BASQUE AND MODERNIST INFLUENCES IN GABRIEL ERKOREKA'S WORKS FOR SOLO PIANO (1994-2019)
Ariel Magno da Costa
A Dissertation
Submitted to the Graduate College of Bowling Green State University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of
DOCTOR OF MUSICAL ARTS
August 2021
Committee:
Laura Melton, Advisor
Yuning Fu Graduate Faculty Representative
Nora Engebretsen
Brian Snow
© 2021
Ariel Magno da Costa
All Rights Reserved iii
ABSTRACT
Laura Melton, Advisor
The music of Spanish composer Gabriel Erkoreka (b. 1969) has been widely performed in Spain and across Europe, but it has received little attention from performers in the Americas and from scholars worldwide. To the author’s knowledge, only one conference paper has examined a work by Erkoreka in great detail, while two other dissertations include passing mention of his music. The composer has drawn inspiration from his native Basque culture, piano literature from Western Art Music, and modernist techniques and styles, most notably the music of British composer Michael Finnissy (b. 1946). This unique blend has resulted in a style that is
authentic and distinct from his contemporaries, while at the same time being rooted in traditional
music; it also poses a challenge to analytical methods, since any approach on its own would
severely underserve this kind of music.
This research document is the first detailed discussion of works for solo piano by Gabriel
Erkoreka to date. For a broad discussion of his writing for the instrument, six works were
selected: Nubes I (1994), Jaia (2000), Dos Zortzikos (2000), Kaila Kantuz (2004), Mundaka
(2009), and Ballade no. 2 (2019). This selection ranges from Erkoreka’s earliest published
composition for the instrument to his second most recent work, which is representative of his
current style. This document is divided in three parts: (1) an overview of the composer and the
main influences behind his compositions, (2) detailed analysis of each of the works mentioned
above, and (3) suggestions for performance, both in the form of general notes applicable to most
works and specific advice for each piece. iv
This research draws on literature review related to the influences on Erkoreka’s music, original analysis of the piano works based on scores and recordings, and interviews conducted by the author with the composer and five pianists: Ricardo Descalzo, Juan Carlos Garvayo, Alfonso
Gómez, Alex Hills, and Jonathan Powell. While the conversation with the composer provided significant information on his background and the context behind each piece, the pianists provided valuable insights on their approach to the technical demands and complexity found in
Erkoreka’s music for piano. v
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to express my sincere gratitude to the people who have supported me during the last four years and on this journey towards completing this document. First and foremost, to my parents for their unconditional love and support, and for always encouraging me to pursue my passion for music; to my teacher and advisor, Dr. Laura Melton for her patience and thoughtful guidance throughout all my degree recitals and the long process of writing this document; and to the other members of my committee, Dr. Nora Engebretsen, Dr. Brian Snow, and Dr. Yuning Fu for their valuable feedback and support during this process. I would also want to extend my gratitude to Dr. Ryan Ebright, whose assistance has allowed me to grow as a writer and researcher. My friends and colleagues at BGSU have also been incredibly supportive throughout these years; I am grateful for their friendship.
I would like to recognize the important role of my former piano teachers Dr. Thomas
Rosenkranz, Dr. Alexandra Mascolo-David, and Dr. Maria José Carrasqueira. Under their guidance, I was able to build up my technical and musical foundation, grow as a performer in traditional music, and pursue my individual interests in music outside the canonic repertoire, as well as in contemporary music. For their continuing support, I am forever thankful.
Lastly, I would like to thank Gabriel Erkoreka, whose music has fascinated me from the very beginning, and the pianists, Ricardo Descalzo, Juan Carlos Garvayo, Alfonso Gómez, Alex
Hills, and Jonathan Powell, for their willingness to be interviewed for this project. The insights gathered from all their interviews contributed significantly to my research. vi
TABLE OF CONTENTS Page
INTRODUCTION ...... 1
CHAPTER 1. COMPOSER AND WORKS ...... 5
1.1 Biographical Sketch ...... 5
1.2 Musical Interests ...... 8
1.3 Works for Solo Piano ...... 9
1.4 Influences, and the Problem of an Analytical Approach ...... 10
1.5 Piano Literature from the Traditional Repertoire ...... 12
1.6 Modernism and Michael Finnissy ...... 20
1.7 Basque and Spanish Cultures ...... 25
CHAPTER 2. DETAILED ANALYSIS OF SELECTED WORKS FOR PIANO ...... 36
2.1 Nubes I ...... 36
2.2 Jaia ...... 43
2.3 Dos Zortzikos ...... 51
2.3.1 Zortziko no. 2 ...... 54
2.3.2 Links ...... 62
2.3.3 Zortziko no. 1 ...... 62
2.4 Kaila Kantuz ...... 70
2.5 Mundaka ...... 76
2.6 Ballade no. 2 ...... 84
CHAPTER 3. SUGGESTIONS FOR PERFORMANCE ...... 93
3.1 General Notes ...... 93
3.2 Nubes I ...... 100 vii
3.3 Jaia ...... 101
3.4 Dos Zortzikos ...... 102
3.5 Kaila Kantuz ...... 104
3.6 Mundaka ...... 105
3.7 Ballade no. 2 ...... 107
CONCLUSION ...... 110
BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 112
APPENDIX A. INTERVIEW WITH RICARDO DESCALZO ...... 117
APPENDIX B. INTERVIEW WITH GABRIEL ERKOREKA ...... 123
APPENDIX C. INTERVIEW WITH JUAN CARLOS GARVAYO ...... 132
APPENDIX D. INTERVIEW WITH ALFONSO GÓMEZ ...... 139
APPENDIX E. INTERVIEW WITH ALEX HILLS ...... 142
APPENDIX F. INTERVIEW WITH JONATHAN POWELL ...... 147
APPENDIX G. CONSENT DOCUMENTS ...... 154
viii
LIST OF MUSICAL EXAMPLES
Musical Example Page
1.1 Brahms, Ballade op. 10 no. 2, mm. 1-4 ...... 14
1.2 Chopin, Ballade op. 38, (a) first system, (b) last system ...... 14
1.3 Chopin, Ballade op. 38, mm. 47 and 194 ...... 15
1.4 Albéniz, Navarra, (a) mm. 9-16, (b) mm. 104-111 ...... 16
1.5 Albéniz, “Evocación,” from Ibéria, mm. 1-4 ...... 17
1.6 Ravel, Jeux d’eau, mm. 46-47 ...... 18
1.7 Granados, “El Fandango de Candil,” from Goyescas, mm. 36-38 ...... 19
1.8 Ravel, “Oiseaux tristes,” from Miroirs, mm. 1-2 ...... 19
1.9 Scriabin, Vers la flamme, mm. 125-132 ...... 20
1.10 Finnissy, “Green Meadows,” from English Country-Tunes, p. 11 ...... 24
1.11 Finnissy, “Come beat the drums and sound the fifes,” from English Country-Tunes,
mm. 1-7 ...... 24
1.12 Zortziko rhythm ...... 27
1.13 Albéniz, “Zortzico,” from España, op. 165, mm. 1-10 ...... 28
1.14 Ravel, Piano Trio, first movement, mm. 5-8 ...... 29
1.15 Saint-Saëns, Piano Trio op. 92, second movement, mm. 1-4 ...... 29
1.16 Erkoreka, Zuhaitz, full score minus strings, (a) p. 44, (b) p. 45, (c) p. 46 ...... 31
2.1 Erkoreka, Nubes I, first two systems ...... 38
2.2 Nubes I, p. 8, third system. Introduction of (0127) pitch set ...... 40
2.3 Nubes I, p. 10, first system ...... 41
2.4 Nubes I, “…nimbos,” last system ...... 42
2.5 Erkoreka, Jaia, mm. 1-3 ...... 46 ix
2.6 Jaia, mm. 16-17 ...... 46
2.7 Jaia, mm. 39-41 ...... 48
2.8 Jaia, mm. 60-62 ...... 48
2.9 “Midsummer Morn,” from English Country-Tunes, third system ...... 49
2.10 Jaia, mm. 105-111 ...... 50
2.11 “My Bonny Boy,” from English Country-Tunes, first two systems ...... 50
2.12 Zortziko no. 2, (a) m. 3, (b) m. 27, (c) m. 15 ...... 56
2.13 Zortziko no. 2, mm. 33-35 ...... 58
2.14 Zortziko no. 2, mm. 71-72 ...... 58
2.15 Zortziko no. 2, p. 15, (a) first system, (b) second system ...... 59
2.16 Dos Zortzikos, (a) Link 1, (b) Link 2 ...... 62
2.17 Zortziko no. 1, mm. 8-10 ...... 63
2.18 Zortziko no. 1, p. 3 ...... 65
2.19 Zortziko no. 1, last five measures ...... 68
2.20 Zortziko no. 1, (a) interjection X, (b) interjection Y ...... 69
2.21 Erkoreka, Kaila Kantuz, mm. 1-2 ...... 74
2.22 Kaila Kantuz, folksong, transposed (transcribed by the author) ...... 74
2.23 Kaila Kantuz, mm. 5-6 ...... 75
2.24 Erkoreka, Mundaka, first two systems ...... 78
2.25 Albéniz, “Almería,” from Ibéria, mm. 99-104 ...... 79
2.26 Mundaka, p. 4, second system, middle staff ...... 79
2.27 Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 5, first system, middle staff, treble clef ...... 79
2.28 Mundaka, p. 7, last three systems ...... 81
x
2.29 Mundaka, last two systems of p. 9 and four systems of p. 10 ...... 83
2.30 Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, first page, last system ...... 87
2.31 Ballade no. 2, p. 2, beginning of second system ...... 87
2.32 Ballade no. 2, melodic fragments from pp. 2 and 7 ...... 88
2.33 Ballade no. 2, p. 2, last system ...... 88
2.34 Ballade no. 2, p. 4, third system ...... 89
2.35 Chopin, Ballade op. 38, first two measures of the Agitato section ...... 90
2.36 Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 5, third system ...... 90
2.37 Chopin, Ballade op. 38, trills in the low register ...... 90
2.38 Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 6 ...... 90
2.39 Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 6, last system ...... 91
2.40 Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 7, last system ...... 92
3.1 Finnissy, Sonata for (toy) piano, mm. 14-30 ...... 99
3.2 Breakdown of rhythmic cells from Mundaka, pp. 9-10 ...... 106
3.3 Different subdivision of the measure in triple meter ...... 106
3.4 One beat of a 5:6 polyrhythm ...... 107 xi
LIST OF TABLES
Table Page
2.1 Structure of Zortziko no. 2 ...... 53
2.2 Structure of Zortziko no. 1 ...... 53
2.3 Chord families categorized by intervallic content ...... 55
2.4 Four interjections in Zortziko no. 2 ...... 61
2.5 Phrasal structure in Zortziko no. 1, section C ...... 70
3.1 3:4 matrix for the practice of a 3:4 polyrhythm ...... 96
3.2 Linear representation of a 3:4 polyrhythm ...... 97
3.3 5:6 matrix for the practice of a 5:6 polyrhythm ...... 98
3.4 5:7 matrix for the practice of a 5:7 polyrhythm ...... 98
3.5 5:8 matrix for the practice of a 5:8 polyrhythm ...... 98
1
INTRODUCTION
On 8 March 2018, I was randomly browsing for scores on sale at Presto Music (online) and came across two pieces: Nubes I (1994) and Nubes II (1995) by Gabriel Erkoreka (b. 1969), a Basque-Spanish composer unknown to me at the time. I was immediately drawn by the first piece, which I learned and performed shortly after that. Driven by spontaneous curiosity, I continued to explore Erkoreka’s piano repertoire (what was available in published form at the time). This immediate interest for his music eventually led me to choose it as the subject of this research document.
Despite enjoying much recognition in his native Spain and most of Europe, Erkoreka’s music is much less known in the United States and most of Latin America. Except for isolated performances of two of his most well-known early works, Nubes I and Duduk-I (2000), few performers and ensembles in the US have studied Erkoreka’s works. In addition, his music has been largely absent from academia. To the author’s knowledge, most written materials about the composer consist of short interviews for music magazines, CD booklets, and an inaugural lecture for the Summer Courses at the University of the Basque Country. Three publications of interest are briefly discussed next.
Gabriel Delgado Morán compiled 219 pieces in his catalogue of twentieth-century
Spanish music for cello and piano. Two pieces by Erkoreka are included in it, but Morán only includes encyclopedic information about them such as date of composition, length, and publisher.1 The second source, published in 2019, is a dissertation by Joseph Mason Proud which is also archival in nature, to a certain extent. Proud collected data about four of the most
1 Gabriel Delgado Morán, “Catalogue of Twentieth-Century Spanish Works for Cello and Piano” (Monograph, Louisiana State University, 2002), 19. 2
prestigious international saxophone competitions and evaluated the repertoire choice in each of
them. He reports that Erkoreka’s piece for soprano saxophone Duduk-I has been selected only
twice by competitors at one of the competitions examined in his dissertation, a low occurrence
when compared to works for the instrument by composers such as William Albright and
Christian Lauba.2 Aside from these two sources, the most extensive exploration of Erkoreka’s
music to date is a paper by Professor Belén Pérez Castillo, who teaches in the Department of
Musicology at Universidad Complutense in Madrid. Castillo’s lecture titled “From Conflict to
Normalization: Two Approaches to Basque Folk Heritage in Spanish Concert Music” was presented at the Symposium “Folk Music as a Fermenting Agent for Composition, Past and
Present.” The lecture, which was later published as an article, compares two contemporary works by Spanish composers which make use of Basque folklore: Zurezko Olerkia (1975) by Luís de
Pablo, and Zuhaitz (2015) by Gabriel Erkoreka.3
This document is the first discussion of Erkoreka’s works for solo piano. As such, original analysis is at the forefront of this research. In addition to primary sources such as scores, concert brochures, biographies, catalogues, and CD booklets, this study also draws from literature on piano music from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the music of Michael
Finnissy, and on Basque and Spanish cultures. The final element is the set of interviews conducted by the author with the composer and five pianists: Ricardo Descalzo, Juan Carlos
Garvayo, Alfonso Gómez, Alex Hills, and Jonathan Powell. These pianists have varying degrees
2 Joseph Mason Proud, IV, “A Discussion of Saxophone Competitions and Their Repertoire,” DMA Dissertation, University of Alabama, 2019, 26-27. 3 Belén Pérez Castillo, “From Conflict to Normalization: Two Approaches to Basque Folk Heritage in Spanish Concert Music,” in Folk Music as a Fermenting Agent for Composition, Past and Present, eds. Bianca Ţiplea Temeş, presented at the Gheorghe Dima Music Academy, Cluj- Napoca, Romania, 27 April 2017, 142. 3 of experience playing and recording Erkoreka’s works, and Alfonso Gómez plans to record all his works for solo piano to date.4 Three additional pianists were contacted but were unavailable at the time for an interview. These interviews are included at the end of this document as
Appendices.
Chapter one is a biographical sketch of the composer followed by a discussion of the complex group of influences in his compositional activities. These include his interests in nature, the states of the human mind, influences from nineteenth- and twentieth-century piano repertoire, modernist compositional techniques, and traditional music from Spain, the Basque Country, and other places. Such a heterogenous mixture of influences contributes to the problem of analyzing
Erkoreka’s music. Any single analytical method would fail miserably at this task. Instead, a holistic approach is the best option.
Chapter two consists of formal and thematic analysis for six of Erkoreka’s compositions for solo piano: Nubes I, Jaia (2000), Dos Zortzikos (2000), Kaila Kantuz (2004), Mundaka
(2009), and Ballade no. 2 (2019). Nubes II and Ballade no. 1 (2017) will be only briefly mentioned in terms of their stylistic connection to their companion. Despite being much shorter than the others, Kaila Kantuz was included due to its reference to a Basque folksong of the same name.
Finally, chapter three presents several performance suggestions. This chapter begins with general notes applicable to most of the compositions discussed in the previous chapter, such as the extensive use of tremolos and a methodical approach to the study of polyrhythms. Specific performance notes for each piece are presented afterwards. Given the technical challenges and the complexity involved in some of Erkoreka’s compositions, these suggestions could be useful
4 Alfonso Gómez, Email interview with the author, 18 February 2021. 4 to pianists who want to incorporate any of these works in their repertoire. These notes could also inform a teacher’s pedagogical approach towards Erkoreka’s intricate writing for the instrument.
A short conclusion section completes the discussion. Suggestions are also provided for future research on Erkoreka’s piano music, as well as his chamber and orchestral works.
5
CHAPTER 1. COMPOSER AND WORKS
This chapter is an overview of Gabriel Erkoreka’s background and his music. The first
section is a biographical sketch supplemented with insights from interviews conducted by the
author with the composer and five pianists: Ricardo Descalzo, Juan Carlos Garvayo, Alfonso
Gómez, Alex Hills, and Jonathan Powell. The second section is an overview of the composer’s
works in general and a brief explanation of Erkoreka’s musical interests as he describes them: (a)
nature, (b) sonority of a place, and (c) states of the mind. The third section introduces the five
works for solo piano that will be discussed in greater detail, beginning with his first published
composition, Nubes I, and ending with his second most recent piano work to date, Ballade no. 2.
This chapter ends with a discussion of the main influences on Erkoreka’s piano music, including traditional piano literature, his studies with British composer Michael Finnissy, and his native
Basque culture.
1.1 Biographical Sketch
Gabriel Erkoreka started his studies in piano and composition at the Conservatorio
Superior de Musica Juan Crisostomo de Arriaga in his native Bilbao, then moved to Vitoria-
Gasteiz to study with Carmelo Bernaola at the Conservatorio Jesús Guridi (Conservatory of
Vitoria). Erkoreka credits Bernaola as a strong influence in his musical development and the
person who first encouraged him to study abroad, by the time Erkoreka was finishing his last
courses at the conservatory, around 1994-1995. When confronted with the choice between Paris
and London, he chose the latter. Despite Paris being the first choice for many Spanish composers
of his generation, Erkoreka had a stronger connection with London because he was already
taking piano lessons with Christopher Elton and had a trial lesson in composition with Michael 6
Finnissy – both teach at the Royal Academy of Music (RAM). The trial lesson with Finnissy
made a strong impression, and with Bernaola’s encouragement, he went to England.
Erkoreka was admitted to the Royal Academy of Music in 1995 for his post-graduate
studies and was appointed Fellow of Composition at the University of London in 1997, earning
his master’s degree with distinction a year later. At RAM, he was first exposed to New
Complexity,5 through the music of Brian Ferneyhough and Michael Finnissy – even though
Finnissy has strongly rejected this label.6 While he was fascinated by this kind of music,
Erkoreka’s music does not possess the level of complexity found in New Complexity works.
Instead of talking about technical aspects of composition, Erkoreka and Finnissy had deep conversations about art and the role of an artist in society, among other things. He explains:
I do not explore rhythmic complexity to the same extent that certain composers from the New Complexity school do; I was never really seduced by it. I believe it is important to be able to feel a certain rhythmic drive: the tempo can be more or less stable, but the richness of a strong rhythmic pulse should still be present. The use of irrational rhythms contradicts that.7
5 Here, the term specifically refers to the five British composers grouped in a school of thought first identified in writing by Richard Toop in his article “Four Facets of New Complexity” (although the term was already in use, informally). In addition to Brian Ferneyhough, the most readily recognizable “member” of this school, Toop included four composers in the first discussion of this term: Michael Finnissy, James Dillon, Chris Dench, and Richard Barrett. Although Toop recognized the problem in categorizing aspects of technique and style, he identified certain common traces across the music of all five composers, including – but not limited to – the frequent use of complex, irrational rhythms, nested tuplets, massive overlapping of layers, parametric polyphony, the return to instrumental (idiomatic) virtuosity, and an increasing interest in the concept of cycles of extractable works. For more information on these, see: Richard Toop. “Four Facets of ‘The New Complexity.’” Contact 32 (Spring 1988): 4-50. Kirsten Broberg. “An Analysis and Contextualization for Resonant Strands: A Cycle of Five Extractable Works for Piano, Bowed Piano, and String Quartet.” PhD Dissertation, Northwestern University, 2009. 6 Gabriel Erkoreka, Zoom interview with author, 14 February 2021. 7 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 7
During this time, he was also very active as a pianist, giving solo and chamber recitals in
England and Spain; and in April 1998 he had his debut with the Bilbao Symphony Orchestra, playing Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G. These experiences allowed him to approach the piano in a highly idiomatic way even from his earliest works, Nubes I and II, which he himself has played a few times.8 Descalzo, Gómez, and Garvayo said that Nubes I was the first piece by Erkoreka they have performed, while the first two pianists have also taught it to some of their students.
Gómez highlights that “it is extremely well written for the instrument, […] virtuosic, and requires a refined concept of color,”9 while Descalzo notes that, for his students who have learned it, “it wasn’t very easy at first, but once they understood it, it was almost as natural and intuitive as if they were playing something by Debussy or Bartók.”10
After finishing his studies in England, Erkoreka returned to Spain and established himself in San Sebastián, working as a composition teacher at the Musikene Center for Higher Music
Education of the Basque Country. He is also the artistic director of the Contemporary Music
Concert Cycles at the Banco Bilbao Vizkaia Argentaria (BBVA) Foundation, in Bilbao. Since his return, Erkoreka has received numerous awards and recognitions, and his music has been played and recorded by solo and ensemble performers in Europe and Asia – not so much in the
Americas, although some of his music has been performed in the US and parts of Latin America.
Garvayo says that “[Erkoreka] is one of the most prestigious living composers [in Spain],”11 and that “if a premiere of his composition is announced, people would rush to watch it,”12 while
Gómez points that “[his] music is usually very successful [because] he does not isolate himself
8 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 9 Alfonso Gómez, Email interview with the author, 18 February 2021. 10 Ricardo Descalzo, Zoom interview with the author, 12 February 2021. 11 Juan Carlos Garvayo, Zoom interview with the author, 17 February 2021. 12 Garvayo, Interview with the author. 8
from the public, but rather seeks a point of contact with them, without losing his artistic
personality.”13
1.2 Musical Interests
Overall, the music of Gabriel Erkoreka reflects his interest in three different areas.14 The
first one is Nature, and the need to preserve it. This can be seen in his choice of descriptive titles
such as Nubes, Krater (1994), Oceáno (2004), and Afrika (2002).15 According to Chris Dench,
musical allusions to nature often happen in two different ways: through “analogy/transcription,
by [mimicking] natural phenomena, and metaphor/translation, which is to transform concepts
and images derived from Nature into innately musical ideas.”16 When representing nature in his
works, Erkoreka tends to choose metaphor/translation, but the use of transcription can be seen
sporadically, such as the depiction of thunder and rain in Nubes.
The second driving force is what Erkoreka calls the “sonority of a place,”17 which is inspired by Finnissy’s idea to “elaborate music about music.”18 It can include inspirations from
Western Art Music literature, but it usually refers to the composer’s desire to absorb folk and
traditional music from different places. Similar to his interest in Nature, the process of
metaphor/translation is much more common; within his piano music, the closest he comes to a
quotation is in the short piece Kaila Kantuz, whose title is taken from a Basque folk song. In this
category, the composer mentions Duduk I for solo soprano saxophone (Duduk is an Armenian
13 Gómez, Interview with the author. 14 Erkoreka’s biography in Spanish, provided by the composer, and translated by the author. 15 Gabriel Erkoreka, Zoom interview with author, 14 February 2021. 16 Chris Dench, “Complexity and Polyphony” in Polyphony and Complexity, eds. Claus-Steffen Mahnkopf, Frank Cox, and Wolfram Schurig (Hofheim: Wolke, 2002), 181-182. 17 The materialization of the composer’s experimentation with traditional and folk music from many places; from the composer’s biography in Spanish, translated by the author. 18 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 9
double reed wind instrument), Yidaki (2006) for solo baritone saxophone (based on the
Australian instrument Didgeridoo), and Kin (2003) for cello and accordion (based on traditional
Chinese music) as examples. Other influences from Basque music appear in Kantak (1996) for solo piccolo and ensemble and Dos Zortzikos for piano.
Finally, the third area of interest in Erkoreka’s music is the exploration of states of the mind and human behavior, which is best observed in his chamber works Trance (2009) and
Kaiolan (2010). While Trance explores “…unmeasured time, an unreal state of mind […] portrayed in sound,”19 Kaiolan – the Basque word for ‘in the cage’ – is a reflection on the work
of sculptor Louise Bourgeois, which “[evokes] captivity by creating psychological spaces
occupied by household objects and souvenirs, full of transcending meaning.”20
Naturally, these ideas overlap, and certain pieces display a synthesis of these driving
forces: his orchestral work Tramuntana (2017), for instance, alludes to the strong wind from the
Cataluña region, but the piece also plays with the psychological effect of being exposed to those
winds. The same can be said about his cello concerto Ekaitza (2012) – ‘tempest’ in Basque – and
Nubes – how the ominous approach of a storm can affect one’s psyche.
1.3 Works for Solo Piano
Despite being a pianist, works for solo piano represent a rather small portion of
Erkoreka’s portfolio, which consists of more than 70 works as of June 2021 – something he attributes to the difficulty of writing music for the piano.21 In the interview, the composer
contextualized this statement in comparison to other pianist composers, especially Michael
Finnissy, who has written extensively for the instrument. Erkoreka does use the instrument
19 Gabriel Erkoreka, Trance, Full Score (Barcelona: Tritó Edicions, 2009), Program notes. 20 Gabriel Erkoreka, Kaiolan, Full Score (Barcelona: Tritó Edicions, 2012), Program notes. 21 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 10
frequently in his works for small ensemble, in pieces such as Dipolo (1995) for cello and piano,
Biribilteka (1999) for clarinet, cello and piano, Aldakiak (2003) and Trio del Agua (2011) for
piano trio, and Rondo (2006) for bass clarinet, string trio and piano. Nevertheless, Erkoreka’s
solo works for piano are representative of how the composer’s style evolved through time. To
date, ten compositions are devoted to the instrument: Serpiente (1993), Nubes I, Nubes II, Jaia,
Dos Zortzikos, Kaila Kantuz, Mundaka, Ballade no. 1, Ballade no. 2, and Ballade no. 3 (2020).
The first piece remains unpublished. The pair of compositions under the title Nubes
shows the composer’s early style and explores a similar gestural language. They are indebted to
Impressionism and reflect Erkoreka’s interest in nature. The influence from his studies with
Michael Finnissy first appears in Jaia and Dos Zortzikos. The composer’s shift to contrapuntal writing and greater level of complexity observed in these pieces are developed even further in
Mundaka. The Ballades, on the other hand, reflect a mixture of the impressionist language from his early works and moderate levels of rhythmic complexity within an expressive language reminiscent of the Ballades for piano by Frédéric Chopin and Johannes Brahms.
