Born in Córdoba, Palomo now lives in Berlin, having been 
                a member of the music staff of the Deutscher Oper Berlin between 
                1981 and 2004. For all his residence in Germany, his music never 
                forgets its Spanish or, more specifically, its Andalusian roots. 
                
                  
                In Cervantes’ great, and profoundly influential work, 
Don 
                Quixote, Dulcinea - whose ‘real’ name was Aldonza 
                Lorenzo del Toboso - is an all-pervading, but unspeaking and invisible 
                presence. She is the ‘muse’ of all Don Quixote’s 
                activities, his creative transformation of an ordinary peasant 
                girl (it seems), into an inspiring figure of beauty and goodness. 
                The reader never meets her, and she has no voice of her own. Like 
                so much else in Quixote’s life she is the product of his 
                reading and yet transcends all that has been previously written. 
                In Chapter Thirteen of Volume One, Quixote affirms that “all 
                the impossible and fanciful attributes of beauty which the poets 
                apply to their ladies are verified in her; for her hairs are gold, 
                her forehead Elysian fields, her eyebrows rainbows, her eyes suns, 
                her cheeks roses, her lips coral, her teeth pearls, her neck alabaster, 
                her bosom marble, her hands ivory, her fairness snow, and what 
                modesty conceals from sight such, I think and imagine, as rational 
                reflection can only extol, not compare”. She is a hopelessly 
                unattainable ideal who inspires all of Quixote’s hope. 
                  
                In many of the almost numberless reworkings of Cervantes’ 
                text - as novel, play, musical, symphonic poem, opera, poem and 
                much else - Dulcinea has been given visible body and audible voice. 
                That is the case in this intriguing and rewarding piece, built 
                upon poems by Carlos Murciano (b.1931). From the CD’s documentation 
                it isn’t clear whether Murciano’s texts were specifically 
                written for what the composer describes as a ‘Cantata-Fantasy 
                for a Knight in Love’, or whether they were previously published. 
                Either way there is a clear unanimity of vision between composer 
                and poet. 
                  
                
Dulcinea is in ten sections, two of which are purely orchestral. 
                Music and text seek to represent many conflicting points of view, 
                contrasting judgements of this strangest of knights errant. In 
                the first section (Los molinos de viento / The Windmills), the 
                chorus - at this stage no more than commonsense observers, as 
                it were - judge Quixote to be merely a self-deluded dreamer with 
                a limping nag, a “defeated fighter, leader of none”, 
                a man of “valour overblown” (quotations are from Susannah 
                Howe’s translations of Murciano’s poems). In the third 
                section (Cancíon del alba / Dawn Song) that same chorus 
                at least recognises Quixote as “fearless”, as a knight 
                with “His buckler held close, his lance secure”, who 
                “hears a lark sing a song of hope”; now the chorus 
                can recognise some value in the way “his gaze travels across 
                the wide plain / his captive heart yearns for Dulcinea”. 
                It is in the fourth section (Canto de Don Quijote / Ballad of 
                Don Quixote) that we first hear the knight’s voice itself, 
                as he dedicates himself and his life to Dulcinea (“I travel 
                with my squire, / travel for you, my lady, / my hope and my destiny”) 
                and seeks her blessing upon his soul, his helmet and his sword. 
                In the sixth section the Chorus comes to a realisation of the 
                necessary mutuality between Alonso Quijano (the ‘real’ 
                name of that reader of romances who now imagines himself Don Quixote) 
                and ‘Dulcinea’. Only she can truly give him his new 
                name, and conversely, it is he who has given her her fame: “Alonso 
                Quijano wishes / Aldonza to speak his name, / that is, he wishes 
                Dulcinea / to recognise Don Quixote / as the valiant knight / 
                who has made her fair and noble”. In the seventh section 
                a dialogue between Don Quixote and Sancho Panza contrasts their 
                feelings about their two ‘ladies’, Sancho praising 
                his wife Teresa: “when I’ve a raging thirst, / she’s 
                my jug and my water”. In the next section the Chorus has 
                come to sympathise with Don Quixote and to admire him, to have 
                wishes for him: “Let the word / of such a fair princess 
                / be his abracadabra / […] / May the Knight / never open 
                his eyes / and may he continue to follow / the path of his dreams”. 
                In the ninth, penultimate section, Dulcinea (un-Cervantes like) 
                has her say. She has, it seems, become that Dulcinea Quixote imagined 
                her to be (“Aldonza is but a memory now, / I come from sun-drenched 
                castles, / from the chamber of dreams”), now she is, indeed, 
                Dulcinea (“My name is musical and sweet / as honey, as lavender”). 
                She gives him her blessing, confirms 
his name: “All 
                honour to Don Quixote. / May he be welcome in my realm”. 
                
