The recording industry
is led by the "majors", isn’t
it? It’s implicit that all the other
companies are "small fry",
a cloud of relatively insignificant
cottage industries. But who decides
which companies are the members of this
exclusive "majors" club? No,
I don’t know - I was rather hoping that
you could tell me! Then
I could ask the gentleman, or lady,
or committee or whatever, "Could
you please tell us why Naxos isn’t a
‘major’?" Let’s face it, Naxos
isn’t known as a "major",
but it jolly well ought to be.
I’m not about to dredge
through the story yet again, except
to point out that that while the rest
of the recording industry was gloomily
sliding down its own entropy gradient,
Naxos was gaily sliding up the same.
It’s now getting to the point where
the only advantage the "majors"
have is their brace of contracts with
"big names". However, the
way that the "majors" are
now dropping big-name contracts like
hot bricks, it can be only a matter
of time - and not much time, either
- before even this angle is reversed.
Of course, one of the
great joys of Naxos - other than the
price! - is the now utterly gob-smacking,
multi-dimensional breadth of
its repertoire of music, 99% of which
seems to be at the very least passably
presented, performed and recorded. For
the foreseeable future, the company’s
only risk seems to be that of collapsing
under the sheer weight of it all. In
the meantime, Naxos diversifies into
the parts that other companies just
don’t seem to reach. Take the present
issue, which represents not one but
two aspects of that diversification:
"national" series and "single
composer surveys", both of which
are surely of inestimable value to students
and "serious" music-lovers,
and also to the incurably curious and
compulsive "completists".
Right, as if to prove
a point, hands up all those who know
Rodrigo only through his Concierto
de Aranjuez. My, but that’s a lot
of hands, even if we disqualify those
who know only the second movement! If
we toss in the Fantasia para un Gentilhombre,
considerably fewer hands will go up,
I shouldn’t wonder. Almost half of Rodrigo’s
entry in the record catalogue consists
of recordings of those two works. That
may be a better spread than that enjoyed
by Rodrigo’s teacher, Dukas, but then
only a dozen or so of his works
survive, whereas there is a river of
Rodrigo in which to swim.
Naxos have produced
a series of eight CDs covering Rodrigo’s
complete orchestral works. Alright,
it doesn’t exactly challenge Gargantua-like
complete Mozart or Bach editions. However,
whereas the latter editions merely cement
the well-worn flagstones of broad highways,
this relatively modest effort more or
less lays a whole new path. For me this
seventh volume, featuring Rodrigo’s
works for voices and orchestra, is exactly
that: a whole new path. Perhaps I should
have mentioned that one of the hands
that went up was mine, albeit at the
second time of asking?
The booklet is exemplary.
The notes by Enrique Martínez
Miura, in Spanish, are reproduced in
an English translation by Susannah Howe.
If I dare make a bet on it, I’d say
English is her first language! There
is also a German translation, apparently
not of the original Spanish but of the
English translation. A bit round the
houses, but never mind - if the German
reads as well in German as the English
does in English, then there’s probably
no harm done. Far from it: the notes
are pithy and packed with information.
On top of that, there are notes on all
the participants and full texts
with translations by Raymond Calcraft.
For some unknown reason the benefits
of these last are not extended to German-speakers.
With my lack of foreknowledge,
I was glad of the notes because, truth
to tell, these pieces struck me - as
I imagine they will anyone else who
knows only those famous, glowing neo-romantic
guitar concertante works - like a faceful
of freezing water. Well, apart from
the Retablo de Navidad that is,
but then you’d hardly expect to be tied
in knots by a "Christmas Tableau"
(of carols and songs), would you? Not
"knotted" maybe - but you
will be captivated, from the
moment you hear the tapping of a drum
at the start right through to the mouth-watering,
"lemon drop" dissonances of
the final song.
The third, fifth and
eighth numbers, with their intoxicating
rhythms, are perhaps the most characteristic
of Rodrigo as we know and love him.
However, the tender lullaby of the second
and the liquid pastoralism of the fourth
gently lead us just a bit off that beaten
track. At opposite ends of this relatively
unfamiliar territory are the sixth and
seventh songs. The sixth, for a capella
choir, is a comical, tongue-twisting
patter-song. Quite how the choir get
their tonsils round torrents of "a
la chirichiribirivuela, chiribirivuela,
maricuela" beats me - but they
do, and do it to breathtakingly exhilarating
effect! The seventh is a song about
Mary’s confusion between the joy of
her mission and the apparently contradictory
need for covert flight. Whilst preserving
the simple beauty of "lullaby"
and "pastoralism", Rodrigo
forges from them something on the lines
of "profundity by stealth".
