preciosa’ Gaspar Sanz and the baroque guitar
Whilst delving into any area of supposed specialisation, which at first sight appears obscure and historically isolated, we soon discover inter-connectedness with the cultural, the religious, the political, the psychological, the social, and many other areas. As soon as this interaction becomes apparent, it can then seem an impossible task to view our original source of enquiry again in isolation. This is most certainly the case with the guitar in seventeenth-century Spain and its associated repertoire.
Some writers on the history of the guitar have applied the word ‘development’ in discussing the atavism of the instrument. This comes from the erroneous conclusion that the modern instrument has reached its apotheosis; a point which earlier incarnations were merely striving for. This supposed ‘development’ is an illusion, with the instruments and repertoire of any given age being entirely apposite to their cultural background1
Traditionally, the lute family of instruments has often been lumped together in this general theory of ‘evolution’ associated with
1The addition of extra strings to the lute during the seventeenthcentury, alongside the gradual change in tuning, can therefore be seen as reflecting changing tastes geographically and culturally, rather than as a development. These factors may have led to the lute’s falling out of favour towards the end of the eighteenth-century.
the guitar, assuming a shared lineage, alongside shared goals2. In fact the guitar sprung from a separate source, and maintained a unique identity, filtering effortlessly into its surrounding culture. It is only relatively recently that this milieu has begun to be understood and correctly placed in its cultural and historical context.
The instrument with which we are concerned first appeared on the Iberian peninsula towards the end of the sixteenthcentury, roughly coinciding with the end of Spain’s ‘golden age’, which had been reflected by the music of the vihuela, a guitar shaped instrument of the lute family. The vihuela’s repertoire fully embraced the Flemish polyphonic tradition, much in favour with Spain’s Habsburg monarchs, producing a learned style much appreciated by the cognoscenti. The vihuela at times leaned towards a more popular idiom, such as is the case with Narvaez’s variations on the popular song ‘Guardame las vacas’, but in general the repertoire abounds in sophisticated fantasias and intabulations of sacred and secular polyphonic works by composers such as Josquin.
2Ironically, much lute music is actually easier to render on a modern instrument than is that of the baroque guitar due to its idiomatic tuning and playing styles.
Not surprisingly, given its popular provenance, the appearance of the five course guitar in Spain produced a sense of abject horror in those hitherto enamoured of the vihuela’s sophistication3. This reaction is comparable with the sense of outrage engendered in the morally inclined of our own era by the advent of forms of popular music, which to some herald a new age of depravity and the collapse of social decency.
Much of the execration directed towards the then new instrument seems to have arisen from its strumming potential and thereby its associations with popular ballads, taverns, criminality, sensuality and in particular dancing, seen by the church authorities as being diabolical, or at least a sure step on the ‘primrose path’ towards damnation.
Although the early guitar books consist of the strumming (rasgueado) style for the accompaniment of songs and dances4, the guitar gradually developed a unique and highly sophisticated repertoire, equalling that of the lute, and gaining acceptance in the royal courts of Europe, most significantly the Versailles of Louis XIV. The full process by which the
3For a fuller discussion of this, see the sleeve note essay for my earlier recording ‘Les plaisirs les plus charmant’ Delphian Records (DCD34011).
4A good example of this type of publication is Juan Carlos Amat’s ‘Guitarra Espanola de cinco ordenes’ (1626). Facsimile reprint available from editions Chanterelle.
guitar’s repertoire encompassed the most basic accompaniments to the most sophisticated suites and sets of variations can be most clearly seen in the works of Gaspar Sanz.
Two examples of baroque guitar music have come down to us via orchestral arrangements. The first is a g minor passacaglia by Roncalli5, used by Respighi in his ‘Ancient airs and dances’, the second is a selection of pieces by Sanz used by Roderigo in his guitar concerto ‘Fantasia para un gentilhombre’. To the modern listener, this work may be their first contact with Sanz’s music. This being the case, the hearing of it on an original instrument can come as quite a shock. This was certainly my own experience, having initially played Sanz on a classical guitar – not realising prior to specialising in period instruments – how far removed from his intentions these versions with their romantic accretions are.
