For my introduction to music class, we have to attend four concerts and turn in reflections on the performance as a part of our grade. It just dawned on me that I could just as well share them here. Why not, right? Keep in mind that they are a bit academic sounding because I didn’t feel like re-writing them for my devout blog audience. Forgive me.

Canzonetas y Tonadillas

Fundación Juan March
February 4, 2008

The main auditorium was filled by the time I arrived, so I was seated in a side room where a live video stream was projected onto a big screen of the performance in the room on the other side of the main floor. Though the sound quality was excellent, the informal nature of the setting did influence my perception of the concert; it felt more like a movie shown with the lights on than a live concert. There was none of that hushed excitement of being in a concert situation and, at the end of a piece, none of the 50 or so people in the side room clapped because it was not like the performers could hear our gratitude and appreciation of their talents.

I found it very interesting how animated the two singers were during the performance, almost as if they were acting or in an opera. At one point, the soprano even took at a paper fan to wave in front of her face. The spoken parts within the songs and the stage directions written in the text (e.g. ‘se recuesta en una silla y sale la Caramba’) also emphasized this theatrical feel. Based on the discussion in class beforehand and further reading in the bulletin this is logical because this type of music is from the Middle Ages where this is assumed to have been the standard way of performing the music.

Since I am taking an introductory Spanish literature class right now, I was also able to appreciate the advantage of performing the coplas to get the proper emphasis and rhythm of the pieces in contrast to the difficult time I have had from simply reading them. The use of trills or vibrato enforced an interline rhyme and stressed important words or phrases. Reading a phrase over and over again in a poem does not have the same meaning as the singer’s constant recapitulation.

Though I had more trouble understanding the articulation of the soprano, the tenor’s performance and interpretation of the text showed the syllables very clearly, highlighting the strict literary structure of the pieces. By hearing the words sung rather than spoken, this concert illustrated the oral tradition of literature and poetry that I have been learning about for so many years but never had the opportunity to see the relationship so directly.

Homenaje en el centenario de Pablo Sarasate

Auditorio Conde Duque
March 11, 2008

The darting, nosy eyes and bouncing, bobblehead-like gestures of the Ara Malikian quintet were an entertaining complement to the stomping, jumping fiddling of the violinist Ara Malikian himself. The violist and second violinist were the heart of the quintet, pulling the other players into the music with big grins on their faces and nearly bouncing out of their chairs at a few moments. With their intense body language, I found the conducting by Mr. Malikian with his bow as the baton to be insulting to their skills as if they couldn´t stay together without him. Perhaps he takes such different tempos with each performance that he needs to guide them into the pieces, but a simple breath or raising of the scroll should be enough to communicate this more discretely.

Though I found the thumps of his feet to be quite distracting and reminiscent of the exercises my conductors would take us through in rehearsals to keep us from playing during the rests, I think they contributed to the low-key atmosphere of the ensemble. If Mr. Malikian wants to stomp, I would advise him to wear shoes with louder soles to more obviously integrate the thuds into his performance. Can you imagine listening to a recording sprinkled with stomps emphasizing all the important rests? It would be truly unique and seem more alive than the abundance of traditional recordings already available in music libraries.

Since my first year in high school when a senior played Sarasate´s Zigeunerweisen for a concerto concert, it has been one of my favorite pieces and it is always a pleasure to listen to it—better yet, listening to it live and close to the performers like last night. As the piece is originally written for full orchestra, it was interesting seeing the arrangement for the quintet. The arrangement was very close to the actual piece and I only noticed one time where the solo violin part was played by the first violinist. I wonder if the ensemble arranged it themselves or if it was something they bought from the music store.

Coincidentally, I was also very familiar with the different types of music Sarasate sought inspiration from because of my Music of Spain class this semester. Mr. Malikian´s comments about the Capricho vasco being in 3/4 instead of the traditional 5/8 zortziko dance because Sarasate thought it would be easier for the Parisian tourists to understand related directly to the lectures and exam I just took in my other class. The Jota Navarra and classical guitar music are also topics we have discussed, so it was especially interesting listening to them live and through Sarasate´s interpretations. (For example, I don´t think you could actually dance to his version of the Jota.)

