MUSIC FROM MUDEJAR SPAIN
MUSIC FROM MUDEJAR SPAIN
loving things that they never saw...
(Alfonso X, Partidas II, 13, 14)
The sustained presence of Islam created a peculiar and unique Middle
Ages in the Iberian Peninsula. Eight long centuries witnessed a divided
Spain (not to mention two additional centuries of Morisco presence on
Spanish soil) marked by a constant fight between Christianity and
Islam. In spite of an atmosphere of constant conflict and belligerence,
the period was relatively peaceful, enriched by mutual cultural
influence. Without this mix of cultures, we would have missed many
singular cultural wonders.
The Christians initially lived under Muslim rule. Many of them decided
to adopt the Muslim religion: the so-called adopted (Arab: muwalladin;
Spanish: muladíes). The rest remained faithful to their own
religion but were inevitably influenced by the Arabic culture of their
rulers. The word mustarib, literally 'would-be Arab', denoting this
condition, is the origin of the generic term Mozarab. The Reconquista,
or reconquest of Spain by the Christians, saw Toledo's recapture in
1085, followed by several victories over the Moors. The
recently-liberated zones were extensive enough for a stable situation
that had to be guaranteed by an increasing presence of the victors. At
this point, a crucial decision was taken -a resolution that would
affect the shape of Spanish culture in the Middle Ages radically.
The defeated Hispano-Arabic people were allowed to remain under
Christian domination while preserving their Islamic religion and Arabic
language as well as their own judicial system and organization. The
term mudayyan precisely refers to the 'settlers that were allowed to
remain in the land'. This is the origin of the word Mudejar.
Broadly speaking, the terms Mozarab and Mudejar have been used to
designate the product of that forced marriage between Christians and
Moors. Thus, we give the name Mozarab to the chant of the Christians
that flourished under Islamic rule and also to the particular Romance
dialect intermingled with Arab words (and many times transcribed using
the Arabic alphabet) that would eventually mark its presence in the
origins of Spanish literature. The word Mudejar has been used in the
realm of the plastic arts since the middle of the 19th century to
denominate an astoundingly personal Peninsular style, an art full of
Muslim inspiration whose development in Christian Spain took place
between the 11th and 16th centuries. Also considered as Mudejarism is
any cultural development that shows a fusion of Christian and Arabic
elements, specifically in their customs and traditions. Authors such as
Américo Castro, Márquez Villanueva, López-Baralt
and others have given many examples of the changes that have flourished
as a result of the constant contact between the two ethnic groups.
Like many aspects of life such as language, plastic arts, literature,
science and customs, music did not escape intact from this abrupt
change. Tunisian lexicographer Ahmad al-Tifasi (1184-1253) gave some
valuable accounts of the music of al-Andalus. He tells us that the
chant of the Hispano-Arabics in the old times was developed either in a
pure Christian tradition or in the style of the rough chant of the
cameleers. He points out that, in those primordial times, the Arab
people did not follow any musical rule in the music-making process. In
order to alleviate this chaotic state, some musicians from Northern
Africa who were proficient in the musical style of Medina were invited
to Spain. Afterwards, Ziryab also went to the Iberian Peninsula and was
able to introduce some astonishing innovations. According to our
researcher, the following years saw a period dominated by the figure of
a native of Saragossa, Ibn Baya (d. 1139), usually regarded as the
musician who successfully combined the chant of the Christians
with the one originated in Masraq. Al-Tifasi specifically mentions that
the Grand Imam Ibn Baya blended (mazaja) both musics. Musicologist C.
Poché has interpreted this assertion by reasoning that Ibn Baya
(Avempace) might well have founded some sort of repertoire based on
certain musical structures of the Visigoths or perhaps derived from the
Gregorian model. If this were not the case, it would be very hard to
explain the presence of scales with no intervals shorter than a
semitone in traditional Hispano-Arabic music, a characteristic totally
unprecedented in and alien to other Arabic music. This point was
already brought to light in 1863 by F. Salvador-Daniel, who considered
that there was an amazing analogy between the musical scales of
Arab-Andalusian provenance and those from Gregorian Chant, hardly a
simple coincidence. In fact, from the modal point of view, there are no
significant differences between, say, the melodic lines by Alfonso X
and the more archaic pieces from the Andalusí tradition. These
analogies would not only concern the underlying modes for the melodies,
but also, as H. H. Touma claims, their melodic designs.
Further proof of some similarities shared by Arabs and Christians can
be found in the following reference by F. Salinas, who published his
Seven Books on Music (De musica libri septem, Salamanca, 1577). While
explaining the catalectic verse, he refers to the air Rey don Alfonso
and mentions that "its music and dance were very common (...) amongst
the Moors." He adds: "Its Arab text is as follows: Calui vi calui Calui
araui. And this is the music: ..." It was Carolina Michaellis de Vasconcellos
who brought this fact to the
attention of scholars for the first time in 1915. She traced the
popularity of this particular song, how it was used in stage
representations and popular festivities in the times of Gil Vicente, as
well as in previous and subsequent centuries. In 1922, J. Ribera
established that the fragment alluded by Salinas contains an unmistaken
rhythm of five beats, very common in Iberian popular music. This
scholar supports the concept of a possible link between the title of
the piece and a still obscure quote by the Arcipreste de Hita (in his
famous List of Instruments) "cabel el orabín." Similarly, other
authors have also referred to this peculiar dance, most notably: M.
