Venezuela 3: Songs of the Llanos

Concluding my journey through Venezuelan classical music reveals (as ever) a great range of styles as we enter the most recent period of its history.

We still composers writing nationalist music and others writing classic guitar music - or, as in the case of Rodrigo Riera (1923–1999), doing both. His music draws on the popular forms of his homeland and is immediately attractive, as you can hear from his Preludio Criollo, Nostalgia, Canción Caroreña, Serenata Ingenua and (from over the border) Choro.

Modesta Bor (1926-1998), who studied with Khachaturian (among others), strikes a more European tone in her lovely choral piece Aqui te Amo ('Here I love you'), though the melody has aspects of popular music to it. The harmony is so warm and imaginative that the piece will strike a warm response with many listeners. Fans of John Rutter will feel at home. Those sensitive, impressionist-tinged harmonies can also be heard to good effect in some of Modesta's songs, such as Canción de cuna ('Lullaby') and Guitarra. A tantalising glimpse into the composer's large-scale works can be judged from (this extract from) the symphonic poem Genocidio (oh, to hear more!!), which suggests she could summon up a Respighi-like range of dramatic colour from the orchestra, and from her Overture for orchestra (a score that could have been taken from a film). A colourful Christmas carol arrangement, Nino Lindo, shows another string to her bow.

Aldemaro Romero (1928-2007) was a very versatile man, writing lots of popular music, creating a new form - part-joropo/part-Bossa Nova - called Onda Nueva ('New Wave'), performing jazz, as well as conducting and composing classical music, such as the lively Fuga con Pajarillo ('Fugue with Bird') from his Suite for Strings and the seductive, easy-on-the-ear Double-Bass Concerto.

Alberto Grau (1937- ), founder of the well-known Schola Cantorum de Venezuela, has (as you might expect) written a lot of choral music. One of his most widely-performed pieces is Kasar Mie La Gaji ('The earth is tired') from 1990 - an environmentally-concerned work that youth choirs the world over have taken to. His pieces, which are highly approachable, do seem to be ideally suited for choral competitions. Other examples you might like to try include Como Tu, Confitemini Domino and, from 2007, the exuberant Magnificat-Gloria. On a larger scale, the ballet for mixed choir, narrator and chamber orchestra, La Doncella ('The Maid'), from 1978 is full of catchy popular-style tunes, dance rhythms and bright orchestral colours.

Beatriz Bilbao (1951-) studied with Modesta Bor and has conducted with Alberto Grau, with whom she shares an interest in writing choral music. Her Trilogia Aborigen ('Aboriginal Trilogy') suggests that she shares their soundworld too, though one piece isn't enough to go on. I would like to hear some of her electronic music.

Eduardo Marturet (1953-), a conductor as well as a composer, has a fine sense of creating a sense of the epic - as evinced by his splendid Canto Llano from 1976 (a piece that can be performed by many combinations of voices or instruments), a piece that conjures up the wide spaces of the llanos very effectively.

With Adina Izarra (1959-) we find a composer writing in an approachable contemporary style that seems to draw on several strands - as you will here if you listen to these three very different pieces: Two Medieval Miniatures for clarinet and piano, Silencios for guitar and El amolador ('The grinder') for solo flute. Much the same can (and will) be said for Diana Arismendi (1962-), c.f. Solar (1992) for percussion and Epigramas (2004) for voice, guitar and percussion.

This skim through Venezuelan contemporary music ends with composer and conductor Cristian Grases (1973-), a pupil of Alberto Grau. Again, choral music is to the fore. His Amanecer provides a luminous, traditional example while Oblivion shows - at times - the influence of the international avant-garde (albeit put to crowd-pleasing effect).  

As yet I've not found the level of avant-garde involvement that was seen in Chile and Mexico. Presumably there are other younger voices emerging. If there are I shall try and seek them out. Till then, this third survey of Venezuelan classical music again reveals the country's rich continuing heritage.

Venezuela 2: The Nationalists

Continuing my journey through the history of Venezuelan classical music (and by-passing Reynaldo Hahn, who I've considered elsewhere), the country's early 20th century composers continued to write in a simple and popular style, winning themselves a following in the process.