1.4 Influences, and the Problem of an Analytical Approach
In addition to Erkoreka’s aforementioned interests in nature, different states of the mind, and the “sonority of a place”, his music for piano is primarily indebted to (1) the piano literature of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, (2) Modernist trends and Michael Finnissy as a teacher and composer, and (3) Basque and Spanish popular cultures. Moreover, traces of a protospectralist attitude appear in a few compositions.
Powell states: “To my ear, he started as a sort of spectral composer, and then there was this sort of bad British influence [laughs], and we are left with something that is also incredibly 11
Basque and Spanish, which is a very unique mix of influences.”22 This statement defines the inherent problem with approaching Erkoreka’s compositions from a theoretical standpoint: it cannot be explained with a single system or analytical approach. Hills, who teaches theory and composition at the Royal Academy, acknowledges this issue as the reason why Erkoreka’s music is largely absent from theory courses. He describes Erkoreka’s compositional process as “fluid and plastic [with hints of] improvisation on paper,”23 sometimes displaying what Hills calls
“residual tonality.” Even a multifaceted description, which is attempted in this document, falls short of its goal. Any strong ties to spectralist techniques should also be dismissed, although the idea of a protospectralist attitude together with a reconciliation of radically different worlds possibly yields the best result in understanding this music.
As Marilyn Nonken explains, the protospectralist perspective is an approach to sound color which possesses a “heightened awareness of the listener’s experience”,24 and that
“harmony and timbre [do not] exist as independent perceptual entities [but] fused, as harmonic- timbral complexes synonymous with distinctive musical colors.”25 This is not to say that he intentionally applied spectral techniques (or a spectral attitude towards the piano) in his early works; rather, the pitch organization on the vertical dimension represents choices of color rather than tonal/triadic harmonies or serial techniques. Both Nubes I and Dos Zortzikos display this preoccupation with color over any other type of formal organization through Erkoreka’s choice
22 Powell, Interview with the author. 23 Alex Hills, Zoom interview with the author, 3 February 2021. 24 Marilyn Nonken, “Messiaen to Murail, or, What Sounds Become”, in Perspectives on the Performance of French Piano Music, eds. Scott McCarrey and Lesley A. Wright (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014), 172. 25 Nonken, “Messiaen to Murail, or, What Sounds Become,” 175. 12
of intervallic structures, such as quartal harmonies. Chapter two provides an in-depth discussion
of these elements in both pieces.
Elsewhere, Erkoreka has also acknowledged three key figures in his musical endeavors:
Edgard Varèse, György Ligeti, and Helmut Lachenmann.26 Since he only cites their importance for the Contemporary music scene as a whole without mentioning any specific trace of their music in his own works, these composers will be left out of the discussion in the following sections.
1.5 Piano Literature from the Traditional Repertoire
Erkoreka’s activities as a performer until the conclusion of his studies at the Royal
Academy have provided him with a deep knowledge of the piano literature of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.27 Within this context, a brief exposition of works by Chopin, Brahms,
Scriabin, Ravel, Granados, and Albéniz will illuminate Erkoreka’s choice of structural and gestural procedures in some of his piano works. Rather than an in-depth analysis of these canonical works, this section showcases some of their elements which will be useful when discussing Erkoreka’s works in greater detail in chapter two. To avoid showing the same example twice, the following subsections will contain only music examples from those works; for an example of what such references look like in Erkoreka’s works, see chapter two. Each subsection is devoted to one work, and the six compositions appear in chronological order. A brief overview of the ballade, both its literary origins and early usage of the term in music, will be followed by excerpts from Chopin’s Ballade op. 38 and Brahms’s Ballade op. 10 no. 2.
26 Gabriel Erkoreka, “Un Acercamiento Audaz a la Música Contemporánea”, Inaugural Lecture, Summer Courses at University of the Basque Country (Donostia-San Sebástian, 2014), 4-5. 27 All five pianists agree with this idea. 13
Ballade as a literary genre was developed and standardized in northern France during the
fourteenth and fifteenth centuries,28 but it wasn’t used as a musical term until the 19th century. It
is important to notice that, while this type of poetry was in narrative form, featuring a small cast,
and often with a tragic or catastrophic end, it was often declaimed, or sung with instrumental
accompaniment, but the musical material itself wasn’t composed with the narrative in mind.
Sometimes the term was also used to denote “anything singable, popular in style.”29
While music itself was evolving in order to meet certain dramatic demands of the poetic genre, it was Frédéric Chopin (1810-1849) who wrote the first ballade that was musically equivalent to the epic narrative poetry.30 Across his four works under this title, written in a span
of eleven years, there is very little structural uniformity, even though they are distinguished from
other works by Chopin through their aesthetics of dramatic progress,31 which is why it is
possible to recognize these works as pertaining to a specific, albeit loose genre.
From Brahms’s piece, only the first two measures will be highlighted. The regular
quarter-note melodic motion in the right hand (RH) against off-beat syncopations in the left hand
(LH), which is shown in example 1.1, is referenced in Erkoreka’s work, albeit in a different
harmonic and melodic setting. Erkoreka retains the tranquil atmosphere of the beginning of
Brahms’s work and recapitulates the melody towards the end of his own Ballade.
28 The Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics: Fourth Edition (edited by Brogan, T. V. F., C. Scott, and A. Preminger), “ballade” (Princeton University Press, 2012. 29 Oxford Dictionary of Music (edited by Kennedy, Michael, Tim Rutherford-Johnson and Joyce Kennedy), “ballade,” Oxford University Press, 2012. 30 Jonathan Bellman, Chopin’s Polish Ballade: Op. 38 as Narrative of National Martyrdom (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 50-51 31 Bellman, Chopin’s Polish Ballade (2010), 86 14
Music Example 1.1. Brahms, Ballade op. 10 no. 2, mm. 1-4.
Chopin’s Ballade, on the other hand, has a much stronger influence. The overall poetic trajectory of the piece is similar to how Erkoreka’s work develops over time, even though the latter’s structure is more fragmented. One significant parallel can be seen in the beginning and ending of both works. Chopin opens his piece with a series of repeated Cs in the middle register and the barcarolle rhythm that permeates much of the music, followed by a characteristic melodic contour. In the piece’s last line, the repeated pitches and the contour are reiterated, but centered on the key of A minor.
Music Example 1.2. Chopin, Ballade op. 38, (a) first system, (b) last system.
(a)
15
(b)
Chopin’s Ballade op. 38 is known for, among other things, its abrupt change of mood between the initial andantino and the presto con fuoco, and the fiendishly difficult ending – the
“reckoning” section.32 Two gestures (ex. 1.3) are of special interest here, because Erkoreka references them at around the same time in proportion to his work’s structure – more on this in chapter 2.
Music Example 1.3. Chopin, Ballade op. 38, mm. 47 and 194.
After the Ballade op. 38, the most significant piece used by Erkoreka as a framework is
Navarra, by Isaac Albéniz. It is possible that Albéniz had the intention to include this piece in
32 Bellman, Chopin’s Polish Ballade (2010), 94; quoting James Parakilas, Bellman uses the term “reckoning” instead of the usual “coda” in reference to the last sections of Chopin’s Ballades (except for op. 47). 16
Ibéria due to its style, scale, and reference to the traditional jota, but later changed his mind.33
Albéniz started composing Navarra around 1907, but the piece was left unfinished by the
composer, who died in 1909; it was completed by a lesser-known French composer named
Déodat de Séverac.34 Erkoreka used this piece as a starting point to write Jaia. According to the composer, he chose this piece with the intention “to exaggerate certain elements of Navarra,
taking them a step further, and because it was unfinished; in a symbolic way, I could continue
it.”35 However, the beginning of Jaia also bears a textural resemblance to “Evocación,” the first
piece from the first volume of Ibéria. In example 1.4a, the four distinct layers from the first two
measures and the staccato chords in the last measure of this selection serve as the framework for
the beginning of Jaia. Later in this piece, Erkoreka references the texture from example 1.4b,
also making use of three staves. “Evocación” (ex. 1.5) presents a similar texture, which is used in
much of traditional Spanish piano music.
Music Example 1.4. Albéniz, Navarra, (a) mm. 9-16, (b) mm. 104-111.
(a)
33 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 34 Pierre Huybregts, Joseph Rawlins, “Déodat de Séverac: A Forgotten French Composer,” American Music Teacher 36 no. 3 (1987): 34 35 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 17
(b)
Music Example 1.5. Albéniz, “Evocación,” from Ibéria, mm. 1-4.
Lastly, four other pieces are worth mentioning in this section: Ravel’s Jeux d’eau and
“Oiseaux tristes” from Miroirs, Scriabin’s Vers la flamme, and Granados’s “El Fandango de
Candil” from Goyescas. Textures inspired by Jeux d’eau can be seen in Erkoreka’s early work 18
Nubes I¸ while veiled references to the other three can be found in Dos Zortzikos. With these works in particular, it can be very difficult to trace the specific roots of a section or a gesture, even if the listener is familiar with the original source. This is due to the fact that Erkoreka almost never makes explicit references to external material (Ballades by Chopin and Brahms being two of the few exceptions); rather, he transforms it according to the context in which the material is inserted (more on that in section 1.6).
One passage from the first page of “…nimbos,” the second movement of Nubes I, makes reference to the water-inspired textures from Jeux d’eau (literally translated as “Water Games”), more specifically the cascades leading up to the dynamic climax in Ravel’s piece (ex. 1.6). The arpeggios in the high register with both hands in opposite directions allude to water drops falling
– potentially referring to a water fountain in Ravel’s piece and representing the beginning of a storm in Erkoreka’s work. Erkoreka achieves a slightly different effect by alternating hands in the series of arpeggios, instead of having them play together in the way Ravel does.
Music Example 1.6. Ravel, Jeux d’eau, mm. 46-47.
19
In addition to the veiled references to “Oiseaux tristes” and Vers la flamme in Dos
Zortzikos,36 this piece features an obscure allusion to “El Fandango de Candil” (exs 1.7, 1.8, and
1.9). Ravel’s work is referenced in the sparse melodies and gestures from the beginning of the first Zortziko, while two elements from Scriabin’s poem appear towards the end: the crescendo and accelerando towards the loudest section, and the extensive use of tremolos.
Music Example 1.7. Granados, “El Fandango de Candil,” from Goyescas, mm. 36-38.
Music Example 1.8. Ravel, “Oiseaux tristes,” from Miroirs, mm. 1-2.
36 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 20
Music Example 1.9. Scriabin, Vers la flamme, mm. 125-132.
In the second Zortziko, the three-part texture from one of the most rhythmically challenging sections in the piece bears some resemblance to the beginning of “El Fandango”.
The detached LH figure in m. 37 and the dialogue between the two RH voices in m. 38 are transformed in Erkoreka’s complex counterpoint.
1.6 Modernism and Michael Finnissy
Transformation, indeed, is an important aspect of Erkoreka’s thoughts on music. This concept relates both to how a composer manipulates a given material and how the result of such a manipulation changes the listener’s perspective on that material. In an inaugural lecture at the
Miramar Palace in San Sebastián, the composer spoke of two meanings behind the idea of transformation: (1) “that the material is not the most important part, but what we do with the idea and how we are capable of transforming it”; and (2) “that the art has the power to transform us 21
[…] and that it should be able to change our way of thinking.”37 This excerpt illustrates one of the most important influences from his studies with Michael Finnissy, which comes at the end of an anecdote about some of their “deep conversations about art” that Erkoreka mentioned in the interview. In this part of the lecture, he also quotes Finnissy talking about art, saying that “[it] has two essential ingredients: ambiguity and dirt.”38 When Erkoreka asked him about the “dirt” in Michelangelo’s Pietà, Finnissy mentioned “the imperfections in the marble” and the fact that
“the mother of Christ in Michelangelo’s sculpture is younger than her own son.”39 Erkoreka sees this temporal ambiguity as “matter/material out of place”, which in figurative sense represents the “dirt” as described by Finnissy.
Furthermore, transformation can be linked to Ferruccio Busoni’s opinion on transcription, which is that “notation is itself the transcription of an abstract idea [which] loses its original form
[…] the moment that the pen takes possession of it.”40 Finnissy cites this essay as a meaningful influence in his own compositional process, explaining that “…when you transcribe [a thought…], you can never literally write it in the way it initially comes to you” and that, in the process, one should “find imaginative and novel connections between sounds.”41 Regarding the influence of Ravel’s “Oiseaux tristes”, for instance, it could be said that Erkoreka heard the piece and transcribed it in the beginning of the first Zortziko – not a transcription of Ravel’s piece, but a transcription of a thought that occurred when he heard it. This explains how Erkoreka can
37 Gabriel Erkoreka, “Un Acercamiento Audaz a la Música Contemporánea,” 4. 38 Gabriel Erkoreka, “Un Acercamiento Audaz a la Música Contemporánea,” 3. 39 Gabriel Erkoreka, “Un Acercamiento Audaz a la Música Contemporánea,” 4. 40 Ferruccio Busoni, “Value of the Transcription” in The Essence of Music and Other Papers (London: Rockliff, 1957), 87. 41 Henrietta Brougham, Christopher Fox, and Ian Pace, eds., “Conversations with Michael Finnissy”, in Uncommon Ground: The Music of Michael Finnissy (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), 2- 3. 22 incorporate such a vast scope of influences in his compositions while making it sound natural when put together.
Finnissy has always had little interest in talking about technique and the mechanics of composition, saying that he finds “search and discovery a more important issue than ‘are you doing the correct thing with these notes?’”42 Nevertheless, one can still find traces of the influence of his music on some of Erkoreka’s works – especially considering the ideas of transcription and transformation discussed above. Hills and Powell mention Finnissy’s monumental work for solo piano English Country-Tunes (1977, rev. 1982/85) as influential on
Erkoreka’s writing, while the composer affirms that it has made him think about the ways in which he relates to material.43
The 50-minute tour-de-force is described as “a culmination of the aesthetic and musical ideas Finnissy has tried to integrate in all of his piano music, among them the juxtaposition of opposites.”44 divided in eight movements, each exploring a different folk song from his native
England, although never through direct quotation. Instead, it is described as a work moving
“from uneasy dialogues between extremes to complete polarization,”45 and shows a composer
“conscious of his status as an outsider, as a radical artist and homosexual.”46 The cycle was played only by the composer since its premiere, until it was performed by Jonathan Powell by the late 1980s.47 Finnissy’s interest in transcription as seen in English Country-Tunes and Verdi
42 Brougham, Fox, and Pace, “Conversations with Michael Finnissy” (1997), 4. 43 Erkoreka, Hills, and Powell, Interview with the author. 44 Irene Ruth Bowling, “British Piano Music since 1945: A Selected Survey,” DMA Dissertation, University of Washington, 1989, 77-78. 45 Ian Pace, “The Piano Music”, in Uncommon Ground: The Music of Michael Finnissy, (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), 71. 46 Pace, “The Piano Music” (1997), 66. 47 Powell, Interview with the author. 23
Transcriptions are, according to Hills, parallel to Erkoreka’s relationship to Spanish music; their
relationship with the folk music of their own land is also similar, to a certain extent.48
Two excerpts from Finnissy’s piece illustrate these ideas as explored in Erkoreka’s
works. Example 1.10, from the first movement, shows a melodic line (quasi-modal, but with
constant octave displacement) previously emerged from a highly dissonant context, in dialogue
with seemingly unrelated gestures. This treatment of a melodic, folk-inspired line is the basis for
the second movement, and both of them have a certain parallel with Erkoreka’s Kaila Kantuz.
Example 1.11, on the other hand, foreshadows Erkoreka’s second Zortziko in its extended use of extreme registers of the piano. Although many composers from the past, all the way back to
Beethoven, have on occasion written music in which hands are separated by five octaves or more, this becomes unique in the musical context of the respective works by Erkoreka and
Finnissy, as Ian Pace explains:
The last movement of English Country-Tunes, Come beat the drums and sound the fifes, is exclusively at the outer extremes of the instrument [and] such ‘restrictions’ produce energy and tension by providing boundaries to react against, especially vital where tonality is absent. When combined, registral areas are like bands of color from a whole spectrum. At extremes of pitch there emerges a predominance of contour – and thus melody, rather than harmony, which is blurred. Finnissy is aware of the possible connotations of phantasmagoria, as defined by Adorno, in very high passages, but for him these are part of an attempt to create a visionary music transcending that which we already know.49
Finnissy’s influence on Erkoreka’s writing, already present in Nubes II, becomes
more explicit in Jaia and Dos Zortzikos, and will be discussed in detail in chapter two.
48 Hills, Interview with the author. 49 Ian Pace, “The Panorama of Michael Finnissy (I),” Tempo New Series, no. 196 (April 1996), 25. 24
Music Example 1.10. Finnissy, “Green Meadows,” from English Country-Tunes, p. 11.
Music Example 1.11. Finnissy, “Come beat the drums and sound the fifes,” from English Country-Tunes, mm. 1-7.
25
1.7 Basque and Spanish Cultures
Garvayo says that Erkoreka is “one of the few Basque Spanish composers who has dared to […] take elements from their own culture and express [them] through their music.”50 This resistance to use folk and popular elements in Western Art Music can be observed in the Spanish music scene as a whole. In his survey of twentieth-century Spanish music, Tomás Marco begins the discussion on the beginnings of nationalist Spanish music with Albéniz and Granados, even though he recognizes that most of their activities as composers took place in the second half of the nineteenth century.51 This nationalist wave remained strong up to the beginning of the
Spanish Civil War. During this fraught period in Spanish history, composers still embraced traditional cultural elements, but the situation changed drastically by the end of World War II.52
Spain was isolated from the rest of the world in the years after the war ended, until 1953, when the US-Spain Pact of Madrid was signed.53 By this time, a young generation of composers led the early development of the avant-garde in the country.
The Generation of ’51 is a term used to refer to a group of composers who started their compositional careers in the early 1950s. Led by Luís de Pablo and Cristóbal Halffter (who coined the term), this was the first generation to bring the Darmstadt Serialism and European avant-garde in general to Spain. The Franco regime used this music to promote the idea of a culturally developed nation, and the US State Department contributed financially to the development of this aesthetic to show the West’s superiority, in the global context of the Cold
50 Garvayo, Interview with the author. 51 Tomás Marco, Spanish Music in the Twentieth Century, translated by Cola Franzen (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), 3-4. 52 For a detailed analysis of this period, see Eva Moreda Rodriguez (2017), Tomás Marco (1993), and Roberto Alonso Trillo (2014). 53 Roberto Alonso Trillo, “Music and Politics in the Spain of the 1960s: The Case of Tomás Marco,” Perspectives of New Music 52 no. 1 (2014), 108. 26
War.54 Although the abandonment of nationalist aesthetics had slowly begun before the war, it was after Generation of ’51 that the adoption of traditional elements really became taboo.
To this day, Spanish composers still feel somewhat hesitant to write, say, a piece using
Flamenco elements due to the widespread misconception that “nationalist music [is] considered less worthy of being studied by the academic world and used in contemporary music.”55 This situation seems to be changing. Garvayo, who grew up listening to and performing Flamenco, tells the story of one commission project with his ensemble Trio Arbós.
Since I was raised listening to – and performing – Flamenco, I thought that maybe it was time to change this [misconception]. With this in mind, we [Trio Arbós] started to approach composers, and commissioned seven pieces for piano trio from composers of different countries, with only two conditions: it had to be under six minutes, and it had to have something to do with Flamenco. They were enthusiastic about this project: “finally someone has asked us to do what we wanted to do, but we wouldn’t dare!” The funny thing is that we presented this project to the Banco Bilbao Foundation [Fundación BBVA], and the commission that had to evaluate the project said “Flamenco?? No way!! This is shit!” [laughs] I kind of expected it, so we went to the Germans the month after, and proposed to the foundation Ernst von Siemens Musikstiftung – and they gave us the money to do the project! The idea was to commission the seven pieces and present them interspersed with traditional Flamenco music – the material that the composers might have used in their piece. We played it a lot, and it has drawn a good amount of attention. There were only two composers who have done this before the commission project: Mauricio Sotelo and Gabriel Erkoreka – with Basque music, and now with Flamenco [in reference to Jukal].56
Manifestations of Basque and Spanish cultures in Erkoreka’s music range from a simple reference to the name of a small town in Spain to the extensive use of the zortziko rhythm, also including allusions to popular music genres and instruments. Mundaka is titled after a small village in the coast of the Bizkaia Bay,57 which reveals both his personal connection to the place
54 Garvayo, Interview with the author; Trillo, “Music and Politics in Spain,” 110-112; Marco, Spanish Music in the Twentieth Century (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1993), 155-157. 55 Garvayo, Interview with the author. 56 Garvayo, Interview with the author. 57 Gabriel Erkoreka, Mundaka (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), Program Notes. 27
and his compositional interest surrounding nature.58 In this piece, Erkoreka also uses the zortziko
rhythm at the beginning and towards the end of it, even though it is concealed by its complex
rhythmic surroundings. Dos Zortzikos makes substantial use of this rhythm, and for this reason,
the dance and its usage in Western Art Music will be discussed next.
A zortziko is a traditional dance in 5/8 which originated in the Basque Country, which is
an autonomous region in the area between northern Spain and southern France (Laborde, Grove).
The dance’s characteristic dotted rhythm is shown below:
Music Example 1.12. Zortziko rhythm.
This traditional Basque rhythm has been used in the literature for solo piano and chamber
music since the early nineteenth century, at least. One of the most characteristic examples is the
last movement of Isaac Albéniz’s suite España, op. 165, titled “Zortzico”, a short piece in E
major written in ternary (ABA’) form. Other pieces for solo piano that bear the title “Zortziko”
include another obscure piece by Albéniz in E minor, without opus number; Charles-Valentin
Alkan’s Zorcico: Danse Ibérienne a 5 temps and Trois Aires à Cinq Temps, three pieces that were published under the collection Impromptus op. 32; Joaquín Turina’s Danza Vasca (from
Tarjetas Postales); Turina’s El Arbol de Guernica, the second of two Danzas op. 41; and
Turina’s Ensueño, the second piece from Danzas Fantasticas.
58 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 28
Music Example 1.13. Albéniz, “Zortzico,” from España, op. 165, mm. 1-10.
In chamber music literature, one famous example of this rhythm comes from the French side of the Basque Country. The first movement of Maurice Ravel’s Piano Trio features an extended version of the traditional rhythm by adding a 3/8 after it, making it a 3+2+3/8 measure.
Another French example – not from the Basque Country area this time – is the second movement of Camille Saint-Saëns’s Piano Trio no. 2, op. 92. Here, the correct quintuple meter and the characteristic dotted rhythm are explicitly used in the main section of this movement and its 29 recapitulations. The second movement of Gabriel Pierné’s Piano Quintet op. 41, third movement of Joaquín Turina’s String Quartet op. 4, and Pablo de Sarasate’s Danse Espagnole for violin and piano also make extensive use of the zortziko dance. From an aural perspective, most of the
French literature featuring the zortziko only engages with its rhythm, while the Spanish examples have a genuinely Basque and Spanish melodic flavor.
Music Example 1.14. Ravel, Piano Trio, first movement, mm. 5-8.
Music Example 1.15. Saint-Saëns, Piano Trio op. 92, second movement, mm. 1-4.
For a discussion about traditional instruments, I will momentarily shift focus away from
Erkoreka’s piano repertoire. A brief discussion of the following works provides further clarification in regard to the composer’s reference to traditional Basque instruments and another reflection of Finnissy’s influence. The first piece in this section is Zuhaitz: Concerto for Basque 30
Percussion and Orchestra (2015).59 Written for the vocal-instrumental ensemble Kalakan trio, the title of the piece, which means “tree” in Basque, bears a connection to nature, specifically wood, as represented by the use of instruments made of wood and “the relationship between the forest and the wood as the essence of nature.”60 Erkoreka recalls how Finnissy was illustrating “the
different degrees of complexity in a piece by the [different] ways one draws a tree.”61 As a reference to this anecdote, Erkoreka included “musical trees” in three of the four last pages of the full score.
In Erkoreka’s “musical trees,” the ground is represented by strings, harp, orchestral percussion, and the percussion soloists, who are playing the whole time in this passage; the trunk is represented by brass instruments (and some of the percussionists in the first page of the passage); and the branches are represented by woodwinds. The three pages range from the
simplest to the most complex ways a tree can be drawn. For the first tree, the instruments
representing the branches only play long notes, entering at different times according to the tree
structure. For the second tree, Erkoreka places grace notes and trills at the beginning and end of
each long note, to indicate a slightly more complex drawing. Finally, the third tree consists of
short notes in staccato, thus making it the most complex out of the three pages. The three pages
are shown below for comparison.
59 For a more detailed discussion on Zuhaitz, see: Belén Pérez Castillo, “From Conflict to Normalization: Two Approaches to Basque Folk Heritage in Spanish Concert Music,” in Folk Music as a Fermenting Agent for Composition, Past and Present, eds. Bianca Ţiplea Temeş, presented at the Gheorghe Dima Music Academy, Cluj-Napoca, Romania, 27 April 2017. 60 Belén Pérez Castillo, “From Conflict to Normalization,” 155-158. 61 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 31
Music Example 1.16. Erkoreka, Zuhaitz, full score minus strings, (a) p. 44, (b) p. 45, (c) p. 46.
(a)
32
(b)
33
(c)
34
Duduk-I for solo soprano saxophone is among the first examples of the composer’s interest in traditional instruments. Both this saxophone composition and Nubes I have been used as competition pieces. In the case of Duduk-I, it was not a mandatory work, but “it has been selected twice by competitors [in the prestigious] Josip Nochta International Saxophone
Competition, both times by the eventual winner of each edition.”62 Duduk is the name of an
Armenian reed instrument (also called the Armenian Oboe) which, in its traditional use, is accompanied by larger instruments capable of holding long drones, also called a ‘drone- duduk.’63 In this short piece, Erkoreka faces the instrumentalist with the challenge of simulating such drones and melodies with a single wind instrument.
Another traditional wind instrument Erkoreka sought to emulate in his music is the txistu.
This instrument is “a type of fipple flute characteristic of the Basque Country,”64 which is normally played in a folk music setting along with the tamboril, a small percussion instrument, both by the same player. The txistu plays in a range similar to a piccolo flute, and for this reason,
Erkoreka features the piccolo as soloist in front of a small ensemble in his piece Kantak. Written in 1996, it uses Basque folkloric material, in addition to emulating the sounds inspired by the traditional instrument.65 This txistu-tamboril combination also serves as the basis for the sound world in which the second Zortziko begins: percussive punctuations in the LH against fast runs in the RH at the extreme high register.