The guitar used by Sanz and his contemporaries differs greatly from the modern instrument. It does however share many similarities with the lute, including a carved or parchment rose, tied on gut frets and double strings known as courses.
5Published in 1692, Ludovico Roncalli’s ‘Capricci armonico’ is an important contribution to the Italian guitar repertory. Facsimile available from Spes editions.
‘La
The baroque guitar has five courses, four double with a single top string.
The strangest feature to modern listeners however is Sanz’s choice of stringing and the effects it produces. He favoured a system without basses (bourdons), producing a ‘re-entrant’ tuning where the two ‘lowest’ strings sound higher than the third. Sanz explains that this facilitates the neater execution of decorations and in particular the effect known as ‘canpanellas’ (little bells), where adjacent notes in runs are sounded on different strings, creating a merging effect unique to the instrument.
For this recording I have adhered to Sanz’s tuning instructions and have avoided the third course octave employed by some when playing this repertoire. Sanz’s tuning does present some problems with line at times, but as the composer himself states ‘I take the middle way, and declare that it is neither perfect, nor imperfect, but what you make it, since the fault or perfection is in him who plays it and not in the instrument itself.’
Tuning and stringing were however by no means homogenised is the seventeenthcentury. This area is still a hotbed of debate amongst scholars and performers alike6. All of Sanz’s music comes down to us in his ‘Instruccion de musica sobra la guitarra
Española’7. This work is also our main source of biographical material about the composer, adumbrating an outline of his career to the point of the publication of the aforementioned work.
Born in Calanda c.1640, Sanz graduated in theology from the University of Salamanca, and subsequently travelled to Italy to pursue hisstudies in music. He studied principally with Cristoforo Caresana, organist at the royal chapel of Naples, and with Lelio Colista, the Roman lutenist, guitarist and composer.
During his time in Italy Sanz became familiar with the music of the ‘Roman school’ of guitarists, including Foscarini, Granata, Kapsberger8, and Corbetta, whom he describes as being ‘the best of all’. Sanz, however much in admiration of these figures, does find fault with the paucity of information provided on how to play their works – and more importantly – is concerned about the absence of rules on how to compose ‘without a teacher on hand’. He was further troubled by the lack of familiar Spanish sources which would give beginners ‘instruction in the same
6The interested reader should consult ‘Baroque guitar tuning and stringing, a survey of the evidence’ – Monica Hall. Available from the Lute society.
7Published in Zaragoza 1694/95, 1697 and available in facsimile from Minkoff editions.
8 Unfortunately, no guitar music by Kapsberger has yet come to light, although his lute, theorbo and numerous vocal compositions are well worth investigating.
music and songs that they ordinarily hear’. The amelioration of this was of the utmost interest to Sanz. Little else is known of his life. We know that he also published two literary works; a 1678 Spanish translation of Daniello Bartoli’s ‘L’uomo de lettere’ (1654), and a eulogy in praise of Pope Innocent XI ‘Ecos Sagredos’ (1681). In addition, he provided a Latin epigram to Torre’s 1721 translation of John Owen (the British Martial). This helps us to conjecture that Sanz may have been alive during the year of its publication, although the date of his death has been postulated as early as 1710.
Sanz’s ‘Instruccion de musica’, engraved by the composer himself and dedicated to Juan of Austria, is without doubt the most important source of seventeenth-century guitar music and information pertaining to it. Sanz gives the reader a plethora of invaluable insights unavailable elsewhere, including: stringing; fretting; the reading of tablature with its ‘rasgueado’ (strummed) and punteado (plucked) notations; how to play in time; alongside information regarding the execution of ornaments9. This information is a vital source for the performance of Spanish music of the period in general.