Querol (1948), A. Salazar (1948), J. J. Rey (1978) and R. de Zayas
(1981). Some 69 years before the publication of Salinas' work, an
arrangement of the same piece appeared as the very first work in the
Intavolatura de Lauto by J. A. Dalza, and published by Petrucci (1508)
under the title Caldibi castigliano. J. J. Rey maintains when analyzing
lutenist Dalza's output that "at the same time that he has been
incapable of understanding the meaning of the text, he has not been
able to capture its proper rhythm in the tablature." This particular
rhythm is a rhythm of five beats that, according to the musicologist,
"gives the piece a very distinctive character and, because of the
particular mode in which it has been preserved, we can safely conclude
that it is one of the oldest melodic exemplars of dance music in
Spain." He has written elsewhere that "surely Dalza was trying to
reproduce or assimilate a style foreign to him, perhaps after listening
to an Hispano-Arabic lutenist..."
The character of the typical Hispano-Arabic dance was precisely one of
the most seducing aspects for many Christians. They wanted to emulate
the splendours of the Oriental courts, and it was usual that some
Christian rulers favoured the presence of singers and dancing girls of
Muslim origin. For instance, Castilian Count Sancho García, who
ruled from 995 to 1017, owned such a group (a sitara) to entertain his
social gatherings. This attitude was also common in 11th-century
Pamplona, as narrated by Ibn al-Kinani, a physician from Cordoba who
played an active role in the trade of musician slaves. Many Christian
texts from that era usually refer to dance as the most natural artistic
expression of the Moors, and this becomes more evident in later texts.
Generally speaking, as observed in both Spanish and Portuguese courts,
it was not unusual to find Moorish participation in dances during
street and popular celebrations, and even in some official ceremonies.
Christian descriptions of the Moriscos depict them as very passionate
about any dance accompanied by instruments, a fervour that was
certainly transmitted to many Christians. Some of the most beautiful
descriptions of such an affection -and the hybridism that resulted from
this obstinate mix of Christian and Arabic manners- are those from the
Kingdom of Granada that have reached us through the elegant pen of G.
Pérez de Hita: young Moors who usually alternate between songs
sung in Arabic and Castilian, Christian knights who love to dance with
Moorish ladies .... But these images were also observed in some regions
that had been reconquered long ago. Czech traveller Baron of Rozmithal
(15th century) relates that, while staying in the house of the Count of
Burgos, he saw "several beautiful maidens and gentlewomen wearing very
rich garments in the Morisco fashion, and who behaved following their
peculiar customs in all of their activities, not to mention their
exotic food and drinks. They all performed very pleasant dances in the
Morisco style."
The festive dances (or zambras, as they were called in the Southern
regions), were to become one of the basic icons of identity for the
Morisco people and a true expression of Mudejarism. Not in vain, this
"dança morisca ... accompanied by dulçaynas and flutes"
(S. de Covarrubias) was to become the "best kind of dance that we know"
(F. Gómez de Gómara). Apparently, the term zambra, in use
in Castile since the Low Middle Ages, has always had some additional
generic meanings other than the one mentioned above. J. Corominas
justly identifies three further meanings: a "Morisco orchestra", a
"Moor dance" and a "Morisco festivity adorned with music and clamour"
and we might add as well: "the noisy plucking that accompanied the
performance of a zambra dance" (Diccionario de Autoridades) and also,
as R. de Zayas as noted, the place where these joyful
activities took place ("Have you been at the taverns or the zambras on
Sundays or holidays?"- P. de Alcalá). During this powerful
process of culture blending whose magnitude would increase irreversibly
after the Fall of Granada, these zambras would end up accompanying the
processions in the festivities of Corpus Christi (and even being
carried further inside the churches if no organ was available). An old
Morisco from Granada relates that no less than the Archbishop "when he
turned to the congregation during the celebration of the Mass, instead
of reciting the usual Dominus vobiscum, he said in Arabic: y
barasicún and then came the zambra."
This general background (especially the reference to the common dance
Calvi vi calvi/Rey don Alonso noted by Salinas) may help answer an
intriguing question that has occupied many musicologists in the past:
how was it possible that musicians at the Court of Alfonso X could work
as a team when almost half of them (13 out of 27, as it was the case in
the Chapel of his son Sancho) were Arabs? It would be futile to try to
obtain a rigourous scientific explanation. Even if it were possible, it
would be well beyond our capabilities, and we have simply decided not
to make the attempt. The instrumental reconstruction of the piece under
consideration and those for the rest of our programme are basically the
product of a documented recreation. Every musical performance is by
nature a recreation, but the older the piece is, the more recreation is
required. The main initial questions that we have tried to address are
as follows: What characteristics can we attribute to the instrumental
music that, together with the vocal music, shaped the musical scenary
of the Middle Ages in the Iberian Peninsula? Is it possible to link in
some way the structure of the melodies that have been preserved with a
style that is congruent with the extremely eloquent documentation
available to us? As lovers of things that we have never seen, we have
decided to try to develop an instrumental style for the music of
Mudejar Spain. Since no written instrumental music has been preserved
from the Spanish Middle Ages, we were forced to derive our music from
melodic material from vocal compositions. It is generally accepted
that, in the Middle Ages, it was common practice to interchange
material between vocal and instrumental music, a fact that can also
been observed in some modern cultures that produce monophonic music.
Troubadour works such as the famous Kalenda Maya or Souvent Soupir
could well have been originated in some now lost instrumental pieces.
By the same token, the tenor melodies Chose Tassin and Chose Loyset
seem to have been the melodic material for some estampies. Furthermore,
as it appears, there was a very important core of melodies that used to
circulate in the memories of skillful troubadours and that were
constantly applied to different texts of poetry (the well-known
contrafacta), and thus it is very likely that such melodies were also a
prime source for composers of instrumental music. Specialist R.