62 Joseph Mason Proud, IV, “A Discussion of Saxophone Competitions and Their Repertoire,” DMA Dissertation, University of Alabama, 2019, 27. 63 Gabriel Erkoreka, Duduk-I (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), Program notes. 64 Alexander Iribar Ibabe, “Phonetic Characterisation of Musical Articulation: The Case of Txistu,” Journal of New Music Research 48 no. 2 (2019), 125. 65 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 35
The last piece to be discussed in this section is Jukal (1999-2000), scored for solo guitar and ensemble (nine players), featuring elements of Flamenco music. The Romani word jukal translates as ondo in Basque, which means “good”, or “joy” in English.66 Through this play of words, Erkoreka explores the extreme concepts of joy and sorrow, representative of the
Andalusian Romani music. In this context, the elements of voice, instrumental accompaniment, and dance are primarily represented across the ensemble by the bassoon, the guitar, and percussion, respectively.67 The use of whip and claves in the percussion, the energetic solo guitar part which often uses the rasgueado style of playing, and the sorrowful lines in the wind instruments combine to evoke the authentic Flamenco character throughout the composition.
Both Jukal and Dos Zortzikos relate back to Finnissy’s concept of “ambiguity and dirt” by means of Erkoreka’s “sophisticated means of notating the imperfections inherent in folklore music.”68
66 Gabriel Erkoreka, Jukal, Full Score (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), Program notes. 67 Erkoreka, Jukal, Program notes. 68 Erkoreka, Jukal, Program notes. 36
CHAPTER 2. DETAILED ANALYSIS OF SELECTED WORKS FOR PIANO
This chapter is an in-depth examination of six works for solo piano by Gabriel Erkoreka:
Nubes I (1994), Jaia (2000), Dos Zortzikos (2000), Kaila Kantuz (2004), Mundaka (2009), and
Ballade no. 2 (2019). This selection ranges from his earliest published work for the instrument to
the second most recent one to date. In addition, they provide a good illustration of Erkoreka’s
evolution in style and compositional technique. A study of Erkoreka’s unique developments in
musical forms provides the framework for each analysis, supplemented with an examination of
motivic structures and references to traditional piano works and Basque cultural elements. All
references to pitches in the following analyses are in accordance with the standard Scientific
Pitch Notation (SPN), in which C4 stands for the piano’s middle C (approx. 260 Hz).
2.1 Nubes I
Nubes (clouds, in English) is the first explicit example of Erkoreka’s reference to nature.
Two pieces were published under this title: Nubes I (1994) and Nubes II (1995). The composer used the first piece in his entrance exam at the Royal Academy of Music, while the second one was written when he was already studying with Finnissy. Although both pieces are very similar
in character, textures, and idiomatic writing for the instrument, Erkoreka’s notation is more
complex and detailed in the second piece. This reflects the composer’s increasing dissatisfaction
with the spatial notation in the first piece.69 Since the first composition is the most widely performed among Erkoreka’s works for the piano, it will be the only one discussed in detail.
While most of his piano works are published in their handwritten form, Nubes I is digitally engraved because it was used as a mandatory piece in the final round of a piano
69 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 37 competition in San Sebastián.70 Erkoreka states: “I have strong feelings about writing music by hand, which I still do most of the time, and even for the fully engraved scores I still have a handwritten version, for private use.”71 Most full scores of his chamber and orchestral works also appear in handwritten form, while parts are sometimes digitally engraved.
Nubes I, which was premiered by the composer, is Erkoreka’s most performed and recorded work for solo piano, and one of his most recognized pieces in general.72 One of the composer’s most programmatic works, it depicts nature in the form of rain. The two movements are titled, respectively, “Cúmulos…” and “… nimbos”, in reference to Cumulonimbus, a type of cloud most commonly observed in rains. Erkoreka employs idiomatic piano gestures to present all the elements associated with a storm, from the formation of clouds to thunderstorms, water sounds, and the heavy heart beats of someone who has just escaped it.
Erkoreka creates this natural progression towards a storm through the use of wide and slow arpeggios, long resonances created by the constant use of pedal, and the occasional outburst of energy. Low tremolos and clusters symbolize distant thunders. Suddenly, a lightning bolt hits very close to the character, and rain drops start to fall. The thin rain becomes a heavy storm after a brief moment of calm. After it goes away, the heavy heartbeat of the spectator can be heard in the piano’s lowest register. This dramatic arch is translated to music in a fragmented way. The structure of “Cúmulos…” is best understood as a binary structure followed by a non-literal repetition (ABA’B’), while “…nimbos,” is much more fragmented. For the second movement, two contrasting sections A and B are divided in three parts each, followed by a short coda – or
70 Erkoreka and Powell, Interview with the author. 71 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 72 It was the first piece by the composer Descalzo, Garvayo, Gomez, and the author have learned. 38
reckoning.73 The standard formal term coda generally describes recollections of motives previously used in a piece and has little structural importance.74 The term reckoning, therefore, is
preferable in certain contexts and will be explained in more detail later in this chapter.
Section A begins in 4/4 meter in lento tempo marking. A wide chord spanning five-and-
a-half octaves is slowly arpeggiated from the extremes of the instrument to the middle register,
followed by a repetition of the last note spelled in the arpeggio, a gesture that extends throughout
the first measure and the first beat of m. 2. Most of this movement is based on these progressions
and gestures spanning multiple registers. While section A is written within a determinate time
signature, Erkoreka uses the senza tempo indication in section B to blur the listener’s sense of
pulse. Example 2.1 shows the first two systems of the piece.
Music Example 2.1. Erkoreka, Nubes I, first two systems.
73 Bellman, Chopin’s Polish Ballade (2010), 94. 74 Jonathan Bellman, Chopin’s Polish Ballade: Op. 38 as Narrative of National Martyrdom (Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 86. 39
The harmonies are based on fourths and sevenths, with occasional clusters of major and
minor seconds. Quartal harmonies may be interpreted in different ways in tonal contexts, but
here (and in many other works by Erkoreka) they are used because of the specific colors
generated by the juxtaposition of specific intervals.75 This stability is disturbed by an ascending gesture in the second measure, which culminates in a chord played sff. Following this abrupt statement, Erkoreka creates a greater degree of activity in the mid-low register with arpeggios in sixteenth-note sextuplets. Example 2.1 illustrates some of these elements in the first section.
Without changing the pedal, Erkoreka begins the slightly expanded recapitulation of both ideas. Section A’ is a bit faster than the beginning, and some gestures are expanded or played in opposite directions compared to their first appearance. Erkoreka introduces cluster tremolos in the low register to symbolize distant thunder. This is followed by a variation on the fast arpeggios in sextuplets by writing similar gestures in septuplets, this time covering a greater range of the instrument. Section B’ is slightly longer than B and ends in the extreme opposite dynamic range. A sequence of five chords based on sevenths (similar to the chords based on fourths, but without the middle note), each softer than the previous one, ends the movement.
The second movement starts with a violent cluster in minor seconds on both extremes of the piano, followed by a glissando marked feroce and crescendo. Sections A1, A2, and A3 cover the first two pages of the movement while B1, B2, and B3 comprise most of the third and fourth pages. There are two possible interpretations of when the reckoning, or coda, starts: (1) from the beginning of senza tempo at p. 11 to the end, or (2) just the last system of the piece, with the
75 In accordance with the protospectralist attitude described before; see Nonken, “From Messiaen to Murail, or, What Sounds Become” (2014), 175. 40
previous material working as a transition. Since Erkoreka explores binary structures through most of the piece, preference is accorded to the former.
In A1, Erkoreka follows the cluster and glissando with long cluster tremolos centered on
D4, the arrival point of the glissando. The composer uses this device as an expressive tool by carefully manipulating dynamics, ranging from p to f while also varying the number of notes in the clusters. The tremolos culminate in two chords played in crescendo, both based on fourths.
The pitch content of the second chord (0127) serves as the basis for most of this movement.
This chord marks the beginning of A2. On top of a long pedal, Erkoreka uses crystalline arpeggios (ex. 2.2) played by alternating hands in opposite directions at the top register of the piano. This is inspired by the gestural language of Debussy and Ravel (see ex. 1.6). After multiple iterations of the sequence above, they develop into a descending cascade towards the lowest F♯. After momentarily resting on a chord, an ascending arpeggio marks the beginning of
A3. In another gesture inspired by the impressionist language, both hands play in the same register: the LH plays a series of black keys from B♭4 to G♭5 while the RH plays a diatonic set from B4 to F5. After a gradual diminuendo, a closing descending gesture culminates on the lowest B♭ of the instrument, held with the middle pedal through the beginning of the next section.
Music Example 2.2. Nubes I, p. 8, third system. Introduction of (0127) pitch set.
41
Chords and gestures built on pitch sets (0127) and (0137) form the basis for this section
(ex. 2.3). These transpositions and fuzzy relationships between them will not be explored in this analysis; rather, they are understood as idiomatic gestures for the piano, which explains the oscillation between the pitch sets described above. This movement is the prime example of
Descalzo’s description of this piece as “coming from the instrument, in the same way a piece by
Liszt does: it is extremely virtuosic, but it fits naturally in the hands.”76
Music Example 2.3. Nubes I, p. 10, first system.
This sequence begins with long rests between gestures, which are shortened to the point where they are played in quick succession. A gradual crescendo also follows this sequence, and the end of the last gesture coincides with a sudden release of the low B♭ pedal point held throughout this passage. Similar to the previous section, B1 ends with a descending gesture towards the lowest register.
What follows is a long sequence built on the same gesture from the previous section, this time in the middle register and transposed down a fourth. B2 starts with strong attacks on individual notes within the gesture separated by commas. Erkoreka marks a subito p and uses standard rhythmic notation, starting with sixteenth notes and gradually increasing the dynamic and speed. A low cluster and a glissando towards the middle register mark the beginning of B3.
76 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 42
In this section, Erkoreka writes four gestures covering the same textures but varying their duration. Each tremolo between D4 and C♯4-E♭4 starts with a strong accent on the first note followed by a subito p and a crescendo towards wide gestures in opposite directions. The first three gestures follow a pattern of reduction in the number of beats, but the fourth measure is the longest of the sequence. This augmentation also takes the gestures to both extreme registers of the instrument, reaching the dynamic climax of the piece.
The reckoning starts in the resonant space of the loudest chord of the piece but played in the pp-ppp dynamic range. In this passage, an echo of the sequence at the end of B2, the RH is transposed to the highest notes of the piano while the LH starts in the bass clef and gradually moves up to the high register. The next and final material represents the heavy heartbeat described at the beginning of this analysis. The pianist achieves this effect by playing a chromatic cluster in the bottom fifth of the piano while muting the strings with the other hand, gradually increasing the space between them, and decreasing the dynamic level. The effect is shown below.
Music Example 2.4. Nubes I, “…nimbos,” last system.
In his discussion of the endings of Chopin’s Ballades opp. 23, 38, and 52, Bellman asserts that the term “coda” reflects “structural deemphasis rather than climax or culmination” and that “Parakilas’s ‘reckoning’ is far more appropriate because the closing sections are as 43
unavoidable as fate itself .”77 The texture in the beginning of this section is different from the
rest of B, the clusters have no relationship with anything else in the piece, and they are the
consequence of the storm described before. For this reason, the term “reckoning” is more
appropriate for the end of Nubes I.
2.2 Jaia
Between Nubes I and Nubes II, there is a shift in Erkoreka’s approach to composition and
notation. While the first piece was used by the composer in his entrance exam at the Royal
Academy, the second installment was written in London, when was already studying with
Finnissy. While both pieces make use of spatial notation, this period between both pieces – and
after the second one – is marked by, in the composer’s words, “a sense of increasing
dissatisfaction with this kind of writing.”78 This is likely a reflection of his first contact with
scores by Finnissy, Ferneyhough, and others associated with New Complexity, which possess a
highly detailed notation of rhythmic proportions. This change in his notions of timing (something
very important to him) is even more drastic in Jaia, the second piece Erkoreka wrote in London.
Jaia was commissioned by the Quincena Musical de San Sebastián and completed in
2000. This piece was first titled Jota in allusion to the traditional dance from northern Spain, and because Albéniz’s Navarra is itself a sophisticated version of a jota.79 The composer says that
the reference to jota was much less obvious in his work, and after some revisions, he decided to change the title. The Basque word jaia translates to fiesta in Spanish (“feast”, “party”, or perhaps
“celebration” in English). Jaia is also a veiled acronym of “homenaJe A Isaac Albéniz.”80 Alex
77 Bellman, Chopin’s Polish Ballade (2010), 94. 78 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 79 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 80 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 44
Hills premiered the first version of this piece, which was also played by Jonathan Powell when
both pianists and Erkoreka were studying at the Royal Academy. The final version of Jaia was
premiered by Jean François Heisser.
There are a few notable differences between Jaia and its predecessors. First, following
his desire to have a bit more control over questions of timing, Erkoreka is far more exact with his
rhythmic notation compared with Nubes I. Some of the more intricate polyrhythms and complex rhythmic structures found in this piece are among his first successful attempts at reproducing
“the imperfections of folk and popular music”.81 These elaborate rhythms are also a reflection of
what Hills described as “improvisation on paper,”82 something he associates with many of
Erkoreka’s compositions. Second, he explicitly engages, for the first time, with a specific piece from the traditional repertoire: Navarra by Isaac Albéniz. This is significant because it is a piece by a Spanish composer, titled after an important region in northern Spain, thus close to Erkoreka and his Basque roots,83 and because it was left unfinished by Albéniz, allowing Erkoreka to
“continue it.”84 Third, in contrast to both Nubes pieces, in which the vertical component
(harmony) is predominant, Jaia features a greater interest in counterpoint and a multilayer-
oriented thought process – which has since become more common in Erkoreka’s compositions
for piano.
The piece could be divided in six sections played continuously, in bipartite relationship –
three pairs of fast-slow segments (mostly following the composer’s placement of double bars).
While the fast (often in forte dynamics) sections have distinct characters of their own, the slow
81 Erkoreka, Jukal and Dos Zortzikos, Program notes. 82 Hills, Interview with the author. 83 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 84 The piece was finished by Déodat de Séverac; see section 1.4.2 45
ones (in piano dynamics) are generally less varied. Section A comprises measures 1-32, while the first contrasting slow section S1 lasts only five measures, from mm. 33-37; section B is a bit
shorter, comprising mm. 38-53, while the second contrast (section S2) goes through mm. 54-81,
much longer than the first one; finally, section C covers mm. 82-106, while the last portion is called S3, covering mm. 107-124 (end). Section S3 is divided by the composer with another double bar between measures 112 and 113: in this analysis, the first portion of six measures is treated as a transition. Section S2 also has an extra double bar, but the material in both subsections is essentially the same and is treated as such.
Each of the lively sections (A, B, and C) references the gestural language found in
Albéniz’s piano works, which Erkoreka treats by “exaggerating or simplifying certain aspects of it, thus offering a renewed and personal vision [of them].”85 Navarra (see ex. 1.5) is referenced
at the beginning of section A. In this section, the legato lines are interspersed with interjections
played staccato by splitting the chords between both hands. The first three measures (ex. 2.5)
show both textures at play.
In the first two measures, the bass line suggests a harmonic movement centered in the key
of E♭ major, which is somewhat supported by the other lines. With the intricate chromatic
writing and densely written chords and textures, it would be a stretch to say that this piece is
tonal. Nevertheless, the bass line is often centered around certain pitches for a rather long time
within a given section in a way that shows what Hills calls “residual tonality.”86 This gravitation
towards specific pitches in a section or a piece is also referred to as “non-centered sounds,”87 as
William Bolcom has described some of his own music.
85 Gabriel Erkoreka, Jaia (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), Program notes. 86 Hills, Interview with the author. 87 William Bolcom, 12 New Etudes (Milwaukee: E.B. Marks 1986), Afterword. 46
Music Example 2.5. Erkoreka, Jaia, mm. 1-3.
This section also contains many examples of tuplets being used to “notate imperfections”
as seen in many works by Erkoreka (ex. 2.6).
Music Example 2.6. Jaia, mm. 16-17.
This is a clear example of a written-out rubato. One could rewrite this measure by grouping the first three notes as a triplet over the first beat, placing the C5 followed by a grace note over the second beat, and having the two last notes as regular sixteenth notes in the third beat. In this reimagined division of the RH notes, writing a rubato indication on top of it would possibly yield a resulting sound similar to what is written. However, one could interpret the 47
rubato indication differently, which explains Erkoreka’s decision to write it down. In other
words, he used complex rhythmic structures to notate imperfections.
The aforementioned interjection, here called I, is first used at the end of example 2.5,
working as an interruption of the section’s flow. To a certain extent, this motivic device can be
compared to the similar type of abrupt interruptions Erkoreka uses in the last two sections of
Zortziko no. 1 (this is explained in the analysis of Dos Zortzikos in ch. 2.3.4). While in the
Zortziko these interruptions have an important function in delineating the palindromic structure
of the movement’s last section, in Jaia they do not possess any significant structural implications.
The first slow section comes abruptly in ppp subito following a short gesture in crescendo from the end of A. This short section S1 plays with both extremes of the instrument, again foreshadowing another procedure that will be explored in the Zortzikos – the second one in this case. Curiously, the interjection I appears in the middle of this section.
Section B is governed by a rhythmic structural device with no clear parallels to other contemporary works, nor is it seen again in other compositions for solo piano by Erkoreka.
Starting on m. 38, each measure is written with one hand playing fragments based on rational subdivisions of the beat while the other hand plays a rhythmic structure within irrational rhythms.88 In this peculiar passage, the time signature changes every measure, but they are never
written out. Furthermore, the rational rhythmic structure jumps from one hand to the other –
again, mostly from one measure to the next. In the excerpt seen below, the RH plays the rational
88 In mathematics, the words “rational” and “irrational” are used to describe numbers based on whether or not they can be written as simple fractions; in music, on the other hand, the word “irrational” is used to describe rhythms that do not follow structures based on the power of two, i.e., quarter notes, eighth notes, sixteenth notes etc. 48 rhythms in the first and third measures, while the LH plays a somewhat regular pulse in m. 40
(Note that the three measures have seven, five, and six eighth notes, respectively).
Music Example 2.7. Jaia, mm. 39-41.
After a crescendo from a gesture reminiscent of the interjection I, the music suddenly drops to ppp again. In contrast to S1, section S2 uses the low register of the instrument, with both hands written in the bass clef. Similar to example 2.6, polyrhythms are used to achieve a written- out rubato effect – or “improvisation on paper,” as Hills puts it. Although this time the rhythms are not used in any systematic way to delineate a clear structure, the two-part counterpoint in this section bears some relation to one movement from Finnissy’s English Country-Tunes. Both are shown below for comparison. While there are more dynamic contrasts in S2 compared to S1, the section as a whole still lives in the soft end of the dynamic spectrum.
Music Example 2.8. Jaia, mm. 60-62.
49
Music Example 2.9. “Midsummer Morn,” from English Country-Tunes, third system.
While section B vaguely resembles the gestural language of Albéniz’s music in general,
Erkoreka reestablishes the connection to Navarra in section C. Starting at m. 82, it is written in
three distinct layers as in the beginning of the piece, but in a much wider range this time.
Because of the large span covered by both hands, Erkoreka employs three staves, like in
Albéniz’s score (see ex. 1.5b). This section shows the kind of “exuberant and flamboyant
writing”89 that Powell describes in relation to both Erkoreka and Finnissy, in the sense that both
composers do not use the instrument shyly. Section C is divided in two parts of fourteen and ten
measures, respectively, separated by one full measure of rest.
The piece ends in a slow tempo. Section S3, as mentioned above, is divided in two sections marked Adagio and Lento, respectively. The Lento ending works as a recapitulation of
S2, therefore bearing some similarity to Finnissy’s “Midsummer Morn” (see ex. 2.9). The
Adagio transition, on the other hand, consists of a long melodic line, which could be compared to
“My Bonny Boy”, the seventh movement of English Country-Tunes. Hills’s description of
Finnissy’s procedure also applies to this section of Jaia: “In Finnissy’s music, tonality [or modality] is something he can turn on and off: you might be listening to the most dissonant
89 Powell, Interview with the author. 50 music imaginable and suddenly a modal line works its way out of it.”90 Both examples are shown below for comparison.
Music Example 2.10. Jaia, mm. 105-111.
Music Example 2.11. “My Bonny Boy,” from English Country-Tunes, first two systems.
90 Hills, Interview with the author. 51
The concept of “turning [tonality] on and off”, from Hills’s quote, can be tied to what
pianist Ian Pace has described as “cinematic techniques” in Finnissy’s works. In his chapter
about Finnissy’s piano music for Uncommon Ground: The Music of Michael Finnissy, Pace lists
three techniques in a discussion of Finnissy’s Snowdrift: “jump cuts, dissolves, and expressions
of distance.”91 He also asserts that “the sudden interruptions create a sense of dynamism and also
serve the montage-like function of ‘distancing’ the material, showing its particularity by virtue of
there being something else with which to compare it.”92 This description fits much of English
Country-Tunes, particularly the sections with a contrast between massively dense textures and
sudden drops in dynamics followed by a single line or a two-part counterpoint. Therefore, it is
possible to identify hints of such techniques in Jaia. Erkoreka does not make abundant use of
these techniques, but one can spot a brief reference to them in Dos Zortzikos, which will be
discussed in the next section.
2.3 Dos Zortzikos
Dos Zortzikos was finished in 2000 and premiered a year later by pianist Ananda
Sukarlan. This is Erkoreka’s most technically challenging composition for solo piano to date.93
In addition to the high level of rhythmic complexity, the contrapuntal writing is more intricate
than its predecessors, and the vertical structures are largely constructed on quartal harmonies.
91 Ian Pace, “The Piano Music,” in Uncommon Ground: The Music of Michael Finnissy, edited by Henrietta Brougham, Christopher Fox, and Ian Pace (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), 54. 92 Pace, “The Piano Music”, 55; for a detailed discussion on cinematic techniques in music, see Ian Pace, “From Jean-Luc Godard to Dennis Potter: Finnissy’s Cinematic and Televisual Inspirations,” in Critical Perspectives of Michael Finnissy: Bright Futures, Dark Pasts, edited by Nigel McBride and Ian Pace (London: Routledge, 2019), 344-375. 93 Surprisingly, this is the only composition played by all five pianists interviewed by the author. 52
There is no clear systematization behind the choice of chords at any moment; instead, this is a
possible reflection of the protospectralist attitude as described by Nonken.94
This work is also Erkoreka’s only example of indeterminacy. In the published score, each
Zortziko is followed by a slow four-measure phrase called “Link”, each numbered according to
the piece they follow. The performer may choose whether to start with the first or the second
Zortziko, and this choice will affect the Link that should be used to connect both pieces, to
guarantee that they are performed without any break.95 In other words, if Zortziko no. 1 is played first, Link 1 should be used while Link 2 is omitted; in the other scenario, Zortziko no. 2 is played first, followed by Link 2, thus omitting Link 1.
The first studio recording of Dos Zortzikos was released in 2014 as part of Trio Arbós’s all-Erkoreka CD named “Trio del Agua,” in reference to one of the composer’s works for piano trio.96 There is also a live recording by Alex Hills, who gave the US premiere of the piece,
available on Soundcloud.97 Both recordings begin with the second Zortziko, therefore, this will
be the first movement discussed.
Another argument for this decision is the layout of the large-scale palindromic structure
that Erkoreka applies in the whole work. Each order will expose the listener to a different
experience, given the composer’s manipulation of dynamics and the degree of energy in each
section. This choice also has implications for the performer, who must take the physical demands
94 Marilyn Nonken, “Messiaen to Murail, or, What Sound Becomes”, in Perspectives on the Performance of French Piano Music, eds. Scott McCarrey and Lesley A. Wright (Farnham: Ashgate, 2014), 172. See also: Marilyn Nonken, “The Spectral Piano: From Liszt, Scriabin, and Debussy to the Digital Age” (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014). 95 Gabriel Erkoreka, Dos Zortzikos, Program notes. 96 Trio Arbós, Trio del Agua, compact disc, liner notes by Mikel Chamizo, translated by Gordon Burt (Madrid: Verso, 2014). 97 Possibly the US premiere of this piece. 53
of both options into account when programing this piece – chapter ithree w ll explore this issue in
greater detail. In any case, given the fact that the second Zortziko begins with a short phrase that could be understood as an introduction and that the first Zortziko ends with a short coda, it is easier to visualize the palindrome across both pieces by placing the second Zortziko at the forefront. Tables 2.1 and 2.2 provide the structural framework of both movements.
Table 2.1. Structure of Zortziko no. 2.
SECTION MEASURE PREDOMINANT TEMPO OTHER RANGE DYNAMIC LEVEL CHARACTERISTICS INTRO 1-2 mf Animato Most explicit reference to the dance A 3-33 fff-ffff Meno Percussive, strident, Mosso rhythmic complexity in RH B 34-62 mp-mf Poco Contrapuntal, complex Rubato polyrhythms, C 63-74 pp-mp Andante Chordal, quartal harmonies, simpler rhythms but some independence D 75-93 ppp-p Lento Homophonic, static
Table 2.2. Structure of Zortziko no. 1.
SECTION MEASURE PREDOMINANT TEMPO OTHER RANGE DYNAMIC LEVEL CHARACTERISTICS A 1-25 pp-mf Calmo Melodic, sparse, resonant B 26-34 pppp-ff Poco a poco Gradual crescendo and A Tempo rhythmic accelerando (accelerando) C1 35-54 f-ff, with plenty of sf Moderato Percussive, and sff rhythmically steady, quartal harmonies, use of interjections. C2 55-92 ff-fff (p-fff in tremolos) (Moderato) Tremolos in RH, more active interjections CODA 93-103 fff-ffff (Moderato) Tremolos in both hands, dynamic climax at the end (tutta forza!) 54
2.3.1 Zortziko no. 2
Zortziko no. 2 is divided in five sections (see table 1). Section A is the dynamic peak of
the piece, and Erkoreka places constant reminders of ff and fff dynamics, as well as numerous
sfff, eventually reaching the loudest possible phrase at m. 31, marked ffff and stridente. For the first three pages, Erkoreka uses LH chords based on specific intervals, which are hereby labeled with six lowercase Greek letters, alpha, beta, gamma, delta, epsilon, and zeta (α, β, γ, δ, ε, and ζ),
in accordance with their shared intervallic structures. If two chords from a given family share the same intervals but the pitch content is transposed, they are considered part of the same family,
and a number is added ot the label (α1 and α2, for instance). Meanwhile, if two chords belong to
one family but one possesses fewer notes, a ‘prime’ symbol is added to it (α1 and α1’, for
instance).