9Ironically, much lute music is actually easier to render on a modern instrument than is that of the baroque guitar due to its idiomatic tuning and playing styles.
Sanz’s work is divided into three books, the first of which begins with an approbation from the licentiate Sebastian Alphonso, who gives us a wonderful, yet largely unnoticed, hint as to the performance practice of the time. ‘Some play with the fingernails, while others merely scrape the senses with their nails’10.
Book one contains a lot of the aforementioned practical information. The music begins with two ‘labarintos’. The first is a table using the ‘alphabeto’ system11, enabling the player to perform pasacalles in all the keys (tonos). The second gives examples of unusual chords or ‘falsas’. There follows a varied selection of dances. Sanz sets out with the most denuded versions of these ground basses (surely close to the music so anathematised by the guitar’s early detractors), which is subsequently brought to the height of sophistication in later pages. Book one also contains Sanz’s arguably most famous piece, a set of variations (differencias) on
10Raising the contentious issue: to pluck with or without fingernails? It would appear that both were in use for both lute and guitar. For this recording I have chosen to use fingernails.
11‘The Alphabeto’ or ‘Abecedario’ was a system first developed by Amat (see note 4). It uses chord shapes shown in tablature at the beginning or the end of the book. Each chord is designated a letter unrelated to its tonality: A = G major, B = C major etc. The letters were printed above the stave in vocal music, on their own for strumming, or in some cases – Sanz for example mixed in with the tablature.
‘La preciosa’ Gaspar Sanz and the baroque guitar
the canarios alongside a set on the jacaras with its pungent Iberian flavour already presaging flamenco. These more complex versions can easily be superimposed onto the simpler grounds, allowing players of differing standards to play the same music. The presentation is similar to the way in which today’s rock guitar books are presented. For this recording I have incorporated the strummed versions into the more complex. This, I feel, must have been common practice, especially if played for dancing. Also worthy of note is Sanz’s inclusion of fully developed suites, clearly demonstrating his early Italian influences. There is also extensive information on how to play from a figured bass, showing that the guitar was regularly used as a continuo instrument.
Book two opens with more detailed information about the modes used in Spanish music12, and provides us with a wonderful diagram of the hands playing the alphabeto chords. Musical highlights include two more settings of the canarios, a beautiful pavanas and many other sets of differencias on well known Iberian grounds. The final page provides a snapshot of an otherwise lost world of popular songs,
many of a military provenance. Sanz calls them ‘Clarins and trumpets’ with some very curious songs, both Spanish and from other nations. Two are included here; ‘La coquina Francesa’ and ‘Lantururu’ (soldier’s song).
Book three falls within a practice, already established in Italy, of presenting a series of fully developed pasacalles ‘in all of the eight modes of plainchant’. In these ten works Sanz exploits the full gamut of the guitar’s potential, including ‘rasgueado’, figurative passages or ‘passeo’, ‘campanellas’ and ‘cromaticos’. In his preface, the composer relates that he received ‘royal applause and pleasure’ on playing them to Juan of Austria.
The Music
The Pasacalles seems to have originated in early seventeenth-century Spain, (first written reference 1605), and is the cornerstone of the improvised art. The word comes from the Spanish words passar (to walk) and calle (street). It most likely derived from outdoor performances. The name may also allude to steps made by performers. The simple chord sequence of I – IV – V – I was possibly used for improvisation between verses or at the end of sections. As with the chacona, the earliest written examples come from the Italian guitar books, in duple and triple time, presented in a series of keys. The examples on this recording are all in variation form.
The Canarios is an ancient dance of the Canary Islands, characterised by ‘zapateado’ (heel stamping), abrupt violent steps, and a fast syncopated rhythm, employing the ‘Spanish hemiola formula’. It was introduced to Spain in the early sixteenth-century and is mentioned by Cervantes, Lope de Vega and many others. Arbeau, in his ‘Orchésographie’ (1588), states that ‘Its passages are gay but nevertheless strange and fantastic with a strong barbaric flavour’. The dance became popular in the rest of Europe with Purcell calling it ‘canaries’ and the French variant
employing duple rather than triple time. Shakespeare makes use of the quibble on ‘canary’ as a sweet wine with the dance13 The famous canarios from book one is joined here with the less well known but equally attractive book two setting.
