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 alternativelyCD: Crotchet 
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              AmazonUS
 
 
 | Francisco GUERAU 
              (1649-1722) Marionas (1694) [5:45]
 Passacalles por el primer tono (1694) [9:20]
 Gallardas (1694) [5:30]
 José MARÍN 
              (1618-1699)
 La verdad de Perogrullo [1:51]
 Ojos, pues me desdeñáis [3:59]
 Tortolilla, si no es por amor [2:37]
 Mi señora Mariantaños [1:40]
 De amores ye de ausencias [2:37]
 Si quieres vivir [2:59]
 Que ben canta un ruiseñor [4:28]
 Si quires dar, Marica, en lo cierto [2:49]
 Aquella sierra Nevada [5:35]
 Al son de los arroyuelos [2:47]
 Montes del Tajo [2:46]
 Sepan todos que muero de un desdén [3:53]
 
  Laberintos Ingeniosos: Lambert Climent (tenor), Pedro Estevan (percussion), 
              Xavier Díaz-Latorre (guitar/direction) 11-15 June 2007, L’église évangélique Allemande, Paris
 Texts and translations included
 
  ZIG-ZAG TERRITOIRES ZZT090301 [58:40]    |   
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 Any account of the life of José Marín is likely to make him 
                  sound like a picaro, one of those rascally and scandalous 
                  ‘heroes’ of Spanish picaresque fiction, a man living on his 
                  wits, not too troubled by moral boundaries and living a life 
                  full of reversals of fortune. Born in Madrid, he sang in Philip 
                  IV’s chapel choir – and he committed more than one murder; he 
                  travelled to Rome (where he seems to have been ordained) and 
                  apparently to the Indies; he was exiled from Spain for theft 
                  and he may have spent some time in the galleys. He was unfrocked 
                  and, then, after due repentance his clerical licence was restored 
                  and he ended his life back in Madrid working as a musician, 
                  often for the theatre. He might have stepped out of the pages 
                  of the Relaciones de la vida del escudero Marcos de Obregon 
                  (1618) by Vicente Martinez Espinel, himself a priest who, at 
                  the very least, kept criminal company; or one might meet him 
                  in one of the contemporary Spanish author Artur Perez Reverte’s 
                  entertaining Captain Alatriste novels.
 
 When we turn to listen to Marín’s songs we can surely hear in 
                  them the wealth of human experience, pleasant and unpleasant, 
                  moral and immoral, that their composer brought to their writing. 
                  His subjects may seem the merest clichés of the day – the usual 
                  unrequited love, full of disdainful eyes and tearful sighs; 
                  here the nightingales sing out loud, as they so often do, and 
                  the turtle-doves moan with regularity. But what can so often 
                  seem the merest routine of well-nigh meaningless convention 
                  is here invested with real feeling, with a striking passion 
                  and often with a rueful note of experience. It helps that the 
                  texts he sets are often of higher than average poetic quality 
                  – one is by no less than Lope de Vega. Yet it is Marín’s commitment 
                  to emotional truth, his ability to draw, not just on a familiarity 
                  with the musico-poetical conventions of his age, but also on 
                  a wealth of personal experience that gives his songs their particular 
                  power.
 
 The most significant surviving collection of Marín’s songs is 
                  to be found in a manuscript (MV 4-1958, Mv.Ms.727) preserved 
                  in the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge. The songs contained 
                  in that manuscript show what an original and relatively unconventional 
                  musical mind Marín had, full as they are of unexpected harmonic 
                  twists and turns and of very expressive vocal lines, often vivid 
                  in their word-painting. Some will doubtless have made the acquaintance 
                  of some of these songs in the recording made by Montserrat Figueras, 
                  Rolf Lislevand et al. on Alia Vox (AV 9802/A review). 
                  To say that this new recording by Laberintos Ingeniosos fully 
                  stands up to comparison with that fine earlier collection is 
                  to say that it is highly recommendable; the two CDs are fascinatingly 
                  and rewardingly different in their interpretations and both 
                  are very well performed; if you like either you will surely 
                  want both.
 
 Here the tonos humanos of Marín are coupled with a small 
                  selection from the virtuosic guitar music of Francisco Guerau, 
                  as printed in his 1694 volume Poema harmónico compuesto de 
                  varias cifras por el temple de la Guitarra española (‘Harmonic 
                  Poem made up of Various Tablatures for the Temple of the Spanish 
                  Guitar’). The volume contains 27 pieces, all of them essentially 
                  sets of variations, and also, since the work is partly didactic 
                  in nature, a short treatise on tablature, notation and ornamentation. 
                  Guerau appears to have led an altogether more ‘regular’ life 
                  than Marín did. He was a choirboy in the royal chapel in Madrid 
                  and then an adult chorister there; he, too, was ordained as 
                  a priest and in 1700 became a chaplain in the royal chapel. 
                  The guitar pieces from the Poema harmónico are technically 
                  demanding and, while retaining a certain apt earthiness also 
                  have a prominent gravity that goes beyond purely ‘popular’ idioms. 
                  There is music of real beauty here – notably in the ‘Passacalles 
                  por el primer tono’ – and Guerau’s use of ornamentation and 
                  rapid scales makes for consistently interesting listening. Xavier 
                  Díaz-Latorre is a stylish interpreter of the music, obviously 
                  fully at home with Guerau’s musical language and making attractively 
                  varied use of timbre, capable of both dash and subtlety, rapid 
                  flourishes and moments of meditative melancholy. Incidentally, 
                  anyone taken with these three pieces by Guerau should track 
                  down a copy of Gordon Ferries’ equally fine performances on 
                  Marionas: The Guitar Music of Francisco Guerau (Delphian 
                  DCD 34046).
 
 There is much to admire and, above all, to enjoy in this finely 
                  chosen programme.
 
 Glyn Pursglove 
 
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