Table 2.3 contains all chords from this section (the single sixteenth notes are not taken
into consideration for this harmonic analysis). In example 2.12a, the chords on the first and
fourth beats are, respectively, α1 and β1, while example 2.12b shows reduced forms of α and ε,
thus labeled α1’ and ε1’’, respectively. Finally, 2.12c begins on an α3 chord while the chords on
the second and fourth beats are transpositions of β (β3 and β1). Because the LH plays at the
lowest register throughout this passage, it is impossible to distinguish their pitch content from
listening.
The total number of occurrences of each chord family, from the beginning to m. 32 and
between mm. 37-41, are: α = 19; β = 33; γ = 8; δ = 13; ε = 12; and ζ = 7. There is no clear
progression or pattern between them, but Erkoreka rarely uses chords from the same family in
succession, except when a single chord rings for multiple beats or across measures. 55
Table 2.3. Chord families categorized by intervallic content. All examples are in bass clef. α
β
γ
δ
ε
ζ 56
Music Example 2.12. Zortziko no. 2, (a) m. 3, (b) m. 27, (c) m. 15.
(a)
(b)
(c) 57
At the same time, the RH consists of quasi-improvisatory runs in the C♯6-G♭7 range
covering an eleventh in the top two octaves of the piano, similar to the tessitura of the piccolo
flute and the txistu (see ch. 1.7), which is often used in Basque folk music along with the
tamboril, a small percussion instrument. While the RH runs can be traced back to the txistu, the
LH represents the percussion instrument. Erkoreka juxtaposes these opposite textures in his
piccolo concerto Kantak, which was premiered at the Royal Academy a few years before Dos
Zortzikos.98 In this case, the txistu reference is more direct in the complex and virtuosic lines in
the solo piccolo. Although the tamboril is not as low-pitched as the LH chords, the low register
in the piano contributes to an emphasis on the percussive aspect of this passage. In addition, the predominance of β chords enhances the LH’s percussive quality. This section also reflects an influence from Finnissy’s affinity for juxtaposition of opposites observed, for instance, in the last movement of English Country-Tunes (see ex. 1.11).
Section B quickly presents another relationship to Finnissy’s piano works, specifically the cinematic techniques (see ch. 2.2). The sudden interruption of the new material in mm. 37-40 could be traced to the “jump cut” technique, as explored by Finnissy. Except for this quick return to the textures in section A, section B is developed on top of one musical idea. The RH line plays steady rhythms in 5/8 time signature, with occasional triplets and quintuplets, and the use of ties to obscure two or three beats of most measures. Meanwhile, the LH plays complex tuplets of six, seven, eight, and nine over each 5/8 measure. These tuplets in the LH create a high degree of instability and give the impression of changes in speed between two given measures – even though the meter never changes in this section. Erkoreka’s indication of poco rubato enhances this effect. Example 2.13 displays the unusual rhythmic challenge described above.
98 Powell, Interview with the author. 58
Music Example 2.13. Zortziko no. 2, mm. 33-35.
Section C provides a great contrast to the restlessness of A and the disorienting rhythms of B. This Andante is much more rhythmically stable than the previous sections, mostly written in eighth notes and simple tuplets. The short phrases allow Erkoreka to create a written-out rallentando effect by gradually slowing down the metronome marking for the eighth note from
96 to 80, then 72, finally settling in 50 bpm for the quarter note at m. 75. The chordal structure in
C, based on quartal harmonies, is similar to some sections of Nubes I and Zortziko no. 1. The intervallic choices for vertical structures in such contexts are guided by the resulting sound of the interactions between specific intervals, which can be traced back to Nonken’s description of protospectralism discussed before. Here, the predominance of fifths account for wider, brighter harmonic colors than the packed sonorities of m. 63, or most of the Moderato section in Zortziko no. 1.
Music Example 2.14. Zortziko no. 2, mm. 71-72. 59
The music slows down towards the slow and stable Lento of section D. The use of 5/4 time signature contributes to the stasis and timelessness characteristic of this section, which is enhanced by the long chords tied across measure lines. This portion of the work is best understood by the duration of chords (measured in number of eighth notes) and the relationship between length and harmonic content.
The vertical structures, as usual, reflect Erkoreka’s interest for the combination of certain intervals and their resulting sounds. As for the chords, Erkoreka begins this section by repeating chords with the same pitch content for the same amount of time: for instance, the first chord, shown below, has a duration of six eighth notes, and it is repeated five times (same harmonic content and same length); the chord at m. 78 has the duration of five eighth notes, and is repeated four times (with same pitch content and same length). Following this pattern, the next two chords have the duration of four and six eighth notes, and are repeated three and two times, respectively.
The pattern, however, is broken shortly before the first pentatonic gestures appear.
Music Example 2.15. Zortziko no. 2, p. 15, (a) first system, (b) second system.
(a) 60
(b)
In terms of harmonic content, there is an uneven progression from dense chords predominantly based on seconds and thirds to a greater abundance of thirds and fourths, ending with harmonies mostly based on fourths and fifths. At the same time, a process of filtration occurs – possibly related to the composer’s choice of intervals across the section. While the first chord is tightly packed with ten distinct pitches, most of the following chords move from eight to six notes, leading to the final chord with only four; moreover, the overall contour of the top voice follows a descending line, from the mid-high register to the lowest range of the piano. Except for the very last gesture followed by a sfffz attack on the last note, Zortziko no. 2 ends with quiet, yet resonant chordal structures.
In addition, this section displays Erkoreka’s affinity for the use of interjections, a common theme through Jaia, Dos Zortzikos, Kaila Kantuz, and Mundaka. These consist of gestures in quintuplets, except for wider gestures in pentatonic scale and sharp attacks on block chords. Table 2.4 shows each gesture in their first appearance. 61
Table 2.4. Four interjections in Zortziko no. 2. All examples are in treble clef.
The gesture used at the end of m. 90 is merely an augmentation of , whereas gestures
identified as are grouped as such by their use of pentatonic scale, without consideration of
length or rhythm. These interjections occur 15 times in the following sequence: --------------
It is worth noticing that the sequence of gestures is grounded in the alternation between
and , which are occasionally substituted by or . In other words, if one were to
compare this sequence to a series of fifteen numbers alternating between ones and twos, one
would notice that the s and s in Erkoreka’s sequence of gestures always fall where they are expected. The distance between them does not show any trace of a palindrome, or any significance to the structure of this section. Nevertheless, the only occurrence of two adjacent gestures belonging to the same category happens towards the middle of the sequence, which does create a palindrome. 62
2.3.2 Links
Each link consists of two short phrases with the same pitch content, but different melodic contour. One of them is omitted depending on which Zortziko is played first. Both pieces end on a loud attack, and the pianist must retain some of the resonance from either ending by pressing the pedal just a moment after the attack final attack, thus connecting the first movement performed and the appropriate link. The following Zortziko is played attacca.
Music Example 2.16. Dos Zortzikos, (a) Link 1, (b) Link 2.
(a)
(b)
2.3.3 Zortziko no. 1
Zortziko no. 1 begins in the same quiet acoustic space that dominates the last two pages of Zortziko no. 2. Section A is divided in a1 and a2 (see table 2), since the latter functions as a shorter recapitulation of the former. Furthermore, a1 itself can be divided in two parts: a six- measure monophonic introduction (I, as in Intro) and the exposition of the macro-section’s main 63 material (a1’), which is recapitulated in a2. By understanding the substructure of A as such, one could assert the use of simple binary form with an introduction, but this also helps visualizing the palindromic structures at play, locally and globally – for reasons that will become clear later.
Subsection a1-I consists of a single melodic line, with a preference for chromatic movement and leaps of sevenths and ninths, as shown in the opening gestures, with no change of pedal. This section picks up from the resonant space at the end of Zortziko no. 2, but in monophonic texture instead of homophonic. This texture resembles the ending of Jaia, which in turn is related to “My Bonny Boy” from English Country-Tunes (see ex. 2.10 and 2.11).
The first recognizable motivic fragment appears in m. 7 and marks the beginning of a1’.
Here, the pedal is still used abundantly, but with more activity, serving as a rhythmic inflection for the beginning of certain measures immediately after a fermata, cutting a melodic figure ending in crescendo, or emphasizing a staccato articulation of a given fragment.
Music Example 2.17. Zortziko no. 1, mm. 8-10.
Both in the introduction and the beginning of a1’, Erkoreka uses many fermatas to give a feeling of stillness, which is temporarily broken at m. 10 with one of the dynamic peaks of section A. This peak is followed by more melodic activity, the use of complex tuplets including an off-beat quintuplet figure at m. 12, winding down back to pp and a fermata by the end of m.
16. Erkoreka then recapitulates the quintuplet motivic fragment from a1’ in measures 17 and 18, 64 thus beginning a2. In both subsections, Erkoreka uses fermatas in the first three measures and follows with a dynamic peak at the end of the fourth measure, and more linear activity for five measures, ending on a final fermata, as soft as the piece began.
Section B comprises the entire third page of the piece, and it works as a transition between the slow, meditative A section and the percussive C section. In some ways, it works as the equivalent of section C from Zortziko no. 2, but in the opposite direction: it starts in pppp and slow polyrhythmic ratios and ends in faster tuplets culminating in the ff dynamic range in which Erkoreka begins the following section. In the booklet notes for Trio del Agua’s CD, Mikel
Chamizo (translated by Gordon Burt) mentions “a veiled connection with Scriabin’s Vers la
Flamme and an approach to the authenticity of folklore through imperfections” as the path for these pieces.99 Section B represents this connection to Scriabin’s late work, through Erkoreka’s careful juxtaposition of polyrhythms, following a gradual progression from 3:2 (in eighth notes) to 7:6, from the softest to one of the loudest dynamic indications, and with a chromatic movement in divergence.
99 Trio Arbós, Trio del Agua, compact disc, liner notes, 20-21. 65
Music Example 2.18. Zortziko no. 1, p. 3. 66
This section shows two examples of Erkoreka’s application of the number five, closely
associated to the dance itself: the 5/4 meter, and the number of layers. There are three layers in
the LH and two in the RH, with significant chromatic movement. The lowest layer in the LH consists of long notes in the lowest register of the piano at the beginning of each measure, in a
pattern of three descending notes, E-E♭-D. This three-note pattern is repeated twice in this page,
each beginning with the last note of the previous pattern. This process results in the following
sequence: E-E♭-D, D-C♯-C, C-B-B♭.
The second lowest layer is an ascending melodic interval of a minor ninth, sometimes
compounded by an octave. This interval always marks the fifth beat of the measure and
possesses a chromatic pattern of three measures: the bottom note moves up within each pattern,
but the whole sequence shifts down a semitone in relation to the beginning of the previous one.
100 Therefore, the resulting sequence is F-F♯-G; E-F-F♯; E♭-F.
The third layer is a series of chromatic descending notes, always starting on the second
note in whichever subdivision a given measure is based on. Since these runs always end on the
last beat of each measure, the patterns gradually increase in range as the rhythmic subdivisions
become faster. Regarding its pitch content, the beginning note of each pattern is a semitone
higher than the previous one, except for the whole-step movement between the beginning notes
of mm. 32 and 33.
The RH plays a long stream of notes throughout this page. Some of them are notated with
upward stems in regular font size while the rest are written with downward stems and small font
size. Erkoreka uses this notation to indicate that the pianist should play the upper voice louder
100 Here, the expected second note is omitted because, instead of a third note, Erkoreka extends the upper layers by one beat, leading to the beginning of C. 67
than the lower one – a notational strategy used in Mundaka as well. Similar to the third layer, a
natural acceleration happens in the RH because the subdivisions of the beat become
progressively faster, thus contributing to the forward motion. A short melodic contour is
subsequently repeated, following the gradually faster subdivisions.
The polyrhythmic relationship between the LH top layer and the RH progresses from 3:2
in the beginning to a brief instance of sixteenth and eighth notes, 4:3, 5:3, 5:4, and 6:4. While
these changes happen rather gradually at first, the ratios become faster by the end of the section.
This is noticeable in the last four beats of m. 34, at which point each beat has a more complex
ratio than the previous one (6:4, 7:4, 7:5, and 7:6). The gradual crescendo culminates in a ff
chord which starts the following section.
Erkoreka notates the last double bar at the end of m. 34, thus indicating that C is the last
section. Nevertheless, the composer’s consistency with the use of specific textures at different
points makes it possible to divide C into C1 and C2, with a short coda. Furthermore, such
division illuminates the overarching palindrome across both Zortzikos. This section is
characterized by a strong rhythmic drive, and long stretches of ff and fff dynamics – an endurance challenge.
Erkoreka finally brings back the characteristic dotted rhythm of the zortziko in the RH melody, following with some rhythmic variations based on it. The LH rhythm is marked by strong punctuations in octaves at the low register followed by short chords, in a typical accompaniment figure. In C1, the characteristic zortziko rhythm in the RH is played by the LH
in augmentation, spanning two measures. Erkoreka makes substantial use of quartal harmonies in
this section. The top melody gradually moves up, occasionally interrupted by a wide downward
leap, after which the upward motion starts again. 68
The most important aspect of C2 is the regular use of tremolos in the RH while the LH still marks the 5/8 rhythms already shown in C1. This section is a great example of how
Erkoreka uses tremolos as an expressive device and to create greater dynamic contrasts. The composer also incorporates fff dynamics in this section. Erkoreka sustains the dynamic increase through the short coda, starts at m. 93 and introduces tremolos in both hands. Between mm. 93-
97, each hand executes a set of independent tremolos with dynamic swells peaking at different times, resulting in an unusual effect. In the last five measures, the tremolo gestures are shared by both hands to ensure the dynamic increase to ffff and the apotheotic sffff tutta forza! at the end.
Music Example 2.19. Zortziko no. 1, last five measures.
Locally, the composer creates another palindromic structure. Phrases of different lengths are interrupted by gestures of two different natures: (1) eighth notes surrounded by groups of grace notes over one continuous pedal, and (2) sixteenth notes marked brusco e secco without pedal, also surrounded by grace notes. These interjections are one measure long, alternating 69
between 5/8 and 5/16. The 5/8 gestures will be labeled X, while the 5/16 interruptions will be called Y. Both are shown below for comparison.
Music Example 2.20. Zortziko no. 1, (a) interjection X, (b) interjection Y.
(a) Both systems in treble clef.
(b) Both systems in bass clef.
The number of X and Y alternations and the length of phrases between them show an
almost perfect palindrome throughout section C. The only imperfection is that the last phrase
is one measure shorter than the first one.101 Table 2.5 shows the number of measures in each
101 Again, alluding to the idea of notating the authenticity of folklore through imperfections, as mentioned in the program notes for Jukal. 70 phase and the interjection between them – notice that the point of convergence is when the interjection Y happens twice in a row.
Table 2.5. Phrasal structure in Zortziko no. 1, section C.
6 Y 3 X 3 Y 2 X 2 Y 1 X 1 Y 2 Y Y 2 Y 1 X 1 Y 2 X 2 Y 3 X 3 Y 6 X 5
2.4 Kaila Kantuz
Erkoreka’s overall output generally consists of moderately long pieces (between seven and nine minutes in length), while a handful of pieces for orchestra (with or without soloists) and other large forces can be considered large in scale (multi-movement works, 15 minutes or longer). Examples of the latter include the Cello Concerto Ekaitza (2012) and the Accordion
Concerto Akorda (1998-99). Chamber works of a moderately large length include Noche Serena
(for soprano and cello ensemble, his String Quartet no. 2 “Quadrópole” (2019) and both piano trios Aldakiak and Trio del Agua. Among his piano works, small scale seems to be the rule. The first time the composer purposefully ventured into writing a somewhat large piano composition was with his ongoing project of Ballades,102 the longest of which is the first one at around eight minutes long. However, even within his piano output, miniatures are still rare.103 Only two such works exist: Serpiente, his first piano composition, which remains unpublished, and Kaila
Kantuz, conceived in the long period between two of his most daring compositions to this day,
Dos Zortzikos and Mundaka.
Kaila Kantuz was finished in 2004, and it is a short meditative piece based on a folk song of the same name. Clocking in at barely over one minute, this work was premiered by Jonathan
102 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 103 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 71
Powell, exactly ten years after it was composed104 – an unusually long gap for such a short and technically simple piece. However, what might at first seem like an unremarkable piece is quite significant for three reasons, and the result is, in a way, Erkoreka’s most authentic expression of
Basqueness.
First, among his piano works, this is the closest Erkoreka has come to a quotation of a
Basque folk song so far. This is relevant because Basque and Spanish elements, although present in a great number of his works, usually remain subdued, just one extra ingredient in a unique, creative melting pot. Second, although Powell was the one who premiered it, the piece was actually dedicated to Basque pianist Josu Okiñena. Okiñena, who teaches at the same institution as Erkoreka and Descalzo, has performed some of Erkoreka’s music. Moreover, the pianist has been very active in promoting solo and chamber music of Basque composers and those from the
Basque diaspora.105 The third and final significant aspect of Kaila Kantuz is that this piece, based on a Basque folk song dedicated to a Basque pianist, is Erkoreka’s first piano work to be published by OE Oficina, a publishing house based in Donostia, San Sebastián whose mission is to celebrate “the musical heritage of the Basque composers of all times.”106 While folklore is at times dismissed as unimportant, or deformed by some to promote a distorted idea of nationalism,
Lomax, quoted by Robert Baron, hails it as the “spiritual armor of the […] people against tyranny” and that “it could be used as a vehicle for contesting and resisting domination.”107
104 Gabriel Erkoreka, Catalog of Works (as of June 2021); Powell, Interview with the author. 105 Josu Okiñena. Biography. Artist’s Website. https://www.josuokinena.com/en/cover- page/biographie/. Accessed 10 May 2021. 106 OE Oficina. Who We Are. https://www.oeoficina.com/en/oe-oficina/quienes-somos/. Accessed 10 May 2021. 107 Robert Baron, “‘All Power to the Periphery’: The Public Folklore Thought of Alan Lomax,” Journal of Folklore Research 49, no. 3 (2012), 294, 298. 72
The title “Kaila Kantuz”, which translates to “The Quail Sings”, was one of the many
songs compiled by American musicologist Alan Lomax (1915-2002).108 Also referred to as a
“song collector,”109 Lomax registered Mariano Izeta’s performance this folk song during one of
his travels to Europe in the early 1950s.110 Although there is almost no other information about this song in writing, Lomax did provide a general description of folk songs in northern Spain as
“[possessing] less vocal tension [and consisting of] brief and undecorated melodies, [mostly] short.”111 The unaccompanied song has a flexible tempo, and the melody generally moves
stepwise around the range of an octave. The melancholic character of the poem is reflected in the
poignant quality of the melody, which could be interpreted as either Mixolydian ♭6 or Phrygian
dominant ♯2. The original poem, in Basque, and the English translation are shown below:
108 Gabriel Erkoreka, Kaila Kantuz (San Sebastián: OE Oficina 2019), Program notes. 109 Nancy Groce. “Link to the Library of Congress: Alan Lomax—Folk Songs, Song Collectors, and Recording Technology,” Music Educators Journal 102, no. 2 (December 2015), 29. 110 Groce, “Link to the Library of Congress: Alan Lomax,” 29; Mariano Izeta. Kaila Kantuz. CD. The Spanish Recordings: Basque Country: Navarre – The Alan Lomax Collection. Recorded in 1952. 111 Alan Lomax and Ronald D. Cohen, Alan Lomax: Selected Writings, 1934-1997 (New York: Routledge, 2003), 155-156. 73
Kaila kantuz ogipetik The quail sings from under the wheat uztail agorriletan. around July and August. Maitiagandik etxerakoan, When going from home to where my beloved went home, entzun izan dut bortzetan, I have heard it many times amodioak bainerabilkan because love makes me wander haren bortaño leihotan. for its door and windows.
Bazterretik bazterrera, From side to side, oi munduaren zabala! how vast is the world! Eztakienak errango luke [Those] who do not know it (or do not know me) would say ni alegera naizela: that I am happy: Hortzetan dizdiz irriak eta, [Even though] smiles shine on my teeth, bi begietan nigarra. 112 I have tears in my eyes.113
Erkoreka takes the melancholy from the original song and creates a piece that is “a
simple evocation, quite diatonic in nature, with more atmospheric textures.”114 Although there are no pure triadic structures or traditional harmonic progressions in Kaila Kantuz, it is much more restrained in its use of dissonances compared to the vast majority of Erkoreka’s output. The
112 Patxi Mendiburu. “Mariano Izeta, para Alan Lomax (Elizondo, 1953). http://patximendiburu.blogspot.com/2018/03/mariano-izeta-para-alan-lomax.html. Accessed 10 May 2021. 113 English translation by the author based on Mendiburu’s translation to Spanish:
La codorniz canta desde debajo del trigo allá por julio y agosto. Al ir de casa de donde mi amada hacia casa, la he oído muchas veces pues el amor me hace rondar por su puertica y ventanas.
De lado a lado, ¡que vasto es el mundo! El que no sepa (no me conoce) diría que soy feliz: En los dientes brillan las sonrisas, (pero) tengo el llanto en los ojos. 114 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 74 melodic interest, due to its relationship to the folk song, also contributes to this sense of calm and stability.
The piece consists of short statements and melodic fragments in the middle register alternated with arpeggio-like gestures in the extreme high and low registers. Most of these septuplet figures, commentaries surrounding the long line in the middle of the piano, begin with the first note in one extreme (high or low) of the piano followed by six notes in the opposite register. The first two measures (ex. 2.21) show both gestures, one beginning in the low register, the other one in the high register:
Music Example 2.21. Erkoreka, Kaila Kantuz, mm. 1-2.
The next two measures show a greater degree of activity in the middle register, embellished by just one gesture. The allusion to the folk song starts at m. 5, on the G at the top of the downbeat chord. The first two lines of the folksong are shown below.
Music Example 2.22. Kaila Kantuz, folksong, transposed (transcribed by the author). 75
The quotation in Erkoreka’s piece is sparse and incomplete, but recognizable. The melody is interrupted at the end of m. 6 (ex. 2.23) by a gesture of a different nature, starting in the middle register and evenly distributed between the hands. The abrupt loud chords following this gesture represent the dynamic peak of the piece. Towards the end, melodic fragments appear two octaves below the original statement between the gesture at the extreme ends of the piano.
Combined, these fragments almost exactly match the second half of the original folk melody.
The piece ends with an E♭9 chord followed by an elaboration of the beginning gestures. In the example below, the upper staff is in treble clef and the lower staff is in bass clef.
Music Example 2.23. Kaila Kantuz, mm. 5-6.
When speaking of this composition, Erkoreka said that the idea behind it was to
“transcribe [Kaila Kantuz] and hide it in the piece.”115 The effect he achieves is that of a melody which wants to be sung, to be heard, but is too weak to keep going – something heard in the distance, blurred in the listener’s mind. This technique of hiding cultural elements in a piece is used sparingly in Mundaka, one of his longest works.
115 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 76
2.5 Mundaka
The level of complexity in Erkoreka’s piano works has steadily increased since Nubes I,
except for Kaila Kantuz. This is observed in Jaia and Dos Zortzikos, but Erkoreka takes a step further in that direction with Mundaka. Of this period, Descalzo says that “at a certain point […] he decided to dedicate himself exclusively to composition and not to play the piano professionally anymore – not that this is a bad thing, of course.”116 In addition to being fully dedicated to composition at this point, Erkoreka has expressed interest in contrapuntal writing since Jaia.
Mundaka was written in 2009 and premiered by Juan Carlos Garvayo on 28 November of that year at the VII Festival de Música Española de Cadiz (Spanish Music Festival in Cadiz). The date marked the 100th anniversary of Albéniz’s death and 150th anniversary of his birth, which
was celebrated by the project Una Iberia para Albéniz (An Iberia for Albéniz).117 For this project, the festival commissioned twelve prominent Spanish composers to write one piece each in reference to the twelve pieces in Albéniz’s suite Ibéria. All pieces were premiered and
subsequently recorded by Garvayo.118 Each composer was asked to choose a location or
landscape in Spain as an inspiration for their work. Erkoreka chose Mundaka, a small village by
the coast of Biscay.119
Mundaka is centered on two fundamental principles. The first one is the coexistence of
two distinct pianistic approaches which Erkoreka has explored in previous pieces: the colorful,
116 Descalzo, Interview with the author. 117 Rosa Torres Ruiz, Reynaldo Fernández Manzano, VII Festival de Música Española de Cadiz, Festival Booklet (Consejería de Cultura y Patrimonio Histórico: Cadiz, Spain 2009), 45. Albéniz’s 150th birthday was actually in May 2010, but it was anticipated to be celebrated in that year’s festival. 118 VII Festival de Música Española de Cadiz, Festival Booklet, translated by the author. 119 Gabriel Erkoreka, Mundaka (Barcelona: Tritó Edicions, 2009), Program notes. 77
delicate, and impressionist textures of Nubes I, and the harsh, violent sounds of Dos Zortzikos.120
The second significant feature is the use of distinct contrapuntal layers. While this is already
observed in Jaia and Dos Zortzikos, this technique is used in the most explicit manner in the first four pages of Mundaka. Furthermore, Erkoreka’s description of “transcribing [a folk song] and hiding it” in Kaila Kantuz can be applied to how he concealed the zortziko rhythm in Mundaka.
In addition, this piece is structurally more uniform, much less fragmented than Jaia and Ballade
no. 2, for instance. Combined, the result is arguably his most complex and abstract work for solo
piano to date.
Mundaka can be divided in two parts, and the second part can be further divided in two
sections. The two large parts are connected by transitional material, which is partly used between
both subsections of the second part. Due to the constant use of bars with unspecified time
signature, long segments with no bar lines, and the uneven placement of double bars (a common
feature in Erkoreka’s scores), it is unwise to guide an analysis through measure numbers.
Instead, page number (pp. 2-10) and system (from top to bottom) will be used as reference.
Therefore, the sections will be labeled as: section A (p. 2 to the second system of p. 6), transition
T (from second system of p. 6 to second system of p. 7), section B1 (second system of p. 7 to
first system of p. 9), and section B2 (first system of p. 9 to the end, in p. 10).
Section A is unified by the coexistence of tenderness and harshness. Beginning at the
extreme low register, Erkoreka makes one statement of the zortziko rhythm concealed by a run in
thirty-second notes around it, after which the three distinct layers begin in succession, from the
top staff to the bottom one. Layer a is a long series of notes moving up and down, mainly
through wide intervals and fast subdivisions, such as eighth-note triplet, sixteenth notes, and
120 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 78 sixteenth-note quintuplets. This layer, printed in small font, is to be played softer than the others, and with some rhythmic flexibility.121 Layer b is a sequence of short melodic fragments in double notes, mostly in simple and long rhythmic structures such as eighth notes and quarter notes. Layer c, the last one to be introduced, works as a drone, in a way, with loud and harsh iterations of notes centered around the exact middle of the piano: the pitches E4 and F4. Example
2.24 shows the initial zortziko rhythm and the staggered entrances of each layer.