The Jacaras is the most instantly recognisable as being of Iberian origin. The word comes from the Spanish ‘jacaro’ and ‘jacarandosa’ meaning lively. The term jacaras could also signify an assembly of high spirited rogues. The dance uses the same ‘hemiola formula’ as the canarios and many other grounds, and is usually in the minor mode. The Jacaras belongs to a set of dances known as ‘bailes’, which according to one priest ‘the devil had brought out of hell’. It was very popular on the stage, often depicting blind characters or drunken horseplay. Strangely, it also became popular in church music as a form of sacred villancico. This dance seems to contain the basic elements of flamenco, in terms of harmony, rhythm and spirit. Both recorded here feature improvisation, alongside short excerpts of works by Sanz’s contemporaries Santa Cruz and Murcia in Jacaras I.
The Suite in e minor features an unmeasured prelude in the French style, and an Alemanda ‘La preciosa’ which is very close in style to
‘La
preciosa’ Gaspar Sanz and the baroque guitar
12A detailed overview in translation of the tonos can be found in the Chanterelle edition of the vocal works of José Marín.
13Associated with two of Shakespeare’s most notorious drunks, Falstaff and Toby Belch.
Corbetta14. The Sesquilatera takes its name from the Latin for ‘the whole and the half’, implying a superimposition or alteration of duple and triple time, with the first and fourth quavers lengthened and the rest shortened.
As is the case with the pavanas recorded here, the Fuga is based on a Spanish aire. The word fuga (flight) was often used in connection with the Italian word ‘caccia’ (chase) implying a fleeing and pursuit of musical phrases. The fuga ends with a slow chromatic section.
Two versions of the Folia, a fifteenth-century dance, exist in the baroque era; an early and a later variant with a more complex cadential formula which became standardised in Europe. Sanz’s version employs features from both. The earliest extant use of this ground appears in Mudarra’s ‘fantasia que contrahaze la harpa en la manera de Ludovico’15 for vihuela (1546). This generally rambunctious dance again features tambourines and a variety of other instruments and appears to have been very popular on the stage. In 1611 Sebastián de Covarrubias describes porters, in disguise, carrying young men dressed as women on their shoulders. He goes onto
explain that the term folia means mad or empty headed. The steps of the dance were surely meant to illustrate this point. With its emphasis on the second beat, the folia actually has more in common with the later baroque sarabande than its namesake the Spanish zarabanda.
The Matachin was basically a figured dance for teams of men. The term may derive from the Spanish ‘matar’ to kill. Two basic types exist; one to demonstrate serious swordsmanship, and the other as an excuse for grotesque behaviour including grimaces and strange disguises. In Molière’s ‘Monsieur de Pourceaugnac’ (1669), the eponymous hero is attacked and chased by six Matachins.
The Zarabanda appears to be Latin American / Spanish in origin. It came to Italy early in the seventeenth-century as part of the guitar repertoire. This dance was considered highly indecent, and was first banned in Spain in 1538 for obscenity. Literary references however continue through the seventeenthcentury. Cervantes, although employing the dance, claims that it was ‘invented in hell’. It was accompanied by castanets and other percussion. The zarabanda is another ‘baile’ using the ‘hemiola formula’. The Zarabanda Francesa began to appear about 1620 and along with elements of the folia, is much closer to our idea of the baroque sarabande.
The Villano was a peasant or village dance popular in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in Spain and Italy. Once again literary references abound from Cervantes, Lope de Vega and Calderón. Brinceño in his ‘Metodo mui facilissimo (1626) gives it a two line refrain and four verses.
