga rhythm, mostly danced
by the black population on (!) the street – so
neither at home, nor on the sidewalk!
Elogio de la Danza (1964) announces the
arrival of a second creative period, in which
Brouwer turns increasingly to new avant-garde
techniques, to the point of atonality and abstraction
(as in La espiral eterna). Elogio de la
Danza is also still strongly influenced by Afro-
Cuban elements, although tending towards
new sounds and tonalities. The character of the
work recalls a ritual ceremony of the Yoruba
cult, still practised in Cuba. Cuba is full of the
most varied religious cults, most of them are imported
by black slaves from Africa (mainly from
Nigeria). After the freeing of the slaves, these
ceremonies were no longer celebrated in secret,
and were even opened to the white population.
The Cuban historian Fernando Ortíz describes
this fusion of Spanish and African culture into
something essentially Cuban as “transculturation”.
Thus it is hardly to be wondered at that
Elogio de la Danza, which was commissioned by
choreographer Luis Trápaga for a ballet production
at the Havana theatre, is inofficially called
the “Cuban national anthem” – not just among
guitarists…
A turn towards the neo-romantic, which
characterizes his third creative period, Brouwer
describes as “a necessity” and “a rediscovery”. In
the 70s, after his works had reached total abstraction
and tonal alienation, he thought his
way back, step by step, to his national and tonal
inheritance. In his Cuban Landscape with Carillons
(1986) Brouwer paints with fine detail and
newly minimalistic sounds a portrait of the rich
and many-coloured nature of Cuba.
The recital ends with an old Latin-American
folk-song, which Brouwer arranged in his
own style for guitar. This native melody from
the high plains of the Altiplano, between Perú
and Bolivia, sings of a time when Cristóbal
Colón had not yet landed to conquer the New
World for Spain, and the destruction of its oldest
culture by the European invaders had not yet
begun.
Johannes Tonio Kreusch
CD 2
Guitar Music of
Heitor Villa-Lobos and
Alberto Ginastera
Heitor Villa-Lobos and Alberto Ginastera,
driving forces of the Latin-American
Modernist movement, composed relatively
sparingly for the “national instrument” of their
home countries. In fact the Sonata Op. 47 is
the only piece Ginastera ever composed for
the guitar. Nonetheless they both lastingly enriched
the guitar repertoire with the compositions
included on this CD. Villa-Lobos’ Etudes
and Ginastera’s
Sonata undoubtedly belong
amongst the most important pieces composed
for guitar this century. One can sense the deep
and immediate attachment of both composers
to the culture and history of Latin America in
these pieces; they fruitfully contrast tradition
with the new ideas and sounds of their modernist
world. Both the Etudes and the Sonata
were composed in Europe. One could say that
Heitor Villa-Lobos and Alberto Ginastera have
travelled back down the road on which their
fathers came under great hardship when they
brought their alien culture onto the untouched
continent. This meeting of cultures so different,
this straddling of supposedly great opposites,
this fusion of European (avant-garde) music,
often strongly characerised by the intellect, with
the archaic, natural music of the native peoples
of Latin America, is the starting point for the
work of both these composers and reaches an
even more intense clarity in their pieces for
guitar. The music of Heitor Villa-Lobos (Rio
de Janeiro, 1887–1959) is steeped in the spirit of
Brazil. In his impetuous and self-assured manner
he apparently said once “I am the folklore”,
and so demonstrated his deep attachment to the
music and culture of his country. However his
music was misunderstood and rejected before he
became one of the most celebrated composers
in Brazil and before musicians such as Andrés
Segovia and Arthur Rubinstein took his name
around the world. At the beginning of his career
he made a living as a travelling musician, namely,
a “Chorão” (a member of a Brazilian chôro
band) and improvised the “Chôros” (based in
fact on such dances of European origin as the
mazurka, the polka and the waltz) at his home
in the clubs of Rio de Janeiro.
