This is now the seventh
in Claves exploratory and in many cases
revelatory series devoted to Basque
music. Donostia was born José
Gonzalo de Zulaica y Arregui in San
Sebastian in 1886. After being ordained
he took the Basque name for his place
of birth, Donostia, and spent much time
researching Basque music and Gregorian
Chant. His first early intensive period
of composition was in the decade from
1910-20 after which he went to Paris
to study, met Ravel, and wrote an increasing
number of works in more confident, public
mediums - stage works and orchestral
pieces, many reflective of his absorption
in Basque music. Exiled by the Spanish
Civil War, he moved to France and concentrated
on sacred music; Passion Poem and the
Requiem being the two most significant.
He returned to Spain at the end of the
war and lived on until 1956. Somewhat
analogous to Grainger, Vaughan Williams,
Bartók, Kodály and Janáček
he was a collector and disseminator
of Basque music though there are no
direct parallels with any of these composers;
his tendency in any case was more toward
codification of his native folk music
than in any truly original extrapolation
of it.
Nevertheless as his
piano music has so adeptly shown (on
Naxos) his was a lyrical and attractive
voice and this disc of his orchestral
music reinforces the view. The four
Preludios Vascos are brief but
vibrant; the first opens with a horn
call reminiscent of the opening of the
Brahms’ Second Piano Concerto though
the sound world is nymph-warm and reminiscent
more of Ravel, one of Donostia’s compositional
lodestars. It’s nevertheless interesting
to hear how the noble and expressive
second of the set, Eztei taldea,
strikes a tension between impressionist
influences harmonically and romantic
impulses in terms of orchestration.
The overriding influence, derived from
his Parisian stay, is constant, though
the final piece of the set strikes a
more bullish and brass fuelled boldness.
Les Trois Miracles de Sainte Cécile
followed in 1920 and is bathed in recollection
of Debussy’s The Martyrdom of Saint
Sebastian, which he’d seen earlier
that year. It opens rather like Vaughan
Williams in the aftermath of his own
studies with Ravel but also takes in
high winds and hazy gauze rich string
melodies. The third song is especially
attractive – delightfully light, aerial
and full of grace though he doesn’t
stint the sense of serious, contemplative
twilit religiosity. The choir enters
with the last tableau with some ethereal
sounds and a touch – just a touch –
of The Lark Ascending about the
solo violin line.
Urruti Jaia
is a charmingly arranged folk song setting
whilst the 1930 Los Ferrones
de Mirandaola evokes iron foundry
workers - though banish thoughts of
Mossolov. We get examples of the piano
original but here orchestrated Acuarelas
Vascas with their one original movement
– these are cheerful and enjoyable but
lack something of the tang of his impressionist
leanings. We also hear the fourth scene
of La Vie Profonde de Saint François
D’Assise for string orchestra and
choir. Here though one feels the warmth
and piety of the music there is a slightly
dogged religiosity that never quite
convinces. And then we go right back
to the beginning with the 1906 Rapsodia
Baskongada written when he was twenty
– the first ripely romantic and showing
how much of the Brahmsian influence
he had yet to shake off, and the second
a rather old fashioned scherzo.
The notes are succinct,
useful and in five languages and the
performances sympathetic and warm though
not quite detailed or quite hefty enough
sometimes to convey the sensuous impressionism
and drama of Donostia’s inspiration
– and that’s especially true of the
Preludios Vascos. But that’s
a small reservation given the breadth
of the achievement on show here – a
warmly welcomed disc.
Jonathan Woolf
Coral Andra Maria Choir 