Francisco de Paula Aguirre (1875–1939) was one such composer, penning songs, serenades and waltzes - including the catchy and colourful waltz Dama Antañona and the joropo Amalia. (A joropo is a particularly Venezuelan folk dance, with Creole roots). Another was Vicente Emilio Sojo (1887-1974), founder of the Venezuela Symphony Orchestra, arranger of large numbers of his nation's folksongs and, thus, the founder of the nationalist movement in Venezuelan music. He wrote such pleasing pieces as the 5 Venezuelan Pieces (so good as to be recorded by John Williams - 1,2,3,4,5). Carlos Bonnet (1892-1983), composer of the waltz La Partida, also falls into this category - as does Laudelino Mejías (1893-1963), composer of the nostalgic waltz Conticinio; Moisés Moleiro (1904-1979), composer of the brilliant Joropo; and guitarist Antonio Lauro (1917-1986), composer of many a waltz named after women, such as Ana Cristina, Natalia and María Carolina, plus the Valses Venezolanos. 

A different kettle of fish is to follow. With Juan Bautista Plaza (1898–1965) and his Fuga Criolla for string orchestra (here arranged for percussion) we reach a composer who, with Villa Lobos-like relish, is able to fuse Bachian counterpoint with folk rhythms to create something delightful - and nationalistic. The nationalist impulse can also be heard in the Sonatina Venezolana, a piece the pianist Claudio Arrau brought to international attention. There are many excellent works by this composer. The companion to the Fuga Criolla, the Fuga Romantica, for example, is a fine contrapuntal take on a romantic-sounding theme and demonstrates that Plaza is a composer of real stature. I think you will also enjoy his symphonic poems El picacho abrupto ('The Sharp Peak', evoking a climb in the mountains'), Campanas de Pascua ('Easter Bells') and Vigilia ('Vigil'), plus the beautiful choral/orchestral tribute to Simón Bolívar, Las Horas. Plaza studied in Rome and his music shows the effects of a good European education. If any strand stands out it's the Neo-Classicism element found in several of his pieces, heard most clearly in his Piano Sonata - though it can also be heard in the Wedding March written for the his daughters' weddings in 1959. Other earlier, more traditional piano pieces you might care to sample are the impressive Romance in F, the Minué melancólico and the charming Tres piezas sobre temas de L.E.B. To end this introduction to this first-rate Venezuelan composer Juan Bautista Plaza, please try a work where the nationalist and the Neo-Classical come together most attractively - Cuatro Ritmos de Danza, folk-like pieces written on tunes of the composer's own invention. 

For colourful orchestral nationalism, a fine place to begin would be with the delightful symphonic suite Santa Cruz de Pacairigua by Evencio Castellanos (1915-1984) - a bright, busy orchestral picture-postcard comparable with those being written by composers like Moncayo in Mexico. The piece was written to honour the construction of a church and contains several folk-dance melodies, a lyrical Venezuelan waltz and plainchant. It's a treat of a piece. The symphonic poem El Río de las Siete Estrellas ('The River of the Seven Stars') is a sultry tale of love, an Indian maiden (representing by a theme heard straight away on the flute), mythology, stars (evoked by the celesta) volcanoes, battles (drums and fanfares) and Venezuelan patriotism (a snatch of the country's national anthem) and again shows Castellanos to be an accomplished, colourful and entertaining composer. From hearing it I would say that he knew his Ravel. 

Antonio Estévez (1916-1988) was another leading Venezuelan nationalist composer; indeed, he is considered the man who did for his country's music what Copland, Chávez and Ginastera did in their respective countries. His most famous work is the Cantata Criolla of 1954, a work for tenor and baritone soloists, chorus and orchestra. The piece evokes the llanos (plains) of Venezuela and a singing competition between a folk singer and the devil. Another rewarding piece by Estévez is Mediodía en el Llano ('Noon on the Plain') - an atmospheric symphonic poem depicting dawn, noon and evening on the llanos.

Inocente Carreño (1919-) is best known for the patriotic symphonic poem Margariteña (Pt.2 here), a piece that opens rather like a Vaughan Williams rhapsody and is full of Venezuelan folksong and impressionistic orchestral colour. The main folk tune ('Margarita is a tear') is used rather in the manner of Kodály as a recurring device, heard in various guises and moods between appearances by other melodies. It is a high-quality piece of music. As orchestral songs are among the tastiest forms in classical music, I can safely also recommend the lovely Canciones Francesas for soprano and orchestra and for that other side of Venezuelan music - the one that loves guitars - please try the Suite para guitarra en tres movimientos, written around the time of Margariteña, a piece guitar-lovers across the world would take to. 