All his life Villa-Lobos, whose knowledge of
music was mostly self-taught, retained this immediacy
in music-making and musical experimentation,
always in search of new ideas in
sound. Even though his music is sometimes
reminiscent of the French Impressionism of Debussy
and Ravel, and his friendships with Varèse
or Milhaud certainly influenced his compositions
and although at that time it was almost
impossible to resist the effect of the new music
of composers like Stravinsky, Prokofiev or Bartók,
Villa-Lobos nonetheless developed his own
individual and unmistakable style: his music is
in search of new sounds and tonal possibilities,
but always deeply inspired by the colours of
Brazil, with all its diverse influences from the
South American Indian, Black and European
cultures. It is certainly no accident that the
manuscript of his 12 Etudes for guitar from 1928,
which originated in Paris, is titled “Etudes pour
la guitarra” (on the front page he also uses the
term “guitarre”). The guitar, which accompanied
Villa-Lobos throughout life, does not become
a French “guitare”, but retains its original
name “guitarra” even in France. The second
manuscript used for this recording, which states
“Paris, 1929” as the place and date of origin, but
was signed by Villa-Lobos with “Rio de Janeiro
1948” even bears the title “12 Estudos para Violão”.
“Violão” is the Brazilian/Portuguese name
for the guitar. Although the Etudes were composed
in Paris, and are certainly influenced by
the music played there at that time, this music is
rooted in Brazil. This cycle is permeated with
motifs and ideas from Brazilian folk music and
for instance includes Chôro, Chorinho, Chorão,
Modhina, Seresta, Waltz and Mazurka. The ambiguity
which arises from the title of the manuscript,
a title which was not used in publication,
has a well-known parallel in music history: Johann
Sebastian Bach gave his Sonatas and Partitas
for Violin the title “Sei Solo” in the manuscript.
The composition gains an entirely new
meaning if one interprets “Sei Solo” as “Six (Sonatas
and Partitas) for the One (Creator)”. Johann
Sebastian Bach was a further important
source of inspiration for Villa-Lobos and so the
first Etude, called Prelude in the manuscript, is
reminiscent of a Bach Prelude. The manuscript
from 1928 (this recording is mainly based on
this particular manuscript, but also makes use of
the 1929/48 one) proves impressively just how
well Villa-Lobos knew the guitar. Villa-Lobos
elaborated the fingering for the musician in
great detail and the agogic indications as well as
the intended dynamics are even more closely
specified. The printing mistakes, which have
never been corrected in all editions until this
day, also become visible. Since Heitor Villa-Lobos’
music will always have an improvisational
character, it remains the musician’s decision to
what extent one includes the deviations from
the 1928 manuscript (such as the long middle
section of Etude No. 10) or assumes that Villa-
Lobos consciously intended to alter these passages.
In any case we gain an insight into the
creation of this great cycle, with which Villa-
Lobos gave to the guitar something of comparable
significance as Chopin gave to the piano
with his Etudes. Heitor Villa-Lobos dedicated
his 12 Etudes to the great Spanish guitarist Andrés
Segovia (the dedication can only be found
in the 1929/48 manuscript). Apparently the latter
also played an indirect role in the composition
of Alberto Ginastera’s Sonata. When Ginastera
was still only in his twenties, Segovia apparently
suggested he compose for the guitar.
Ginastera was hesitant, admitting that he knew
nothing about the peculiarities and possibilities
of this “national instrument”. Upon this Segovia
is said to have advised him to compose as if
he were writing only for the left hand of a pianist.
Only 40 years later did Ginastera feel sufficiently
ready to compose for this important folk
instrument of his home country. The Sonata
Op. 47 transcends the boundaries of traditional
guitar playing techniques and does not adhere
in any way to Segovia’s advice (and is hence not
dedicated to him). Ginastera himself described
the piece as “a work of far reaching composition,
embodying the music of a whole continent, in
which the interpreter can demonstrate his qualities”.