Álvarez has written: "It would be worthwhile to notice the
essential role that improvisation played in the instrumental music of
the Middle Ages: it is very likely that jugglers and minstrels alike
recreated the very same well-known repertoire at every performance." If
we concentrate ourselves on the repertoire of the Cantigas by Alfonso
X, there are several examples of these contrafacta. J. Sage gives a
list, although some items are debatable. For example, Cantiga No. 216
uses a melody by troubadour Gautier de Dargies, Cantigas No. 380 and
No. 340 make use of melodies by Cadenet, Cantiga No. 202 uses material
by an anonymous author, Cantiga No. 29 contains a melody that resembles
one by J. de Garlandia, Cantiga No. 100 recalls (!) the anonymous
melody of the Lamento di Tristano; other Cantigas (v.gr. Nos. 49, 97,
152, 244, 290 and 316) could be related to works from the School of
Notre-Dame. I. Fernández de la Cuesta, despite the fact that he
constantly defends the originality of the melodies of the Cantigas,
cites some additional examples: the fourth melodical phrase of the
Prologue Cantiga coincides with a melody by Berenguer de Palau, and
Cantiga No. 73 is undoubtedly related to the first Cantiga de Amigo by
Martín Códax. Cantiga No. 347 (certainly not the last
example) reads: "de que fiz cantiga nova con son meu, ca non alleo". In
other words, the king or the troubadour wishes to establish that in
this piece both the text and the music are by himself.
Research and experimentation. The raw material that is the source of
our work comes from just a handful of Christian codices that transmit
some beautiful, though barely outlined, melodies by Alfonso X, Teobaldo
de Navarra, Guiraut d' Espanha, and others. Moreover, we have worked on
the legacy that the andalusíes have preserved so devotedly. It
is our desire to join both musics once again so that their beauties are
blended. May the Christian pieces regain some of the colour and warmth
of a living art... may they shed the dullness of the manuscript. And
only then will they be able to share their noble old patina with those
traditional songs with which perhaps they were born together.
THE INSTRUMENTS
The Morisco lute
"How beautiful the lute is, how lovely its shape!/ I am moved when I
listen to a prelude,/ I hould abandon everything else/ (...)./ Listen
to one who tells only the truth/ (...);/ it invites to love, although
it never loves,/ it remembers nostalgia without having loved./(...)/
fine is its neck, full is its belly,/ and its voice is not that of an
adult:/ it is a child, and whatever it does is pleasant". These verses
by Ibn Quzman represent some of the most beautiful lines devoted to the
lute. Using more common terms, we could define the lute as a plucked
string instrument that has a resonating vaulted box with an oval shape
and a neck. The word laúd originated from the Arabic 'ud
('wood') preceded by the agglutinated article al (as in Al-ud). This
form was adopted in Castilian as alaút and as such it is usually
found in the medieval literature.
The Arabic lute, an instrument whose origins are indeed remote, is
known to have been in the Iberian Peninsula since the first days of the
Arab invasion. Its oldest portrayal on Andalusian soil, dating back to
968 A.D., is carved on a ivory bottle from Córdoba. Although
their morphology casts some doubts, the Hispano-Arabic lutes of the
Beato which Master Magio illuminated for the Monastery of San Miguel de
la Escalada may be slightly older (ca. 962 A.D.). Master Magio was the
first artist to represent the Elders in the Apocalypse as Islamic
musicians plucking the 'ud and seated in typical Arab fashion. From the
11th century, we have a carved representation preserved in Jativa. In
al-Andalus we are able to observe how the instrument experienced some
very important transformations. For instance, the soundboard openings
are replaced by elaborate rosettes, an idea perhaps borrowed from
Gothic architecture. Another example is the addition of a fifth course
of strings (i.e., a fifth double string played as one), generally
attributed to Ziryab (11th c.). It is very likely that five- and
four-course instruments coexisted: however, al-Tifasi only seems to
have known the latter group. There are other modifications attributed
to Ziryab: lighter instruments, better quality strings, and the
replacement of wooden plectra by more flexible ones.
The incorporation of the lute into the Christian instrumentarium was
very likely a byproduct of the cultural environment associated with the
courts of Alfonso X, whose own codices usually portray beautiful
specimens. Our first Castilian literary reference can be found in La
doncella Teodor (c.1250): "Aprendí tañer laúd y
cannon y las treinta y tres trovas" ('I learned to pluck the lute
and canon and the thirty three songs'). In the Poema de Alfonso
XI (1328), the adjective pleasing ("estrumento falaguero") is
applied to the lute. A citation by the Arcipreste de Hita (1330)
mentions that it may be used to play the trisca: "el corpudo alaud que
tien punto a la trisca". Corominas has indicated that the word trisca
may have the meaning of 'dance' (tresche in French, tresca in Occitan)
in these verses quoted from the Libro de Alexandre: "tiempo dolce e
sabroso.../ entran en flor las miesses ca son ya espigadas,/ fazen las
dueñas triscas en camisas delgadas".
It is amazing how a rigid tradition contributed to the faithful
continuation of the organological characteristics of the lute, truly a
symbol of Arab music. A Persian manuscript from the 14th century
(Treasure of Rarities) includes an entire chapter devoted to explaining
the design and construction of several musical instruments. It has some
detailed descriptions of their expected proportions and measurements,
the materials to be used, the different procedures to be followed for
processing the wood and fabricating the strings. In the case of the
lute, a wood of average consistency is recommended, with some bias in
favour of fir or pine. The proposed measurements for the instrument,
almost literally copied from the al-Kindi (11th c.), are very similar
to those of modern Arab lutes.
Isma'il ibn Bard (10th c.) wrote these verses after he was presented
with an old lute: "You were very kind to send me a lute/ that belonged
to the al-Wald family./ It has been restored generation after
generation./ To me it is like a lute of mosaics./ The spiders wove
their web on it as if it were the vestige/ of a building in ruin." And
he adds this extremely beautiful phrase that even today, at the turn of
the 20th century, is capable of producing thrilling resonances: "This
lute is like faded lines,/ like the remnants of ink in a precious
manuscript".