Iberian in provenance and closely related to the espanolettas, the Marionas is the major mode variant of the mariçapolas, which like many dances would have been as recognisable to contemporary ears as much by its words as by its music. In this case the text concerns a beautiful girl.
The Pavanas is most certainly of Italian origin, although it subsequently became popular throughout Europe. The name may derive from an adjective meaning ‘of Padua’, although it has also been posited that it may be associated with the Spanish ‘pavon’ meaning peacock, as the movements of the dance are redolent of this bird’s tail feathers. Sanz’s pavanas uses the same aire as the fuga mentioned above and features a whole section in ‘campanellas’. The pavan was essentially a slow dance in duple time often used as an introduction or as part of a procession or progress. In John Ford’s ‘tis pity she’s a whore’ (1633), the servant Poggio says of his master, ‘I have seen an ass and a mule trot the Spanish pavin with a better grace’.
The Chacona is of popular Spanish origin and hails from the last years of the sixteenthcentury. This is another dance to be condemned for its lewdness; both in terms of the lascivious movements associated with it – thought to derive from native Indians –and also because of the lubricious texts sung to it, often mocking the clergy. Brinceño presents a text which does exactly that:
‘Vida vida vidita bona, bamonas a chacona, Vida vida vidita bona bamonas a castilla’.
‘Life life good life let’s dance the chaconne
Life life good life let’s go to Castille’ (refrain).
‘There is no friar so contemplative
Nor no nun so devout
Who upon hearing that air
Does not leave their holy prayers’ (ref.)
‘The story goes that a monk Was chanting nones
In chorus with the friars
When accidentally he said good life
And that’s a well known fact’ (ref. etc.)
‘La
preciosa’ Gaspar Sanz and the baroque guitar
14Guitarist / composer Francesco Corbetta is actually the first person to use the term suite for a collection of dance movements.
15This piece can be heard on the recording ‘Love and reconquest’ (Delphian DCD34003).
The chacona is another dance which first appears in the Italian guitar books. Indeed, in the hands of the Italian Corbetta, the chacona became a vehicle for elaborate strumming patterns16. Taken as a whole, the oeuvre of Gaspar Sanz is a panoply of seventeenth-century Iberian secular music which authentically conjoins the essence of popular culture to the subtle and complex art of the court virtuosi. His literary style simultaneously achieves a virtuosity of its own, blending musical erudition with effortless classical allusions. At first it seems difficult to reconcile Sanz’s religious background with his works for guitar given the church’s obloquy towards the sensuality of both the movements and texts associated with dances appearing in his books. To include a zarabanda for example seems dangerous given that at certain points, a public rendition of it could result in flogging, or a term on the galleys. Also, his passage comparing the guitar with a lady17, is part of the already established tradition of sensuality associated with the guitar18.
16Examples of this are featured on the recording mentioned in note 3.
17‘The guitar is like a lady but one to whom the saying “look at me but don’t touch” does not apply; for its rose is quite different from a real rose, since it will not wither however much it is touched with the hands, and moreover, if it is plucked by the hands of a skilled master, it will produce in them ever new bouquets which delight the ear with their sonorous fragrances’.
18 The ‘Féte galante’ paintings of Watteau are a good example.
Could it be that Sanz embodies the type of cleric lampooned in the chacona quoted earlier, and that ‘the good life’ simply got the better of the contemplative! Seen in this context, Sanz typifies this turbulent and culturally rich period in Spain’s history. With its ‘golden age’ over, the ghosts of the long expelled moors seep back through the cracks in the culture, creating an intoxicating mixture unlike anything in the rest of Europe.
© Gordon J.S. Ferries, 2005.
Thanks to Martin Haycock, Darryl Martin, Raymond Parks, Graeme Strudwick and the Rev. George Whyte. Gordon Ferries acknowledges a grant from the Scottish Arts Council for research into seventeenth-century stringing practices undertaken in the Biblioteque Nationale de France, July 2004, in preparation for this recording project.