The work of Alberto Evaristo Ginastera,
born into a family of Catalonian and Italian
origins in Buenos Aires in 1916, is steeped in the
nationalistic idiom. All his life his greatest
source of inspiration was Argentinian folk music,
even though he suffered great disappointments
in his home country: an opponent of the
dictator Perón, Ginastera was forbidden to
teach at the Conservatory in 1945; after his opera
Bomarzo was banned on political grounds,
he left his home country in 1968, himself prohibiting
all performances of his compositions in
Argentina until such a time as he would again
give permission, and emigrated to Geneva,
where he died in 1983. Quite contrary to his famous
compatriot Astor Piazzolla, whose compositions
were directed mostly toward the Tango
which is strongly rooted in Europe, Ginastera
remained firmly rooted in the songs and dances
of the Gauchos and Quechua Indians. The beginning
of the Sonata compellingly underlines
this attitude. Esordio – a solemn prelude, reminiscent
of a baroque overture in the improvisational
character of its beginning – commences
with the sound of the open guitar strings. This
chord, which appears throughout the Sonata in
its basic and in altered form, has become symbolic
in Ginastera’s compositions. Ever since
first appearing in his Danzas Argentinas, it has
played an increasingly central role in later works
(such as the first string quartet or the first piano
sonata). This chord is a symbol of the music of
the “Gauchos” (the cattle herds of the Pampas,
mostly descendants of Indian nomads) and of
their instrument: the guitar. The second part of
Esordio begins with a song inspired by the music
of the “Quechua-Indians”. (The “Quechua-Indians”
were the ruling class of the Inca Empire).
The rhythm of this song is a “Vidala”, a carnival-
song, mostly accompanied only by guitar
and drums, played here as percussive beats on
the guitar. The folklore material has been distorted
almost into the surreal, its harmonies are
also reminiscent of archaic folk music with its
frequently microtonal resonance and so prepares
the mood of the second movement.
According to Ginastera the Scherzo is based on “an
interplay of shadow and light, of nocturnal and
magical ambience, of dynamic contrasts, distant
dances, of surrealistic impressions”. It transports
the listener into the magical shimmering nocturnal
mood of the “Pampas” (Quechua for
“treeless plain”, by which they mean the Argentinian
grasslands, reaching from the Atlantic
coast to the edge of the Andes). In the “Scherzo”
fragments of dances and rhythms of the Gauchos
sound from afar (for example “Chacarera”
or “Gato”) fused with modern composition
techniques such as 12 note writing or the use of
clusters. This mood is suddenly interrupted by
the sound of the Beckmesser theme from Wagner’s
Meistersinger opera, which brings the second
movement to its end. This theme, which
appears as a distant vision with its light flageolet-
notes, does not appear at precisely this central
place in the middle of the Sonata accidentally.
The Viennese Eduard Hanslick was a sharp
critic of Wagner and the character of Beckmesser
was intended to denigrate him. Ginastera was
well aware that his composition would not be
met only with open ears. This work is at home
neither with the strict keepers of tradition nor
in the circles of the modern Avant-Garde. Canto
is described by Ginastera as “lyrical and rhapsodic,
expressive and breathless like a love-poem”.
It has the character of a “Harawi” from the ancient
Inca-culture, a slow, solemn lament, sung
at a parting, a death watch, or from lovesickness.
Finale, the fiery close of the Sonata, once
more unites the diverse rhythms and dances of
the Pampas and contrasts traditional guitarplaying
with new techniques. With this sonata
Alberto Ginastera provides impressive proof of
his great imaginative gift. Although he never
learned to play the guitar like Heitor Villa-Lobos,
it has nonetheless been possible for him to
look deeply into the soul of this instrument.
Johannes Tonio Kreusch
CD 3
Portraits of Cuba
Tres Imágenes Cubanas (1996)
In 1994, I met Tulio Peramo for the first time
during the guitar festival in Havana. At that
time, I was 24 and Tulio was nearly twice as old.
The age difference didn’t matter. I was touched
by his wise, philosophical and poetic thoughts.
He, though, had to deal with my youthful energy!
From this energy and Tulio’s beautiful musical
thoughts, the music on this disc arose as did
a deep friendship between the two of us. Tulio
doesn’t like to speak about his music, since music
should speak for itself – and it truly does. However,
I wanted to give the listener some insights
into some of the colourful ideas and the interesting
background that inspired this music.