The Morisco guitar
According to Corominas, the word guitar comes from the Arabic kitara,
and this from the Greek cithara. In Arabic kaitara can be found in some
Hispanic sources from the 11th and 13th centuries. One of the first
references to this instrument to be found in the Castilian literature
might well be the one in the Libro de Alexandre, especially if we
accept the current dating of the work that places it in the 12th
century: "guitarra e viola que las coytas enbota". In the Poema de
Alfonso XI (1328) we read: "la guitarra serranista/ estromento con
razón". Then we find the charming but complex references by the
Arcipreste de Hita (1330): "allí sale gritando la guitarra
morisca/ de las vozes aguda e de los puntos arisca/(...)/ la guitarra
latina con estos se aprisca". Referring to instruments that are by
nature incapable of accompanying Arab chants, he further writes:
"sinfonía, guitarra non son de aqueste marco". The claim that
the guitar is not suitable for the Arabic style would be surprising
since there is a type of guitar called Morisca (or serranista). And not
only is this fact observed in the literature, but also it appears in
many other sources, even outside the Iberian Peninsula. All this would
lead us to believe that the term guitar as used in that verse by the
Arcipreste is none other than the Latin guitar, whose basic
characteristics (tuning?, plucking technique?, the use of frets?...)
would make it far from suitable for playing in the Arabic style.
Unfortunately, it is not possible to determine the exact nature of such
distinctive properties: as is often the case, we can count only a few
names, some scarce images, and many false leads that only add to the
confusion. We also lack clear clues to distinguish this early guitar
from the viuela de péñola also cited by the Arcipreste.
J. Ballester applied the term Morisco guitar to a prototype frequently
(31.2 %) represented in Catalonian-Aragonese retables or altarpieces.
This is a kind of lute of a very small size. Judging from the
proportions of the human figures that play the instrument, we are able
to determine that the body was some 20 centimetres (7.8 inches) wide by
at most 50 centimetres (19.5 inches) long. As J. J. Rey has pointed
out, it is quite plausible that this is the instrument described by
Tinctoris (1476), who uses the name ghiterra or ghiterna and attributes
its invention (although we should infer use rather than creation) to
the Catalonians. This prototype has its antecedents in some of the
oldest iconographical sources: for instance, the two instruments
depicted in the miniature of Cantiga No. 90 (Codex b I 2). Rey seems to
imply that these instruments were bandurrias, that perhaps were known
as guitars in other regions. R. Álvarez agrees with this idea,
when considering that this short lute was usually named guitar,
mandurria or vandurria in the 14th century. Fernández Manzano
refers to the birth of the Morisco guitar as a classic example of
"organological Mudejarism," one of many observed in the Iberian
Peninsula. With regards to the plucked instruments with a
characteristic 8-shaped box, Rey states that all evidence seems to
indicate that, in the Middle Ages, these instruments were not named
guitars, but vihuelas de péñola ('plectrum', 'quill')
instead. Thus, we might be forced to accept that the term guitar in
fact refers to several subfamilies of instruments with oval-shaped
boxes and vaulted bodies, whereas the term vihuela usually designated
instruments with an 8-shaped box and a flat back. Quoting again the
text by the Arcipreste, "De las voces agudas" seems to imply a small
instrument. The fact that the guitar is considered somehow "not helpful
for (playing) the notes" could also refer to the lack of frets,
certainly one of the distinctive elements previously mentioned. We may
add a hypothesis of our own, one that is related to the sonority of the
instrument. We have built an experimental hybrid, a cross between what
is shown in the usual illustrations and an instrument originating in
Saudi Arabia, the old qanbus, perhaps related to some of the string
instruments in the miniatures of the Cantigas.
The rebec
With some certainty we may assert that two different types of rebecs
were played during the Middle Ages. Following the standard terminology
of the period, we will speak of a Morisco rebec and a (European) rebec.
The first is the Arab rebab, still in use (sadly a dying tradition) in
today's Hispano-Arabic music. It is a relatively simple string
instrument built upon a single hollowed wooden block that tapers near
the pegbox. In the slightly inclined pegbox, we find tuning pegs only
for the instrument's two thick strings. This (at least in recent times)
solid design would produce a pallid sound were it not for a soundboard,
extending the full length of the instrument, having hide instead of
wood at the end nearest the bridge. Moreover, as is the case for the
lute, there is an amazing similarity between today's instruments and
those depicted in the Medieval iconography. In some miniatures of the
Cantigas, for instance, we find three of them: two in Cantiga No. 110
(Codex b I 2) and another (a group consisting of a lute, a canon, and a
percussion instrument) in Cantiga No. 100 (Codex T I 1). There are also
some very attractive examples in some Catalonian-Aragonese and French
paintings, amongst others. In some of them, we see carved rosettes
located in very high positions near the pegbox. This might imply that
the instrument was played as it is today, with the strings high above
the neck and not touching it when pressed. This, combined with the use
of heavy, short bows and very thick strings (in relation to their
length), imposes a particular style of playing that, in traditional
Andalusi orchestral ensembles, gives the instrument both melodic and
rhythmic functions. Arabs knew the instrument well before the beginning
of Islam, although there is no general consensus as to whether the
instrument was bowed or plucked. The first undeniable evidence of a
bowed rebab can be traced to al-Farabi (10th c.), precisely in the era
in which, as P. Bec has indicated, bowed instruments were introduced
into Europe. This is, in all probability, the instrument that is
described by the Arcipreste in the verse "medio caño e harpa
conel rrabé morisco", and very different, both in shape and
sound, from the other "rabé gritador" that sounds "su alta nota"
several verses later. It is fascinating that the European rebec always
presents a constant high pitch. Covarrubias says that this is "a
3-string instrument, with very high pitch". Despite the differences, it
seems that the European rebec is a true descendent of the Arab rebab,
not only by name but also because they share some organological
characteristics. The rebec was played either in the Oriental style (on
the lap) or in the Occidental manner (on the shoulder). The latter
position can be observed in the following example from Santiago de
Compostela.