Dulcinea closes with all the soloists, and the chorus, 
                speculating on the nature of reality itself, of its relationship 
                to dream, and of its embodiment, for men, in women. 
                  
                I have summarised Murciano’s text at such length partly 
                because of its own intrinsic interest but primarily because it 
                is a prerequisite to any understanding of what Palomo’s 
                work is about - this is no mere programme piece, no creation of 
                incidental, pseudo-film music as it were, for Cervantes’ 
                great novel. Murciano’s texts, though dependent on 
Don 
                Quixote for their very existence, are no mere paraphrases 
                either; they are adventurous ‘translations’ and Palomo’s 
                music needs to follow 
their lead not that of Cervantes 
                himself. 
                  
                Still, as my summary will have indicated, some of the most famous 
                episodes of the original novel remain, even if their significance 
                has been somewhat transformed. The first section’s representation 
                of the famous windmills begins with a wordless whispering from 
                the chorus, evoking the wind, succeeded by an oboe solo which 
                suggests the plains of La Mancha, before fiercely energetic rhythms 
                from the orchestra build to a climax and the chorus enters. This 
                is music which has its quasi-pictorial elements, but which also 
                articulates the many conflicts (psychological, emotional, social) 
                implicit in Murciano’s poems, and in the originating novel, 
                conflicts which are often overlooked in more sentimental or merely 
                humorous versions of the story of Don Quixote. Palomo’s 
                use of orchestral colour, and the blending of choral voices with 
                those orchestral colours, is particularly impressive in this first 
                section. There is much else to admire too. The ‘Ballad of 
                Don Quixote’, with its earnest plea that Dulcinea should 
                utter his name just once, so that “all will become finer, 
                / and all will be more pure”, is touching and grave, both 
                in its vocal lines and the woodwind commentary on them. Palomo 
                finds musical language to respond to the profundity of Murciano’s 
                text, notably in Alonso Quijano’s / Don Quixote’s 
                plea to Dulcinea to “Speak the name I have put / letter 
                by letter above my own, / and I shall become Don Quixote, / the 
                highest-born of men, / the noblest of knights / that ever did 
                live”. The orchestral and choral Seguidilla contains some 
                crisply rhythmic writing for both instruments and voices and in 
                the dialogue which forms ‘Don Quijote y Sancho’, Palomo’s 
                love lyric for Sancho Panza, in praise of his wife Teresa, is 
                exquisite, the music in creative tension with the down-to-earth 
                nature of the words in which Sancho expresses his feelings. The 
                ‘Canto of Dulcinea’ is remarkable, a sustainedly lyrical 
                traversal of a range of past and present experiences and emotions, 
                moving towards Dulcinea’s ecstatic recognition that she 
                is “princess of his desires / and mistress of his thoughts”, 
                the point at which she can declare “all honour to Don Quixote” 
                and affirm that he is “welcome in [her] realm”. Palomo’s 
                music rises to almost mystical heights here and becomes a powerful 
                expression of the power of beauty and imagination. The ‘Canto 
                final’ which closes the work brings together all the soloists, 
                with chorus and orchestra. In 
Don Quixote it is Dulcinea 
                who has no voice; in 
Dulcinea it is, ironically, Teresa 
                Panza who has no voice until this final scene, a final scene which, 
                after some well-structured interplay of ideas, fades away, musically 
                speaking, into “a dream / of love and freedom”. 
                  
                
Dulcinea is the best single work by Palomo that I have 
                so far heard. The interest and quality of Carlos Murciano’s 
                poems has clearly brought out the very best in Palomo. This recording 
                was made at the world premiere of the work and the performance 
                is consistently excellent. Ainhoa Arteta makes a captivating Dulcinea 
                and Arutjun Kotchinian gives a memorable performance as Don Quixote; 
                in their relatively minor roles Burkhard Ulrich and Cheri Rose 
                Katz do all that is required of them, and do it with assurance 
                and conviction. The work of chorus and orchestra is exemplary 
                and conductor Miguel Angel Gómez Martínez draws 
                from them all a committed and utterly convincing performance. 
                
                  
                
Glyn Pursglove