Antonio RUIZ-PIPÓ (1934-1997)
Works with Guitar Vol 3
Cuatro para Cuatro (1973) [10-17]
Homenaje a Antonio de Cabezón (1964) [8:12]
A Sevilla (1987) [7:41]
Prélude (1991) [3:32]
To John (1994) [3:27]
Preludio a Narciso Yepes No 2 (1975?) [1:17]
Preludio a Narciso Yepes No 4 (1975?) [1:30]
Para Dos (1997) [2:00]
Homenaje a Villa-Lobos (1979) [8:09]
Américas (1989, arr. for guitar quartet) [6:03]
Monasterium Guitar Quartet
First recordings except Homenajes and Para Dos
rec. 2019-2020, Akademie für Musik, Münster and GO Studios, Münster, Germany
NAXOS 8.574339 [52:30]
When I reviewed Volume 2 of this useful series from Naxos, I expressed two wishes, first that Volume 2 wouldn’t be the last in the series and, second, that Ruiz-Pipó’s Homenaje a Antonio de Cabezón would find a place in the series. The arrival of Volume 3 has granted both my wishes!
The short entry on Antonio Ruiz-Pipó in The New Grove (to which, incidentally, Ruiz-Pipó himself contributed a number of entries) begins by describing Ruiz-Pipó as a “Franco-Spanish composer and pianist”. The first phrase might be interpreted to mean that Ruiz-Pipó had one Spanish and one French parent. In fact, his parentage was entirely Spanish. He was born in Granada and never lost his love of Andalusia and its music(s). Sadly, his father was imprisoned and executed in 1936 – the very year in which the great Andalusian poet Federico García Lorca (also born near Granada) was murdered by the same Nationalist forces. Ruiz-Pipó began the study of the piano in early childhood, though he also loved the sounds of flamenco and acquired a basic competence on the guitar. At the age of fourteen (in 1948) he began musical studies in Barcelona at the Escularià de Nuestra Senora de la Merced and then went on to study piano with Alicia de Larrocha and composition with Salvador Bacarisse (1898-1963) at the Granados Academy in the city. He moved to Paris in the early 1950s and studied at the École Normale de Musique de Paris from 1956 to 1962, where his piano teachers included Cortot. Then and later, he studied composition with his fellow Spaniards Xavier Montsalvatge and Manuel Blancafort, as well as the thoroughly French Jean Françaix. Once he had moved to Paris, Ruiz-Pipó based himself in France for the rest of his life, though tours as a concert pianist took him around Europe as well as America and Japan. He taught at the École Normale de Musique in Paris and took French citizenship early in the 1970s. From 1982-1987 he taught at the École Nationale de Musique et Dance at Châteauroux in Central France. Active as a musicologist (mainly dealing with the history of Spanish music) as well as a pianist and a teacher, he wrote less music than he might otherwise have done, but he seems always to have made some time for composition. Given the evidence of this brief biography of Ruiz-Pipó it is easy to see why Christiane Heine, in her entry on Ruiz-Pipó in The New Grove, referred to at the beginning of this paragraph, should have described him as “Franco-Spanish”. Certainly, his music reflects his Spanish heritage and youthful experience, as well as his mature years spent in the musical circles of France. Though such formulations are always too simplistic, it wouldn’t be entirely wrong to describe Ruiz-Pipó’s musical personality as ‘French neoclassicism informed by the spirit of Andalusia’.
Ruiz-Pipó’s Andalusian inspiration is often evident in his compositions for solo guitar; a perfect example is the powerfully plangent ‘Nenia’, (the Latin title means ‘an elegy’) written in 1980 as a tribute to Manuel De Falla – one of the composers most admired by Ruiz-Pipó – which can be heard, played by Wolfgang Weigel on Volume 1 of this series (Naxos 8.573971). But the influence isn’t confined to works for solo guitar. It is audible, and used to good effect, for example, in two significant and excellent works on this new disc, ‘A Sevilla’ and ‘Cuatro para Cuatro’, each played by all four members of the Monasterium Guitar Quartet. The booklet note by Wolfgang Weigel, a significant guitarist who is an authority on Ruiz-Pipó’s music for guitar (and the presiding spirit of this Naxos series) tells us that Cuatro para Cuatro (Four for Four) “emerged from an earlier attempt for string quartet. Ruiz-Pipó realized that the deeply Andalusian character of the music could only very unsatisfactorily be communicated on bowed string instruments, so he decided to rework the piece for guitar quartet.”
