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