Evencio CASTELLANOS (1915-1984)
Santa Cruz de Pacairigua (1954) [17.02]
El Río de las Siete Estrellas (1946) [14.55]
Suite Avileña (1947) [24.26]
Orquesta Sinfónica de Venezuela/Jan Wagner
rec. 19-28 July 2010, Salón Italia, Centro Italiano-Venezolano,
Caracas, Venezuela
NAXOS 8.572681 [56:18]
Evencio Castellanos’ brilliant Santa Cruz de Pacairigua
first reached global popularity only a few years ago, when it
was taken up by the Simón Bolívar Youth Orchestra of Venezuela
under Gustavo Dudamel. Dudamel and his band recorded it on their
CD Fiesta and took it on tour as a showpiece; when
I saw them perform it live the audience went absolutely wild.
But full CDs dedicated to Castellanos have been non-existent,
until now.
First up is Santa Cruz de Pacairigua (1954). It’s the
only one of Castellanos’ works that’s even slightly well-known,
but it is a fully-fledged masterpiece. The best comparison might
be An American in Paris: jaunty, broadly merry, with
an episodic feel that is in fact deceptive. Like An American
in Paris, Santa Cruz is in fact particularly well-developed,
with most of the material deriving from the very first solo
trumpet line (0:01-0:06); again like the Gershwin work, there
are central slow episodes of more romantic character - the strings
send up chills at 7:50. In these slower moments, Castellanos
begins setting the stage for his grand finale: first, insistent
drumming underlines the introduction of a proper hymnal tune,
representing the actual church denoted in the title; then a
wild, joyous dance erupts. By the end, the unbridled revelry
will meet the very bridled hymn tune in a union that’s absolutely
thrilling.
After this nearly anything would be a letdown. El Río de
las Siete Estrellas (1946) has the added handicap of being
episodic: the seven stars in the title are represented by the
celesta, and they introduce brief musical depictions of moments
in Venezuelan history. But it doesn’t really feel disconnected,
because of the reprised transitional material and because the
music builds very satisfyingly from a flute-dominated nocturne
at the beginning to more clearly folk-influenced music, with
splendorous brass and cymbal crashes by the end.
Rounding out this (all-too-short) selection is the Suite
Avileña (1947), five movements based on pre-existing Venezuelan
folk melodies, including the chants of flower vendors, children’s
nursery rhymes, and even - briefly, in a fourth movement dance
episode - ‘Adeste Fideles’. The third, ‘Nocturno,’ is an especially
striking combination of serenade on the cuatro (a Caribbean
variant on the guitar), mournful noises from the woodwinds,
and creepy night-time effects by the celesta.
Have I emphasized enough how excellent this music is? It’s not
just good ‘nationalistic’ music; it’s plain old good music.
Suite Avileña is an enchanting set of short works,
and Santa Cruz ought to be a repertory staple of orchestras
anywhere, skillfully crafted and intelligently developed underneath
a thick, brash layer of dance rhythms and sheer orchestral exuberance.
Evencio Castellanos once performed in and conducted the Orquesta
Sinfónica de Venezuela (as did his brother Gonzalo), and he
also served on the orchestra’s board of directors and founded
an experimental ensemble within it. The band’s credentials are
peerless, as are those of Jan Wagner, who has worked with the
ensemble for 16 years, tirelessly promoting and recording Venezuelan
music for a number of record labels. In the opening pages of
Santa Cruz the orchestra may lack Dudamel’s momentum
on Deutsche Grammophon, but from 1:54 on everything is alive
and thrilling. The orchestra has all the chops, character, and
panache required, although I’d like to hear the Chicago Symphony
playing this music. The recording is generally good, with an
excellent sound stage, but the trumpet solo which opens the
disc seems to stress the microphones a bit, and you’ll need
to crank up the sound to really wallow in the Castellanos sound.
Wagner and the orchestra are signed up for two more Naxos discs
of Venezuelan music, and my question is: why only two?
Brian Reinhart
see also review
by Gary Higginson