In a talk given in 1931, Lorca said that “the cante jondo approaches the rhythm of the birds and the natural music of the black poplar and the waves; it is simple in its oldness and its style. It is a rare example of primitive song, the oldest of all Europe, where the ruins of history, the lyrical fragment eaten by the sand, appear alive like the first morning of their lives”. Elsewhere in ‘Theory and Function of the Duende’ (Lorca, introduced and edited by J.L. Gili, 1960, pp.127-39) he celebrated duende, one of the hallmarks of the cante jondo, identifying it with a quality that Goethe heard in the playing of Paganini, “a mysterious power that everyone feels but that no philosopher has explained (p.127). Lorca saw duende as characteristic of Spanish art at its best, but not an exclusively Spanish possession, “Spain is always moved by the duende, being a country of ancient music and dance, where the duende squeezes lemons of daybreak, as well as being a nation of death, a nation open to death” (p.133). Ruiz-Pipó’s music doesn’t, of course, have the same almost primitive power of the greatest flamenco performers, but the spirit of duende heard in the finest flamenco can be found beyond the boundaries of flamenco itself. In the very first page of his ‘Theory and Function of the Duende’, Lorca relates (ibid., p.127) that “the old gipsy dancer La Malena exclaimed once on hearing Brailowsky play Bach: ‘Olé! This has duende!’, yet she was bored by Gluck, Brahms, and Darius Milhaud”. When I listen to certain works by Ruiz-Pipó, such as ‘Nenia’, Cuatro para Cuatro or A Sevilla there is more than a little in common with the experience of listening to a singer such as El Lebrijano or a guitarist like Sabicas.
The three movements of A Sevilla (‘Saeta’ – ‘Tango’ – ‘Ritmos’) refer not just to aspects of flamenco, but also to important aspects of life in the glorious city of Seville. The ‘Saeta’ is a much-valued form of religious song which has a special importance in Seville. Its origins lie in folk traditions, including flamenco. It takes the form of a long lament sung (and sometimes partially improvised) by a solitary singer, during Holy Week. The words traditionally relate the sufferings of Christ and the Virgin Mary. In Ruiz-Pipó’s powerful ‘Saeta’ the first guitar has the role of the solo singer, while the other three guitarists, like those who hear and echo what the singer does, provide rhythmic support and (as Weigel puts it) “a dark play of colours”. His phrasing here reminds me of another passage in Lorca’s ‘Theory and Function of the Duende’ (p.127), when he quotes approvingly a comment made by the great flamenco singer Manuel Torres associated, like Lorca, with De Falla in the organization of the 1922 festival of flamenco in Granada. Lorca reports that Torres, “when listening to De Falla playing his own ‘Nocturno del Generalife’ made this splendid pronouncement: ‘All that has dark sounds has duende.’ And there is no greater truth.” The Monasterium Guitar Quartet’s performance of Ruiz-Pipó’s ‘Saeta’ certainly has (as the piece requires) those qualities of ‘dark sound’ that both Lorca/Torres and Weigel speak of. A Sevilla continues with ‘Tango’. This, of course, is a version of the Andalusian/flamenco ‘tango’, not the South American dance of the same name. As one of the palos (the traditional musical conventions) of flamenco, the tango is in 4/4 and related to the habanera. Ruiz-Pipó’s ‘Tango’ has a distinctively melancholic weight and gravity – no one could confuse this with the South-American tango! The suite ends with ‘Ritmos’ – a version of the buleria (one of the most popular dance styles of flamenco – often used to close shows. Its name may be derived from the Spanish noun bulla, which means a racket or a noisy commotion. Ruiz-Pipó’s stylized version of the buleria places forceful emphases on the rhythmic accents (perhaps to compensate for the clapping which would normally accompany the dance) and has a striking angularity. Ruiz-Pipó has, through his stylization, moved the buleria from the tablao flamenco to the concert hall.
It was presumably the presence of A Sevilla which influenced the choice of a photograph of Seville’s Plaza de Espana for the front cover of the disc. Handsome as the Plaza is, it is something of a ‘confection’ rather than an organic piece of Seville’s history. It was built in 1928 for the ‘Ibero-American Exposition’ held in the city in 1929. Its architect, Anibal González mixed Art Deco elements from the time of its construction with visual echoes of Spanish Baroque and Moorish revival (a style sometimes called ‘neo-Mudejar’). Although it has a certain grandeur (mainly a function of scale) and many attractive details it seemed to me, when I visited it a few years ago, a rather superficial response to the city’s history (architectural or cultural)– unlike Ruiz Pipó’s own response to his Andalusian musical heritage.