The music of Tulio Peramo is deeply inspired
by his native country, Cuba. Tres Imágenes
Cubanas,
the first piece Tulio wrote for
me, is meant to be a “history” of Cuban music,
combining all the different elements and styles
of this culture. Tres Imágenes Cubanas juxtaposes
the string quartet, one of the principal musical
body of European classical music, with one
of the most important Cuban instruments: the
guitar. The music itself reflects a strong crosspollination
of different cultures, namely the
interaction between European (mainly Spanish)
and African cultures, that have co-existed
in Cuba for centuries. Therefore, Tulio first
thought to call this work “Mulata”, a term for
the beautiful mixed-coloured Cuban women.
Throughout most of Cuban history, Cuban society
did not accept African culture as part of
its artistic life. However, with staunch support
from many Cuban writers, painters and musicians
who were all deeply influenced by African
culture, this began to change. Some of these artists
include Fernando Ortiz, Alejo Carpentier,
Wilfredo Lám, Amadeo Roldán, Ernesto Lecuona
and Alejandro García Caturla. As a result of
their efforts, “Afrocubism” became an integral
part of Cuba’s artistic life. In fact, today’s Cuban
culture is regarded as a “tropical cocktail”
of influences. Spanish, French, Nigerian and
Asian culture all contribute to Cuba’s rich cultural
landscape. Though the interplay between
Spanish and African styles is the most readily
apparent aspect of Tres Imágenes Cubanas, elements
from all of the backgrounds mentioned
above permeate the work. Aside from reflecting
“Afrocubism”, Tres Imágenes is also an homage
to Alejandro García Caturla (1906–1940), one
of the leading figures of the Afrocubism movement.
In fact, at some moments in the first part
of Tres Imágenes, there are quasi-quotations of
the opening theme of Caturla’s Obertura Cubana
for orchestra. The first movement is written
in sonata-form: the opening theme has a Spanish
flavor, while the second theme has African
elements, something akin to a slow “conga”, an
African street dance. Within this theme, one
can find the Cuban “clave” rhythm. The second
part, which reminds me to the spirit of Caturla’s
“Berceuse Campesina”, introduces the Cuban
peasant “guajira” rhythm. Again the general
idea is a classical European structure: the “Liedform”.
The third movement, a mélange of Spanish
and African influences, is written in rondo
form, but ends with the famous Cuban “son”
that again makes use of the “clave” rhythm.
In 1997, I premiered Tres Imágenes Cubanas
at the Gasteig Hall in Munich, Germany.
One year later, Leo Brouwer invited me to do
the world premiere of the orchestral version at
the Teatro National during the Havana Guitar
Festival together with the Cuban National
Symphony Orchestra. In 1999, with the help of
a grant from La Salle University, Philadelphia/
Pennsylvania Tulio and I were invited to do a
US-tour presenting his music in performances
with the Griffin String Quartet.
Aires de la Tierra (1998)
During this trip, Tulio heard another premiere
of one of his new compositions. On March 6,
1999, Mezzo-soprano Nan-Maro Babakhanian
and I premiered the song cycle, Aires de la tierra,
at Carnegie Hall in New York. Since Tulio first
began his career as a professional Opera singer,
I wanted him to combine his two souls: singing
and composing. (Before writing this song cycle,
Tulio had never considered returning to the
singing world. In fact, it took quite some time
for him to feel comfortable with the idea!)
In this song-cycle, Tulio shows his poetic
side writing the words to the music himself.
Fiesta, the last song of the cycle, is written in
“Bozal”, a language reminiscent of the Spanish
slang spoken by black slaves in Cuba during
the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. (Tulio
included the following description in his correspondence
to me: “Aires de la Tierra should be
sung by a woman who possesses a lyrical voice, but
not in an operatic sense. The voice should be very
open and clear as well as aggressive, sensual and
tender. Remember the Cuban ‘mulatas’ !”).