The constant repetitions of the central pitches are an allusion to the copla, a traditional style of song from Andalusia, consisting of melodic fragments with repeated notes.122 This melodic style is often found in the piano music of Albéniz, such as “Almería,” the second piece from Book 2 of Ibéria.123 An excerpt from the middle section of “Almería” (ex. 2.25) illustrates this type of melody.
Music Example 2.24. Erkoreka, Mundaka, first two systems.
121 Erkoreka, Mundaka, Program notes. 122 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 123 One of the examples used by Erkoreka to illustrate what a copla is. 79
Music Example 2.25. Albéniz, “Almería,” from Ibéria, mm. 99-104.
Erkoreka moves each layer to different staves, and two of them appear in different registers through this section. Only layer c, the drone in the middle register, is kept at the center of the piano throughout the whole section A. In four places, the composer develops layer c into a gesture in thirty-second notes. These are similar in character to the interjections in Jaia and
Zortziko no. 1 (see exs. 2.5, 2.20a, and 2.20b), but less important for phrase structure in
Mundaka. A similar gesture also appears in Erkoreka’s Ballade no. 2 (ex. 2.27).
Music Example 2.26. Mundaka, p. 4, second system, middle staff.
Music Example 2.27. Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 5, first system, middle staff, treble clef.
Section A ends abruptly with a harsh chord based on minor seconds around the E4-F4 area and a descending line towards the lowest note of the piano, after which the pianist lifts the 80 pedal while holding the small cluster with the fingers, thus retaining these notes. This filtering effect can be traced back to Ian Pace’s description of “dissolves” as used in some of Finnissy’s piano music mentioned in the analysis of Jaia.124 This is the beginning of T, the transition to section B1. For most of it, Erkoreka insists on the middle register texture, but this time uses long sustained chords with gradual melodic movement within the texture. Still in the realm of opposite approaches to sound coexisting, these are paired with dry punctuations in the low register. A succession of three tremolos played in crescendo, each culminating in a greater dynamic level than the previous one, marks the ending of T.
The second half of Mundaka stands in great contrast to the first one. The harshness of section A is only used sparingly in sections B1 and B2 while the impressionist approach takes over. Throughout both sections, Erkoreka makes great use of the gestural language inspired by
Debussy and Ravel used in Nubes I: wide jumps, arpeggios covering multiple registers, playing in both extremes of the instrument simultaneously, greater use of soft dynamics etc. While section A uses single bars irregularly, the first double bar – which marks the beginning of T – does not appear until p. 6; from this point on, however, Erkoreka uses the latter abundantly.
Rather than describing what happens between each pair of double bars, I divided this second half into two sections around a fermata at the first system of p. 9 – incidentally, the only fermata after T, except for another one at the last measure of the piece. One excerpt from p. 7, shown below, offers a good demonstration of the gestural vocabulary described above. The only major difference between B1 and B2 is the reappearance of the zortziko rhythm, albeit in a highly complex manner.
124 Ian Pace, “The Piano Music,” in Uncommon Ground: The Music of Michael Finnissy, edited by Henrietta Brougham, Christopher Fox, and Ian Pace (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1997), 54. 81
Music Example 2.28. Mundaka, p. 7, last three systems.
Section B2 is split into five chunks by the composer through double bars in alternating degrees of activity. The first, third, and fifth portions are in the sparse, delicate, impressionist language described above, while the second and fourth ones are characterized by a long sequence of notes in one hand against the zortziko rhythm in the other. Both of these phrases consist of four measures in traditional meter. In the first phrase (end of p. 9), each measure is shorter than the previous, going from 5/4 to 4/4 to 3/4 and ending in 2/4 before the unmetered gestures resume; the second phrase does the exact opposite, going from 2/4 back to 5/4. Here, Erkoreka manipulates the zortziko rhythm within a highly sophisticated polyrhythmic structure.
In the first of these two phrases, the LH consists of regular sixteenth-note quintuplets, and some notes are notated in a separate voice to highlight a hidden zortziko pattern across the 82
quintuplets. Erkoreka writes two zortziko cells in this LH, the second one in diminution,
compared to the first. Meanwhile, the RH plays one zortziko cell covering each measure. Since
only the first one in this sequence is in 5/4, the others are notated as tuplets. Given that each
measure is one beat shorter than the previous one and the zortziko cell is presented in its full
form every time, the illusion is that of an acceleration of the dance.
In the second phrase (p. 10), the LH takes over the straight zortziko rhythm while the RH
plays the long run, this time in sextuplets. This time, the effect is reversed: the LH zortziko is gradually expanded to a 5/4 measure, at which point the dance can finally be heard in a rational rhythm again. At the same time, Erkoreka notates certain notes of the RH sextuplet run in a separate voice to highlight other instances of the dance rhythm within a complex structure. Since the number of beats is the same for both phrases but each of them is divided in six equal parts in the second phrase, the composer manages to present three distinct cells in the top layer.
The short segment after the last zortziko phrase picks up from the perceived stretching,
following it with a molto rallentando, each note a bit softer and more distant, with the hands
moving in opposite directions. The piece ends with a suddenly loud gesture, played secco. Here,
the pianist presses the sustain pedal a split second after playing the last note, thus catching some
of the resonance, not all of it. Example 2.25 shows the rhythmic elaborations described above,
without the last system. 83
Music Example 2.29. Mundaka, last two systems of p. 9 and four systems of p. 10. 84
The passage shown above presents one of the greatest rhythmic challenges in Erkoreka’s
piano works so far. Speaking of the pieces written after Nubes II, Descalzo says: “their rate of
complexity increased a lot [since Nubes] – suddenly five times, ten times more complex than
Nubes I, or even Nubes II (which is more complex than the first piece).”125 Regarding Jaia and
Dos Zortzikos, his remarks could be interpreted as somewhat hyperbolic, but Mundaka certainly lives up to this statement!
Most works discussed in this chapter have strong roots in the canonic piano literature, at least to some extent. Despite the connection with Albéniz’s Iberia, Mundaka is less connected to idiomatic piano writing; rather, the composer seems to be interested in experimenting with complex rhythms and musical abstraction to the limit. Erkoreka has since scaled back the level of complexity in his piano music, and his ongoing project of four Ballades shows a slightly different approach to technique and style. The last section of this chapter is devoted to the second work of this series.
2.6 Ballade no. 2
The last piece analyzed in this chapter is the second of an ongoing series of four Ballades for piano. As the title and number of works suggest, these works are inspired by the Ballades op.
10 by Brahms and the Ballades opp. 23, 38, 47, and 52 by Chopin. Each work is dedicated to the memory of a French composer: Pierre Boulez, Edgard Varèse, Olivier Messiaen, and Gerard
Grisey, respectively. For each work, Erkoreka chose one or two works by their respective dedicatees to reference in his own work, although in an obscure way. In addition, each work is dedicated to a pianist: the first three works are dedicated to Alfonso Gómez, Jonathan Powell, and Alberto Rosado (who premiered their respective pieces) while the fourth piece is dedicated
125 Descalzo, Interview with the author. 85 to and will be premiered by Nicolas Hodges. Erkoreka describes the genesis of this project as follows:
[Around 2015] I had the idea of writing a lengthy piano piece – not a sonata, but something longer than the previous works. However, after the death of Pierre Boulez, I was suggested to write a piece in his memory. At that point, my mind went in a completely different direction, and I decided to write four Ballades, inspired by the four Ballades of Chopin and Brahms’s Ballades op. 10 (I have played the latter collection myself, as well as Chopin’s third Ballade). These two ideas were floating around in my head. It can be a strange idea to have a piece called “ballade” dedicated to Boulez, but that is why this piece is so fragmented, so turbulent, and constantly interrupted. It still has a connection to the previous models by Brahms and Chopin, but I do not have the pretension to write a piece with such an emotional impact.126
The determination to write a longer piece led Erkoreka to his current writing style for the instrument. His description of the first Ballade as “fragmented and constantly interrupted” applies to the second work as well. Nevertheless, this is because any given material in these pieces is barely developed before it is interrupted, and phrases constantly change direction.
Although this is true, the composer shows a greater sense of continuity and dramatic trajectory in these pieces compared to his earlier works. Despite the fact that he uses more double bars in these pieces to delineate distinct phrases, the contrast between two adjacent sections is not as shocking as in Jaia and Dos Zortzikos, for instance.
Because of their shared influence from the models of Chopin and Brahms, there is a common thread in the first two Ballades by Erkoreka, similar to the gestural space shared by
Nubes I and Nubes II. Since his second Ballade mirrors some of the poetic and dramatic path displayed in Chopin’s Ballade op. 38 to a greater extent than his first piece, the second piece was chosen for this analysis.127 The eleven sections in this piece are henceforth labeled with bold
126 Erkoreka, Interview with the author. 127 Erkoreka was still in the process of writing the third Ballade by the time of the interview. 86 capital letters from A to K. Although there are some recurring motives and phrases, it would be confusing to refer to them as elaborations on previous sections (B and B’, for instance). Contrary to most of his earlier works, Erkoreka provides detailed pedal markings for the whole piece, including flutter pedal and the exact point of pedal change. Although there are multiple changes, he never directs the pianist to fully release the pedal except for two quasi-percussive short gestures in the middle. For most of the piece, the composer refrains from the percussive quality of the instrument he explored in some previous works, except for a literal percussive element: knocking on the piano lid.128
The piece begins in a rather somber mood. In section A, Erkoreka uses the extreme low and high registers of the piano in the pp-mp dynamic range. The melodic material of both hands consists of the four highest and lowest chromatic notes in the piano, occasionally interrupted by loud interjections in the middle register. The gradual crescendo culminates on a brief suspension of the resonance, and the section ends on a single D3, which is repeated and held across the double bar. Section B focuses on the middle register of the instrument. In the last system of the first page, Erkoreka introduces a gesture consisting of a succession of descending minor thirds
(D♭-B♭). The composer also introduces the knocking technique which is played in rhythmic unison with the minor thirds. This is followed by material which bears some resemblance to
Nubes I in its use of a low tremolo, arpeggios built on sevenths and ninths, and two chords in the high register played sff and pp, respectively. The example below shows the first occurrence of the descending thirds accompanied by knocking on the lid.
128 Possibly a reference to Varèse and his importance in percussion music. 87
Music Example 2.30. Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, first page, last system.
The D♭-B♭ gesture is repeated again before the next section begins, this time
accompanied by parallel fifths in the LH, a veiled reference to Amériques by Varèse.129 The
minor third gesture becomes a tremolo. The example below shows this tremolo and how
Erkoreka carefully manipulates dynamics and rhythm for expressive purposes.
Music Example 2.31. Ballade no. 2, p. 2, beginning of second system.
Erkoreka seamlessly transitions to section C. The main material of this section is a two- part counterpoint in which both hands play a line in quarter notes offset by one eighth note. This is a direct reference to the first measures of Brahms’s Ballade op. 10 no. 2 (see ex. 1.1).
129 Powell, Interview with the author. 88
Erkoreka’s manipulation of this material is shown below. In this example, the upper staff is in
treble clef and the lower staff is in bass clef.
Music Example 2.32. Ballade no. 2, melodic fragments from pp. 2 and 7.
Section D starts at the end of p. 2. The first three sections in Erkoreka’s piece relate to the
Andantino in Chopin’s Ballade op. 38 in that there are no great dynamic contrasts or abrupt changes in character. D, on the other hand, is the first outburst in Erkoreka’s piece, which is
analogous to the presto con fuoco section of Chopin’s Ballade (see ex. 1.3). Although the
gestures in both hands are slightly different, the sudden increase in volume and the fact that both
hands start on the same pitches as Chopin’s presto con fuoco allows this reference to stand out.
Music Example 2.33. Ballade no. 2, p. 2, last system.
After two iterations of this gesture, Erkoreka proceeds with a long sequence of tremolos.
Similar to section B, the composer gradually changes notes of the tremolos and notates rhythms 89 and dynamics to explore their expressive potential – this time spanning four systems. Except for a brief interruption of this texture, the composer keeps this texture through section E. After a brief continuation of the previous tremolos, Erkoreka brings the descending motive in thirds from section B again, first accompanied by knocking in rhythmic unison, and subsequently harmonized with parallel augmented chords in the LH. Section F is unified around multiple iterations of the C♯ above middle C, and the gestures built around it are a veiled reference to
Octandre by Varèse.130 Erkoreka is noticeably focused on the middle register in sections D through F. This may be interpreted as a parallel to Chopin’s insistence on the siciliano motive from the third section of Ballade op. 38 (see ex. 1.2a).
Music Example 2.34. Ballade no. 2, p. 4, third system.
Erkoreka carries the gesture around the middle C♯ through the beginning of section G.
This section displays two references to Chopin. One of them is the main theme from the
“reckoning” section,131 while the other is the sequence of trills right before it. In both pieces, a string of trills and tremolos in the low register prepares the character of the following section.
Both excerpts from each piece are shown below for comparison.
130 Powell, Interview with the author. 131 Usually referred to as the coda, a rather problematic terminology; see Bellman (2010), 94. 90
Music Example 2.35. Chopin, Ballade op. 38, first two measures of the Agitato section.
Music Example 2.36. Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 5, third system.
Music Example 2.37. Chopin, Ballade op. 38, trills in the low register.
Music Example 2.38. Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 6. Both hands are written in bass clef. 91
Section H is a recapitulation of D to a certain extent, given that both begin with the same gesture in contrary motion (see ex. 2.33). However, this section is much more turbulent because of the wider gestures, the faster subdivisions used in the Chopin-inspired gesture, and the fast runs in the LH that follow. This section is also the climax of Erkoreka’s Ballade. In the fourth and fifth systems, he uses a gesture, shown below, that can be traced back both to the reckoning section of Chopin’s Ballade (see ex. 1.3) and the second movement of Nubes I (see ex. 2.3).
Music Example 2.39. Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 6, last system.
The last page of the piece contains the last three sections. From this point on, Erkoreka
gradually decreases dynamics and tempo, and they present a recollection of some ideas from
previous sections. In addition, these ideas become gradually more fragmented towards the end.
Section I presents the last iteration of the descending motive accompanied by knocking on the
piano lid and a tremolo with the same pitch content found in section B. Meanwhile, section J
contains fragments of gestures from multiple sections. Erkoreka begins section K by stating a
fragmented version of the Brahms-inspired contrapuntal melodies. Finally, in the same way
Chopin brings back the siciliano motive in the end of his Ballade (see ex. 1.2b), Erkoreka ends
his work in the same register and pitch content of the beginning, although in a different rhythmic
organization (ex. 2.40). 92
Music Example 2.40. Erkoreka, Ballade no. 2, p. 7, last system.
The whole segment from I to K consists of a conclusion of the piece by presenting melodic and gestural fragments used before, and Erkoreka refrains from introducing any new material. Therefore, Bellman’s definition of coda fits this ending, to a certain extent. 93
CHAPTER 3. SUGGESTIONS FOR PERFORMANCE
The piano music of Gabriel Erkoreka can be challenging even to a pianist who is familiar
with contemporary music. The composer’s intrinsic understanding of the instrument from a
performer’s perspective (ch. 1.5), the vast array of cultural influences, musical or otherwise (ch.
1.7), and the level of complexity acquired during and after his postgraduate studies (chs. 1.1 and
1.6) contribute to a unique and original musical language that is also unquestionably indebted to
the sources mentioned before. In this chapter, I propose solutions to some of the problems that
one would likely face when learning the compositions analyzed in chapter two. These
suggestions are based on my experience learning and performing three of these works, Nubes I,
Dos Zortzikos, and Ballade no. 2, supplemented by insights from the pianists interviewed for this project.
3.1 General Notes
The first general suggestion is to have a foundational understanding of the influences behind these works, mentioned in chapter one. This could be achieved by reading about the piano literature explored by Erkoreka, listening to some of the piano works (with a score, if possible), and, ideally, having the experience of learning and performing them. While the
Ballades by Brahms and Chopin are often played and heard in conservatories and universities, the music of Albéniz and Granados is not performed as much outside of Europe. Piano students will have a better understanding of the typical styles associated with Spanish music by learning how to perform it, thus expanding their musical vocabulary. Since Erkoreka alludes to that characteristic language in some of his piano works, students who wish to learn his music will benefit from understanding its background. 94
One of the most common technical challenges across Erkoreka’s piano works is the use
of trills and tremolos. The composer uses them in abundance in Nubes I, Dos Zortzikos, and the
Ballades nos. 1 and 2, and to a lesser extent in Nubes II and Mundaka. Gómez recommends one to practice tremolos with “a minimum of attack, without reaching the bottom of the key.”132 This
is especially useful to avoid fatigue and to facilitate agile execution of long passages in tremolos
and repeated notes. In addition, I recommend two approaches during practice: playing the
tremolo notes as block chords when possible (if the resulting chord spans an octave or less) and
measuring tremolos in determinate subdivisions of the beat. The first technique prevents the
wrist from rotating uncontrollably while also reducing the accumulated tension through long
passages in tremolos. Measuring the tremolos, on the other hand, secures an accurate
understanding of the hand choreography when practicing in a slow tempo.
Performing them at full speed is, naturally, a different matter. William Fried, an Artist
Associate at Davidson College, wrote an article about his experience learning Tristan Murail’s
Territoires de l’oubli. The pianist, who has performed the piece many times, including for the
composer himself, describes the concept of “synonymous notation”133 in the context of certain
sections in Murail’s work. Fried asserts that the notation in Territoires suggests that the
performer should “practice the rhythm [but] play the effect.”134 Although this relates to a distinct
notational strategy in a completely different musical setting, the suggestion applies to trills and
tremolos, since the notation of such techniques does not always prescribe determinate sonorous
results. In fact, Fried uses an example from a piano sonata by Mozart to illustrate different ways
132 Gómez, Interview with the author. 133 William Fried, “Learning to Perform Murail’s Territoires de l’oubli: Suggestive Content in Synonymous Temporal Musical Notation”, Perspectives of New Music 52 no. 3 (Autumn 2014), 70. 134 Fried, “Learning to Perform Murail’s Territoires de l’oubli,” 75. 95
to realize a trill, and how they could be used in practice, even though the effect or result in
performance would still be a trill.135 Varying the number of subdivisions in practice will
guarantee a high degree of control over different playing speeds for the same tremolo, which is
useful to achieve the required variety in dynamics – sometimes ranging from ppp to fff.
The rhythmic aspect in Erkoreka’s music also poses unique challenges to the performer.
Hills provides a good insight into the reconciliation of intricate, modernist rhythmic structures
and dance patterns.
It’s important to think in layers, and to bring clarity to the rhythm. The dance rhythm has to be precise, and it will provide a reference for everything else. […] I would say that it has to be accurate and sounding in the sense that 19th-century music is accurate; […] then, you can engage with the complexities around them. Otherwise, the piece won’t make sense.136
In a similar vein, Powell highlights that “Erkoreka’s music […] has to be contained
within the rhythmic feel, […] with a clear sense of pulse and meter, which is often absent from a
lot of Contemporary piano music.”137 This is crucial when considering a performance of Jaia
and Dos Zortzikos based on how closely related they are to their respective sources – jota and
zortziko. That being said, it is useful to consider a careful approach to the complex polyrhythms
in a way that organically integrates them to the dances.
Polyrhythms are two or more distinct pulses based on different ratios that coincide after a
certain number of cycles.138 Mathematically, this has some relation to the concept of Least
Common Multiple (LCM), which is “the smallest positive integer that is an integer multiple of
135 Fried, “Learning to Perform Murail’s Territoires de l’oubli,” 90-91. The speed of a trill, both in practice and performance, often varies from one performer to another. 136 Hills, Interview with the author. 137 Powell, Interview with the author. 138 This section on polyrhythms consists of my synthesis of materials learned from Aiyun Huang’s workshop in the 2018 soundSCAPE Festival and Adam Neely’s video “7:11 Polyrhythms.” 96
every element of the set.”139 For instance, the LCM of 3 and 4 is 12 because 12 it is the smallest
positive number to appear in the series of multiples of 3 and 4. In musical terms, this means that for a rhythmic pattern that stresses every third pulse against another one stressing every fourth pulse, they will meet once every twelve pulses. For a better visualization of this, see the table below.140
Table 3.1. 3:4 matrix for the practice of a 3:4 polyrhythm. 2 3 1 2 4 1 3 4
Consider x the number of rows and y the number of columns. In order to figure out an x:y
polyrhythm, one needs to draw a matrix containing x rows with y numbers (y columns). In the
example above, the matrix contains x = 3 rows with y = 4 columns, which allows the student to
figure out how a 3:4 polyrhythm sounds. Once the table is drawn, one needs to circle the top left
number 1, and circle every x (every 3 numbers, in this case) number of cells after it by counting
through each row, from top to bottom. The circled numbers represent the y counterpulse,
whereas the 1s represent the x pulse. In order to make this work, one must count out loud the
numbers through rows, from left to right, from top to bottom. Meanwhile, one hand taps a table
or one’s own leg whenever the number 1 is counted, while the other hand taps every time a
circled number is counted. Assuming that the left hand is beating the pulse, the 1s, while the
139 Scott Contini, “Least Common Multiple”, in Encyclopedia of Cryptography and Security (2011). 140 Adam Neely, “7:11 Polyrhythms,” uploaded on 25 February 2019, YouTube video, 3:04-4:06, https://youtu.be/U9CgR2Y6XO4. 97 right is beating the counter pulse, the circles, this means that the LH beats three pulses in the same period of time it takes the RH to beat four pulses. By writing the three rows one above the other and underlining the pulses beaten by each hand (see table below), the relationship between both pulses becomes clear.
Table 3.2. Linear representation of a 3:4 polyrhythm.
RH 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4
LH 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4
Regardless of the speed at which the numbers are being counted, this is, strictly speaking, a 3:4 polyrhythm. The problem is that, when performed at a slow pace, it is difficult to feel the composite rhythm, which is the resulting sound generated by the juxtaposition of two or more pulses in different ratios. In other words, it is the combined rhythm of the underlined numbers of both lines. The goal is to gradually increase the speed enough that it will be too fast to count the numbers, at which point it will be easier to hear the composite rhythm. At some point, the cycles become too fast to clearly count the numbers. This method also helps visualizing where each beat falls in relation to the other pulse: supposing that the LH represents the quarter-note pulse in a 3/4 meter, the RH represents four evenly spaced beats on top of the main pulse. In this case, the second pulse in the RH falls just a bit before the second pulse in the LH, whereas the third RH pulse falls exactly in between pulses 2 and 3 of LH, and finally, the fourth pulse in the RH is hit just a bit after the third pulse in the LH. Having this relationship between both ratios in mind will facilitate the student’s understanding of the composite rhythm.
Polyrhythms of more complex ratios such as 5:7 and 5:8 will naturally take more time to learn, as the cycles will take longer to complete, and it takes longer to internalize the composite rhythm. However, the process is the same: draw the matrix, circle the right numbers, start 98 counting and tapping with both hands, and after a certain time, with diligent practice, the rhythms will gradually become more natural. The matrices below were made for the practice of
5:6, 5:7, and 5:8 polyrhythms.
Table 3.3. 5:6 matrix for the practice of a 5:6 polyrhythm. 2 3 4 5 1 2 3 4 6 1 2 3 5 6 1 2 4 5 6 1 3 4 5 6
Table 3.4. 5:7 matrix for the practice of a 5:7 polyrhythm. 2 3 4 5 7 1 2 3 5 6 7 1 3 4 5 6 1 2 3 4 6 7 1 2 4 5 6 7
Table 3.5. 5:8 matrix for the practice of a 5:8 polyrhythm. 2 3 4 5 7 8 1 2 4 5 6 7 1 2 3 4 6 7 8 1 3 4 5 6 8 1 2 3 5 6 7 8 99
The practice towards accuracy for polyrhythms of these kinds is a time-consuming task,
but it is important to put it into practice. If possible, it is a good idea to find a didactic piece in
which the context makes these complicated rhythms a bit less scary, before tackling a passage
like the second section of Erkoreka’s Zortziko no. 2. To that end, a good “practice piece” would
be Michael Finnissy’s Sonata for (toy) piano (2007). The piece is written in just one staff, and
most of it is written in one or two voices. There is no explicit time signature, but most measures
are written in 3/8, occasionally changing to 5/8. Tuplets of five, six, seven, and eight are used to
create the illusion of an improvised figure, shown in example 3.1.
Music Example 3.1. Finnissy, Sonata for (toy) piano, mm. 14-30.
In the context of a single melodic line, it is possible to focus exclusively on the
proportions within each tuplet. Once the pianist has enough control over a pattern like this, the
transition to complex passages such as the B section of the second Zortziko will be considerably
less laborious. However, as Powell and Hills state, the rhythmic drive of pieces such as Jaia and
Dos Zortzikos comes primarily from the dance patterns. Therefore, performers should not sacrifice the traditional rhythms for the sake of preserving the complexities surrounding them.
Specific suggestions for each piece are provided in the following sections. 100
3.2 Nubes I
Nubes I could be used as an introductory piece for the pianist who wants to become acquainted with Erkoreka’s musical language.141 When touching on the composer’s orchestral writing, Hills states that “Ravel was a big inspiration for orchestral sound, but he has the ability to write in a very un-Ravelian language, yet with some touches of Ravel’s orchestration such as clarity of voicing and a great variety of color.”142 A similar parallel exists between their piano music. Therefore, the approach to sound in a performance of a piece by Ravel or Debussy fits this piece very well.
In the previous chapter, I mentioned Erkoreka’s dissatisfaction with spatial notation after
Nubes I. That being said, the beginning of “Cúmulos…” (the first movement) is best performed at a tempo slow enough to allow the resonances to be heard. The metronome indication (quarter- note = 60) is adequate for the beginning, but the pianist might be a bit more flexible with the unmeasured sections, depending on the acoustic properties of the piano and the hall. The following più mosso should be noticeably faster but still within a lento-like atmosphere.
As described in the general notes, measuring the tremolos for practice purposes is most desirable. In the context of “…nimbos”, this allows for proper control of the dynamic swells.