As a scholar and as a composer, Ruiz-Pipó’s ‘Spain’ was always more than just Andalusia. It is no surprise, then, that he should have chosen to pay homage to the great organist and composer, Antonio de Cabezón (c.1510-66). This great, and hugely influential, composer and organist was born into a wealthy landowning family at Castillo de Matajudíos – now known as Castillo Mota de Judíos – near Burgos in northern Spain. He was either born blind or lost his sight in early infancy. His early musical training probably came from unknown organists in the area and then, very probably, with Garcia de Baeza, organist at the handsome Cathedral of Palencia (not very far from Castillo Mota de Judíos). In 1526 the young Cabezón was given an appointment at the court of Isabella of Portugal, wife of Charles V, King of Castile and Aragon. After her death in 1539, Cabezón worked for her son Philip (later to be King Philip II). In 1538 Cabezón had married a wealthy lady (Luisa Nûnez) from Avila and the two lived in her native city for some time. Between 1548 and 1556, the composer travelled widely in Europe with Philip II, travels which took him to England, the Low Countries and Italy. He subsequently settled in Madrid, soon after it became (in 1561) the capital of Spain. His influence on Spanish music was enormous, not least on the school of Spanish organist-composers which flourished in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries and included such figures as Pedro Alberch Vila (1517-82), organist of Barcelona Cathedral; Luys Alberto (c.1520-c.1558), organist of Siguenza Cathedral; Francisco Correa de Arauxo (1575-1663). organist of San Salvador, Seville and Juan Battista Cabanilles (1644-1712), organist of Valencia Cathedral.
In his tribute to Cabezón, Ruiz-Pipó does not seek to imitate the early Spanish master, save in the adoption of a somewhat archaic manner, along the lines of the vihuela music of Cabezón’s time, but rather to access the essentials of his music; as Wegel puts it, he “abstracts [the] historical models” The titles of the four sections of the Homenaje a Antonio de Cabezón ( ‘Entrada’ – ‘Tiento’ – ‘Glosa’ and ‘Aire danzando’) are all terms for musical forms or idioms with which Cabezón would have been wholly familiar. The Spanish term entrada corresponds to the Italian term intrada denoting, obviously, music for an entrance or a beginning. In sixteenth-century Spain the term entrada was also used to refer to the entries of different voices in polyphonic church music and also to a piece of music introducing a hymn. A tiento was a composition, most often for vihuela or organ; the word is related to the Spanish verb tentar which can mean ‘to test or probe’, ‘to experiment’. There are affinities here with the Italian ricercare, which takes its name from a verb meaning ‘to seek’. The term glosa refers to a kind of ornamentation, in which the melody is broken up by fast figuration or, more generally, to the writing of variations (normally of a shorter and simpler kind than those called diferencias).
Ruiz-Pipó’s ‘Entrada’ has a quiet and decorous air of invocation and welcome, unhurried and gently dignified. His ‘Tiento’ has an appropriate sense of the improvisatory, of a composer exploring the resources of his instrument; after some slightly hesitant moments early on, the piece concludes with music of considerable subtlety and beauty, which is certainly reminiscent of some of the vihuela music of the Sixteenth Century. The ensuing ‘Glosa’ is, as the term would suggest, rather more complex than the previous movement in this suite of miniatures; its melodic lines are longer and more involved in their relationship to one another, without the resultant music ever sounding either dense or obscure. After three fairly slow pieces, the ‘Aire danzando’ which brings the suite to an end has a persuasive sprightliness which conjures up images of well-dressed courtly dancers. There is nothing here to remind us of Ruiz-Pipó’s beloved flamenco; we are in an altogether more aristocratic world; the kind of circles in which Cabezón moved are vividly evoked. The whole suite constitutes an eloquent tribute to one of Ruiz-Pipó’s Spanish forefathers (musically speaking), a tribute which is respectful but also very clearly heartfelt. Wolfgang Weigel captures exactly the right tone of voice (as it were) and plays all four movements with perfect judgement.
Ruiz-Pipó has also written short guitar pieces for/dedicated to particular friends amongst his contemporaries. The present CD contains ‘Prélude’ for Vladimir Mikulka, ‘To John’ (dedicated to John W. Duarte) and two pieces written for Narciso Yepes, ‘Preludio a Narciso Yepes No.2’ and ‘Preludio a Narciso Yepes No.4’. It will be noted that all three of these dedicatees are guitarists. The Czech guitarist Mikulka (b.1950) came to international attention when in 1970, while still a student, he won the annual Concours International de Guitare in Paris, a win which launched his career. Since 1982 he has based himself in France, teaching at the Schola Cantorum and continuing to give concerts. The Prélude written for him by Ruiz-Pipó, which Mikulka recorded on his CD European Guitar Premieres (Supraphon, 1991), is an elegant and well-constructed piece, though it can hardly be regarded as one of Ruiz-Pipó’s major compositions. For what it is worth, Mikulka’s recording takes the piece very slightly slower than Wolfgang Weigel does here. ‘To John’, written for John W. Duarte, is similar in character, again slow and thoughtful. Duarte (1919-2004) was guitarist, composer, teacher and scholar (like Ruiz-Pipó he was a contributor to The New Grove). In 1994, Duarte composed a still unpublished ‘Canción y Danza (Homage to Ruiz-Pipó).
