On Oct. 11, the Pomona College Orchestra (PCO) performed two pieces with special significance, under the baton of Eric Lindholm. The first was Arturo Márquez Navarro’s “Danzón No. 2,” a staple of the Mexican repertoire performed with fresh vigor. The second, a contemporary piece by Gabriela Lena Frank, was a tone poem eponymously named for the legend of La llorona, central to mythological systems throughout Latin America. PCO’s performance served as a strong reminder of the depth of Hispanic musical culture.
Both “Danzón No. 2” and “La llorona” could not have existed without the constant exchange of musical ideas between European, African and Indigenous cultures in Latin America. The music itself revels in diversity of form, instrumentation and character. Attendees at PCO’s performances might have been struck by the apparent disconnect in “Danzón No. 2” between the lilting melody carried by the German-invented clarinet and the memorable rhythm of the claves, an instrument central to Afro-Cuban music. Later, listeners would encounter a surprisingly percussive sound from the viola in “La llorona,” an apparent contradiction for an instrument much more associated with lush harmonic filigree.
In “Danzón No. 2,” Márquez’s writing is haunting at first. The main melodic idea, first expressed in the clarinet but later taken up by flutes, horns and strings, is utterly ambiguous. It teases the audience, never asserting definitively whether it aspires to major tonality or will always sink down into a minor key. Though PCO played that first melody somewhat faster than I would like, the effect was not at all lost.
This melody repeats throughout the piece’s duration of approximately ten minutes, and despite this insistence on repetition, PCO always kept the balance between instruments interesting enough. I never got the impression that they were simply passing around the same melody (though this is, in fact, exactly what the score indicates). Rather, each time that ambiguous phrase recurred, we heard a new group of instruments approaching it with distinct character.
Furthermore, I was thoroughly enthralled by “La llorona,” a contemporary piece by American composer Gabriela Lena Frank. “La llorona” takes its name from the legend of a despondent woman who sobs (“llorar” is “to cry” in Spanish) near rivers in regret for having drowned her children.
The legend of “La llorona” is a persistent motif in art and music across the Southwestern United States, Mexico and Central America, with folk songs and murals often telling her story and bearing her image. The provenance of the legend is multifaceted and imprecise: She might be based on the Aztec goddess Coatlicue, who cried for her defeated devotees after the Spanish conquest. She might also be based on La Malinche, the Indigenous woman who interpreted between Nahuatl and Spanish for Hernán Cortés.
Nowadays, she is associated with the story of a woman who weeps near a river in remembrance of her dead children. Amid the standard annual kerfuffle about how to refer to the anniversary of Columbus’ arrival in the Americas (which in the Spanish-speaking world has additional arguments over the phrases “day of the race” and “day of Hispanidad”), amplified by the clashes between Isabel Díaz Ayuso and Claudia Sheinbaum, as well as those prompted by Javier Milei, the choice to perform a piece based on this legend was an especially significant one.
In contrast to the repetitive “Danzón No. 2,” Frank’s “La llorona” has no recurring sections and consists of seven movements. Additionally, the orchestra of PCO itself fits into a secondary — though certainly not subdued — role as the accompaniment to a solo viola played here by Pomona lecturer Kira Blumberg.
The movements themselves hint at a programmatic structure which the concert notes elucidate more fully: the titular figure goes through a “Slumber” before an “Awakening,” in which the viola actually begins to sound. She then attempts a “Flight” from her troubles before experiencing a surreal “Danza de las Chullpas” from Peruvian folklore (chullpas are an Aymara funerary tower), and hears the “Canto de la Luna.” Afterwards, she attempts a “Flight” again, though with a much more somber musical setting, finally accepting her situation in the “Coda.”
The PCO made this piece of contemporary music spectacularly comprehensible. In contrast to the contrived and overly academic material that contemporary classical music often brings, I was struck by how vividly Frank, Blumberg and PCO depicted the narrative. Like in “Danzón No. 2,” the music makes difficult demands of the orchestra as an ensemble, frequently featuring complicated rhythms and harmonies that might not make immediate sense.
Having these aspects of storytelling, as well as a soloist, gives “La llorona” somewhat of the character of a tone poem and concerto, even harkening back to Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s “Scheherezade,” which PCO played two years ago. Unlike that embattled heroine, however, “La llorona” has little optimistic to say about its title figure. As Blumberg played the last left-handed pizzicato (plucked) notes of the piece, we had no option but to accept “La llorona’s” desperation as she wallowed in regret.
“Danzón No. 2” and “La llorona” both highlight important aspects of Latin American history, as well as emphasizing particularly painful moments that nevertheless contributed to a rich musical culture. The African rhythms in the clave that permeate “Danzón No. 2” could not have appeared without the Atlantic slave trade. The combination of legends from Aztec and Aymara folklore harmonizes well precisely because the Spanish Empire brought both civilizations to their ruin. Yet, as I attended PCO’s performance of those pieces last weekend, I could not help but marvel at the music produced by such tragedy.
Akshay Seetharam HM ’27 is an advocate for ignoring all music composed before 1820 and after 1870. Reading his column will probably give you an unfair advantage in solving his crosswords, which are now the longest-running way to waste your time in TSL.
Facebook Comments