Following the long tremolos, the water-inspired passages should start softly and delicately
(crystalline). The pianist can experiment with practicing the arpeggios without any pedal using staccato articulation to achieve fast finger action for these overtly impressionist textures. For the tremolos in the middle register followed by gestures in contrary motion on p. 11, it is virtually impossible to take any tempo reference from the previous figure; instead, just make sure that the
141 It was the first work by the composer that Descalzo, Garvayo, and Gómez performed. 142 Hills, Interview with the author. 101
proportions between the tremolos are correct. Given the sequence of five, four, three, and six
beats per measure and the fact that the following gestures are the same length every time, one
should hear each interjection coming faster than the previous one, except for the 6/4 measure.
For the muted pitches at the very end, the choice of which hand should go inside the piano is up to the performer. For this piece, I advise against muting the strings too far away from the bridge, as this type of muting brings out some of the high partials as harmonics, which will
disturb the desired effect. In any case, the pianist must observe the natural curvature of their
hand. Simply placing the hand laterally on the bass strings will likely not mute all strings
equally. Here, the performer can bring their thumb closer to the fifth finger in order to cover
some of the strings to guarantee uniform muting across the cluster of a perfect fifth (or as close
as possible to that range, if the performer’s hand is not large enough).
3.3 Jaia
Hills, Powell, and Erkoreka himself describe at length the connection between Jaia and
the idiomatic language of Albéniz’s piano works, especially Navarra. For this reason, I advise
the pianist to learn this piece in advance, or at least listen to it often, following the score and
absorbing as much of it as possible. A certain familiarity with Finnissy’s piano works, such as
English Country-Tunes will be beneficial as well, mostly for the slow sections in this piece.
The shift from vertical, resonant structures in Nubes I to the linear, contrapuntal writing
in Jaia should not go unnoticed. For the first major section, the interjections should have a
distinct character from the long legato lines. Even those with a pedal indication under them
should possess the same finger articulation, to guarantee that these gestures are detached from
the melodic line. 102
The B section (mm. 38-53) presents the greatest rhythmic challenge of this piece. For
each measure, one hand plays a gesture in rational rhythms while the other plays a figure based
on complex tuplets, and the regular rhythm changes from one hand to the other almost every
measure. I recommend isolating the rational rhythms and only playing through them a few times.
For instance, the LH contains regular subdivisions in measures 38 and 40, while the RH takes
them over in measures 39 and 41. By playing only the hand with the rational rhythms, the pianist
will be able to understand how this passage flows, and once this is learned, they can incorporate
the tuplets. For performance purposes, both layers should be played in the same dynamic range.
In a practice session, however, the pianist will benefit from playing either the regular
subdivisions or the tuplets one dynamic level louder.
Section C (mm. 82-106), the climax of the composition, fits Powell’s description of
Erkoreka’s “exuberant [and] flamboyant writing.”143 The powerful orchestral sounds from Liszt
and Rachmaninoff, for instance, are more appropriate than harsh, percussive attacks – attention
to the composer’s indication that the middle staff should be deliberately louder than the rest. All
slow sections are mysterious in nature, reflecting the “improvisation on paper” described by
Hills.
3.4 Dos Zortzikos
The question of which Zortziko should be played first is best answered when taking the
rest of the program into consideration. In the context of a full-length piano recital, I suggest two
solutions. First, if there is another large-scale work in the program which the performer wants to
highlight, Dos Zortzikos could be placed in the first half (either the first piece on the program or right before intermission), with Zortziko no. 1 played first. Second, if Erkoreka’s work is the
143 Powell, Interview with the author. 103 main piece on the program, I would suggest placing this collection at the very end and playing
Zortziko no. 2 first. In the Performing Directions for his open form work Klavierstück XI,
Karlheinz Stockhausen suggests that, if possible, the piece should be played twice in the course of a program, so that audiences will have an opportunity to hear different versions of the same piece. Erkoreka does not give this suggestion for Dos Zortzikos; nonetheless, if the opportunity arises, the performer might consider the option of playing one version of it in the beginning and the other one at the end of the recital.
The most striking aspect of this piece is the long passages of loud and percussive playing at the end of Zortziko no. 1 and beginning of no. 2. These sections should be almost jarring to the listener, but the pianist has to be careful with how they manage it. Powell recommends that
“dynamics need to be interpreted relative to themselves within a particular region, rather than each level being absolute.”144 This is particularly important to avoid fatigue and injuries.
Gómez’s advice about practicing tremolos with less attack is also helpful in mm. 55-103 of the first Zortziko.
The pianist should approach the first two pages of the first piece with some of the improvisatory quality of the slow sections from Jaia – perhaps thinking about Fried’s idea of
“learning the notation and performing the effect.”145 For the third page, however, the polyrhythms should be learned with utmost precision (see ch. 3.1). For this passage, I recommend learning all polyrhythms in relation to the eighth-note triplet, instead of the regular eighth note. The main reason for this choice is the fact that this is the most frequent subdivision in this passage, thus making it the most suitable pivot to the intricate ratio transitions.
144 Powell, Interview with the author. 145 Paraphrased from Fried, “Learning to Perform Murail’s Territoires de l’oubli,” 75. 104
Furthermore, in most musical contexts, it is easier to default to subdivisions of three notes and play four on top of them without rushing than the other way around – even though the math is the same.
Practicing the first section of the second Zortziko can quickly become uncomfortable due to the rather unusual combination of extremely loud and percussive sounds in the extreme registers of the keyboard. One way to mitigate this discomfort during practice sessions is to play the LH one octave above and the RH one octave below the original sound, i.e., to eliminate the
8va and 8vb indications. With this strategy, the pianist will likely be able to pay more attention to the pitch content and more effectively detect any inaccuracies before they become a habit.
The section from measures 34 to 62 is quite unusual in that Erkoreka places the steady
5/8 rhythm in the RH while the LH wanders in tuplets of six, seven, eight, and nine on top of the measure. Such complex ratios would be difficult enough to execute in the top layer, but their placement at the low register of the instrument is extraordinarily disorienting for the pianist. In performance, the statement by Hills and Powell about prioritizing the steady rhythmic drive holds true. During practice, however, the pianist should aim for complete accuracy in the LH as well. Erkoreka’s indication of poco rubato is informative of the character of that line, but I argue that, unless the pianist is completely sure of where each note of the tuplet falls in relation to the
5/8 pulse, it would take them too long to properly master this passage – if they manage to learn it at all.
3.5 Kaila Kantuz
There is not much to be said about Kaila Kantuz, except that – contrary to Nubes I – the pianist will benefit from not indulging excessively in the piano’s resonance. The challenge here is to reconcile the almost timeless quality of the piece with its brevity – a performance of it 105 should not exceed two minutes. The performer can explore the sound quality of the folk song fragment in relation to what came before: the sound should have some presence, although it should not be as loud as the f in m. 7.
3.6 Mundaka
Gómez asserts that Erkoreka’s piano works “require a refined concept of color” and suggests that one treats the multiple layers in his music “practically the same way one works on a fugue by J.S. Bach, isolating each voice, giving them their own color and personality.”146 While his comments are also pertinent to other works such as Jaia and Dos Zortzikos, they are particularly valuable to a performance of Mundaka.
Each layer should have a distinct touch from the beginning: light and rhythmically flexible for the top voice in small print, lyric and present for the melodic line, harsh and heavy for the copla allusion in the middle of the keyboard. Make sure to keep the same character for each layer, despite the changes in register. The same principle applies to the second half, although this time using characteristic French, impressionist colors throughout, saving the most violent, percussive attacks for the ending.
The references to the zortziko dance towards the end are quite difficult to project due to the complex rhythmic structure around them. In the first phrase, I recommend that the pianist relates the zortziko in the RH to the LH quintuplets. For the measures in duple and quadruple meter, all notes in the RH are struck together with some note of the LH run. The triple meter measure requires one extra subdivision, thus relating to the thirty-second-note quintuplet. With this faster subdivision, the pianist will figure out that the shorter notes in the RH fall in between two notes of the LH run. Examples 3.2 and 3.3 show this relationship.
146 Gómez, Interview with the author. 106
Music Example 3.2. Breakdown of rhythmic cells from Mundaka, pp. 9-10.
Music Example 3.3. Different subdivision of the measure in triple meter. 107
In the second phrase, Erkoreka complicates this even further by writing the top layer in sextuplets, which creates another challenge for vertical alignment. When learning these rhythms away from the piano, the performer may choose to write down the sextuplets underneath the rhythms shown above. They will observe, for instance, that the last note of each quintuplet falls between the fifth and sixth notes of the sextuplet. Example 3.4 shows the approximate placing of a sextuplet against a quintuplet, based on the 5:6 matrix from table 8.
Music Example 3.4. One beat of a 5:6 polyrhythm.
While this level of detail may be overwhelming to learn, especially for such a short passage, a basic understanding of this principle should provide at least a convincing approximation of these measures. This breakdown is not required for the 5/4 measures, since the zortziko rhythms are related to rational subdivisions of the beat.
3.7 Ballade no. 2
Even though Erkoreka’s Ballades are each dedicated to a French composer, their character is greatly indebted to works of the same title by Brahms and Chopin. The latter’s
Ballade op. 38 in particular is a significant model for the narrative and poetic trajectory in
Erkoreka’s second Ballade. Therefore, the pianist who is familiar with these examples will be 108
prepared to deal with the kind of musical structure, long phrases, and expressive playing required
by Erkoreka’s work. Despite the abundance of double bars, this work is much more unified.
Both Ballades are characterized by long stretches of pedal. As usual, the acoustic
properties of the piano and the hall play a role in determining how long the sustain pedal is
depressed. Nevertheless, it is important to notice that, while in the first Ballade the composer
sometimes leaves this aspect to the performer’s discretion with vague pedal indications, his pedal
work is much more detailed in the second Ballade. The performer should take notice of the
composer’s careful indications of flutter pedal and the exact placement of certain pedal changes.
In two instances (p. 5) the pedal should be lifted completely for a short time. This does not mean
that there will be a break in sound; rather, the absence of pedal only serves to make these abrupt
gestures clear.
The pianist’s approach to sound in this piece should be different from that in Dos
Zortzikos and Mundaka, in which Erkoreka makes extensive use of fff and ffff dynamics. In
Ballade no. 2, on the other hand, the loud end of the dynamic spectrum only goes up to fff once on p. 2, and a few times on pp. 6-7, all of them being quickly followed by a decrescendo.
Therefore, these dynamics should be interpreted in the same way the pianist would execute them in works from the Romantic era, such as those by Chopin, Schumann, Liszt, and Brahms.
In fact, the only percussive element is the literal act of knocking the piano lid, an allusion to Varèse’s interest in percussion. For this effect, the pianist may experiment with different parts of the piano’s wooden structure accessible to them, such as the piano lid, the stand rack, and the surface underneath the keys. Knocking on different places will produce more or less appropriate sounds depending on the musical context and how well the percussive element projects over the melodies and chords played on the keys. To avoid injures to the knuckles, it is preferable to play 109 softer on the keys than to knock harder on the wood, always making sure that both can be heard properly. 110
CONCLUSION
Erkoreka’s piano works are an organic amalgam of the rich Basque and Spanish cultures, the canonic piano literature, and modernist innovations. This unique blend also includes the composer’s respect for nature and his interest in the states of the mind. Therefore, his music as a whole defies categorization and is best understood as a complex network of dialogues between the aforementioned sources. His music is, to a certain extent, in dialogue with twentieth-century modernist trends such as spectralism and New Complexity; otherwise, it lives outside the dichotomy between serialism and minimalism, which are often pitched as the only two significant trends in the narrative about Contemporary music.
Although the approach presented in chapter 2 may not directly apply to most of
Erkoreka’s works, the goal behind each analysis was to aid a performer’s understanding of
Erkoreka’s multifaceted approach to composition. Works which defy categorization may pose an initial challenge to the musician who wants to learn them, therefore, the interaction of multiple approaches towards an intellectual grasp of such music will provide the performer with the appropriate tools to bring out the rich tapestry of styles behind each composition. This polyvalent approach is also appropriate to a substantial amount of new music which, similarly, may not easily fit into the model of a single compositional technique or stylistic dogmas. Furthermore, the valuable insights from the five pianists interviewed for this project and my own experience learning some of Erkoreka’s works contributed to an informed perspective of how performers and teachers might approach his compositions for solo piano.
Since Erkoreka’s catalog of piano works is growing, one natural path for future research would be to examine these new works in relation to those explored in this document. A closer examination of both Nubes pieces suits a broad discussion of post-impressionist works. In 111
addition, future piano students would benefit from a study of Erkoreka’s four Ballades (when the
last pair is published), and a potential dialogue with the Ballades by Chopin and Brahms would
enrich the genre’s literature.
Due to the nature of Erkoreka’s current piano works, the discussion on the interaction
between folk elements and modernist Western Art Music was somewhat limited. Nevertheless,
there are numerous possibilities within the composer’s chamber and orchestral works, such as the percussion concerto Zuhaitz, the cello concerto Ekaitza, or even solo compositions for other instruments, such as Duduk-I for soprano saxophone. The perception of these elements, and of the works themselves, from the audience’s perspective can be studied within the broader context of how folk materials from a given place are incorporated by composers from that culture.
Finally, the question of public reception of Erkoreka’s music was only partially answered. While the increasing level of complexity in some of his piano works may be discouraging for some performers, most of them generally come across as deeply connected to their sources of inspiration (without sounding like mere pastiches or bad copies), especially when they are programmed along with traditional piano literature.147 Nonetheless, their small-scale
nature lends them enough flexibility to be presented in a multitude of contexts, from an all-
Erkoreka recital to concerts featuring works from multiple periods. In any case, more
performances are needed for an accurate assessment of this question.
147 Jonathan Powell recalls programming Jaia and Dos Zortzikos with selections from Granados’s Goyescas and Albéniz’s Ibéria and how the audience could hear a certain connection between them (see Appendix F). 112
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APPENDIX A. INTERVIEW WITH RICARDO DESCALZO
12 February 2021. Zoom interview with the author.
Ariel Magno da Costa: What is your involvement with Contemporary piano music in general?
Ricardo Descalzo: It was a natural thing to be involved in Contemporary music because it’s music that I’ve always loved – I’ve felt very attracted to whatever was not very usual. While most people liked Chopin and Schumann, for instance, I discovered Debussy and Bartók and fell in love with their music. When Penderecki or Ligeti appeared in my life, it was just mindblowing! At a certain point, I decided that I wanted to completely dedicate myself to
Contemporary Music, and a lot of people told me that it would probably not be a good idea. Of course, I didn’t listen to any of them [laughs] because I wanted to follow my passion. Little by little I got more emboldened: at the beginning I was playing the “classics” [of contemporary music] such as Messiaen and Ligeti, but then I started to discover younger generations and it was fascinating to discover how they were transforming what Contemporary music could be. This is very important to me because I get easily bored if I do the same things every time, and I felt at home with composers from a younger generation. This is not to say that I don’t play twentieth- century music anymore, but I try to engage with new repertoire as much as possible. I almost don’t play any traditional repertoire outside of contemporary music anymore. I’ve done it a lot in the past as I participated in many competitions in Europe and the US and had to play all kinds of repertoire, but at a certain point I decided to completely dedicate myself to the music that I really enjoy. This gave me the opportunity to get a job as a piano teacher at Musikene (where Gabriel teaches as well), where I’ve been teaching for the last 17 years – just for contemporary music.
AMC: What’s the contemporary music scene like in Spain? 118
RD: We have a great contemporary music scene here in Spain – and I would say in Europe, in general. We’re in a fantastic moment: we can find extremely talented composers all over the continent – and it’s no different in Spain. It is true that they are not as famous in other countries such as France, Germany, and the UK – they do a lot more to promote their own composers. We don’t do that as much in Spain, but we do have lots of performers and ensembles dedicated to contemporary music – it’s a very special moment for contemporary composition here!
AMC: How and when did you first get involved with the piano music of Gabriel Erkoreka?
RD: I don’t remember exactly when it was – probably in my 20’s – but I first came across a score for Nubes I and immediately fell in love with it, as it fits my style perfectly. Then I contacted him, and he was very kind to me, as he is with everybody. We worked on this piece a bit, and I had the opportunity to perform it many times – it resonated well with me. Afterwards, I found Nubes II, his second piece for piano, and I felt the same connection.
There was a long period of time in which he didn’t compose for piano, but we got in touch again as we both started teaching at Musikene at around the same time. He’s written many good compositions for piano since then, but I don’t quite feel the same connection with them as I do with both Nubes pieces.
AMC: Which piece(s) by Erkoreka have you played/recorded thus far?
RD: Nubes I and Dos Zortzikos.
AMC: Have you worked directly with the composer on his music?
RD: We usually didn’t have a lot of time to work together as it was often very close to the concert, but we’ve always had a very strong musical connection – we understood each other very well – and the ideas were well understood quickly. 119
AMC: Have you had the opportunity to teach any of his music to your piano students? If so, how was the experience for you, and for the student(s)?
RD: I’ve taught both Nubes pieces and Mundaka in my lessons at Musikene. With both Nubes it has always been the same for my students: it wasn’t very easy at first, but once they understood it, it was almost as natural and intuitive as if they were playing something by Debussy or Bartók.
At the beginning, the musical ideas seem a bit disconnected, and the students feel a bit lost, but they eventually come to understand how everything is connected – although expressed in a different way. My students have always enjoyed playing those!
With Mundaka, it was a slightly different experience: as you know, it’s a much more difficult piece because of the multiple layers occurring at the same time. I was working with one of the best students I’ve had these last years, and he was actually the one to choose it, but we had to stop the work at a certain point because it was too much for him – he was playing Schumann’s
Kreisleriana at the same time, which is also extremely difficult! It was a pity for me because I really liked the piece (from listening), but it was also very complex, and difficult to put together.
AMC: Were there any unique challenges you’ve faced when learning Erkoreka’s piano music? If so, how did you approach them?
RD: With Nubes I, it feels like the kind of piece that would come out naturally if I were a composer, based on how well I understand it – I do like it when a piece is not too complex. This is not to say that I avoid complexity, but when ideas are presented in a simple way and work musically, it attracts me a lot! I don’t find any disconnection with the musical language presented in Nubes (I feel a certain connection with the music of Debussy). It is a very common idea here in Europe that contemporary music has to be complex – especially in Germany and the UK.
When you’re young, it’s very exciting to work on the rhythmic challenges and solve the 120
difficulties of this unusual musical notation, but when one does this for 15+ years, one becomes
more critical about it. If it is necessary and it makes sense, that’s fine, but sometimes it feels as
though there might be ways to express certain musical ideas without an overwhelming degree of
complexity.
With Nubes I, I also feel that the piece comes from the instrument, in the same way that a piece
by Liszt does – it’s extremely virtuosic, but it fits naturally in the hands and with the instrument.
AMC: Due to the fact that Erkoreka is a pianist, do you think his piano works are idiomatic for
the instrument?
RD: Yes! It doesn’t always have to be that way, but of course it’s great when a good composer is
also a good pianist – as is the case with Erkoreka. If I remember correctly, he played Nubes I in
his entrance exam for the Royal Academy of Music, and it’s a clear case of a gifted composer
who writes well for the instrument – something you can see right away in his score.
At a certain point, though, he departed a little bit from the instrument to devote to composition –
he still played it, but he didn’t write pieces for himself to perform. You see it clearly with Jaia,
Dos Zortzikos, and Mundaka: their rate of complexity increased a lot – suddenly 5 or 10 times more complex than Nubes I, or even Nubes II (which is more complex than the first piece). I think this has some relation to the moment in which he decided to dedicate exclusively to composition and not to play the piano professionally anymore. Not that this is a bad thing, of course, but it’s something that happens with some composers.
AMC: Indeed. I think it’s something that happens naturally with many composers. Beethoven
famously didn’t care as much about the technical intricacies of his late piano music, such as the
three last sonatas and the “Hammerklavier” [sonata]. 121
RD: I’ve talked to him not a long time ago while going for a drink, and we were talking about the possibility of him writing for himself to play again. I would love to see that happen again! Of course, he’s written many great pieces, but Nubes I remains his most played piano piece to this day!
AMC: Have you had any insights on the public’s reception of Erkoreka’s music?
RD: From the audience’s perspective, it is normally very well received; among performers, though, I’ve seen a few times that this issue of complexity is “put under the table”, as we say in
Spain. I’m sure he knows about it, but it’s not a real problem, since it’s so common in Europe for composers to write such complex music, and many performers and ensembles are extremely used to it. From a teacher’s perspective, this might be a bit of a problem when you’re trying to prepare a piece like Mundaka or Dos Zortzikos with a student. If the level of complexity is too high, then you have to dedicate so much time to it that maybe you won’t have as much time to focus on how to understand the musical language. We always try to introduce the students to new music, but it’s important that you can explain it to them, and that they can learn it with joy.
AMC: As someone from a similar cultural background to Erkoreka, how do you perceive the traditional/folk elements in his music?
RD: It’s not something that can be readily recognizable – apart from certain rhythms such as the zortziko dance – but Erkoreka certainly has a strong connection with his native Basque culture.
Mundaka, for instance, is a very beautiful small village in the coast [of Bizkaia].
AMC: In your videos on your YouTube channel, you play contemporary music memorized – which is not common in our field but seems to be your preference. How does that affect your choice of repertoire? 122
RD: It’s a very good question, and it’s something very important to me. For me, memorization
was always something very natural, as it is for many pianists. In competitions, we were required
to memorize traditional repertoire. Some of them required us to memorize contemporary music
as well – others didn’t, but it was something that could award you more points if you did. Some
of the tricks to memorize a contemporary composition might be different, but most of the are just
as difficult to memorize as any traditional works. There are some exceptions, of course, and this
relates to how I decide which pieces I play. There are lots of great pieces written for the piano in
the last 80 years – enough repertoire for three or four lives – and the question of whether or not I can memorize a piece will determine whether I decide to program or record it. This is not an
absolute rule, but I usually link the possibility of memorization with the well-suited choice of
notation in a given piece. For instance, in a piece with constant jumps with no apparent order to
it (something found in much of the music of the 50’s such as Stockhausen’s works), if your brain
doesn’t find patterns or a clear structure, it would be something extremely difficult to memorize.
The music of Morton Feldman is another example: the notes and gestures are sparse, with long
rests in between, but at the same time the music is notated in such careful detail that it becomes
almost impossible to perform from memory. Of course, memorization is not necessary, but once
you’re used to it, you have to re-train yourself a bit in order to play from the score while still
portraying the same feeling as though you were playing from memory. There are risks, naturally,
if you forget something, but once it’s coming from you and there’s no score in front of you, it is
as though you were the composer expressing something you’ve just created in real time – it’s
much more fulfilling for me. 123
APPENDIX B. INTERVIEW WITH GABRIEL ERKOREKA
14 February 2021. Zoom interview with the author, and email response on 17 May 2021.
Ariel Magno da Costa: After your studies with Carmelo Bernaola at the Conservatoire of
Vitoria, you went to the Royal Academy of Music in London to study with Michael Finnissy.
What influenced your choice to go there?
Gabriel Erkoreka: I went to study my last courses in compositions (3rd and 4th year) with
Carmelo Bernaola, who was a strong influence in my musical development and who encouraged me to study abroad. I was confronted with two possibilities: Paris (which was a natural path for
Spanish and Basque composers) or London. Of course, Paris is great, but I’ve already had quite a strong connection with London at the time because I was studying piano with Christopher Elton
(who teaches at the Royal Academy of Music); I also had a trial lesson with Michael Finnissy, who teaches there as well. I was very impressed, and decided it was the place to go. I studied at
RAM between 1995-97, and during this intense period I finished my post-graduate studies and got my master’s degree.
AMC: How was this period of studies with Michael Finnissy? How did it influence your compositional output?
GE: We didn’t talk too much about technical aspects, although I was quite impressed with what
I’ve discovered in England; rather, we had deep conversations about art and the role/position of an artist in society, among other things. Until my arrival in England, I hadn’t encountered this school of thought [New Complexity], which was quite fascinating (Brian Ferneyhough and
Michael Finnissy are representatives of the New Complexity school, although I don’t think they are very happy with that term [laughs], their music is so different). Naturally, I wanted to explore what Finnissy was doing: to elaborate music about music. 124
You know the ambiguity-dirt anecdote from my inaugural lecture. I would also want to mention
that he was quite illustrative when comparing the different degrees of complexity which may be
portrayed in a piece, by the ways one may draw a tree. This one I found quite moving and I
reassure it. So much so, that I actually included three musical trees as an homage to him in my
Concerto for Basque Percussion and Orchestra, titled Zuhaitz for other reasons, but nevertheless
recalled that very moment in the last pages of the composition.
AMC: Being a pianist yourself, do you perform your own compositions for solo piano often?
GE: I gave the premiere of Nubes I, and also played Nubes II and parts of the Zortzikos, but I
haven’t played the piano professionally in many years as I am completely devoted to
composition.
AMC: Between both Nubes pieces and the piano works written after them, Jaia and Dos
Zortzikos, it seems that there was a radical shift in writing style and approach to the instrument.
Could you talk a bit about what happened during those years?
GE: One change [in my compositional approach] can be seen when comparing Nubes I to Nubes
II. I wrote the latter in London, while the former was written before I started studying with
Finnissy. Nubes II is the second installment of essentially the same material of the first piece, but in a more fragmented way. Both pieces make use of spatial notation, but I grew increasingly
dissatisfied with this kind of writing. It’s not that I want to control everything [laughs], but I wanted to write music in a more accurate manner, to avoid great disparities between performances – the question of timing is really important to me.
This was taken a step further with Jaia, the next piece. This piece, which was written almost 5
years after Nubes II, was intended as an homage to the music of Isaac Albéniz – more of a
commentary on his style. While both Nubes are more harmonically-oriented (the vertical 125 component is predominant), I make greater use of contrapuntal layers in Jaia – and other piano pieces since then. My intention with this piece was to exaggerate certain elements of Albéniz’s
Navarra, taking them a step further. Navarra was actually left unfinished by the composer and later finished by Déodat de Séverac [who worked as an assistant for Albéniz]. I chose this piece because it was close to the Basque country, and because it was unfinished – in a symbolic way, I could continue it [laughs].
AMC: Jonathan Powell and Alex Hills mentioned that this piece existed in an earlier version of
Jaia, called Jota. Were there any substantial differences between the two of them? Any reason for the name change?
GE: I wrote an earlier version for this piece, called Xota, but after making some revisions and alterations, I was never very happy with the first title either. As you already know, the piece is connected to Navarra by Albéniz, which is itself a sophisticated version of a jota (a dance typical from Aragón but also from Navarre). In my piece this was far less obvious, so I finally went for
JAIA, an acronym of "homenaJe A Isaac Albéniz,” which is also a play on words – the Basque word jaia translates to fiesta in Spanish.
Apart from some few details, the most significant changes occur at the slow section marked meno mosso at the bottom of page 2. For what I can recall, these consisted mainly in 'softening' the rhythms, in the way of connecting them more with the original (duplets and triplets).