The canon (psaltery)
The terms canon (cf. the Poema de Alfonso XI), cannon (cf. La
doncella Teodor), caño, canno (cf. Libro de Buen Amor) are the
Castilian medieval versions of the Arab qanum, from the Greek
kanón (Latin canon). They all refer to a string instrument of
Egyptian origin (plucked by two plectra mounted on rings worn on the
index fingers), of assymmetric trapezoidal form and played on the lap.
It usually has several courses of triple strings (no less than 25).
According to Ibn Khallikan (13th c.) it was invented by al-Farabi (10th
c.), although the latter does not even mention it, at least not under
thisname. In al-Andalus, Ibn Hazm considers it to be the king of
instruments and al-Saqundi (13th c.) mentions it amongst the
instruments exported by Sevilla.
Gil de Zamora (1230) alludes to it as introduced recently into our
land, a surprising statement, given that a sculpted specimen has
existed in the main door of Santo Domingo de Soria since the middle of
the 12th century. R. Álvarez provides a long list of
iconographic testimonials of the instrument dating back to the 12th and
13th centuries. This author and others claim that there were both an
Oriental and an Occidental posture for plucking the canon. The former,
horizontally on the lap, and the latter, held vertically against the
chest, as can be seen, for example, in the miniatures of the Cantigas.
Without claiming that there is no way of playing the instrument
vertically, we believe that, as often happens, this is simply a
misinterpretation of the iconographic evidence. In the case of the
miniatures associated with Alfonso X our hypothesis seems to be
confirmed: all objects shaped similarly to the one that we are
describing and that should normally appear horizontal (such as the
sheets on which a child sleeps or a chess board, etc.) are shown
vertical. We think that this is a simple problem of perspective
representation that may have become a typical iconographic paradigm.
There might be other reasons as well. In a 14th century Egyptian
manuscript (The Unveiling of Afflictions), we observe a miniature of a
seated qanum player holding the instrument vertically against his
chest. His right hand is over the strings, while his left hand is
resting on the pegs. G. D. Sawa has shown that, although some authors
might use this depiction as a proof of a vertical playing position, the
text of the manuscript seems to contradict that, since it describes the
great agility of both hands essential for plucking the instrument.The
text also indicates -and this is rather important, since this also
applies to modern players of the instrument- that the musician should
never stop playing, not even when the instrument has gone out of tune:
in that case, the player should continue plucking with the right hand
while adjusting the tuning with the left hand, an action that seems to
be impossible if the instrument is held vertically. Sawa insists that
any instrument can be shown in at least four positions: being played,
ready to be played but not being played, being tuned, and being shown
to others. Using common sense, the expert indicates that the most
convenient way to show the instrument is to hold it vertically,
grasping it obliquely by the pegs and plucking a few strings with the
right hand. This is how to demonstrate the instrument so that it can be
seen. To Sawa's arguments we might add an additional fact that would
suffice by itself: the carpet on which the musician is seated is also
shown in an impossible vertical position. This also applies to all the
instruments shown in the miniatures associated with Alfonso X.
The fiddle
The fiddle (viola in Spanish) was probably the most prestigious of all
Medieval instruments. In fact, a word was even created to describe the
act of playing it: violar, analogous to the Old Provençal
viular. Corominas thinks that the origin of the Spanish terms vihuela
and viola is unknown, perhaps of onomatopoeic nature. He ventures that
it is likely that, in any case, it was taken from the Old Occitan viula
(sometimes viola) derived from viular ('to play the vihuela and wind
instruments'), whose imitative value is clear. P. Bec, in a very
interesting and extensive work, has attacked this hypothesis because it
does not take into account the fact that, originally, all Romance terms
refer to both bowed and plucked instruments. Bec claims that all
European terms to denote the instrument are derived from two basic
roots: one is Germanic, *FIDULA (of Latin origin), and other Romance,
*VIOLA. The Germanic base (*FIDULA) is explained as derived from fides
('string') whose formation could be related to an analogy to fistula.
The Romance base *VIOLA still remains obscure.
The oldest references in Castilian literature are found in the Libro de
Apolonio: "Tenpró bien la vihuela en hun son natural,/ (...)/
començo una laude, omne non vio atal,/ Fazia fermosos sones e
fermosas debayladas;/ Quedaua a sabiendas la boz a las vegadas,/ Fazia
a la viuela dezir puntos ortados;/ semeiavan que eran palabras
afirmadas./ Los altos e los baxos todos dellas dizian/(...),/ fazia
otros depuertos que mucho mas valien". ('She tuned the fiddle in a
natural tone and then started playing a Laude such as nobody had seen
before. She produced beautiful melodies and cadences. Sometimes, she
deliberately paused, silencing his voice and letting the fiddle sing
very refined notes that were almost real words. The high and low notes
truly were speaking. She produced other depuertos that everybody liked
even more') This is a wonderful text because it implies the existence
of a refined instrumental technique, full of nuances whose expressive
ideal is precisely the human voice. No less interesting is the
following fragment: "fue trayendo el arco egual e muy parejo;/ fue
levantando unos tan dulçes sones,/ doblas e debailadas,
temblantes semitones...". The complete sense of some terms is beyond
our comprehension: debayladas (Menéndez Pidal interprets
this as "cadential codas"), depuertos, doblas, ... but the idea of a
complex, subtle style still persists. There is also a constant
preoccupation with the quality of the instrument ("priso huna viola
buena e bien tenprada"). In the Libro de Buen Amor there are some
verses that were apparently copied from the ones mentioned above: "La
vihuela de arco faze dulces devayladas,/ Adormiendo a las vezes, muy
alta a las vegadas,/ vozes dulces, sabrosas, claras e bien puntadas,/ a
las gentes alegra, todas tiene pagadas". This potential of the fiddle
for animating the listeners is quite common all over Europe. There is
also a commonplace reference to its sweet sound. Bec says that there is
a dialectic fiddle/rebec contrast in the texts, attributing to the
former qualities such as nobility, sweetness and being hard to play,
and opposite qualities to the latter: vulgarity, hardness, and ease of
playing.