El Guadiana

Sala de Galleo Gallelei
March 20, 2008

He opened by saying “This performance is dedicated to Antonio ‘el Kalifa,’” bringing loud clapping and hoots from the table of men—all with nearly the same face—behind us. (I later learned that Antonio was a Flamenco singer who recorded in the 1970s.) The drinks were flowing and the cigarettes smoking, making it like a typical nightlife scene. Later on, many people in the audience were clapping the palos and it was hard to keep your feet from tapping. Despite there not being a formal program, most people seemed to know the music they were playing and would sporadically add shouts of “oye!” throughout the songs, a testament to the historical cultural role flamenco plays in some Spaniard’s lives.

The band consisted of two guitars, a cajón, a cante, and an electric keyboard—an instrument untraditionally part of flamenco groups. Flamenco as a music form (instead of a dance) is mainly improvised—from the lyrics and theme to the notes and tempos. Though I could not identify them, my friend told me that each type of song traditionally corresponds to one key signature and if the signer varies, it’s something that really stands out to those who know flamenco (as was the case for one song in our concert).

Most flamenco music is not written down, but instead transmitted by ear and trial-and-error. However, if it were written, it would be in a very confusing looking 12/8-time because of all the syncopations and un-natural rhythm patterns. I was able to translate words and phrases from time to time, but even without my Spanish background you could easily feel the drama and tragedy in the lyrics and bellowing vibratos. To make it even more dramatic, the singer would quickly stand-up at the end of the song and walk around his chair as if he needed to catch his breath from holding such a long note.

As with all small group ensembles, body language is extremely important and it was very apparent in this concert. The cajón and piano players were always looking behind the singer to catch the eye of the guitarists. There were two acts, but the end was so abrupt that we were confused if the concert was over; they all played their last note and walked off stage without saying a word. Though we didn’t stay around for very long after the concert, our guess was that the singer and Antonio would be drinking, dancing, and laughing like the old friends they are into the early morning hours.

Preludio para la siesta de un fauno/La consagración de la primavera

Compagnie Marie Chouinard

April 13, 2008

This was not supposed to be a concert, but rather a modern dance performance at Teatro Albéniz for the Madrid en Danza festival this month. Both Debussy and Stravinsky’s pieces were played via a recording and projected throughout the theater, but they both drew attention to how music can be interpreted and literally come to life. The raw, dissonant nature of the pieces—especially Le Sacre du printemps—was mirrored in the dress, as both the men and women were topless and barefoot on the stage. The confusion and constant shifting of instrument solos was paralleled in the solos of certain dancers, the spotlight shifting from one or two people to another as the melody passed. I have played the piece before and know that it requires a lot of focus to not play on the rests and understand the complicated rhythm, but the entrances of new dancers and movements made it seem more natural.

The sexual innuendo and blatant reenactment of orgasms using horns as props surprised the audience, drawing eruptions of giggles from the 14-year-old boy in my host family and uncomfortable squirming in others, like myself, who did not know what to expect from merely reading the description in a news ad. After the initial shock of seeing so much skin and muscle, it became easier to see that the dancers appeared like un-gendered nymphs or even primitive microbes. This along with their sweaty bodies, growls, hisses, and deliberate breathing would surely have been similar to the image Stravinsky had in mind when he wrote the riot-causing piece in the early 20^th century. The bodily noises themselves were a counter-melody or harmony, putting into question what really is music or not.

Transforming music into movement and life makes concrete the mental images we create from just listening; music becomes a tangible thing involving not just sound, but sight and touch. I could not have imagined a more perfect manner to represent such a controversial piece and, in fact, would prefer the dance performance to the music alone because it brings more reason and understanding to the complex work.

Here is a video clip to give you an idea of what kind of group they are.