With the composers that follow Inocente Carreño we enter the world of contemporary music (in all its many shades), which will wait for another post. This post has taught me, again, that just because a country's classical tradition is not well known in the United Kingdom does not mean that it isn't full of fabulous music that should be known. There are some class acts among this set of Venezuelan composers. 

Venezuela 1: Teresa and the Basket of Flowers

Thanks to Gustavo Dudamel and the Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra, music lovers around the world are now aware of Venezuela's classical music making. We are hearing much about El Sistemo, the country's publicly-funded musical education programme (especially on the BBC). What though of the country's composers? What sort of classical music have they been writing over the centuries? Time for me to don my yellow, blue and red jacket and venture abroad again...

The earliest names I've met with date from the Classical Era, which in Venezuela coincides with the final decades of the Colonial Era. Prior to that there doesn't appear to have been any significant classical musical tradition, due to the colony's backwater status within the Spanish Empire. There's a fine fragment of a Stabat Mater by Juan Manuel Olivares (1760-1797), the man who first followed the example of Haydn, Mozart and Pleyel in Venezuela and then taught the next generation of composers to do the same. From that next generation comes José Ángel Lamas (1775-1814), whose attractive Popule Meus is most assuredly in the same line - a simplified Classicism with homophony (rather than imitation) leading the way. Popule Meus seems to be something of a favourite with Venezuelan choirs, and understandably so. 

This vein of affecting simplicity seems to have continued after Venezuela won its independence in the first decades of the 19th Century, if what I've heard of the music of José Ángel Montero (1832-1881) is anything to go by. His endearingly guileless sacred piece Quiero tu cruz suggests a man who knew his Italian opera. Montero, indeed, went on to write what is thought to be the country's first opera, Virginia (1873). He also apparently wrote lots of pieces in 'salon music' style, such as the little piano duet piece, Emilia.

There's more music to go off with my next composer - and here we come to quite a discovery for me -  Teresa Carreño (1853-1917, above). Teresa was a well-known international pianist and an opera singer as well as being a composer and it's intriguing to find that some of her performances were captured for posterity in the early days of recording. You might like to try her playing Chopin's First Ballade, Schumann's great Fantasie or Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody No.6. These composers' names, the fact that she was taught by Gottschalk and Anton Rubinstein and the additional fact that she married (among others) that epitome of late-Romantic pianistic eclecticism Eugen d'Albert, should give you a general impression of what her music sounds like before you even hear it. It won't quite prepare you for how good some of it is though. 

Please try Un sueño en el mar, Op.28 ('A dream at sea'). This has a sweep that embraces both the turbulence of the sea, with a melody that swells up out of the depths of the piano like a powerful current, and the dreaminess of an ardent melody riding atop hypnotic waves of repeating chords. It is a tone-poem in miniature. Drama also courses through the Ballade, Op.15, a noble and tempestuous piece full of rich contrasts of texture, with a particularly exciting closing passage. I would say that Teresa Carreño is perhaps closest in spirit to Chopin. We've heard the heroic, stormy side of Chopin translated into something fresh in the first two pieces, while the lighter, more glamorous 'waltz' side of Chopin can be heard reflected deliciously in her La cesta de flores, Op.9 ('The basket of flowers'), the gorgeous Reverie-Barcarolle, "Venise", Op.33 and sundry other pieces that would fit into the 'salon music' category more easily, such as the waltz La Primavera, Op.28, the and the 'fantasy waltz' La fausse note, Op.39 ('The dissonance'). There's a touch of the childlike Schumann to be found in the lullaby-like El sueño del niño, Op.35, an endearing little piece if ever there was one. 

Teresa Carreño wasn't just a piano composer though. She also wrote a patriotic chorus, Himno al libertador Simón Bolívar, in the style of Italian grand opera. It's not subtle, but then again such pieces rarely are. This was her only piece for either chorus or orchestra. She also wrote a String Quartet in B minor, which is more in the manner of Mendelssohn. It isn't a masterpiece but it is well-constructed and pleasingly lyrical.

What did 20th Century Venezuela bring classical music lovers? Well, that's for another day.