Raquel Lojendio has
a light and attractive voice, which
she uses affect in these songs a girlish
quality, disarming and charming in its
simplicity of utterance. By maintaining
this quality in the rather more serious
seventh song, far from missing the mark
she hits the bullseye dead centre. David
Rubiera’s part is a small one, but his
light baritone is nicely complementary
in the layered duet of the track 2 lullaby.
After this, things
definitely do get distinctly knottier!
The austere Hymnos ("Hymns
of the Neophytes of Qumram"), based
on texts from the Dead Sea Scrolls,
is about as far removed as you can get
from the preceding cosy carol-world.
Still and chill, the three soprano voices
twist and coil around one another over
a sparse accompaniment of percussion
motifs and abysmal tollings, alternating
with a monotonally chanting male chorus.
At first virtually atonal, the music
seems to call from some remote corner
of time and space. Gradually, some degree
of diatonically melodic warmth creeps
in, slowly closing the chasm. It is
riveting! I take my hat off to the three
sopranos, Prieto, Marchante and Allende:
to a woman, they somehow manage to hold
to their allotted notes - under what
feel like the most trying circumstances
- to produce some extraordinary sounds.
After Hymnos,
the Music for a Salamancan Codex
strikes like a faceful of warm water.
Regardless of the contrast with the
preceding Hymnos, I would take
issue with the booklet note. which refers
to its "pared-down expressiveness".
Written to a commission from the University
of Salamanca to celebrate its seventh
centenary, Rodrigo pulls out a considerable
number of stops to deliver what sounds
to these ears like "the goods".
The gracefully lilting instrumental
introduction gradually evolves into
a fulsome, ecstatic outpouring of baritone
soloist and full choir, with powerful
support from the orchestra of a mere
eleven instruments, though I
must admit that it sounds like a lot
more. Taking the spotlight after his
earlier supporting rôle, David
Rubiera here proves his mettle, singing
with bags of fire and passion.
I’ve just had a "senior
moment" (it’s nothing to worry
about, I’ve been having them since I
was about six years old!). For the life
of me I cannot recall the proper name
for the holy men who sing from the tops
of minarets. Anyway, the Canticle
starts off with a solo flute giving
a very passable, and atmospheric, impression
of one of these men. Saint Francis praises
the Lord by working his way through
more or less the whole of "Creation":
sun, moon, stars, air, water, fire,
earth, plants and animals - all leading
up to "Sister Death", not
as an end to life, but as the gateway
to God, naturally.
That exotic Eastern
melody remains in the instrumental domain,
a tangy counterpoint to the rather more
standard "ecclesiastical"
stuff Rodrigo gives to the choir. Coupled
with the opportunities for colourful
tone-painting offered by the text, it
is a heady brew indeed, culminating
in a grandiose processional set over
boldly booming drums. For the second
time on this CD, the choir comes to
the fore. Here they take the red meat
Rodrigo serves them and, by, don’t they
give it a right good chew!
I have but one carp.
Sometimes, this orchestra is too
quiet - it is making interesting sounds
that seem to fade into virtual inaudibility.
The fault I don’t think is theirs, but
a minor misjudgement on the part of
the recording engineers, whose balance
generally tends to favour the singers
over the orchestra in the grand old
"opera" manner. By way of
compensation, the soloists are particularly
cleanly caught, and the overall sound-picture
is very satisfying, with scarcely a
trace of strain or congestion. Eminently
listenable!
The Madrid orchestra
plays wonderfully, ever alive to Rodrigo’s
extensive sonic palette. It is a real
treat to listen to their performance.
The only performer that, thankfully,
we don’t hear is conductor José
Ramún Encinar, to whom I extend
my gratitude for his spirited advocacy
of Rodrigo’s music. I don’t know if
anyone can do it better, but he’s won
me over, and most importantly he’s whetted
my appetite for Rodrigo. This is the
sort of musical experience I really
love: like all the best books it’s hard
to get into, but once you’re in it’s
a lot harder to get back out. Anyway,
who’d want to?
Paul Serotsky
see also
review by Neil Horner
Orchestra of the Comunidad de Madrid/José
Ramún Encinar 