Xavier Montsalvatge i Bassols
1912
The composer and critic
Montsalvatge was born in Girona and studied at Barcelona Conservatory with
Morera and Pahissa. His education was Castillian; to speak Catalan in public
could invite a slap in the face; to write it was seen as an open defiance of
Franco. He was a musician of broad culture and a talented journalist: he was a
music critic for “Destino” and “La Vanguardia”. Most of his music was written
in the 1940’s, during the Republic.
The
Catalan composer Mompou was a strong influence, but Montsalvatge explored
Catalan, Spanish and Cuban/Antillean music in his compositions. Spain still had
strong ties to Cuba and the popular Habanera style had been re-imported from
the West Indies by émigrés from Spain’s Mediterranean coast.
There
are still very distinctive Catalan folk qualities in his West Indian pieces. He
collected the Habaneros of Catalan fishermen from the days of their fathers and
grandfathers sailing in windjammers to Cuba. The shipbuilders and sailors of
the slave ships were fascinated by the exotic melodies and the excitement and
sensuality of the rhythms they encountered on their voyages to Havana.
Montsalvatge
combined his bittersweet songs with hauntingly familiar Spanish rhythms and sophisticated
accompaniments. The “Cinco Canciones Negras”, composed in 1946, with texts by
Alberti, Luján, Guillén and Pereda Valdéz, were a great success. All the songs
have exotic elements and perfectly illustrate his originality and technical
mastery. The Catalan singer Mercedes Plantada premiered them in Madrid and
Barcelona, in 1946.
Cinco Canciones Negras
By the 1930s, when these poems were written, many Spanish
artists, poets and musicians were exiles because of political allegiances.
Alberti visited Havana on a lecture tour and was influenced by Cuban Poetry and
Surrealism. While he avoided the grotesque and went for the humorous, other
poets expressed brutality in images of love and sex, horror and savagery. The
similarities between Spain and Cuba are many, yet Cuba was a safer subject for
poets and composers.
All the poems
Montsalvatge selected for his “Cinco Canciones Negras”, composed in 1945, reflect various
experiences of Cuban life. From the struggle for Cuban Independence and the
exploitation of mulattos, to the self-hating despair of oppressed Cuban blacks
and the relics of rebellious slave dances. The hauntingly beautiful lullaby
lovingly evokes the hopes of a mother, suffering the legacy of slavery but
wishing better for her children.
When my mother wore
A strawberry sherbet for a hat,
And the smoke from the ships
Was still smoke from cigars,
From dark Vuelta Abajo leaves,
Cadiz went to sleep
Between fandangos and habaneras,
And a little parrot at the piano
Tried to sing tenor.
Tell me where is the flower
That man so intently worships.
My Uncle Antonio returned
With his insurrectionist air.
La Cabaña and El Principe resounded
Through the patios near the harbour.
No longer shines
The Blue Pearl of the Antillean Sea;
It’s gone out, it’s died on us.
I ran into beautiful Trinidad:
Cuba had been lost,
And now it was true, quite true;
It was no lie.
A fleeing gunboat came in
Singing the tale in guajiras.
Havana was already lost;
Money was to blame.
It fell, the gunboat fell silent.
But it was later, ah, later,
They made 'Si' into 'Yes'
Punto de
Habanera (Siglo XVIII) Listen on YouTube
The Creole girl goes by in her white crinoline.
How
white it is!
Hey! The crepe of your foam.
Sailors, get at look at her!
She walks,
Moist from the droplets on her dusky skin.
Little girl don’t fret, all alone this evening.
I’d like to order the water
Not to escape too soon
From the prison of your skirt.
Your body encloses, this evening,
The murmur of a dahlia opening.
Little girl don’t fret, your body is fruit
Asleep on the embroidered breeze.
Your waist quivers finely
With the nobility of a whip.
All your skin smells joyfully
Of lemon and orange trees.
The sailors look at you
And they keep looking at you.
The Creole girl goes by in her white crinoline. How
white it is!
Chévere of the knife thrust
Turns himself into a knife.
He cuts the moon up in slices,
But he runs out of moon;
He cuts shadows in slices,
But he runs out of shadows;
He cuts songs up in slices,
But he runs out of songs;
And then he slashes away
At the flesh of his bad black woman!
Yambambó, yambambé!
The Congo solongo struts by,
The very black man struts by. Aoé!
The Congo solongo from Songo
Dances the Yambó on one foot.
Yambambó, yambambé!
Mamatomba serembé cuserembá,
The black man sings and gets drunk.
Mamatomba serembé cuserembá,
The black man gets drunk and sings.
Mamatomba serembé cuserembá,
The black man sings and goes.
Acuememe serembó aé,
Yambambó aé yambambé aó.
Tamba, tamba, tamba, tamba,
The black man staggers,
The black man staggers,
Caramba, caramba
Caramba, the black man falls,
Yambá, yambó!
Yambambé, yambambó, yambambé!
He dances the
yambo on one foot!
Canción de Cuna para dormir a un negrito
Ninghe, Ninghe, Ninghe, little tiny one,
Little black child
Who doesn’t want to sleep.
Coconut head, coffee bean,
With pretty freckles,
With eyes wide open
Like two windows overlooking the sea.
Close your little eyes
Frightened little black boy;
The white bogeyman
Is going to come and eat you up!
You’re not a slave anymore!
And if you sleep a lot,
The master of the house
Promises to buy you
A suit with buttons
So you can be a groom.
Ninghe, Ninghe, Ninghe,
Sleep little black boy,
Coconut head, coffee bean.
©Copyright Helena Kean
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