AMC: Dos Zortzikos seem to be your most adventurous composition among your works for solo piano, in terms of its harmonic language and intricate rhythms – one passage in the middle of
Zortziko no. 2 was particularly challenging for me to learn. What led you to write Zortzikos, and how did you choose to treat the traditional/folk elements in juxtaposition to the jarring rhythmic and harmonic language explored in the piece? 126
GE: I must say I set myself to write a very difficult piece indeed [laughs]. As the title suggests, it
is inspired by the traditional zortziko dance from the Basque Country, and the most explicit
reference to that happens at the beginning of Zortziko no. 2, both with the melody and the
rhythm. There’s also a more abstract connection to the number five (the number of beats in the
zortziko dance), with elements such as the treatment of five distinct layers (at the beginning of
the first zortziko), repetition of pitches, fragments of pentatonic scales, and the meter (5/4, 5/8,
and 5/16).
In the beginning of the first Zortziko, there’s a connection to “Oiseaux Tristes” (from Ravel’s
Miroirs), while the end is a veiled reference to Scriabin’s Vers la Flamme.
AMC: How much is your native Basque culture present in your compositions for solo piano?
GE: Dos Zortzikos has a very explicit reference: it’s a typical dance from the Basque Country.
The most explicit reference to the dance happens at the beginning of Zortziko no. 2, both in
terms of melody and rhythm.
The connection to the Basque culture in this piece actually starts with an earlier chamber work of
mine: Kantak. Written in 1996, it was written for solo piccolo and chamber ensemble, and it uses
Basque folkloric material. Its sound world is inspired by a traditional Basque instrument, the
txistu, which is a very high-pitched flute, normally played with drum [tamboril] by the same player, with the drum hanging by one’s arm. The beginning of Zortziko no. 2 alludes to this kind of texture by using the extreme registers of the instrument, with the right hand playing a melody in the extreme high gesture like a txistu or a piccolo on top of the zortziko rhythm in the extreme low register.
AMC: In [the program notes for] Mundaka, you mention the copla, a melodic fragment with
repeated notes. Is this related to the repeated notes such as seen in the middle layer of Albéniz's 127
“Evocación”, the main theme of Navarra, and Asturias? Or does this term refer to form and
style?
GE: A copla is a type of song, typical from Andalusia. It is often characterized by iterations
(repetitions) of the same note. There are many examples in Ibéria by Albéniz. For example, it is
very clear in “Almería” (mm. 101-120). What I do in Mundaka is to exaggerate and flourish the iteration around the central keys of the piano (E4-F4), to build up the central ‘melodic’ line, which becomes quite obsessive. The also create the illusion of a drone.
Mundaka was written for a particular project called Una Iberia para Albéniz (an Iberia for
Albéniz), involving 12 composers. Each was asked to choose a particular location in Spain, and I
chose Mundaka, a small village by the coast of Biscay, a very beautiful place. After having
explored two very different approaches to sound – “French,” coloristic with Nubes and harsh,
turbulent with Dos Zortzikos – I decided to have them colliding (or coexisting) in the same piece.
At the beginning of Mundaka, there’s a short reference to the zortziko in the low register; this
rhythm also appears towards the end of the piece, although in a symbolic way.
I also wrote this very short piece called Kaila Kantuz, which is also the title of a Basque folk
song. It’s a simple evocation, quite diatonic in nature, with more atmospheric textures. Kaila
Kantuz [the folk song] has many variants, but the one I referred to was actually compilated by
ethnomusicologist Alan Lomax. I transcribed it, before ‘hiding' it in my piece.
AMC: You spoke about a shift in compositional approach between Nubes I and II, and between
those and Jaia. It seems that another change has happened between Mundaka and the Ballades.
Could you talk a bit about this period?
GE: You know, I wish I had written more piano music so far, but I don’t find it easy to write
piano works… 128
AMC: …how do you mean?
GE: I just consider that I haven’t written extensively for the piano, but it depends on what you compare it to. Finnissy, for example, has written an incredible amount of piano music; on the other hand, many contemporary composers, such as Gérard Grisey, never wrote for solo piano.
In fact, many composers find it problematic writing for the instrument, some of them avoid the keys completely.
Another reason could be that I have included the piano in a number of pieces of chamber and large ensemble works. I’m currently planning to write a Piano Concerto in the coming months.
Another way to think about it is that I find composing increasingly difficult – or at least, it doesn’t get any easier! But that relates to other instruments as well.
I wrote Mundaka in 2009, and after that (around 2015) I had the idea of writing a lengthy piano piece – not a sonata, but something longer than the previous works. However, after the death of
Pierre Boulez, I was suggested to write a piece in his memory. At that point, my mind went in a completely different direction and I eventually decided to write four Ballades, inspired by the four ballades of Chopin and Brahms’s Ballades op. 10 (I have played the latter collection myself, as well as Chopin’s third Ballade). These two ideas were floating around in my head. It can be a strange idea to have a piece called “ballade” dedicated to Boulez, but that’s why this piece is so fragmented, so turbulent, and constantly interrupted. It still has a connection to the previous models by Brahms and Chopin, but I don’t have the pretension to write a piece with such an emotional impact.
Now, I’m about to finish Ballade no. 3, and after finishing a piece for solo piccolo I’ll continue the project with Ballade no. 4. Each Ballade is written to the memory of a French composer: first one to Pierre Boulez, second one to Edgard Varèse, third one to Olivier Messiaen (whose piano 129 music I love), and fourth one to Gerard Grisey. In a way, those composers are related: in addition to Boulez having studied with Messiaen, Varèse is considered by all others, symbolically, as the
“father” of French contemporary music.
In general, my music shows my interests in three areas: Nature, and the need to preserve it
(Nubes, Krater, Oceano, Afrika), my own interests about music, which does include Basque music, and from many other places (Duduk-I, based on the Armenian oboe, Yidaki, based on the
Australian didgeridoo, Kin, based on traditional Chinese music, and many more), and a growing interest in the different states of the mind (Trance, for 16 musicians, and Kaiolan [in a cage]). In some pieces, there is a synthesis of these three ideas, such as Ekaiza (tempest, in Basque),
Zuhaitz, and Tramuntana (strong wind from the Cataluña region). Because of this, it can be difficult sometimes to tell exactly where a given piece comes from.
AMC: You dedicated each Zortziko to a different pianist, as well as the Ballades. How do you choose performers to collaborate with in your compositions?
GE: This is actually a pretty natural thing: they get to know my music for some time, and because of this connection I dedicate pieces to them. For example, the Zortzikos are dedicated to
Alex Hills [no. 1] and Philip Howard [no. 2]. Hills actually gave the American premiere of this piece when he was studying in the US. Alfonso Gómez, the dedicatee of my first Ballade, plans to record a CD of all of my piano music, which will hopefully be available by the end of this year. I’ve met Jonathan Powell in 1997 when I was studying in London, and he’s played many of my pieces – he premiered the second Ballade and Kaila Kantuz.
AMC: I’ve noticed that most of your music is published in handwritten form, except for Nubes I, and even in chamber works with piano such as Aldakiak, the instrumental parts are engraved by 130 musical notation software, but the piano/full score is kept in its handwritten form. Is this a stylistic choice? If so, what has informed your decision?
GE: Both Nubes I and II were only in handwritten form, but Nubes I was used as a set piece for the final round of a piano competition in San Sebastián, and somebody asked me if Oxford
University Press could engrave the piece, and so they did.
I have strong feelings about writing music by hand, which I still do most of the time, and even for the fully engraved scores I still have a handwritten version, for private use. Because of this,
I’ve developed my handwriting in a way that it is legible enough, and for the pieces published by
OUP, they decided that the handwriting looked nice enough and published them that way – although they still engrave individual parts for chamber music.
Since 2008, my music has been published by Tritó Ediciones, and they’re currently in the process of engraving the Ballades, which should be published soon.
AMC: Some pianists I’ve interviewed for this project mentioned Michael Finnissy’s English
Country-Tunes as a work with a possible connection to your music. How does it relate to your compositional approach, if at all?
GE: This is, to me, one of the most fascinating pieces [for solo piano] by Michael Finnissy. He uses some country tunes as a basis but manipulates the material in some extreme ways. The second piece, for instance, starts with a modal passage, which is then transformed, destroyed, and sort of reconstructed chromatically. This piece has made me think constantly about how I relate to a certain material.
However, I don’t explore rhythmic complexity to the same extent that certain composers from the New Complexity school do; I was never really seduced by it. I believe it’s important to be 131 able to feel a certain rhythmic drive: the tempo can be more or less stable, but the richness of a strong rhythmic pulse should still be present. The use of irrational rhythms contradicts that. 132
APPENDIX C. INTERVIEW WITH JUAN CARLOS GARVAYO
17 February 2021. Zoom interview with the author.
Ariel Magno da Costa: What is your involvement with Contemporary piano music in general?
Juan Carlos Garvayo: About 30 years ago, I had just returned from the US to Spain, and my
intention was to do something around chamber music and contemporary music. Both were
interesting to me at the time, mainly because there was not a lot of people involved in a serious
manner on these activities. There were few professional piano trios [violin, cello, and piano], and
few ensembles were engaged in commissioning composers.
When we founded Trio Arbós, our idea was not only to work on the Classical and Romantic repertoire for this ensemble, but also to work on new repertoire. Although there is a substantial repertoire for the piano trio, composers haven’t explored this ensemble nearly as much as the string quartet. Great composers from the past such as Bartók, Schoenberg, and Hindemith wrote for a great variety of ensembles, but not for piano trio, curiously. Our goal was to increase the repertoire for this ensemble, and we started with Spanish composers. There was a group of incredible young composers working in Spain such as Jesús Torres, César Camarero, David del
Puerto, Jesus Rueda, and Gabriel Erkoreka – he was studying in London around that time, but soon enough moved back to Spain when he started working at Musikene. Many of them were students of Luís de Pablo and Francisco Guerrero (one of the champions of the Spanish avant- garde as a composer and teacher) and they would usually come out of his class with a strong voice and incredible musicianship.
AMC: How and when did you first get involved with the piano music of Gabriel Erkoreka?
JCG: Our first collaboration was through his work Aldakiak [piano trio], which we premiered in
the Alicante Festival [in 2003]. This concert will always be in my memory because there were 5 133 premieres, all of them very demanding physically, especially Luis Aguirre’s Olokun, based on a deity from religious practices in Cuba, which featured long passages in dynamic ranges such as fffffff! This concert also stayed in our memory because some people in the audience started to boo some of the pieces, which was quite exciting, actually! In these types of concert, people usually clap politely and leave (even when they don’t like it), but in this case there was a famous
Spanish critic (who is already dead) who got up and said: “boo for the composer, bravo for the musicians!” [laughs]. Apart from this, the Alicante festival had a great atmosphere, and it was a great opportunity to meet many wonderful composers and performers who were excited to make new music! Also, there was some support from the ministry of culture; unfortunately, it didn’t last very long. Cultural life in Spain can be very fragile: sometimes there are wonderful opportunities like this, but suddenly it disappears – that’s true with culture in general, but especially with contemporary music.
I also remember playing a solo piece by him before, Nubes…
AMC: …ah, yes, one of his most performed solo works…
JCG: …that was my introduction to Gabriel’s music as a pianist. After Aldakiak, he wrote us another piece, Trio del Agua, and we would also collaborate with other ensembles and performers on works for ensembles larger than the piano trio. We recorded both pieces for a CD devoted to his music, in addition to other chamber works, and two solo pieces: Dos Zortzikos and
Mundaka. It was actually Gabriel’s decision to include Dos Zortzikos in that CD.
AMC: Have you had any insights on the public’s reception of Erkoreka’s music?
JCG: I can tell you his music is generally very appreciated here. Gabriel is one of the most prestigious living composers, and he’s also very active as a teacher – Musikene (where he currently teaches) is probably one of the best schools in Spain to study composition; people 134 prefer to go study there than in Madrid! Gabriel also program cycles of contemporary music in
Bilbao, the concerts are always full, and the audiences enjoy it – it’s always a joy to play there!
We didn’t go there this year due to the pandemic, but we use to perform there every two years. If a premiere of his composition is announced, it’s certain that people would rush to watch it!
AMC: Which piece(s) by Erkoreka have you played/recorded thus far?
JCG: Aldakiak, Trio del Agua, Nubes I, Dos Zortzikos, Mundaka, and Biribilteka.
AMC: Is it any different to approach Erkoreka’s chamber works in relation to the solo ones?
JCG: Not a lot, aside from the piano music being more complex – the polyphonic writing is pretty challenging to understand. His works for piano trio are very interesting because there are many moments of solo writing, and duo playing, as well as the whole trio playing together, which is not very common compared to piano trios by other composers.
AMC: Were there any unique challenges you’ve faced when learning Erkoreka’s piano music? If so, how did you approach them?
JCG: Well, I try to do my best [chuckles] to bring out all the details (rhythm, articulation etc).
Not every composer is able to provide you with valid performance information all the time, listening carefully to all the details and provide good feedback, but Gabriel can – not only during rehearsals, but also during recordings. He knows very well what he wants from the performers, and his remarks are always helpful. What’s interesting is that you try your best to work on every detail in one of his scores, and once you’ve processed all of that, Gabriel wants you to forget it and look for long phrases, direction, and the flow of the music, which is very important – otherwise, this music could be paralyzing. I think, deep down, he’s one of those Romantic composers, such as Brahms – he would probably hate to hear this [laughs], or maybe not! In any case, he’s just a very good musician, and he takes the listener into account. 135
In relation to folkloric Basque elements, I think he’s one of the few Basque Spanish composers
who have dared to do that – take the elements from their own culture and express them through
their music. In Spain, some composers have sought inspiration from composers such as Sciarrino
and Lachenmann (and many other German avant-garde composers), and a good amount of
Spanish music has been/is just a copy of those models, even using titles in German and French – it’s almost as if their piece was more important if it had a German title. That has something to do with the hegemony of Germany in the current European music scene: almost all student composers from the conservatoire I teach go to Germany to continue their studies, and most stay there, because there are good opportunities for them. And you have to write music the way they want, so that it gets performed in their festivals (Germany and Austria). Gabriel, however, is one of the few who has their own voice, and he allows his native Basque culture to appear in his music. He’s also done that with Flamenco music, he has a piece based on that…
AMC: … that’s the guitar concerto, right? Jukal? It’s such a great piece…
JCG: …exactly! In Spain, we’ve had a problem with this concept, because nationalist music
from here was considered less worthy of being studied by the academic world and used in
contemporary music. This is obviously a huge mistake because Flamenco music is wonderful,
powerful, and rich in so many ways. I play Flamenco myself, and work with singers all the time.
One of my goals in life has been to break that misconception.
There was a closer relationship between traditional music and classical Spanish music up to, and
including, Manuel de Falla, who had a very interesting concept of music that was modern, but
also authentically Spanish. However, when the Spanish Civil War broke, composers from this school went to exile in Argentina, Mexico, and Puerto Rico; those who stayed couldn’t even talk about those composers, because they were “on the wrong side”, the “losers” in the war. We had a 136 dictatorship for 40 years, and they tried to change the history of Spanish music. In this context, a few young composers decided to bring modernist avant-garde music to Spain by studying the music of Darmstadt composers. As a result, the music produced during this period by composers such as Luís de Pablo and Cristóbal Halffter was a bad copy of Darmstadt principles: abstract, serial music, or sometimes not even that – just stupid music [chuckles]. Any reference to
Flamenco or popular music in general was completely prohibited, and composers who studied with them also saw this as a taboo. Since I was raised listening to and performing Flamenco, I thought that it was time to change this situation. With this in mind, we approached seven composers and commissioned one piece for piano trio from each of them, with only two conditions: it had to be under six minutes, and it had to have something to do with Flamenco.
They were enthusiastic about this project: “finally someone has asked us to do what we wanted to do, but we wouldn’t dare!” The funny thing is that we presented this project to the Banco
Bilbao Foundation [Fundación BBVA], and the commission that had to evaluate the project said
“Flamenco?? No way!! This is shit!” [laughs] I kind of expected it, so we went to the Germans the month after, and proposed to the foundation Ernst von Siemens Musikstiftung – and they gave us the money to do the project! [laughs]
AMC: The Germans?! Wow!
JCG: Yes! The idea was to commission the seven pieces and present them interspersed with traditional Flamenco music – the material that the composers might have used in their piece. We played it a lot, and it has drawn a good amount of attention.
There were only two composers who have done this before the commission project: Mauricio
Sotelo and Gabriel Erkoreka (with Basque music, and now with Flamenco). 137
AMC: This is very fascinating, though not surprising, unfortunately. This idea of certain types of music being less worthy of attention in academia and in contemporary Western Art Music has persisted for a long time, but this seems to be slowly changing.
JCG: One thing about this situation I was talking about: Franco’s regime actually supported avant-garde music. It was something harmless, and at the same time it would give the image of progress and advancement; moreover, it was very abstract and there was no clear political message behind it. Because of this, composers such as de Pablo and Halffter had everything: they were not prosecuted by the regime, they were supported by many institutions, and they participated in congresses and concerts. There was a big concert organized by the regime called
“25 years of peace,” and they commissioned pieces by Halffter and de Pablo, who were praised by the regime and the music critics of the time. Even the CIA provided some money to support this kind of music, for the same reason they sponsored Darmstadt for so many years, in an effort to show the West’s superiority to the Soviet Union and to keep the “communist threat” away.
This helped paint a false image of progressive thinking.
Nowadays, they are claiming that they “brought the good music to Spain”, as if they were heroes who brought modernity to the country. When you hear the music of composers such as Julian
Bautista, Salvador Bacarisse, and Rodolfo Halffter, it is so well-written, and there’s so much knowledge, thought, and expression – a very lively musical world in the years before the civil war. In the case of Cristobal Halffter, he actually used to write in the style of his uncles Rodolfo and Ernesto, in a sort of Neoclassical way. However, he decided – perhaps in an opportunistic move – to shift his compositional style to fit the German and French avant-garde aesthetics. In any case, he’s always written something powerful, no matter the style. This is not really the case with de Pablo and a few others. He’s just turned 90 recently, and we did a concert of his music, 138 some of which we’ve performed for many years – and I’m still not convinced by it. I don’t know if it’s good or bad [laughs]. There’s a lot of intellectual thought behind it, but it’s not really powerful. I wouldn’t say these things a few years ago, but I don’t care anymore [laughs], I believe we have to be true to ourselves.
AMC: [laughs] Indeed!
AMC: Have you had the opportunity to teach any of his music to your piano students? If so, how was the experience for you, and for the student(s)?
JCG: Not really. I gave a masterclass once, and one student played a piece by Erkoreka (Nubes
I). I don’t teach piano, only chamber music, and while students spend 4 years here at the conservatory, there’s not really time to go into that repertoire. The students usually have little experience in chamber music, therefore we need to start with easier things, and little by little progressing into chamber music by Beethoven, Shostakovich etc, and maybe some contemporary music, but not Gabriel’s music; it really needs dedication. His trios, especially Aldakiak, are probably one of the main pieces of Spanish chamber music. I would say there are 4 or 5 great
Spanish pieces [in the recent repertoire for piano trio], not more – and his is one of them! 139
APPENDIX D. INTERVIEW WITH ALFONSO GÓMEZ
E-mail response to the author on 18 February 2021.
Ariel Magno da Costa: What is your involvement with Contemporary piano music in general?
Alfonso Gómez: I’ve felt strongly committed to contemporary music for many years. Although I also play programs of traditional music, I do not conceive music as a closed cycle of works that ends in the twentieth century, but as an organic system in which the creations of young composers form an important part. Otherwise, music would become a museum.
AMC: How and when did you first get involved with the piano music of Gabriel Erkoreka?
AG: The first time was in 2006, when I was preparing a program of Basque composers around the composer Carmelo Bernaola, one of Erkoreka's composition teachers. I chose his piece
Nubes I and I had the opportunity to meet him and work on it in San Sebastian. This program was later recorded and released on CD by Sinkro-Records and since then we have kept in touch.
AMC: Which piece (s) by Erkoreka have you played / recorded thus far?
AG: I’ve played all his music for solo piano written up to 2020: Nubes I, Nubes II, Jaia, Dos
Zortzikos, Kaila Kantuz, Mundaka, Ballade no. 1, and Ballade no. 2. In addition, I’ve also performed two of his chamber works, Krater and Rondo.
AMC: Have you worked directly with the composer on his music? 140
AG: Yes, on many occasions. I am going to record Erkoreka's complete piano work for the
Viennese label Kairos at the end of 2021. It is a great pianist and musical challenge to play all of his works, and being able to work on all of them with the composer is just a privilege!
AMC: Are there any unique challenges you’ve faced when learning Erkoreka’s piano music?
AG: Erkoreka's music is extremely well written for the instrument and the writing is very dense.
His pianos works are very virtuosic and demand a very solid technique, while at the same time requiring a refined concept of color that allows all those lines to be heard with clarity.
AMC: How did you approach them?
AG: Practically the same way we work on a fugue by J.S.Bach: by isolating each voice and giving them their own color and personality. I work on the tremolos that appear more frequently in his latest works with a minimum of attack, without reaching the bottom of the key.
AMC: How do you approach the rhythmic intricacies of his music, during practice and at a performance?
AG: Complex rhythmic groups must be understood and analyzed well, one by one. Working on them away from the piano is especially helpful to me.
AMC: Have you had any insights on the public’s reception of Erkoreka’s music?
AG: Erkoreka's music is usually very successful with the public. His works are a kind of bridge between the classical public and the contemporary world. Many listeners who do not usually identify with contemporary music have a very positive reaction to Erkoreka's music, as they find 141 common ground with the music of the past. I think this happens because Erkoreka has not isolated himself aesthetically from the public; rather, he seeks a point of contact with them, without losing his individual artistic personality.
AMC: Have you had the opportunity to teach any of his music to your piano students? If so, how was the experience for you, and for the student (s)?
AG: Yes, a Japanese student here at the Freiburg University of Music has played various works by Erkoreka during her master’s degree. For her it has been a very exciting experience, as she has learned a lot about color and rhythmic complexity.
It has been also interesting for me to reflect on this music from a pedagogical perspective. Most importantly, I had not realized until then the true importance of dynamic contrasts. 142
APPENDIX E. INTERVIEW WITH ALEX HILLS
3 February 2021. Zoom interview with the author.
Ariel Magno da Costa: What is your involvement with Contemporary piano music in general?
Alex Hills: I’m a composer and a teacher at the Royal Academy of Music, and I’ve always been
very interested in contemporary piano music and writing piano music. I used to play the piano a
lot more when I was younger, but as I got a job I had to choose between practicing the piano to
the standard I wanted to be at and composing/teaching. I chose the latter because composing is
much more what I am, and at the moment I wouldn’t call myself a professional pianist, but I still
play it.
AMC: In your bio, you described yourself as an “out-of-practice pianist…”
AH: [laughs] …to give a more detailed answer to your first question: when I was more active in
piano playing, I did play a lot of contemporary music. I do still play for myself and teach it, but
as I got older, it’s become much harder to get my brain around learning new music. Lately, I’ve
mostly played old music, such as Bach, Brahms and Schumann, which is a shame, because
playing contemporary music was very important to me for a long time, but the amount of work it
takes doesn’t fit with the relationship I have with the instrument anymore, whereas sitting down and playing Bach’s Preludes and Fugues is much more manageable.
AMC: How and when did you first get involved with the piano music of Gabriel Erkoreka?
AH: We were students at the Royal Academy of Music at the same time with Michael Finnissy
in 1996-98. I gave the first performance of the first version of Jaia, which was called Jota – I’ve
also played its final version – and we became good friends since then.
AMC: Which piece(s) by Erkoreka have you played/recorded thus far? 143
AH: Jaia and Dos Zortzikos. After studying at the Royal Academy, I went to the US to do my
Ph.D in composition at UC-San Diego and Stanford. I played recitals (one program a year), and I played Dos Zortzikos for a performance at Stanford in 2002.
AMC: Have you worked directly with the composer on his music?
AH: I was working with him on Jota a lot. He’s a very good and musical piano teacher. Jaia was a work-in-progress when I started learning it, but I got the finished version of Dos Zortzikos.
Since we were in different countries at that time and communication means were more limited back then, we didn’t talk very much before the piece, and I didn’t play it for him before, but he gave me comments about the recording afterwards.
AMC: Were there any unique challenges you’ve faced when learning Erkoreka’s piano music? If so, how did you approach them?
AH: There’s a very specific thing in his music to me, which is that it looks like complicated contemporary music, but the spirit underlying the piano writing is absolutely nineteenth-century
Spanish piano music (in a very good way), which is not my specialty as a pianist, but that’s the nature of this music. This coexistence of modernist elements (rhythmic complexity and atonal harmonies) and the traditional dance elements is pretty challenging. Some pianists have approached it from a much more modernistic angle, others from a more romantic angle. To me, it’s mostly about playing it as naturally as possible.
AMC: How do you approach the rhythmic intricacies of his music, during practice and at a performance?
AH: It’s important to think in layers, and to bring clarity to the rhythm. The dance rhythm has to be precise so that it will provide a reference for everything else; then, I think a bit less about the more complicated rhythms. 144
AMC: Have you had the opportunity to teach any of his music to your piano students? If so, how
was the experience for you, and for the student(s)?
AH: I’ve never taught Erkoreka’s music to a pianist, but I would say that it has to be accurate
and sounding in the sense that nineteenth-century music is accurate. In other words, there’s a sense of accuracy in the way you realize rhythm and harmony, but it’s different from how you conceptualize these elements in a piece by Stockhausen, for instance. If I’m teaching
Stockhausen (which I’ve done sometimes), the ways I get students to think about rhythm are very different to the ways I would get them to think about the rhythm in Erkoreka – it’s more
about getting this nineteenth-century sense of style, clarity, and character; then, you can engage
with the complexities around them. Otherwise, the piece won’t make sense.
I’ve never taught Erkoreka’s music in an analysis class either, but for composers, it would be an
interesting lesson in orchestration. Ravel was a big inspiration for orchestral sound (and piano
writing, to an extent), but he has the ability to write in a very un-Ravelian language, yet with
some of the touches of Ravel’s orchestration such as clarity of voicing and a great variety of
color. I believe his compositional process is more fluid and plastic – there’s a lot of
improvisation on paper – and in that sense, his music isn’t an obvious target for analysis.
AMC: That makes sense. I’ve explored post-tonal (serial) analysis before, but when I first look
at Erkoreka’s music, I quickly realized that this method would not really work to explain his
music.