The surviving iconography in both Spain and the rest of Europe usually
shows two different types: one with an oval-shaped box (cf. all those
represented in the miniatures attributed to Alfonso X) and other with
an 8-shaped box, such as the ones that can be seen in Galician porticos.
Several images show a lateral string, extending from the neck, whose
pitch, according to P. Bec, could be changed by using the left hand
thumb. It is also plausible, as R. Álvarez has commented, that
such a string was plucked by the thumb or the other fingers. In one of
the pieces, the fiddle player in our ensemble has experimented with a
sort of self-accompaniment of this kind -plucking the strings with his
left hand while bowing the melody with his right hand- that could serve
to remind us of the common origin of all string instruments (plucked
and bowed).
The flute
"The flutes (...) seem to have been invented in the countryside, from
where they came to the towns, where on various occasions gentlemen
played them." This beautiful passage by Covarrubias summarizes in a
simple way what we know about this group of instruments whose antiquity
can be measured in the thousands of years. The number of medieval
flutes that has been preserved is very high: F. Crane gives a
list of almost 150 whistle-type instruments, which undoubtedly
represent the great majority. This first group can be subdivided into
two if we follow the convention of reserving the name recorder
exclusively for those specimens having seven holes on the front (or
eight, if the bottom hole is double) and a thumb hole on the back.
Instruments with fewer holes are certainly more abundant. Those carved
with a knife from suitable animal bones are predominant. Although less
numerous, some wooden instruments have been preserved. For instance, a
two-holed instrument found in Poland dates back to the 11th century,
and there are some 14th-century specimens, such as the 2+1 (two holes
on the front, plus a thumb hole) from Serris and Sharlaken, amongst
others. These are very likely the ones alluded to in the famous verses
by the Arcipreste "la flauta diz con ellos mas alta que un risco/ con
ella el tanborete, sin el non vale un prisco". We also have some
instruments with more holes, such as, for example, the 6+1 specimen
from Charavines (Isère), considered as belonging to the 11th
century. We also find some instruments carved in horn and others made
of ceramic. The latter are related to instruments for imitating
songbirds and nightingales, several variants of which have been found
in the geographical region of al-Andalus.
Three recorders have been preserved: two of them, found in Holland
(13th or 14th c.) and Germany (14th c.) are very similar. They have
been studied by R. Weber. Morphologically speaking, the most curious
aspect is the (total or partial) closure of the instrument's bell,
resembling that observed in several North-African little flutes, where
reed joints are used for that purpose. Weber writes: "It should not be
forgotten that the Dordrecht (Holland) instrument, with the shape of
its lip and with its narrow bore, is strongly reminiscent of Oriental
models. It nearly looks like a copy of a reed-flute made in wood since
in these latitudes reed does not occur". A third specimen (14th c.) was
found in Göttingen. H. Reiner has produced a reconstruction whose
sound is characterized as potent and noisy. If it is difficult to
identify wind instruments in the iconography, it is even more difficult
to ascertain their respective numbers of holes. In any case (and this
is the thesis recently formulated by A. Rowland-Jones), it appears
that, as many sources suggest, the birthplace of the recorder might be
Spain.
Regarding to other types of flutes we can mention that, as pointed out
by Homo-Lechner, three pan-pipes have been preserved (10th, 11th and
13th centuries, respectively). There is no evidence of any preserved
transverse medieval flutes, a very strange situation if we take into
account how regularly this instrument appears in the iconography since
the most remote times. It seems that this instrument was introduced to
Europe from Byzantium in the 12th century. In the 13th century, it is
already found in Castile, as shown in a beautiful miniature in the
Cantigas.
Finally, there are some tubular instruments with finger holes but no
mouthpiece that are difficult to classify. It would not be out of the
question to think of them as instruments resembling the Arabic nay. In
fact, contrary to common opinion, it is very likely that, during the
Middle Ages, Spain may have heard many kinds of flutes in addition to
those described here. These might be the ones referred to in the
literature and other sources by the term ajabeba (or ajabera, ayabeba,
caxabeba, exababa, exabeba, etc). This instrument has often been
considered a transverse flute, an error which perhaps arose in the
works of J. M. Lamaña together with the undoubted convenience of
identifying the two main well-known instruments (the recorder and the
transverse flute) with the Spanish terms flauta and ajabeba,
respectively. However, some evidence seems to suggest that the ajabeba
was actually a flute from the family of the (Arabic, Persian and
Turkish) nay, the qasba from the Maghreb... and, logically, from the
family of the sabbaba used in music of the Druses and the Kurds, for
example. In other words, it was an instrument made of reed (and not a
manufactured tube as proposed by Álvarez) with a certain number
of finger holes and opened on both ends, one of which, slightly
flattened, was used as a mouthpiece blown obliquely.
The citole
The citole is one of the medieval instruments whose essential
morphology is perfectly clear. At least this is the point of view of J.