Fiesta is based on the “tango-conga” rhythm,
a rhythm that can be described as a fast, yet less
intense “habañera”. This particular rhythm was
used extensively in Cuban comic theatre during
the first half of this century. Fiesta keeps some
of this theatrical spirit to make the audience enjoy
the moment. As Tulio describes it, one can
experience here the heritage of the old Spanish
literary tradition that came to Cuba and Latin
America during the colonial days. (The anonymous
medieval novel, El Lazarillo de Tormes, is
a good example of this aesthetic). Most of the
time this literary world alludes to physical pleasures
and to politics: a strange and unique blend
of tragedy and comedy that is an intrinsic part
of the magical Latin American world.
When songs in that style became part of
Cuban popular theatre, they kept their roguish
intentions, but began to mutate into something
more refined. Written in the same tradition,
though not as direct as Fiesta, is the opening
song, Vegas de Vueltabajo, translated roughly as
“Down road”. Vueltabajo was the name given
to the Western side of Cuba back in the colonial
days. In particular, this term refers to the province
of “Pinar del Río”, where one can find the best
soil for tobacco plantations. Luna de Guamá
uses the traditional “guajira” rhythm and is an
excellent example of Cuban rural music. Guamá
was the name of a native village, located in the
south middle side of the island. This song, along
with Mar, with its beautiful guitar solo parts and
Psalmody, a lullaby for a dead child, build a very
intimate and tender contrast to the extroverted
beginning and end of the cycle.
En Tardes de Lluvia (1999)
In May 1999, I was on tour in Latin America as a
member of a Jazz-trio together with my brother
Cornelius. We also traveled to Cuba, where we
performed several concerts and where I was also
scheduled for a solo-recital at the Gran Teatro
de la Habana. The endless conversations with
Tulio, my brother, and myself and our aimless
walks through Havana, around the shore and
into little Cuban rural villages – like the fishing
village “Cojimar”, where people seem not
to know the word “time” – are reflected in En
Tardes de Lluvia. There is also an impressionistic
touch to this music, which reminds me a bit of
the aesthetics of Debussy or Ravel. During Tulio’s
first trip to the United States, we were able
to spend a day together in the Impressionist’s
Gallery at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in
New York. After a long day, talking about these
wonderful paintings, as well as about the music
and poetry connected to Impressionism, I asked
Tulio to write a Suite for solo-guitar in this spirit.
En Tardes de Lluvia – “On Rainy Evenings”
was written during a period of heavy rain – the
perfect poetic surrounding! This music takes inspiration
from Impressionism but nevertheless
is Cuban in its inner soul. (Ironically we had
unusually heavy rain during the recording of
this Suite…)
Canto de Septiembre (1999)
Canto de Septiembre was composed on Tulio’s
birthday in 1999… “I’m 26 years old”, insisted
Tulio on that day with a straight face. Actually
born in 1948 in Havana, Tulio’s playful sense
of humor speaks volumes about his cheerful,
though introspective personality. Originally
trained as a professional opera singer, Tulio began
his career at the National Opera House of
Havana. At the (real) age of 25, disappointed
and personally harmed by the intrigues and
flamboyant life of this singing world, he left the
opera in order to start a new life. As he recalls:
“26 years ago I found myself at a point of no return:
I had lost everything – the faith in my work and
even my social backgrounds with all my friends,
who couldn’t understand this decision – but I still
had myself with the deeply felt desire to change my
life.” After a difficult time lasting several years,
nearly isolated from his usual environment,
only supported by his close family and inspired
by solitude and the silence of thoughts, did he
come to understand the need to become a composer
in order to find a new way of expression.
For me, it is a miracle how one can capture
the soul of the guitar in such a refined way without
being able to play that instrument himself.
(Although Tulio is always proud to show that
he knows how to play the introduction of one
major guitar piece – Leo Brouwer’s Elogio de la
Danza – by plucking the open E-string three
times). I am delighted to introduce Tulio Peramo
to the music world!
Johannes Tonio Kreusch