AH: [laughs] Indeed. You could think about residual tonality: even though the music very rarely
asserts something that could be called a tonic – and certainly very few triadic harmonies – there
are quite often groundings in specific pitches that govern the music for a long time, and
sometimes generating extended tonality. I remember in Jaia there is a big section inspired by 145
Albeniz’s Navarra, which is built on top of a E♭ bass line, even though the top lines are not related to a specific key.
Ultimately, I think it’s very difficult to find an analytical method for his music that would explain every note, but I think there are elements in his music that you could trace back to some of the procedures found in the traditional music of Albéniz (at least with Jaia).
AMC: Regarding this idea of residual tonality, I can see that with Jaia, Nubes I, and the
Ballades. In Dos Zortzikos, however, he often uses chords based on quartal harmonies…
AH: …yes, I remember those fourth-based harmonies. I think has more to do with sonorities than with systems – personal preference for certain chords, and how they move from one to another. It also has to do with how the music moves linearly, rather than vertically.
In a very different way, this is evident in Michael Finnissy’s music, but it’s generated by the massive overlapping of modality – which is something Gabriel has been interested in as well.
With much of his music, Finnissy takes modal melodic lines and put them in different modes and keys and overlap them. His music is not necessarily more systematic, but Finnissy has very specific methods of making that happen, whereas with Erkoreka it’s more like improvising on paper. In Finnissy’s music, tonality is something he can turn on and off – and that’s present in
Gabriel’s music too – but you might be listening to the most dissonant music imaginable and suddenly a modal line works its way out of it.
The relationship between Erkoreka and Spanish music has a little bit in common with the relationship between Finnissy’s piano music and Verdi. He has this cycle called Verdi
Transcriptions, and they range from transcriptions of Verdi arias to things you have no idea where the Verdi is. Another thing would be Finnissy’s use of folkloristic material, which
Erkoreka does as well, but in a completely different way. 146
AMC: Have you had any insights on the public’s reception of Erkoreka’s music?
AH: He’s a very successful composer in Spain. I always found when I played his pieces that
people really liked them, even people who were not necessarily contemporary music people,
therefore, it has something that audiences would grab on to it – the pieces are very exciting and
beautiful in ways that I don’t think you need to be an expert to grasp, which is really nice. He’s
certainly become a very important figure in the Basque Country and in Spain at large, but he is
probably not as particularly known outside of Europe.
His musical language has these aspects of Romanticism and modernism, and perhaps doesn’t fit very easily with other kinds of contemporary stylistic categories. Lately, he has written extensively for orchestra, which is quite hard to get repeated performances of it (and orchestras don’t tend to travel a lot). 147
APPENDIX F. INTERVIEW WITH JONATHAN POWELL
16 January 2021. Zoom interview with the author.
Ariel Magno da Costa: What is your involvement with Contemporary piano music in general?
Jonathan Powell: From the age of 13-14, I spent a lot of time in the public library in
Birmingham UK, near my parents’ home (around 15 miles), so you could take the bus, spend the day in the library, and come back with lots of scores, and I would try to play them. Of course, around that time, my teachers also realized that I was not conforming to the usual path of a
“good piano student” – actually, the repertoire I was interested in back then is the same stuff that
I’m playing now. I remember getting Scriabin (which is now standard repertoire, but maybe 40 years ago it wasn’t), Alkan, Szymanowski, Busoni, Stockhausen – it was a fantastic library, and you just needed a membership card. Before I went to undergraduate degree, I performed my first public concert in a very small place in London called British Music Information Center (which doesn’t exist anymore), and I played this piece by Michael Finnissy (Gabriel’s teacher in
England) called English Country-Tunes. I was the first person to play it, apart from the composer. I heard him play it on the radio a few years before and thought: “I’d better pay attention to this guy,” and I bought a score of it – which is instructive when you consider
Gabriel’s music. I then played it in 1988, just before I started my undergraduate studies. In my
20’s, I was focusing on composition and musicology, but then in my 30’s I started playing piano a lot more, having some kind of career as a pianist and having lots of new pieces written for me.
I also went back to the “classics” of contemporary Western Art Music, touring with pieces by
Xenakis, Stockhausen, as well as standard repertoire.
AMC: It’s interesting that you’ve mentioned English Country-Tunes. How would you say
Finnissy has influenced Erkoreka? 148
JP: Well, certainly in his piano writing, there is this sort of exuberance and not using the
instrument shyly – it can be flamboyant writing. Both very happily allude to music of the past,
such as the classics of piano literature. There’s an early piece by Gabriel called Jota, which is to a certain extent based on some of the gestural language of Navarra, by Albéniz; and in the
Ballades you’ll find references to Chopin and Brahms (naturally). In the same way, Michael’s music is full of this quite knowing reference to the piano literature of the past. Moreover, they are quite open to the interaction between modernist and folk music – and you can add to this a certain fondness to dense textures, rhythmic complexity etc.
AMC: Have you had the opportunity to teach any of his music to your piano students? If so, how
was the experience for you, and for the student(s)?
JP: I teach a bit. I used to have a teacher [Sulamita Aronovsky] and she taught her students in a
traditional way, mostly, but one of her students was Nicolas Hodges – who has played Gabriel’s
music and is the master of contemporary piano in Germany. She used to enter a lot of her
students in international competitions (like many Russian teachers do), and there was one in
Spain (I think it was in San Sebastian) in which they wanted either any contemporary Spanish
piece or Gabriel’s Nubes I, specifically; otherwise, it was a very traditional piano competition. A
few of her students had played Nubes I, and when this happens, Sulamita would get me to help
coach these students on Gabriel’s music because she knew I was familiar with his music and
therefore not fazed by Contemporary scores (sort of acting as her assistant). She would go to the
kitchen and drink tea while listening (while I was coaching them) and say: “ah, you said exactly
what I would say – well done!” [laughs].
You know, they tend to spend more than a year to learn a Beethoven sonata until nothing can
possibly go wrong, thus being very confident, but when faced with Gabriel’s music they 149
suddenly lose it (and Nubes is not a very scary piece). Both Nubes pieces are quite interesting, as
well as Dipolo [for cello and piano], but they are early pieces, and you can see that the Finnissy
influence starts right after those. Have you heard the Piccolo concerto called Kantak?
AMC: Yes
JP: That’s a very cool piece, which he wrote in London while studying with Michael [Finnissy].
I was at the premiere in the RAM, and I was really impressed. Next time Gabriel had a concert at
the Royal Academy, he got me to play Jota and one piece from Granados’s Goyescas, “El
Fandango de Candil,” since I was playing much of Iberia and Goyescas, and we’ve talked a lot about these two classics of Spanish piano music and played parts of it to each other quite a bit.
AMC: Which piece(s) by Erkoreka have you played/recorded thus far?
JP: I’ve made no studio recordings so far, but I’ve played Jaia, Dos Zortzikos, Kaila Kantuz,
Ballade no. 1 and Ballade no. 2 (which is dedicated to me; therefore, I have played it multiple
times)
AMC: When did you first get involved with his music? And how much have the two of you
worked together?
JP: I first met Gabriel when he was starting in London (Royal Academy of Music) in 1996-1997,
and soon after that I played Jaia. I worked with him on that piece, and he is very precise (he
knows exactly what he wants). He is also a pretty good pianist: he played Ravel’s Piano
Concerto in G, either in San Sebastian or Bilbao – I don’t know if he still plays much, but he
certainly did back then. Because of this, he knew exactly what he was doing when he wrote
something difficult – it was not the action of a composer who is not quite aware of the
instrument. At some point, we worked on Dos Zortzikos, which I’ve first played at Salle de
France with Goyescas, actually, and other pieces. I also played Kaila Kantuz, but we didn’t work 150 on that piece – it’s a very short piece, anyway [1 minute]. We’ve also worked on the Ballades – before the first performance – I had a lost page about 6 days before [laughs]. I really like his music, and he’s a nice guy!
AMC: Were there any unique challenges you’ve faced when learning Erkoreka’s piano music? If so, how did you approach them?
JP: Well, I’ve mentioned the sort of physicality [in his music], and in a way that’s common to much of the music we’ve spoken about, but there’s something a bit different in Gabriel’s music in that it often (certainly in Jaia and Dos Zortzikos) has to be contained within the rhythmic feel.
You have to be moving around and managing to cover a lot of the keyboard and play the notes, yet at the same time convey this sense of pulse/meter, which is often absent from a lot of contemporary piano music that is also rather explosive.
AMC: This is something I’ve noticed especially with the second Zortziko, because as you’ve mentioned, one must keep the rhythmic integrity of the dance, which is quite challenging for one of the sections – pp. 12 and 13. While the LH has tuplets of six, seven, eight, and nine on top of the 5/8, the RH has a rather complex rhythm of its own, with ties concealing the beginnings of the second, third, and fifth beats…
JP: …but they still have to be there. Although the general physicality and complexity is not new, it becomes unique in the context of a strict, dance-like metric framework. Another thing is the pedaling: sometimes he has very long pedal marks and I said “Gabriel, this is too long” (maybe once or twice he’s agreed with me [laughs]) and we talked about half-pedals or more changes depending on the piano and size of hall, but it’s a minor problem. Another thing: the sheer volume of sound and resonance is such that sometimes we have to change dynamics. For 151 instance, if an explosive section in the low register is quickly followed by something quiet, the quiet part is not heard, but we work on it in terms of balance and resonance.
AMC: I remember there’s at least one section in each Zortziko with 2-3 pages of constant ff, fff, ffff, and lots of sforzandi, and my teacher and I were talking about how to physically and musically manage these sections.
JP: Yes, I think that dynamics need to be interpreted relative to themselves within a particular region, rather than each level being absolute.
To my ear, he started as a sort of spectral composer, and then there was this sort of bad British influence [laughs], and we’re left with something that is also incredibly Basque and Spanish, which is a very unique mix of influences. Therefore, the performance problems that one runs up against are not necessarily covered by anything before, because he has taken things that are very different and yet sound completely natural [when put together] in his music.
AMC: How do you approach the rhythmic intricacies of his music, during practice and at a performance?
JP: I just figure them out, slowly with reference to the counterpoint; finding where each melodic element starts and ends – it helps the articulation of the rhythm as well.
If I could get one of his pieces out, that might help me [picks the score for the second Ballade].
This is one of the complex ones, but it has incredibly long bars sometimes, yet the rhythm is not incredibly complex/dense. It is important to make sure you articulate what’s happening while at the same time having a sense of flow. These are the two extremes you need to reconcile, because if you are ultra-meticulous about the rhythmic details you might lose the large phrase; conversely, if you’re thinking just about the larger phrase, you might lose an awful lot of interesting and important detail. You might practice different things on different days: for 152 example, one day you might look into careful detail at small elements, while another day you play through different sections and find out something about the larger phrases and structures; at least that’s how I work with a lot of complex music – and then try to meet somewhere at the middle.
AMC: Have you had any insights on the public’s reception of Erkoreka’s music?
Among contemporary music, people he’s pretty well known, and he’s becoming more well- known in Germany and Austria – which is a different scene from France and Spain. He’s known in the UK as well, since he’s studied there for some years. Regarding regular concertgoers, I’ve played his Zortzikos in a festival in southern France (in the mountains), and they were not a
“sophisticated-new-music-fan” type of audience – they came to hear Goyescas (I might have played Mompou as well). They asked if I could play one contemporary piece in the program: the director was a kind, enlightened guy, but he knows the limits of his audience. I said that Gabriel is a big admirer of Granados, and I can play two of his [Erkoreka’s] pieces. I think the audience could hear the connection – they were stunned at how hardcore it was! In Oxford, I’ve played both Ballades, when the second one was premiered – also paired with Goyescas – and they enjoyed it there. I haven’t heard people complaining about it [laughs].
AMC: It seems that pairing these pieces with related works from the traditional repertoire is an effective strategy towards contextualizing the modern work and thus making a deeper connection with the audience; otherwise, it could be a bit of a shock
JP: Yes, I think people have generally been taken by this sort of rhythmic drive, the relation to folk song, and the energy and color in his music. It doesn’t really have this sort of intellectual surface, even though it’s highly thought out and sophisticated, but that’s not how it comes across. 153
He’s interested in sound, vitality, and clarity of form. If you hear a piece, you can tell what’s going on – it can be mysterious, but it’s not confusing.
AMC: Any final insights on how to help a performer to better understand this kind of music?
JP: Well, I would go back to the roots, thinking of them as elaborations and variations on a basic rhythmic idea – of course, learn the details, but don’t get bogged down by it (to get too confused about it). 154
APPENDIX G. CONSENT DOCUMENTS
Bowling Green State University Consent to Participate in a Research Study Adult Participants Social Behavioral Form
IRB Study # 1584213-1 Consent Form Version Date: May 4, 2020
Title of Study: Basque and Modernist Influences in Gabriel Erkoreka’s Works for Solo Piano (1994-2019)
Principal Investigator: Ariel Magno da Costa Faculty Advisor: Dr. Laura Melton
Study Contact telephone number: 1-989-954-2262 (da Costa); 1-419-308-1822 (Dr Melton) Study Contact email: [email protected]; [email protected]
SUMMARY
“Basque and Modernist Influences in Gabriel Erkoreka’s Works for Solo Piano (1994-2019)” is the title of a research study conducted by its principal investigator, Ariel Magno da Costa, in partial fulfillment of his Doctoral studies in Contemporary Music – Performance at Bowling Green State University. In addition to a literature review and analysis of selected piano works, the investigator intends to conduct interviews with the composer and a limited number of pianists who have performed or recorded any of his compositions for solo piano. You are being invited as a potential participant because of your familiarity with Erkoreka’s piano works. Participation is completely voluntary, and your decision will not affect your relationship with Bowling Green State University. Interviews will be conducted online, and each interview should last approximately 45-60 minutes. This is the first scholarly study of its kind, and society will benefit from new knowledge, but you will not benefit personally from participating in this study. You will be identified in this study by your first and last name, unless you wish to use a pseudonym. The risk to you is no greater than that experienced in everyday life. If you wish to participate in this study, please read this document carefully, sign it and send it back to Ariel Magno da Costa via email at [email protected].
INTRODUCTION OF THE RESEARCHER BGSU IRB – APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID # _ 1584213__ EFFECTIVE ___05/22/2020_ EXPIRES ___05/19/2021_
_ 155
My name is Ariel Magno da Costa, and I am a doctoral student in Contemporary Music – Performance at Bowling Green State University. In my dissertation, I will be conducting research on the music for solo piano by Spanish composer Gabriel Erkoreka (b. 1969). You are being invited to participate in this research because of your previous experience and familiarity with the topic, either as a performer or the composer himself.
PURPOSE
The purpose of this study is to explore Gabriel Erkoreka’s technical and stylistic procedures through his music for solo piano, and influences drawn from modernist piano music and cultural elements from his Basque background, and propose an approach to his solo piano works from the perspective of a performer and a teacher. Part of my research will be accomplished through a literature review of relevant topics, and analysis of selected works for solo piano, namely: Nubes I (1994), Jaia (2000), Dos Zortzikos (2000), Mundaka (2009), and Ballade no. 2 (2019). Interviews with the composer and pianists who have learned his music will provide valuable insight into the composer’s compositional process, the challenges faced by performers, and how they overcome such challenges. Research is designed to benefit society by gaining new knowledge. This study will be the first scholarly discussion of Gabriel Erkoreka’s music (for piano or otherwise), to the extent of my knowledge. You may not benefit directly personally from participating in this study. There is no financial compensation for taking part in this research, and there are no costs for you to participate.
PROCEDURES
If you choose to participate in this study, you will be asked a series of questions in an online interview, through Skype, Zoom, or any other video conference platform of your choice. Interviews should last approximately 45-60 minutes each. Questions will be related to the music for solo piano by Gabriel Erkoreka. The principal investigator will then collect the data gathered from the interviews, analyze them in juxtaposition to the investigator’s own analyses of the composer’s piano works and a literature review, and draw conclusions to aid performers and teachers when approaching this music.
VOLUNTARY NATURE
Your participation is completely voluntary. You may choose to answer questions as briefly or in as much detail as you like, and you may also choose not to answer any questions. You may discontinue your participation at any time without explanation or penalty, and your withdrawal will not affect your relationship with Bowling Green State University in any way.
CONFIDENTIALITY/ANONYMITY PROTECTION
Since the information that will be gathered from the interviews is directly related to either 1) your music or 2) your work as a performer who worked on the composer’s piano music, you will be identified by your first name and last name (unless you specify otherwise).
BGSU IRB – APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID # _ 1584213__ EFFECTIVE ___05/22/2020_ EXPIRES ___05/19/2021_ 156
Audio recordings from the interviews will be used to accurate transcription only, and will not be made available..__ to _ anyone beyond the principal investigator and faculty advisor. 1l1e recordings may beh eld for up to two years. Interviews will be stored on a password-protected- -- ... laptop computer. At the.. end of this doctunent, you will have the option to provide, or not, consentto be recorded (solely for accuracy in transcription of interview) and to have your full name used in - .... -- this... study, or use a pseudonym-...... •--- of your choice.
The risk to you is no greater than that experienced in everyday life.
CONT ACTINFO RMATIO
All research en human·--- volunteers_.,.fc is reviewed by a committee that works to protect your a rights and welfare. Ifyou h ve questions or concerns about your rights as a research subject, or ifyou would like to obtain informatJOn-, . or offer input, you may contact the InstitutionaI Review Board at 419r.- 372~ .....-7716- or by email orc@bgsuedit You can also contact the principal investigator directly at 989-954-2262 or by email dacosta@bgstLedu; oryou can contact the faculty advisor at 419-308-1822 or by email [email protected]. Thank you for your time!
Participant'sAgreement: .. I have read the information- ___ provided above. I have asked,. - all the questions I have at this ' time. l volW1tanly agr in this research study. � � - Signature of Research--Participant Date RicARDo DE.ScAUb - .... _...... _ ...... --- Printed Name of Research' Participant
Privacyagreement
• I agree to have my full name used j-in (.this study I>< OK to use my fun name inthe study -"'NotOK to usemy full namein the ts udy;would like a pseudonymI" • I agree-- r-to rh ave--~ i-the - iinterview recorded, solely for acctrracy in transcription $__OK to-r-1·--·r· reccrd me during the study __Not OK to record me during the study
BGSU IRB-APPROVEDFORUSE IRBNlt ID# 1514213 EFFECTIVE 05122/2020 EXPIRES _J 0511912021 157
Audio recordings from the interviews will be used to accurate transcription only, and will not be made available to anyone beyond the principal investigator and faculty advisor. The recordings 1nay be held for up to two years. Interviews will be stored on a password-protected laptop computer. At the end of this document, you will have the option to provide, or not, consent to be recorded (sole]y for accuracy in transcription of interview) and to have your full name used in this study, or use a pseudonym of your choice.
RISKS
The risk to you is no greater than that experienced in everyday life.
CONTACT INFORMATION
All research on human vollmteers is reviewed by a committee that works to protect your rights and welfare. If you have questions or concerns about your rights as a research subject, or if you would like to obtain information or offer input, you may contact the Institutional Review Board at 419-372-7716 or by email orc,.a~bgsu.edu.You can also contact the principal investigator directly at 989-954-2262 or by email dacosta0;bgsu.edu: or you can contact the faculty advisor at 419-308-1822 or by email meltonl(a)bgsu.edu. Thank you for your time!
Participant's Agreement:
I have read the information provided above. I have asked all the questions I have at this time. I voluntarily agree to participate in this research study. c:::=----Y7ct_A__ If 7--~F-ek ;. o 21 Swi~..:hParficipant ?::::::, Date GAttz\EL. €J Privacy agreement • I agr to have my full name used in this study OK to use mv full name in the studv Not OK to use mv full name in the studv: would like a pseudonvm • I agyee to have the interview recorded, solely for accuracy in transcription ~ OK to record me during the study __ Not OK to record me during the study BGSU IRB -APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID# 1584213 EFFS:::TIVE 05/22/2020 EXPIRES 05/19/2021 158 Audio recordings from the interviews will be used to accurate transcription only, and will not be made available to anyone beyond the principal investigator and faculty advisor. The recordings may be held for up to two years. Interviews will be stored on a password-protected laptop computer. At the end of this document, you will have the option to provide, or not, consent to be recorded (solely for accuracy in transcription of interview) and to have your full name used in this study, or use a pseudonym of your choice. RISKS The risk to you is no greater than that experienced in everyday life. CONTACT INFORMATION All research on human volunteers is reviewed by a committee that works to protect your rights and welfare. If you have questions or concerns about your rights as a research subject, or if you would like to obtain information or offer input, you may contact the Institutional Review Board at 419-372-7716 or by email [email protected]. You can also contact the principal investigator directly at 989-954-2262 or by email [email protected]; or you can contact the faculty advisor at 419-308-1822 or by email [email protected]. Thank you for your time! ------ Participant’s Agreement: I have read the information provided above. I have asked all the questions I have at this time. I voluntarily agree to participate in this research study. ______May 18, 2021 Signature of Research Participant Date Juan______Carlos Garvayo Medina ______Printed Name of Research Participant Privacy agreement • I agree to have my full name used in this study _____x OK to use my full name in the study _____ Not OK to use my full name in the study; would like a pseudonym • I agree to have the interview recorded, solely for accuracy in transcription _____x OK to record me during the study _____ Not OK to record me during the study BGSU IRB – APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID # _ 1584213__ EFFECT IV E ___05/22/2020_ EXPIRES ___05/19/2021_ _ 159 Audio recordings from the interviews will be used to accurate transcription only, and will not be made available to anyone beyond the principal investigator and faculty advisor. The recordings may be held for up to two years. Interviews will be stored on a password-protected laptop computer. At the end of this document, you will have the option to provide, or not, consent to be recorded (solely for accuracy in transcription of interview) and to have your full name used in this study, or use a pseudonym of your choice. RISKS The risk to you is no greater than that experienced in everyday life. ./ CONTACT INFORMATION All research on human volunteers is reviewed by a committee that works to protect your rights and welfare. If you have questions or concerns about your rights as a research subject, or if you would like to obtain information or offer input, you may contact the Institutional Review Board at 419-372-7716 or by email orc(aibgsu.edu. You can also contact the principal investigator directly at 989-954-2262 or by email [email protected]; or you can contact the faculty advisor at 419-308-1822 or by email [email protected]. Thank you for your time! Participant's Agreement: l have read the information provided above. I have asked all the questions I have at this time. I voluntarily agree to participate in thi'> research study. Jrnr, G:r-Cl ~L-_::_----- A9 O°J.iozo Signatufe""oiResearchP attic ipant Date Al(v0so G;rr'-l; Printed Name of Research Participant Privacy agreement • I agree tQ have my full name used in this study 0 to use m full name in the stud ot OK to use my full name in the study; would like a pseudonym • I agree to have the interview recorded, solely for accuracy·in transcription __ OK to record me during the study __JJ_ Not OK to record me during the study BGSU !RB-APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID# 1584213 EFFECTIVE 05/22/2020 EXPIRES 05/19/2021 160 Audio recordings from the interviews will be used to accurate transcription only, and will not be made available to anyone beyond the principal investigator and faculty advisor. The recordings may be held for up to two years. Interviews will be stored on a password-protected laptop computer. At the end of this document, you will have the option to provide, or not, consent to be recorded (solely for accuracy in transcription of interview) and to have your full name used in this study, or use a pseudonym of your choice. RISKS The risk to you is no greater than that experienced in everyday life. CONTACT INFORMATION All research on human volunteers is reviewed by a committee that works to protect your rights and welfare. If you have questions or concerns about your rights as a research subject, or if you would like to obtain information or offer input, you may contact the Institutional Review Board at 419-372-7716 or by email [email protected]. You can also contact the principal investigator directly at 989-954-2262 or by email [email protected]; or you can contact the faculty advisor at 419-308-1822 or by email [email protected]. Thank you for your time! ------ Participant’s Agreement: I have read the information provided above. I have asked all the questions I have at this time. I voluntarily agree to participate in this research study. ______Signature of Research Participant Date ______Printed Name of Research Participant Privacy agreement • I agree to have my full name used in this study _____ OK to use my full name in the study _____ Not OK to use my full name in the study; would like a pseudonym • I agree to have the interview recorded, solely for accuracy in transcription _____ OK to record me during the study _____ Not OK to record me during the study BGSU IRB – APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID # _ 1584213__ EFFECT IV E ___05/22/2020_ EXPIRES ___05/19/2021_ _ 161 Audio recordings from the interviews will be used to accurate transcription only, and will not be made available to anyone beyond the principal investigator and faculty advisor. The recordings may be held for up to two years. Interviews will be stored on a password-protected laptop computer. At the end of this document, you will have the option to provide, or not, consent to be recorded (solely for accuracy in transcription of interview) and to have your full name used in this study, or use a pseudonym of your choice. RISKS The risk to you is no greater than that experienced in everyday life. CONTACT INFORMATION All research on human volunteers is reviewed by a committee that works to protect your rights and welfare. If you have questions or concerns about your rights as a research subject, or if you would like to obtain information or offer input, you may contact the Institutional Review Board at 419-372-7716 or by email [email protected]. You can also contact the principal investigator directly at 989-954-2262 or by email [email protected]; or you can contact the faculty advisor at 419-308-1822 or by email [email protected]. Thank you for your time! ------ Participant’s Agreement: I have read the information provided above. I have asked all the questions I have at this time. I voluntarily agree to participate in this research study. ______Jonathan______Powell ______12.09.2020 Signature of Research Participant Date ______Jonathan Powell ______Printed Name of Research Participant Privacy agreement • I agree to have my full name used in this study _____It is OK to use my full name in the study _____ Not OK to use my full name in the study; would like a pseudonym • I agree to have the interview recorded, solely for accuracy in transcription _____It is OK to record me during the study _____ Not OK to record me during the study BGSU IRB – APPROVED FOR USE IRBNet ID # _ 1584213__ EFFECTIVE ___05/22/2020_ EXPIRES ___05/19/2021_ _ 162 6/1/2021 Mail - Ariel Magno da Costa - Outlook Re: [EXTERNAL] DMA Dissertation Gabriel Erkoreka I confirm that I grant you permission for the reproduction of any printed material composed by me in your dissertation about my piano music. Many thanks. All very best, Gabriel El 20 may 2021, a las 8:10, Ariel Magno da Costa Hi Gabriel, Thank you very much for the recording, the score, and the answers! I've included the "ambiguity and dirt" and the "art as transformation" segments, which I thought were interesting, and fit into some of the discussion. I'll make sure to include ZUHAITZ in some way as well. I'm hoping to get most of the material written by next week and get through most of the revisions the week after that - and prepare for the final exam and dissertation defense on June 25th! It's crazy how fast things have moved lately!