J. Rey, who has written some interesting pages on this topic. His main
argument is supported by a happy coincidence that permits the
correlation of an iconographic document and a literary one. The latter
comes from the Vida de San Millan de la Cogolla (c.1234) by Berceo:
"Auia otra costumbre el pastor que uos digo:/ por uso una
çítola traya siempre consigo". Not many years later, an
anonymous painter wanted to depict the life of Saint Millan in a
retable, faithfully following the narration by Berceo, so that we are
able to see (in the Museum of Fine Arts in Logroño) a citole
through the eyes of a contemporary artist. We have reproduced the
schematic drawing provided in the work by J. J. Rey.
A citole preserved in England and built around 1340 is an exquisite
specimen to which a viol top was added in the 16th century. Luthier C.
González, analyzing its decorative elements and material
richness, deduces that this was a courtly instrument. Some wearing and
several marks show that it was intensively played, and some
construction details (lightness, spare decoration in some areas...)
seem to indicate an attempt to search for good sound qualities.
The pandereta (tambourine)
The word pandereta is more recent than panderete and become only in
general use after the second half of the 18th century. The suffix -ete
implies a Mozarab procedence. In the Libro de Buen Amor we read: "Dulce
caño entero sal con el panderete/ con sonajas de açofar
façen dulçe sonete". J. Blades has written that the most
commonly used instruments during the Middle Ages (based upon
iconographic evidence) were remarkably similar to those in use in
today's folkloric music, but, above all, they share several
characteristics with those of 19th-century Turkey. The timbric
versatility derived from the two basic elementary constituents of the
instrument, the skin and the jingles, have been exploited in the Arab
world since time immemorial: tar, riq, etc. The word tarr appears in
the Vocabulista arábigo en letra castellana (1505) by P. de
Alcalá with the meaning of 'timbrel'.
The darabuka
The darabuka is a kind of goblet drum (typically ceramic or metal) very
characteristic in the Islamic world. Its form varies between that of an
hourglass and that of a cup or chalice and it has many sizes. Its
origin goes back to the Sumerian and Babylonian civilizations (1110
B.C.). We only have very limited medieval iconographic representations.
Those from the Christian iconography are found in: Beatos de Valladolid
and Seo de Urgel (10th c.), Beatode Fernando I (11th c.) and Cantigas
de Santa María (13th c.). It is uncertain what name was given to
the darabuka in Spanish literature. We believe that this kind of drum
would be designated by any of these medieval words: atamor, atambor,
atabal, tamboret, tamborino or tamborete (Menéndez Pidal claims
that this latter term is the correct one). However, its use in Spain
can be established without any doubt, since they have been found at
three (maybe four) archeological sites. All the specimens share a
common small size. Our first example, probably from the 10th c., was
found in 1973 amongst the remains of a sunken Islamic ship in the
waters of Southern France, near Cannes (Batéguier). The ship,
perhaps sailing from Almería, was transporting a load of
ceramics for some Muslim enclaves in the area. Another specimen was
found in 1982 in the bottom of a well in Benetússer (Valencia).
Along with this specimen, two additional fragmentary instruments were
found. They might be dated back to the Caliphate era (960-1030) or
slightly later. In 1985, a third specimen was found in a site in
Granada known as El Castillejo de los Guajares. This drum, perhaps from
the 14th c. or perhaps earlier, is quite interesting since its
dimensions and shape resemble those in a miniature of Cantiga No. 300
(Codex b I 2). Both instruments, as indicated by M. Cortés, are
quite similar to drums from modern Iraq. The dubious fourth specimen,
found in Málaga, has not been dated yet. It is a fragment of a
drum similar to that from El Castillejo.
THE PERFORMANCE
It is commonly accepted that, in the Middle Ages, instrumental music
was more dependent upon the art of musical interpretation than on the
art of composition. The melodies found in the manuscripts are only a
pre-text, a mere starting point. Reading the musical text (a process
that in music of later ages normally accounts for a fair proportion of
the total process of music-making) is only the beginning of a long
exercise in experimentation and practical research. Music, for better
or for worse, cannot be archaeology. Whereas in disciplines such as
architecture and sculpture, the irreversibility of any restoration
process has forced us to become acquainted and even content with
mutilated sculptures, faded porticos that were polychrome long time
ago, buildings falling into ruin. Because our modern culture places
History before Art, few supporters could be found for the idea of
repainting the sculptures that Master Mateo produced for the
Pórtico de la Gloria using the original vivid colours. But Music
is made of a different material. Either it is heard, or it simply does
not exist. And for it to be heard, it must be totally restored in its
entirety. Any interpretation must be complete in every detail, timbric,
rhythmic, textural... The vestiges of medieval music are found in
codices containing musical notation, in the remains of instruments, and
in other sources (treatises, texts and iconography). Fortunately, no
realization (in a recording or a concert) can destroy them... They
remain intact, ready for further attempts. But self-censorship, in the
sense of self-limitation, is pernicious since Music cannot be regarded
as an archaeological object. We are immediately aware when a sculpture
has a missing arm, but when a piece of music is played, nothing is
missing: those elements which are absent will generate a sense of
poverty, rather than incompleteness. Not forgetting that we are playing
medieval music, we must always remember that we are playing music.
Leaving aside the organological elements previously discussed, we list
here some of the key aspects of our work:
Transcriptions
Since we are dealing with monophonic compositions, the pitch and
duration of the notes have to be considered. Pitch considerations are
normally easily solved. On the other hand, metre is an open-ended
question. We try to use, whenever possible, facsimile reproductions as
well as the most reputable transcriptions available for each repertory.
For the present recording, we have relied on the work of H.
