"Latin American Masters" Symphony Notes

Pampeana No. 3 (1954)

Having started his catalogue with a series of works clearly cast in the nationalist mold, Alberto Ginastera evolved towards a second creative phase, referred to as his “subjective nationalism” period. In the music of this period, local qualities can still be found, not through the direct quote of folk melodies and rhythms, but through an intuitive and refined approach to the essence of what is Argentinean. To the first of Ginastera’s creative phases belong some of his better known scores, such as the ballet suites Panambí (1937) and Estancia (1941), while the three Pampeanas can be placed squarely in his second period. The Pampeana No. 1 was written for violin and piano in 1947, and the Pampeana No. 2, for cello and piano, is dated 1950. Both works were designated as rhapsodies by Ginastera, a clear indication of his tendency towards the exploration of national sound environments. For the third work in the series, the composer expanded the instrumental resources, and in 1954 he wrote Pampeana No. 3 for symphony orchestra. Labeled a symphonic pastoral by Ginastera, the work represents a turning point towards the experimental in the composer’s career. In it, several serial procedures are employed, both harmonically and melodically, in the context of a subtle form of polytonality. One of the main features of the Pampeana No. 3 is Ginastera's use of the chord formed by the notes A-E-D-G-B-E, corresponding to the guitar’s open strings. Through this cord, Ginastera refers not only to a musical source firmly rooted in Latin America, but also to the instrument of choice of the gauchos who inhabit the Argentinean pampas. To this, Ginastera adds some popular rhythms, in which the hemiola has a prominent role, and a very interesting variation procedure on the aforementioned chord.

Ginastera’s Pampeana No. 3 was premiered by the Louisville Orchestra on October 20, 1954, and marked the upper limit of the composer’s subjective nationalist period. From then on, Ginastera’s utterance would be wider in scope, more modern and abstract, and of truly universal range.

Brennan, Juan Arturo, liner notes for REVUELTAS-ORBON-GINASTERA, Simón Bolívar Symphony Orchestra of Venezuela, Eduardo Mata. Dorian Recordings, DOR-90178, 1993, compact disc.

La Llorona: Tone Poem for Viola and Orchstra (2007)

Dedicated to my dear friend Wayne Brooks, La Llorona: Tone Poem for Viola and Orchestra is inspired by the many existing myths in Latin America regarding a female spirit known as la llorona, or "crying woman." Somewhat similar to female ghosts from other cultures (such as the rusalka from Russia or the Kuchisake-onna from Japan), the llorona generally comes about as the result of a violent death: drowning, suicide, childbirth, and murder at the hands of a lover are common causes. The riverbanks are typically the places where one might encounter the llorona, for these are frequently the sites of the tragedies that took away her human life.

This programmatic work is a portrait of the internal shift that happens as the llorona accepts her new existence. It consists of seven continuous movements:

I. Slumber: It is just minutes after the llorona has lost her human life and crossed over into the new realm. Not fully conscious, she is still in the fog of a supernatural sleep.

II. Awakening: After the quiet orchestral tutti which builds, the solo viola’s entrance signals that the llorona has sprung to new life.

III. Flight: The llorona denies this new reality and tries to escape, literally. Irrationally, she runs here and there, crying for what was.

IV. Danza de las Chullpas: In the course of fleeing her fate, the llorona stumbles upon a scene of other spirits normally unseen to humans. The chullpas are ancient spirits (hailing from Peruvian culture) in the form of skeletons hobbled over from having been bound into fetal positions as mummies. The llorona reluctantly begins to realize that she has indeed crossed over into another realm.

V. Canto de la Luna: Revered in many cultures, the moon is often a female deity that communicates with humans and spirits alike. Here, moonlight sings to the llorona, asking her to find acceptance.

VI. Flight: The llorona cannot find it in herself to accept, and tries once again to escape.

VII. Coda: The llorona slowly retreats into the shadows to join the other spirits unseen by the rest of us. It is the acknowledgement that tragically, she simply can’t change what’s not hers to change.

— Gabriela Lena Frank

Margariteña: Glosa Sinfónica (1954)

Venezuelan composer Inocente Carreño's music explores both the lush colors of musical Impressionism and the rich melodies and driving rhythms of his native popular music. Much of Carreño’s music attempts to capture the spirit and feeling of folk music using compositional techniques from Europe, rather than incorporating folk material directly. Margariteña, a work for orchestra dating from 1954, is an exception: it uses both famous popular tunes and spirited Venezuelan rhythms. It takes its title from the principal song it uses, Margarita es una Lágrima ("Margarita is a tear"). However, since the music of the island of Margarita, where Carreño was born, made a particular impression on Carreño, the title Margariteña has nationalist implications as well. Margariteña is, in fact, a kind of Venezuelan rhapsody. In addition to Margarita es una Lágrima, it incorporates popular pieces like Canto de Pulón, Canto de Velorio, Tiguitiguitos, among others, all luxuriantly orchestrated and given all the color and life Carreño can muster. But Margariteña is not simply a bunch of popular melodies strung together; Carreño cunningly unifies the work by repeating the Margarita theme in several guises and in unexpected places, from the soft, tentative beginning of the song played on solo horn at the work's opening to the rousing full-orchestra climax on the song at its end. Carreño also uses a little, explosive [motive derived from the song] … throughout the work. At the beginning, it sounds savage and somewhat out of place, but by the work's end it is in full accord with the music around it. This repetition and metamorphosis keeps the musical argument going, and connects the gorgeous melodies Carreño sets for the orchestra in a logical way, making Margariteña into a smooth, spirited musical celebration.

Notes by Andrew Lindemann Malone