Fittingly, the two pieces written for the great guitarist Narciso Yepes (1927-97) have a more overtly Spanish flavour. In fact, over the years, Ruiz-Pipó contributed a number of pieces to Yepes’ repertoire, who played and recorded a number of his works, such as Canciones y danzas and the Cinqo Movimentos. Incidentally, Nos. 1 and 3 of Ruiz-Pipó’s set of Preludios for Yepes can be heard on Volume 2 of this Naxos series. These Preludios are attractive explorations of various aspects (not just flamenco) of the Spanish guitar tradition and Wolfgang Weigel plays them with exactness and insight.
The Americas (both North and South) link the three pieces which close this CD – Para Dos (played by Wolfgang Weigel and Hugo Germán Gaido), Homenaje a Villa-Lobos (played by Bernd Kortenkamp and Günther Lebbing) and Américas (played by the full Monasterium Guitar Quartet). Para Dos, though brief, is technically demanding. It was originally written for the Duo Assad, the Brazilian guitar duo made up of the brothers Sérgio Simão Assad and Odair Simão Assad. For Brazilian musicians, Ruiz-Pipó produced a piece which echoes the music of Heitor Villa-Lobos, both in spirit and in detail. Wolfgang Weigel’s notes mention Villa Lobos’ Distribuição de flores, written for flute and guitar c.1937, though I suspect that other works are also referenced. The result is a vivid and distinctive sound-world reminiscent of Villa-Lobos at his most ‘Brazilian’. Wolfgang Weigel also suggests an aural analogy with the paintings of the composer’s brother Manolo Ruiz-Pipó (1928-98). Not being familiar with his work I made an image search online and having done so, I can see/hear what Weigel means.
In the work which follows Para Dos, the connection with Villa-Lobos is more explicit, this being Ruiz-Pipó’s Homenjaje a Villa-Lobos. It is a suite of three short pieces ‘Introducción’, ‘A la bossa nova’ and ‘A la samba’. The presence of the bossa nova is surely something of an anachronism, since it is never referenced in Villa-Lobos’s music; indeed it was still developing as a distinct idiom around the time of Villa-Lobos’s death in 1959. Still, it is not hard to imagine that the omnivorously eclectic (especially where Brazilian musics were concerned) Villa-Lobos would have made use of the ‘bossa nova’ had he lived a few years longer. Perhaps we should think of this Homenjaje as a tribute paid as much to the spirit of Villa-Lobos’s music as to the music he actually wrote? ‘Introducción’ certainly resonates with both the spirit and the ‘fact’ of Villa-Lobos’s music, with its strong rhythmic emphases and the kind of ‘primitive’ austerity Villa-Lobos often drew on; it thus serves its purpose well. ‘A la bossa nova’ (leaving aside my doubts as to its strict relevance) is an attractive piece in and of itself, especially rhythmically – with Ruiz-Pipó’s apt use of syncopation which catches the characteristics swaying 2/4 of the bossa, though it lacks a very bossa-like melody. ‘A la samba’ is, again, pleasant evocative, though it is left in a rather undeveloped state.
Américas was originally scored for eight guitars, commissioned by the Brazilian Turibio Santos and his Guitar Orchestra. Here it is heard in an arrangement for four guitars, made in 2020 by Günther Lebbing. Again, it consists of three pieces: ‘Tempo di habenera’, ‘Tempo di boogie-woogie’ and ‘Ritmo de samba’. The first piece has a delightful charm, an elegance which speaks of Havana at the height of its nineteenth-century sophistication; ‘Ritmo de samba captures the idiom well, suggesting that Ruiz-Pipó’s affinity with Brazilian music could at times inspire the production of some fine music. However, ‘Tempo di boogie-woogie’ unfortunately falls rather flat, being far too polite to echo the original idiom – it has neither the insistence of the ostinato bass which characterizes boogie-woogie nor the headlong momentum which is a common feature of the best performances by the finest boogie-woogie pianist. Nor is there much sense of the earthy bluesiness (the duende ?) which one hears in the work of pianists such as Albert Ammons or Jimmy Yancey.
But it would be wrong to end this review on a negative note. While neither this CD or its two predecessors tempt me to make any claims for ‘greatness’ where Ruiz-Pipó is concerned, I do feel quite strongly that he is a consistently interesting and subtle composer, whose work is far more diverse than it may initially appear to be. Another rewarding disc in a fine series.
Glyn Pursglove
Performers
Hugo Germán Gaido, Günther Lebbing, Bernd Kortenkamp, Wolfgang Weigel
