The Intermixture of Percussion in Latin American Chamber Music
John L. Walker
Within the context of Latin American chamber music there is a small subset of compositions that are distinguished by their use of percussion. As we shall see, when percussion is added to smaller ensembles its purpose, rather than mainly rhythmic or dynamic, is to create or suggest a particular soundscape or dramatic element. In the present article, I would like to briefly describe several of the most significant examples of music of this type.
Perhaps the first work in this category is Heitor Villa-Lobos’s Nonetto, subtitled, “Impressão rápida de todo o Brasil” (1923, A Rapid Impression of All Brazil) for five winds, harp, piano, celesta, percussion and mixed choir. Though on the whole the winds are the dominant voice, the ensemble’s percussion section consists of seventeen European and Brazilian instruments, such as the puita, (a friction drum), reco-reco (a notched hollow bamboo stick) and xucalho (a tube-shaped shaker). Although the percussion section is used in a traditional manner, at rehearsal number sixteen Villa-Lobos requires that the edge of porcelain plate be lightly struck with an iron rod. Writing prior to a 1940 performance in New York Olin Downes remarks “there is a complete passage for the percussion instruments alone and a wildly dramatic conclusion, in which the heavy rhythmical accents of the chorus, set against the other rhythms of accompanying instruments, leads to a vertiginous climax, in which most, if not all, of the notes of the scale appear to be flung upon the composer’s canvas!”[1]
Although not frequently performed, when compared to the rest of Villa-Lobo’s work Eero Tarasti finds that in “its emotional power the climax of Nonetto is one of the most impressive in the whole production of Villa-Lobos. It could be characterized as irresistibly barbarous music, a masterpiece of the musical primitivism of the first half of the twentieth century.”[2]
Based on a poem with the same title by Puerto Rican Luis Palés Matos, Cuban composer Amadeo Roldán’s Danza negra (1928) for soprano, two violas, two clarinets and percussion was premiered in the concert hall of the Maison Gaveau in Paris on April 23, 1929. Conducted by M.-F. Gaillard, the program also included the first performance of Edgar Varèse’s Intégrales for winds and percussion. Critic Paul Le Flem had no comment about Roldán’s composition;[3] however, after a later performance Alejo Carpentier writes “the percussion is in constant activity, helping the singer or dialoguing with him.”[4]
Silvestre Revueltas (1899-1940) was born in Santiago Papasquiaro, which is a small town in west central Mexico. According to Julio Estrada, from time to time it is still possible to hear songs being played on “derelict” instruments, such as violin, harp, clarinet, trombone and drum, that are reborn in the “orquestitas” (little orchestras) of Revueltas’ El renacuajo paseador and 8 por radio.[5] The latter, for clarinet, bassoon, trumpet, percussion, two violins, cello and contrabass, was composed in 1933 and premiered on October 13 in Mexico City’s Hidalgo Theater by members of the Conservatory orchestra. It was later performed in New York on April 22 1934, on a Pan American Association of Composers event.
A little less than six minutes in duration, in this work the percussion section is limited to a field drum, a suspended cymbal and a pair of maracas, all of which are used to enhance the essentially folkloric character of the work’s melodic and rhythmic language.
In addition to folkloric elements, from the early 1920s Carlos Chávez (1899-1978) began to incorporate into his compositions many features thought to be characteristic of the pre Conquest Aztecs. His third such work, Xochipilli Macuilxoxhitl, is described by the composer “as an attempt to reconstruct—as far as it is possible—the music of the ancient Mexicans.”[6]
Unlike in 8 por radio, the principal part of this piece “is reserved for a group of percussion instruments, that requires six performers, and includes Indian drums, two teponaztli (a small one and a large one), three huéhuetls (small, medium and large), two omichicahuaztlis, wood and bone scrapers and sonajas made of copper and clay.”[7] In addition to these percussion instruments, the work is also scored for piccolo, flute, clarinet and trombone. “To secure maximum authenticity, the players used reproductions or modern adaptations of the ancient instrument;”[8] the trombone was used “to suggest the sound made by blowing into a conch shell. The result is a work of delightful primitive flavor, employing its strange instrumental resources with rare effect.”[9]
Composed in 1940, the piece was premiered in New York at the Museum of Modern Art on May 16.
About his 1994 work, Conga-Line in Hell for mixed wind and string ensemble, piano and percussion, Miguel del Aguila (b. 1957) writes, “the conga drums and the rhythm they play are the identity and sound of this work. Although the piano part looks very different from that of the conga, if you look at the hand movements of both performers they often do exactly the same thing; they are both playing the same percussion line which in this case was translated into what the piano could play.” He goes on saying, “when percussion instruments are added ‘artificially’ to produce color, the ‘sound’ of Latin music, the end result is never convincing as it always remains an artificial addition to music that doesn’t inherently possess that feature.”[10]
The New Juilliard Ensemble, under the direction of Joel Sachs, premiered the work on September 25, 1994.