Having initially studied classical guitar at Napier University, Gordon Ferries continued to the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama, where he specialised in Renaissance and Baroque instruments. He has since established himself as one of UK’s foremost lutenists and early guitarists. A collaborator with many ensembles, he has worked with the Scottish Early Music Consort, the Scottish Ensemble, and the English ensemble Red Campion, among others. He is actively involved in accompanying solo singers and was a founding member of Fires of Love, whose debut recording Love and Reconquest on Delphian (DCD34003) has been critically acclaimed. Gordon has performed in venues and festivals across the UK, including the Leicester and Swaledale festivals and for the Georgian Concert Society in Edinburgh. He has also performed and arranged music for the BBC. Gordon’s first solo recording with Delphian, Les Plaisirs Les Plus Charmant (DCD34011), met with much praise: ‘This is the most satisfying recording of baroque guitar music to have come my way in the last year or so’ – Lute News, October 2003.
Gordon is currently musical director of the Baroque ensemble Symphonie des Plaisirs and lectures in guitar and lute at Napier University whilst pursuing an active role in music education in a diverse range of styles throughout Scotland.
‘La
preciosa’ Gaspar Sanz and the baroque guitarGordon Ferries
Early Music on Delphian
Les Plaisirs Les Plus Charmants: Works for French Baroque Guitar
Gordon Ferries, Baroque guitars (DCD34011)
From its earliest beginnings, the five course Baroque guitar was associated – for better or worse – with dance music, becoming the sensuous younger cousin of the lute or vihuela. In this mélange of music from seventeenth-century France, Gordon Ferries weaves a tapestry of sound that is at once elegant, earthy, and utterly timeless.
‘Gordon Ferries is an expert in his field, and picks his way stylishly on period instruments through the selection of suites, chiaconas and other numbers.’ – The Scotsman, August 2003
Instruments from the Russell Collection Vol. I
John Kitchen, harpsichords and fortepiano (DCD34001)
A stunning recital on a variety of keyboards from Edinburgh’s venerated musical museum. Repertoire includes works by Byrd, Bach, Handel, Scarlatti, Greene, Couperin, and Forqueray. Photographs and descriptions of all nine instruments enhance the booklet. A must-have item for early keyboard enthusiasts worldwide!
‘Nine instruments from one of the world’s most impressive collections of early keyboard instruments featured on one CD is indeed a treat. To have them played by John Kitchen is simply the icing on the cake.’
– Scotland on Sunday, June 2001
The Red Red Rose: Concerto Caledonia
Songs and tunes from 18th century Scotland
Mhairi Lawson, soprano Jamie MacDougall, tenor directed by David McGuinness, harpsichord (DCD34014)
Concerto Caledonia bring their exuberant flair for early Scottish music to love songs from the time of Robert Burns, and baroque/Cape
Breton virtuoso David Greenberg brings along some wild fiddling from the Golden Age of the Scots violin. The original version of Robert Burns's most famous song The Red Red Rose appears here in its first ever recording.
‘The funkiest album of Burns songs I've ever heard… …a fresh look at Scottish music in the 18th century: outstanding playing and the singing is characterful and expressive.’ – BBC Radio 3 CD Review, January 2005
Love and Reconquest: Music from Renaissance Spain
Fires of Love (DCD34003)
Frances Cooper, soprano
Jo Hugh-Jones, bass and recorders
Gordon Ferries, vihuela and Renaissance guitar
Marcus Claridge, percussion
Scottish early music ensemble Fires of Love serves up a feast of songs and ballads from the Spanish Renaissance and early Baroque, with a freshness critic Norman Lebrecht calls simply 'beautiful'.
Repertoire includes works by Luys de Narváez, Miguel de Fuenllana, Luis Milán, Alonso Mudarra, and Juan del Encina.
‘… full of vitality and will soon have your foot tapping ... delightfully sung.’
– Early Music News, June 2005
DCD34036