Anglés for the most part. In the case of the dance based upon
the Prologue Cantiga by Alfonso X, we have also based our performance
on the transcription (in a rhythm of five beats) by musicologist J. J.
Rey some ten years ago. For the rest of the pieces, the degree of the
modifications has been variable. Just a handful of them were introduced
before the process of interpretative research. The majority of them
surfaced during -and as a result of- such a process. Almost all of them
are the product of adapting the melody to what we could call the "logic
of the instrument," as well as interacting with other interpretative
elements (the percussion instruments, for instance). We had to
elaborate the melody for the instrumental dance on Calvi arabi: we
based our work on the ten notes found in Salinas' book, and have added
nineteen additional notes, inspired by some dances in the
Hispano-Arabic tradition and the Caldibi Castigliano by J. A. Dalza
previously cited. Incidentally, it is interesting to notice that Dalza
based his work on those initial ten notes, and this makes us believe
that they were the most characteristic element in the entire piece.
Rhythm
Rhythm, not to be confused with metre (i.e. the duration of the notes),
is a fundamental aspect of the performance of monophonic music. This is
not only evident in the live tradition of performances of monophony,
but also in the abundance and variety of percussion instruments that
have been transmitted in documents and iconography. We have to be
aware, however, that rhythm is not limited to percussive instruments.
Other instruments, such as the 'ud and the rebab, very probably also
were used for rhythmic support. Hispano-Arabic learning of music is
(and was) taught with an emphasis on assimilating basic rhythmic
structures and linking them with the metre of the accompanying texts.
The pupil learns to mark with the hand the basic schemes of the
different rhythmic formulas while reciting or intoning the texts. The
existence (documented in the texts) of percussion instrument
specialists since antiquity, the abundance of high-pitch percussion
instruments (not very suitable in principle to play a supporting role),
and the wide use of the tambourin (or tar) -an instrument that has
always been characterized by great versatility since antiquity-, make
it less credible that the role of percussion instruments consisted
solely of mechanically emphasizing the basic accents already implied by
the melody. Rhythm in monophony may become (as is the case with chords
in music with harmonic texture) a support capable of changing the
fundamental character of a melody. Rhythm, understood as "harmony of
monophony" (cf. F. Salvador-Daniel), becomes a fertile tool for the
medievalist musician as a true musical accompaniment (and not just a
gesture). Except for free preludes, rhythm should always provide the
proper environment where the melody can show its own character.
Consequently, rhythm is the fundamental element on which our
interpretations are based.
Besides its function of harmonic support in any given piece, rhythm can
play an important role in variations, as a highly desirable ingredient
for providing soul, variety and length to melodies which are otherwise
short, and also for being a basis for improvisation in postludes.
Rhythmic variation, a very well documented element in traditional
monophonic music and in some medieval dances, has been the focus of
experimentation in several pieces in this recording.
Heterophony
Heterophony is the union of the various individual views of a given
melody. The melodic scheme shapes an idea common to all performers, but
its practical realizations will follow different paths since the very
first note, this being greatly influenced by the specific technical
possibilities of each instrument. Each instrument becomes a leading
character whose technique interacts with the style of other active
participants. Plucked string instruments, for instance, understand and
interpret a melody from a different point of view than bowed or wind
instruments. But there are also imitative effects amongst the
instruments during a heterophonic performance: a fiddle that phrases
the notes in imitation of a lute, etc. B. Mazzouzi has written that, in
Andalusi music, the style of certain musicians follows a technique
occasionally built upon the imitation of a totally different instrument.
In music transmitted by oral tradition, as was the case with most
instrumental monophony in the Middle Ages, there is often a very
curious phenomenon. Certain ornaments are passed from teachers to
pupils, and, at some point, a previously accidental ornament becomes an
integral part of the plan, which itself becomes more and more obscure.
Such transformations give the repertoire a living character.
Preludes, interludes and postludes
A prelude serves as a presentation of the particular mode of the piece
that will follow. There seem to be no further rules. It may be measured
or without rhythm, complex or simple, long or short, it may borrow
motives from the piece that follows, or (a more desirable and usual
alternative in modern cultivated monophony) follow different ideas
involving the characteristic notes of the particular mode and their
usual associations.
The existence of postludes in both vocal and instrumental music is
mentioned by Grocheo. Built similarly to a prelude, a postlude should
emphasize the final note of the mode in a logical manner and serve as
an intensifier of the piece's affect, and thus will usually be rhythmic.
An interlude provides a structural amplification of the piece.
Similarly to the two other forms, the interlude is related to the idea
of a more or less prepared improvisation and, by extension, to the
genesis of instrumental music in the Middle Ages. E. Jammers, K.
Zuckerman, and others have studied the way in which some Italian
istampitte were formed by a succession of ornaments over a basic,
relatively simple melody. Such variations could have had their origin
in semi-improvised interludes. On the other hand, a similar phenomenon
can be observed in the accumulation of strophes (or puncta) that are
characteristic of all the instrumental dances that have been preserved
from that era (istampitte, trotti, saltarelli, ductiae, etc). We find
an interesting attribute common to all of these pieces. The first
punctum presents a greater degree of cohesion between the beginning
(head) and the conclusions -ending with open (non-conclusive) and
closed (conclusive) phrases- when compared to successive puncta. This
seems to imply that the first punctum was an original composition,
while the rest were new and varied creations (developments, in rare
cases) in which the use of those endings was mandatory. Once again, we
encounter an instance that seems to support the hypothesis of a genesis
linked to an interpretive practice. We have attempted to base our
recording on this desirable union between composition and
performance.
Grupo Cinco Siglos,
liner notes from Músicas de la España Mudéjar
with special thanks to
Dr. Carlos Escalante Osuna and Dr. James Dukarm
for their assistance with the English translation.