In Praeludium (1997), for soprano, mixed wind and string ensemble, piano and percussion, Venezuelan composer Miguel Angel Santaella (b. 1971) also uses conga drums, but to add texture and intensity to passages leading to climax (example 1).
He uses other percussion instruments, such as temple blocks and Glockenspiel, for coloristic effects.
During the early 20th century, Chilean poet Francisco Pezoa participated in extending the anarchist movement into that country’s mining region. There were numerous conflicts, the most tragic of which occurred in 1907: To put an end to a weeklong strike, on December 21 the military forcibly dislodged the thousands of workers who had gathered in Iquique. Using mainly spoken declamations, Chilean composer René Silva (b. 1984) uses Pezoa’s text in ¡Pido venganza por el valiente! (2010) as the basis for a dramatic musical retelling of the fateful events of that day.
As if with great temerity all of the musicians join together at the beginning to whisper, “Pido venganza por el valiente” (I demand justice for the brave one.) Still unsure of itself, the sentiment is echoed by the suspended cymbal in piano pianissimo accompanied by the piano in which both hands are separated by four octaves. Later, as the text becomes more forceful, the xylophone introduces a series of rapidly accelerating motives, first on one pitch and then on another, that then cascade throughout the ensemble. Finally, on the last page of the score tom toms join forces with the piano and contrabass as the voice, now no longer singing, is almost shouting out its raw indignation for the injustices suffered by the workers.
More recently, Kugüe kirá ni ña (2014), by Panamian composer Carlos Camacho, is a work for mixed wind and string ensemble, piano and percussion inspired by a legend about the Rabbit Indians who lived in the western area of present-day Panama. According to tradition, these indigenous people were fierce warriors who, even after the arrival of the Conquistadors, lived in a state of bloody and perpetual warfare with their longtime enemy, the ngöbes-buglé.
In this piece, the percussion, which consists of conch shell, vibraphone, bass drum and bamboo chime, is not tied to any particular folk rhythm; rather, these are used to create atmosphere.[11] The conch shell, which opens the piece, evokes the essence of wind. Later, bowed notes on the vibraphone color the different timbres and sounds heard in other parts of the ensemble. The bass drum and bamboo chimes, used alternately, offer rhythmic support at key moments (example 2).
A more expanded survey might include Obertura para una comedia infantil (1937), by Argentine Luis Gianneo or José Serebrier’s Seis por televisión (1970), both of which are essentially European in outlook and use Western percussion instruments in conventional ways. However, with the exception of Santaella, the tendency of most Latin American composers who work in this genre is to approach the use of percussion from two different standpoints: either as way to enhance the timbral soundscape of a composition influenced by folkloric traditions, or, as in the case of Chávez and Camacho, to create an ostensibly indigenous sound world through the use of historic instruments or instruments used in an unconventional manner.
Notes [1] Olin Downes, “From Brazil: Music of South American Country at the Museum of Modern Art,” New York Times, 13 October 1940. The section to which Downes refers, which starts a few measures after rehearsal number 49, is actually written for choir accompanied by seven percussion instruments. [2] Eero Tarasti, Heitor Villa-Lobos: the Life and Works, 1887-1959 (Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 1995), 328. [3] Paul Le Flem, “Un concert d’ouvrages inédits,” Comoedia, 28 April 1929. Le Flem did praise Cuban soprano Lydia de Rivera (1906-90) for the “brightness and magnitude” of her voice. The Maison Gaveau was a Parisian manufacturer of pianos. [4] Alejo Carpentier, Obras completas, vol. 11, “Ese músico que llevo dentro 2” (Mexico City: Siglo Veintiuno Editores, 1987), 11. [5] Julio Estrada, Silvestre Revueltas: canto roto (Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 2012), 46. He uses the word derelict as a way to describe very old instruments that over time have not necessarily been well maintained. [6] Carlos Chávez, Xochipilli: an Imagined Aztec Music (New York: Mills Music, 1964), preface. Xochipilli was the Aztec god of summer and various pleasant or creative activities associated with this season. As the patron of writing and painting he could also be referred to as Macuilxoxhitl. [7] Roberto García Morillo, Carlos Chávez: vida y obra (Mexico City: Fondo de Cultura Económica, 1960), 111. [8] Benjamin Keen, The Aztec Image in Western Thought (New Brunswick, NJ: Rutgers University Press, 1971), 560. [9] Howard Taubman, “Mexicans’ Music Sung at Exhibition,” New York Times, 17 May 1940. [10] Miguel del Aguila, email to the author, 21 May 2015. [11] Carlos Camacho, email to the author, 5 May 2015. Where to Buy or Find this Music?
Most of the compositions discussed here are available for sale either directly through us or from Sheet Music Plus (full disclosure: we get a teeny tiny percentage if you use our link to SMP).
